Candy Land, for montisello (gen, R)

[spnsummer_mod]

Title: Candy Land
Author: dolimir_k / Ritchie Valens
Recipient: montisello
Rating: R (for some bad words)
Author's Notes: 5,008 words. Thanks go to eloise_bright and researchgrrrl for their brilliant insights and betas.
Summary: For the prompt John and Wee!chesters stumble into the Hansel and Gretel scenario, you know, with an edible house.



“When’s Daddy going to be back?”

Dean bit his lower lip to suppress the sigh he desperately wanted to release. Sammy had asked the same question at the beginning of every meal for the last six meals. He was eight years old, for God’s sakes. Surely, he could remember an answer that hadn’t changed once in the last two days.

Not that Dean really blamed him. Dad had called two days ago to inform him that he was going to be three days later than originally expected. He had been delayed before, on previous hunting trips, so the fact things weren’t going according to plan wasn’t terribly surprising. The problem this time, however, was that their supplies were running much lower than usual. While Dean really liked the cabin they were holed up in and enjoyed the freedom he and Sammy had around the little lake, they were too far away from the nearest store to conveniently buy any kind of supplemental stock.

They were down to their last package of hot dogs, which could only be served a finite number of ways, three boxes of macaroni and cheese and a box of shredded wheat cereal that dad liked, but was pretty hard to swallow without milk. Dad had left money like he usually did and if he called again Dean knew he was going to have to make the long trek into town. He didn’t mind the walk, but it would mean leaving Sammy unsupervised because there was no way he was going to be able to get in and out of town without raising all sorts of flags.

The problem with small towns was that everyone knew each other’s business. He might be able to bluff his way through any questions if he was lucky and got some bored teenager working a summer job or if he timed it right and was part of a rush, but if Sammy came along people would want to know about the kids no one recognized. Small towns used the excuse of wanting to help out, when in reality they just wanted a legitimate reason to poke their noses in where they weren’t wanted.

Dean just hoped that Dad would be coming home tomorrow, as promised, and not just because it would hopefully mean a little more variety in their meals. He missed him, and he wanted him to see how much Sammy had improved in his swimming and bow hunting. Although Dean had to admit, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to look at another hot dog for the rest of the summer.

“Sometime tomorrow, squirt. Hopefully, early afternoon.”

Sam poked at the baked mac and cheese without enthusiasm. “You think he’ll bring groceries with him?”

“God, I hope so.”

Sam gave him a half-grin, apparently happy in the knowledge he wasn’t alone in his misery.

Feeling just the tiniest bit disloyal, Dean thought he better change the subject. Bitching about their meal wasn’t going to change the fact it was all they had to eat. “So, after target practice, do you want to go swimming?”

“Naw, I’m all swum out.”

“I thought you said you were part fish.”

“Yeah, but even whales beach themselves occasionally.”

“Is that so?” Sam shrugged and Dean chuckled at the imagery of an orca too tired to swim anymore, panting on their rickety dock. “How are you doing on your books?”

“I’ve finished all the ones we brought with us.”

“All?” Dean asked skeptically.

“Yep, even my text books.”

Dean refrained from calling his brother a geek, although he was incredibly tempted to do it, but knew if he indulged their conversation would just degenerate into a back and forth of name calling. “So what do you want to do?”

Swinging his legs back and forth off the kitchen chair, Sam appeared to think about his options for a moment. “Dad vetted the area, right?”

“Yeah, about a mile in each direction.”

“So we could explore the other side of the lake a bit. Maybe look for some berries.”

“Aw, Sammy. I don’t think they’re in season yet.”

“But they could be.”

Dean seriously doubted it, but didn’t want to burst Sammy’s bubble. Hell, he would kill for a couple of berries himself. “Okay. Sure. Why not? But only after we clean up here and practice with the crossbows.”

Sam squirmed happily in his seat and shoveled a huge bite of casserole in his mouth. “Deal.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean turned and found his brother on his hands and knees looking at something in the stream they had just crossed.

“People eat crawdads, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you kill a crawdad?”

Dean moved to his side and saw almost a dozen crawdads clambering over each other in a tiny depression in the stream. “You drop them in a vat of boiling water.”

