𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋, d. winchester ₁

𝔁𝔁𝓲𝔁. we didn't...did we?

EVAN SPRAWLED ACROSS THE bed, her feet propped where her head should be and her hands cradling her face as she stared listlessly at the flickering screen of the cheap motel room TV. The grainy images of a 'Tales from the Crypt' re-run danced before her eyes, doing little to alleviate her boredom. A deep, exasperated groan escaped her lips, drawing Sam's attention from his position against the headboard. "Ugh. If I had known hunting would be this boring, I would've moved in with Will and Junior."

Sam's response came in the form of a light, knowing chuckle. "Welcome to the glamorous world of hunting, loser."

"Whatever, nerd," Evan retorted, her eyes performing an exaggerated roll before reluctantly returning to the TV screen. After a moment of contemplation, she voiced a thought that had been nagging at her. "Don't you find it odd that neither Will nor Junior have caught wind of the fire yet? It seems like the kind of news that would travel fast."

Sam's shoulders rose in a noncommittal shrug. "I suppose," he mused, his tone thoughtful. "But then again, Will's never been one to keep up with current events and Junior barely watches TV and only uses his phone for emergencies."

"I guess you've got a point there," Evan conceded, mirroring Sam's shrug. A wistful sigh escaped her as she continued, "Still, I can't help but wish I could tell them about this stuff. It would make life so much easier."

Sam nodded empathetically, "Tell me about it." Just as he finished speaking, the motel room door swung open with a creak.

"Chow time, ladies and gentlemen!" Dean's voice boomed as he entered, using his foot to nudge the door closed behind him. In his hands, he triumphantly held aloft two paper bags, their bottoms stained dark with grease that threatened to seep through at any moment.

Evan's face contorted into a grimace of disgust as Dean sauntered further into the room. Her eyes remained fixed on the paper bags, which looked as though they might disintegrate at any second. "That looks disgusting," she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. "There's no way I'm putting that in my body."

Dean's response was a casual shrug as he deposited the bags on the nearby table. "Suit yourself," he remarked nonchalantly, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the back of a chair. "More for me, I guess."

"How incredibly thoughtful of you," Evan shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glared at Dean, who had now settled himself at the table. Sam's quiet chuckle from the bed did nothing to improve her mood. "Look, I'll tell ya' what," she announced, pushing herself up from the bed and making her way to her backpack on the floor. "I'll use the last of my cash to treat us to some real food."

"Evan-" Sam began to protest, but she swiftly cut him off, leaving no room for argument.

"I swear, if I have to force down one more greasy, artery-clogging burger that keeps me running to the bathroom at all hours of the night," Evan declared dramatically, her voice rising with each word, "I will not be held responsible for my actions."

Dean's voice cut through her tirade, amusement evident in his tone. "And you accuse me of being the dramatic one?"

Evan spun to face him, her voice dropping to a comically deep pitch in an attempt to mimic Dean's. "Listen here, Mr. 'My-stomach-is-an-industrial-strength-waste-disposal-unit-that-can-handle-anything'," she began, fixing Dean with a mock glare. "Some of us weren't raised on a steady diet of greasy spoon specials. Our delicate digestive systems require a bit more finesse. Just look at Sam over there," she gestured towards the younger Winchester, who was watching the exchange with poorly concealed amusement. "The poor guy ingests half a burrito and transforms into a walking biohazard."