Decapitation of... who?

Sam’s POV

Dean turned to me when we reached our hotel. “I need some time,” he murmured in a quiet voice. He tossed me his keys. I snatched them out of the air reflexively. “Go get me some pie.” he ordered.

I rolled my eyes. “bossy jerk,” I muttered, to quietly for Dean to hear me. 

I drove down to the local store. Dean’s pie. He can try chicken for a change, I thought. 

 I went back to our hotel, and found myself locked out of the room.

“Let me in you son of a bitch!” I growled. Knocking on the door. “I brought pie.”

I heard Dean’s quiet familiar laugh.

I swore. “It’s me. Damn it. Sam.” I waited impatiently for a moment. Eventually, I heard the shower start. Dean obviously wasn’t going to let me in. I’d have to do it myself. I fished around in my pockets, till I found what I was looking for. A credit card. In one swift turn, I picked the lock. And the door swung open.

Dean was standing in the doorframe. 

“Jerk.” I snapped. 

“Bitch,” Dean replied, reaching for his pie, laughing. I held it away from him, just as a joke.

“Jerk.” I said back.

“Bitch.” came the reply.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” 

“Bitch.”

“Bitch.” I said, in a rather bored voice.

Dean froze, his mouth open. Then he chuckled, and grabbed the pie. I let him this time.

He sat down at a chair, and bit into the pie hungrily.

“Dean.” I said, after a while. Dean looked up, his mouth full of pie. 

“Yeah?” He said in a muffled voice.

I sighed. “You’re an idiot.”

Dean swallowed and laughed. “I know you are, but what am I.”

I rolled my eyes, my breath coming out in a huff.

I pulled the laptop, which was sitting on the table, towards me. I opened it up, and had to laugh at the site that popped up.

“You’ve been on this haven’t you?” I asked Dean.

He put on an innocent face, “of course not.”

I frowned, tilting my head sideways. “Then why is it frozen on... um... images for sexy bar woman?”

“That wasn’t me,” Dean replied, but he sounded slightly guilty.

I put on my puppy dog face, which just made Dean laugh. 

After a while I cleared my face. “We need more research,” I said. “I’ll try find a link.”

“And what can I do?” Dean asked. 

“You can help me,” I snapped.

Dean sighed, and rolled his eyes. He moved his chair closer to mine, so he could see the screen.

After a quick moment of searching, I pulled open a promising site. 

“It’s a list of all the people that have been reported missing in the last week,” I commented, scrolling through the list of people.

“It doesn’t have Gary on it,” Dean said, in an almost whiney voice.

I frowned at him. “It hasn’t been updated in a while.”

“Save it anyway,” Dean told me.

After a few minutes of searching and finding nothing, I stood up. I began to pace the room. Dean turned in his chair to study me.

After a moment, I sat down on my bed, and hung my head in my  hands. 

“I don’t understand,” I moaned quietly. “About this time, we’d already have killed our monster and left. But we’re still stuck here with no major leads.”

“There’s Gary,” Dean pointed out.

I just rolled my eyes. “That’s not major.” After a moment, I stood up, and stuffed my hands in my jean’s pockets. I found a piece of paper inside one pocket, which shouldn’t be there. I remembered that I’d been wearing these pants the day we met the Cullens. 

I pulled out the paper, and opened it. It was old, and rather crinkled. I frowned and tried to read it. “Number 1,” I read. “Get a million cheeseburgers.” I looked up at Dean, who was grinning rather guiltily. “Is this yours?” I asked suspiciously, holding the paper to him. Dean smirked. “No. It was dad’s.”

I frowned. “Did dad even like cheeseburger?”

“Apparently, he did,” Dean replied, in an off-hand voice.

 I just shrugged. “number 2, kill Sammy?” I looked up at Dean, struggling to keep a straight face. “Why does dad want to kill me?” I asked.

Dean just laughed. “Coz you’re a pain in the arse.”

“Number 3. Get lots of pie... That is definitely not dad now.”

Dean smirked.

“Number 4. Get laid over and over?  Wow... sick mind deano.”

Dean cracked a wide grin, and chuckled.

“Number 5,” I read. “Clean the Impala. And when were you going to find time to do that?”

Dean shrugged. “I told you. This was dad’s.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, sure. Number 6. Find the colt.” I laughed, and picked up the colt from the bed. Dean had obviously been fiddling with it. “But we’ve got it.” I said, holding the silver gun up, putting my finger on the trigger mockingly. I put it down at Dean’s shocked face. I then realized I’d reached the bottom of the page. I saw a P.T.O in the last margin. I turned it over, expecting another lot of ridiculous notes. Instead, I saw a hastily scrawled two words. By Dean.

I looked up at my brother and grinned triumphantly. “There we go.” I muttered. “Unless dad changed his name from Dean to John.”

Dean made a half angry face.