“No, not how do you cook ‘em. How do you kill ‘em?”

“That’s how you do it, Sammy.”

“You mean, they’re alive when you drop them in?”

“Yep.”

Sam dropped his head momentarily, then pushed himself to his feet. “Never mind.”

“Crawdads are pretty good eating, Sammy.”

Sam just shook his head and scampered over to where Dean had just been.

Dean looked at the skinny figure of his brother, then back at crayfish. He didn’t like the idea of his brother being hungry. Sam wasn’t starving by any stretch of the imagination, but supplementing their diet wasn’t a bad idea. True, he didn’t have any of the spices that would make crayfish taste like they did in that one restaurant their father took them to in New Orleans, but he did still have quite a bit of butter. “You know, Sammy, I’d be--”

Turning back, Sam gave him a shrug. “Naw, that’s okay.”

“Scientist say they don’t feel anything.” Dean wasn’t sure why he was reluctant to let the idea of the crawfish go, but he figured he’d give it one more try.

“Dean, I watched a PBS program that recorded how lobsters scream when they’re dropped in water and,” he continued on before Dean could protest, “crawdads are just little lobsters, right?”

“Sammy, people have--”

He looked up to find Sammy frowning. “Do you smell that?” Sammy wrinkled his nose as he sniffed the air several times.

“What?”

“Smoke.”

Dean inhaled deeply. Sure enough, it smelled like wood burning. He glanced at the crawfish one last time, then sighed. “We better check it out. The last thing we need is a forest fire.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Dean, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Dean blinked hard, twice, then shook his head and rubbed his eyes before looking again. No way in hell was there a little cottage made totally out of candy sitting peacefully in the center of a small clearing. There just couldn’t be.

But no matter how long he looked at it, the image never wavered. The roof and walls appeared to be made out of huge planks of graham cracker, painted thick with white frosting. Each corner of the house was still supported by the largest candy canes known to man and huge colorful gum drops were interspersed every couple of inches over the entire structure.

“Oh, this so can’t be good,” he mumbled quietly to himself.

Sam’s stomach rumbled in response.

“We can’t, Sammy. You know we can’t. Besides, everything’s probably poisonous.”

“Are you sure? It might be a local tourist attraction.” Sam’s face looked hopeful.

Dean hated being the voice of reason, especially when his own stomach growled its protest. “Do you see any parking spaces? Or even a ticket booth?”

“No,” Sam admitted. “But I thought Dad vetted the area.”

“He did, but maybe magic conceals the house. Or maybe only kids can see it. Or maybe it can just move wherever it wants to go. I don’t know, Sam. I just know that going anywhere near that house is a really, really bad idea.”

Sam sighed. “You know, this is just like--”

“Hansel and Gretel.”

“Exactly.”

“All we need now is some old witch to call out ‘nibble, nibble, little mouse’.”

“So you think it’s a trap?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, kiddo, but I’m pretty sure it is.”

“Dean, you don’t think it’s caught anyone, do you?”

Dean’s stomach dropped to his knees at the thought, but he studied the house for a moment, thinking hard. “Naw. My guess is that the house only becomes visible when it’s trying to lure someone in.”

“Does that mean it knows we’re here?” Sam asked in a small, frightened voice.

“I--”

“Oh, my God, Jimmy!” a voice roared with delight from the opposite side of the clearing. “Would you take a look at this?” A wanna be reject from Abercrombie and Finch, stood gawking and pointing at the little cottage.

Another hiker, similarly dressed, appeared beside the first. “Dude, no way!”

“Way.”

“Seriously, no way.”

“Is that frickin’ awesome or what?”

“It’s straight out of Hanson and Gertie.”

“Hansel and Gretel, you moron.”

“Whatever. Come on. Let’s check it out.”

Both hikers ran up to cottage, huge smiles adorning their faces. The one called Jimmy slid his backpack to the ground, then took a big scoop of frosting off the roof.

“Bobby! Man, you gotta try this. It’s totally awesome!”

The older boy, who could have been the first’s brother, pulled a huge gum drop off the side of the house and took a huge bite out of it. Sam, looking distressed, turned to Dean. “We have to warn them.”

