Dean stared at the unopened bag of chips in front of him. Would he only taste every single fucking molecule like Sam said Cas did? Dean thought. He tried to open the bag. He set his hands back on the table, fists clenched. Sam walked past the main room of the bunker, paused, and came back to stand in the doorway.
“Uh, Dean?” Sam said, processing the sight before him. “Why are you scowling at a bag of potato chips?” Sam crossed his arms, cocking his head in confusion.
“Go away, Sammy,” Dean mumbled, irritated enough already. Sam raised his palms in mock defence.
“Fine, fine,” he said as he continued his trajectory towards the library.
Come on Dean, he thought to himself. Open the damn bag. Get it the fuck over with.
He raised his hands again, this time gripping that bag, trying to pull the seams apart. His hands shook. Dammit, Dean! he shouted to himself in his mind. He pulled the plastic apart with a satisfying rip. Dean extracted one chip, probably the most perfect potato chip he had ever seen. He could see the salt crystals lying deliciously across the surface area. Dean hesitantly raised the chip to his lips, and took it into his mouth in one bite. He chewed, tears welling in the corner of his eyes. Dean cried, he sobbed out loud.
Sam heard Dean’s anguish, and came back to the main room to see fragments of light yellow strewn across the room. Dean stood behind the table, tears streaming down his face.
“Dean, what the hell happened?” Sam called out in confusion.
“I can’t, taste,” Dean gasped, sobbing again. “Dammit Sammy, I can’t taste salty food anymore.” His body heaved with his sorrow. “Do you know what this means, Sammy?” He looked up at his brother with bloodshot eyes.
Sam just sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Sammy, this means that the last possible thing I thought I could enjoy in my life as a demon was just a fucking, a fucking lie. Yeah, I could deal with the fucking black eyes and shit, but I. Need. My. Feel-good. Food. You just don’t take that away from Dean Winchester,” Dean ranted, feeling the fury rise in him. Sam wasn’t going to have any of Dean’s shit.
“Whatever you say, Dean.” He walked back out of the doorway, thinking “My brother is a fucking nutcase”, and shaking his head.
