The three of them pulled up to the most recent crime scene; a new house in the same neighborhood as the others. Same story, too. Newlyweds, newly bought house, newly found desire to take turns hacking each other to death with the brand new stainless steel knife set. Sam shook his head in disgust and swung open the car door, getting ready to talk to the cops already there.
“Sam, hold on,” Cas interjected from the backseat. “You two wait here. I’ll go search the house for anything really fast.”
Sam turned around. “No, Cas, it’s really-” the fluttering of wings and the suddenly empty back seat cut him off. “Fine.” he finished.
Sam sighed, getting back into the car and taking the time to dig through their box of fake ID’s, aggressively ignoring his brother, who was insistently staring at him.
“Dude, what is up with you this morning?”
Sam stiffened, endlessly annoyed at the incompetence of his childish brother. “Me? What’s up with me this morning?” He pulled out a random ID and slammed the lid shut. “Okay, Dean. Well, why don’t we start with my brother in bed with my best friend?”
Dean shrunk back in defense. “What?” he asked innocently.
“What?” Sam continued, appalled. “What, you mean you weren’t going to tell me? You were just gonna let me find out by literally walking in on you two and hope I got the memo?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Sammy?” Dean asked, puzzled. “You’re acting like this is news to you!”
“What the…” Sam trailed off, distracted by what he was hearing. “Are you freaking joking?”
“Cas and I have been together for two years now,” Dean explained sarcastically, as if he were talking to a child. “What, did you wake up with amnesia or something? Still remember how to hunt?” Dean teased. “How do you kill a vampire; silver, or bullet to the heart?”
“Dean, quit screwing around!” Sam yelled in annoyance. Yet, as he looked at Dean’s humorless face, a realization hit him. Dean wasn't screwing around. Whether it was legitimately true or not, Dean thought that he was being honest.
“You’re...serious.”
A mix of suspicion and concern clouded Dean’s face. “Did you actually wake up with amnesia?” Dean frowned, bringing his hand up his brother’s forehead. “Hmm, no fever. How much did you drink last night?”
“Nothing-Dean, I’m fine!” Sam bickered, brushing his hand away.
“Maybe you got hexed, y’know? I mean, aren’t we hunting a witch?”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “No, I don’t think…” He trailed off, an idea beginning to bury itself in his head. “Wait, a witch?”
Dean stared at him blankly. “Uh, yeah, Sammy. You think we came all the way out here for a burger?”
“No, look! A witch, killing off newlyweds. I mean, newly coupled newlyweds. The Alten’s had only known each other for two months before they got married.” His eyes widened in understanding. “It’s not me who was hexed, it’s you! You and Cas!”
Suddenly, the Impala sunk down with a new weight added in the backseat. The two brothers turned around to find Cas sitting there, wearing his typically neutral, monotone expression.
“Cas,” Dean remarked. “Find anything?”
Cas said nothing, blank expression still on his face. After a moment, he glanced down at his arm, where he proceeded to slide his angel blade out of.