“I know.” Dean took a couple of deep, anxiety-filled breaths as he tried to come up with a plan. He needed to get these two morons out of the area, but his first and foremost responsibility was to keep Sam safe. He had no idea if he could accomplish both. “Shit, this is bad.”

“Nibble, nibble, little mouse,” called a feeble voice from inside the house.

“No way,” Dean whispered under his breath.

Bobby laughed. “No way.”

“Hey, grandma,” Jimmy taunted. “We’re in your forest, eating your roof.”

Dean jumped up from his hiding spot. “Run, you idiots. Run!”

The young men looked startled, but didn’t move until the door to the cottage flew open, then each took a step back as a grey-green figure filled the doorway and roared triumphantly.

“Run!” Bobby yelled, repeating Dean’s sage advice.

Dean hauled Sam to his feet, then herded him back the way they came. Seconds later the older boys were just a few steps behind them, swearing furiously as the beast lumbered after them.

“What the fuck is that thing?” Jimmy yelled.

Dean didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. He was too busy coming up with and rejecting plans to get them to safety. His backpack was filled with at least a dozen different things that could possibly help, but he could still hear the creature’s cackling and knew it was too close for him to do anything more than a panicked grab. He also knew that the older boys could easily outrun them and probably would pretty soon, which would leave him and Sam exposed to the creature. If he had to make a stand, he would, but he wanted to try and get a little distance between them and their pursuer so he could take a couple of seconds to think about which item would work best. “Faster, Sam. Faster.”

Small branches grabbed at their clothes as if trying to detain them and Dean wondered if maybe the trees were working with the creature, but they pushed on as the cackling behind them started fading in the distance. They continued to run for several more minutes until Sam stumbled. Dean was beside him in a second, pulling him to his feet again. He was surprised to find the two hikers had stopped as well.

“Dean, I want to go home,” Sammy wailed.

“You and me both, kid,” Jimmy said quietly.

“We can’t go home, Sammy.”

“Why not?” Bobby asked.

“Because while the fairy tale says the witch of the cottage can’t see worth squat, its sense of smell is supposed to be excellent. It’s going to follow us, no matter where we go.” Dean pressed his hand between Sam’s shoulders, silently urging him to keep walking.

Bobby followed them. “Hey, kid.”

Dean didn’t stop. “My name’s Dean.”

“Hey. I’m Bob, and this is my brother Jimmy.”

“You mean Thing One and Thing Two?” Dean snapped.

“Dude.” Jimmy frowned.

Dean stopped and turned to face the other hikers, more furious than he remembered ever being. “Why would you eat a house?” he demanded. “Haven’t you ever read a fairytale?”

Bob scratched the back of his head. “Well, not for a while.”

“Did you honestly think--”

“Dude,” Jimmy said again.

Dean sighed heavily, then started walking again.

“How are we going to get away?” Sam asked quietly.

“We’re going to have to kill it.”

Bob looked over his shoulder, back the way they came. “How?”

“Well, according to the fairy tale, Gretel pushed it into an oven. So I’m thinking fire.”

“Maybe we should split up,” Jimmy suggested, as if the idea had just occurred to him.

Dean didn’t even attempt to hide his disgust.

“What?”

“If we split up, it won’t go after you, dumbass.”

Jimmy’s face reddened, embarrassed. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. Why would it chase after some rangy adult when it can have sweet succulent Sam?”

Dean didn’t miss the split second look of relief that passed over Jimmy’s face, or the guilt which lasted much longer.

“You know what?” Dean placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re right. You guys should get out of here. Highway Seven is about two miles north.”

“But D--”

Dean quelled Sam’s protest with a sharp look, then urged him to move forward.

“Hey, kid. Kid,” Jimmy whined behind them. “Dean. Come on. You two shouldn’t be by yourselves. You should come with us.”

Dean ignored them.

“Dean?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean moved another hundred feet before he stopped and faced his brother. “If there was anyplace I could hide you, I would, Sammy. But it’s not safe. I don’t know how smart that thing is or if it’s just all instinct. I can’t take the chance of leaving you somewhere.”

