Daytime rolled around and Sam, you and Dean are driving down the road. You pull up in front of the warehouse Brad told you all about.
The brakes squeal as the car came to a full stop.
"Isolated, run-down-yep, that'll do Monster Bloodsport." Dean scanned the place. "This should be perfect."
You all walk to the back of the car and Sam opens the trunk while Dean takes a bite of a sandwich.
"Oh, man. Bess makes the best grilled cheese." Dean muffled as he was chewing.
"Yeah, you ate like seven of them." You rolled your eyes as you were looking at Sam, digging for weapons.
"Well, I'm a growing boy." He smiled weirdly.
Dean grabs a duffle bag from the trunk and tosses it to you. "Let's go."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, wait, wait, wait." Sam stopped you and Dean.
"What?" You turned back, confused.
Sam opened the false bottom in the trunk, "Guys, extra rounds, dead man's blood, first-aid kit, emergency flares-"
"Seriously?" Dean groaned.
"Dude, if Garth was right, if we're really normal now, we can't just charge in there guns blazing." Sam explained. "We need to be ready for anything."
"Well, I guess we'd need a grenade launcher."
Dean grabs the grenade launcher while Sam puts a variety of weapons and ammunition from the trunk. Your eyes widened with surprise.
"Hey, sweetheart." Dean gives a launcher googling eyes with love.
"I don't think we've used that .38 in about four years." You mentioned.
Dean aims the grenade launcher and pretends to fire it.
"Hyah!"
You three walk into warehouse and see the fight cage.
"Welcome to Fight Club." Sam jokes.
You walk into a metal bucket and it clatters as it falls, making a huge noise. You clenched your teeth in embarrassment. "I-"
"You forget how to walk?" Dean asked sarcastically.
You glanced down at the bucket but Dean's stomach starts gurgling loudly made you look back up.
"Oh." Dean holds his stomach in aching.
"What was that?" Sam asked Dean.
Dean grunts, "Not good, that's-" The gurgling continues.
"You okay?" You asked.
Dean groaned loudly, "Oh, God. I gotta go."
"Go?" Sam questioned, surprised.
"I-I gotta go."
"What?"
Dean dropped the gear bag, rushing over to find a bathroom.
"Dean!?"
"You know, I think you might be lactose-intolerant now." You clenched your teeth, chuckling lightly to Sam.
From where you were standing, you heard Dean vomit loudly.
"Now I'm going to be sick." You dry heaved in your mouth and suddenly, Dean became quiet.