“I don’t want to hide.” Sammy’s voice quavered, but he held Dean’s eyes. “I want to stay with you. I know you’ll keep me safe.”

Ruffling Sam’s hair, Dean tried not to think too much on the time when he hadn’t kept Sam safe. His failure was forever burned into his memory. “Damn straight.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I think we’re going to have to go back and burn the cottage.” Dean was solemn as he knelt on one knee if front of his brother, so he could look him in the eye. “Dad’s not going to be back before tomorrow and we can’t ignore this thing and hope that no one else accidentally stumbles across it. I think, at least I hope, if we burn it, the creature won’t be able to escape. It’ll be stuck here with no place to hide.”

“Does candy burn?”

Dean shrugged. “God, I hope so.”

“But if we burn its home, won’t it be mad?”

“Probably. I’m thinking maybe we’ll do a little swimming afterward. Out to the raft. We can wait it out there, until Dad comes back.”

“But what if Dad’s late again?”

Dean stood and nudged his brother playfully. “Don’t borrow trouble, Sammy.”

“Cause it’ll find us easy enough,” Sam finished for him with a small grin.

“Exactly. Speaking of trouble, we better get moving. Standing still is just going to give that thing time to catch up with us.”

“So where are we going, little buddy?”

Dean turned and found both older boys standing several feet back, both looking a little chagrined. He signed once, then nodded, letting him know that all was forgiven. “We need to go back to the cottage. We can’t allow that thing to hurt anyone else. There’s a chance that it’s tied to the house somehow and will disappear when the house goes up in smoke.”

Dean turned, making sure they looped far enough away from their previous trail to keep from accidentally running into the thing that was following them.

“Do the odds normally run in your favor?” Bob asked quietly.

Sam shook his head. “Hardly ever.”

“Well, that’s comforting.” Jimmy snorted. “Not.”

The four moved rather quickly, but stopped every time they heard a noise in the distance. By the time they reached the cottage clearing, they were all nearly vibrating with tension.

“Do you think it’s inside?” Sam asked in a small, frightened voice.

Dean studied the cottage for several moments. “I have no idea, but let’s pretend it is. When we get closer, keep your voices down and don’t walk past any windows.”

Crouching as they ran, the four of them made their way to the closest corner. Dean scraped off a section of frosting to reveal a sturdy graham cracker plank beneath it. He wiped the frosting on the ground, then sighed. “I don’t think this is going to burn.”

For the briefest of moments, Dean felt the heat of the sun on his back, and noticed that despite their being in the middle of a clearing there was no breeze. He also couldn’t hear any of the natural sounds of the forest surrounding them. As if the creature hadn’t wanted anything disturbing or nibbling on its house, other than its intended victims.

“Could we burn it from the inside?” Bob asked.

Dean tried to think of how his father would approach this situation, then shook his head. “There’s a possibility that if we go in, we might not be able to get back out.”

Bob looked at Dean, his eyes saying he was impressed with the kid in front of him. “Okay, but we could cause some damage by opening the door, filling it with brush and leaves and then setting it on fire by throwing a match in. Right?”

“If the thing isn’t home,” Jimmy reminded him.

“Okay, first things first.” Dean stood and waited until his companions stood as well. “First we find out if the creature’s home.” With that, he shrugged off his backpack. “Sammy, you’re lookout.” He reached into the pack, readied the 9mm and handed it to Sam.

“Shit!” Jimmy whispered harshly as he jumped backward.

Dean ignored him. “Shoot first. Stay here until I call you.”

Sam nodded nervously, his eyes wide, but didn’t say a word.

Reaching into the pack again, Dean pulled out another 9mm, except this time, he changed the cartridge.

“You got another one in there, kid?” Bob asked hopefully.

Dean gave him a quick smirk, then shook his head regretfully.

“Just how old are you, kid?” Jimmy asked.

“Twelve. Why?”

Jimmy blinked once, but shook his head.

Crouching underneath the front windows, Dean waved them to the door, making sure he was on the side closest to Sammy. “Be ready to run.”

When both older boys nodded, he knocked loudly on the door. Jimmy started to pant, chanting ‘oh god’ under his breath, but no one answered the door.

Dean put the safety back on his gun and slipped it back into his pack. Once everything was back in place, he pushed the door latch and flung the door open, careful not to cross the threshold. When nothing came bursting out, he looked at his companions. “Find dry leaves, dry branches, anything that will burn quickly. Throw them over the threshold, but don’t cross it. Whatever you do, don’t go too far into the woods. Stay in sight.”

Bob grinned at him. “You were a general in another life, weren’t you?”

Dean took a deep breath, but Bob waved him silent. “We’re on it, boss.” He grabbed his brother’s shoulder and pushed him toward the edge of the clearing.

Once the hikers were underway, Dean waved Sam to him and was pleased to see the boy respond quickly. “You’re our eyes, Sammy. You stand here. If you see anything, shout. If you can’t shout, shoot.”

Sam nodded, his eyes immediately going to the tree line.

“I’m proud of you, Sam.” He ruffled his brother’s hair affectionately. “You’re going to make a great hunter someday.”

“I’m scared, Dean.” Although talking to his brother, Sam never stopped searching the perimeter.

“It’s okay to be scared, Sam. I’d be worried if you weren’t. But being scared shouldn’t stop you from doing what you need to do, right?”

Sam nodded.

Bob came back with the first load of debris. Dean silently asked him to drop it, which Bob did and immediately turned to get his next load. Squeezing Sam’s shoulder once in reassurance, Dean busied himself with throwing the items in the house.

After a couple of more loads, Dean removed his pack again and pulled out a small container of accelerant. He sloshed the liquid into the cottage, aiming it at the pile he had created along the interior wall. When satisfied, he ripped off a portion of his shirt and wrapped it around the end of a long branch before soaking the cloth and lighting it with a cheap, plastic Bic. Without another word, he pushed the branch into the cottage and lit the pile.

The resulting whoomphf was rather satisfying, but the combination of heat and flames made him retreat to Sam’s side. They both backed several steps away from the house as the flames flickered through green and red hues. Dean made a mental note to talk to their dad about the odd colors.

“Looks like candy can burn.” Sam smiled, although he never took his eyes off the forest.

As the exterior of the house burst into flames, they were forced to retreat even further. Bob and Jimmy joined them, then jostled Dean good-naturedly with goofy grins on their faces.

“Alright, bossman, what’s next?” Bob asked, clearly pleased with their arson ways.

But before Dean could answer, a loud cackling scream rent the air.

“Shit,” Jimmy swore.

“Dean!” Sam pointed to the far edge of the clearing.

“The lake!” Dean yelled as he grabbed Sam’s gun and pushed the boy in the right direction.

Needing no additional urging the four of them plunged into the forest. Although tired, adrenaline pumped through their systems making the need to run imperative.

Sam tripped, but before Dean could slow, Bob raced forward, scooped up the boy and continued running. Dean found himself hard pressed to keep up, jumping over rocks and branches, while bushes tore at his arms and face, reminding him that he had already made this hectic run once before. With the cackling practically on their heels, he knew he couldn’t risk turning to see how close the creature was. He couldn’t tell if he was imagining the strained breath on the back of his neck or if the creature was truly right behind him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lake opened up before them. Bob was already in the water with Sam and Jimmy splashed in behind them. Once he reached the shore, Dean turned, aimed and waited for the creature to step through the tree line, which it did only a few seconds after he stopped. He squeezed off three shots of consecrated iron rounds and while the creature staggered it quickly found its footing again.

Dean’s turning and high stepping into the water was the only signal the others needed to throw themselves into the water and start swimming in earnest. Turning one more time, Dean tried for a head shot, but missed. The creature flinched, though, and Dean used the precious seconds to launch himself into the deeper water.

Once he was about fifteen feet from shore, he treaded water and looked back. The creature was standing at the water’s edge, screaming its rage at them, but it made no move to follow them, instead it paced back and forth along the edge of the lake.

Dean shoved the gun in the back of his jeans, knowing that the ammo was wet and no longer useful. He sighed to himself, cleaning it was going to be a pain, but at least allowing himself to believe that he was going to actually have a future in which to do it.

As he turned back toward the others, he noticed a major flaw in his escape plan. The raft, their ultimate destination, was nearly three-quarters of the way across the lake and the sun was beginning to set.

“Sammy. Sammy!” He was relieved when his brother stopped and started treading water, which made the older boys stop as well. “Slow and easy. It’s not a race. We need to conserve our energy.”

Dean swam closer to the group, then addressed the older boys. “Do you see that raft?”

Both of them followed his finger, then nodded.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it before it gets dark,” he said quietly. “And we can’t risk swimming to shore.”

“You don’t happen to have a flashlight on you, do you, kid?” Bob asked.

“Actually, I do.” Dean smirked.

“Are you related to James Bond in any way?” Jimmy asked.

“Naw, but I’m related to ‘M’ on my mother’s side.”

Bobby laughed and splashed water his direction.

Dean smiled, then grew sober. He looked at Bob, then over to Sam and back, not saying a word. Relief flooded him when he saw the older boy catch his meaning and nod.

“So,” Bob said with a forced cheeriness, “we’ll swim until we need a break, then backstroke for a bit?”

Everyone nodded, then got to the business of swimming.

*-*

Dean always thought he’d go out fighting some big bad thing. He never figured he’d die by drowning, but as time passed he realized the possibility was growing in leaps and bounds.

Bob was as good as his silent word. Several times, he encouraged Sammy to relax and let himself be towed, making sure that the younger boy didn’t exhaust himself. Most of Dean’s anger at the older boys had dissipated. Dad had told him on more than one occasion that boys were not the smartest tools in the shed. And he conceded that if he didn’t know what he did about the supernatural, he might have tried to eat part of the candy cottage himself. Heck, even knowing what it was, he had been tempted.

During their last water treading break, Dean got out his flashlight. Although the moon was full, there were a fair number of clouds in the sky. He didn’t like the idea of letting the creature know where they were, but there simply wasn’t any way to stay on track without sporadically checking the distance to their goal.

Dean was startled out of his revelry when Jimmy hooted with glee. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on where the noise was coming from and noticed a large dark spot in the water in front of them.

The raft.

By the time Dean reached the raft, Jimmy had managed to climb onto the wooden platform. Bob sank a little under the water when he lifted Sammy up to his brother. Dean caught his sleeve in an overabundance of caution, not wanting to lose anyone now that they had finally made it to safety.

“You next,” Bob told him.

“No, that’s--”

“No, Dean. You’re next.”

Using the platform for leverage, Bob gave him a boost while Jimmy pulled him upward. After everyone was on the raft, they lay on their backs, exhausted, and stared at the stars above in silence as they tried to get their breathing back under control.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for anything in my entire life,” Jimmy said, breaking their quiet lassitude.

The other three snorted in agreement.

After a while, Sammy sat up. “Is there any food?”

Dean grimaced, not sure how to break the bad news to his brother.

“Sammy, my lad, we are going to feast like kings tonight,” Bob said with quiet glee.

Dean rolled over and looked at the shadow of the older boy.

“All we need is a little mood lighting.”

Dean took that as his cue to turn on his flashlight. Bob rummaged through his backpack and pulled out two fairly large freeze-dried packages.

“Who wants macaroni and cheese with hot dogs?”

Dean laughed until he thought he was going to be sick.

*-*-*

The rumble of the Impala woke Dean from a pleasant dream. He blinked his eyes open, the last vestiges of his dream fading away. He remembered floating peacefully at sea while listening to the birds sing. But as he rose through the layers of consciousness, he found himself focusing on a strange plaid pattern before him.

Bob.

The raft.

The Impala meant...

Dad!

Dean bolted upright, then turned toward the shore just as his father stepped out of the car.

“Dad. Code Red! Code Red!”

His shouting woke up the rest of the boys, who immediately started yelling their own warnings.

“Run!”

“Daddy, watch out!”

“Mister, get out of there!”

Dean watched as his father immediately moved toward the trunk. No sooner did he have the trunk open than the creature came screaming out of the forest.

With his heart in his throat, he watched his father turn and blast the creature with a shotgun. While the blast knocked it down, it immediately scrambled to its feet again. John turned and pulled something else out of the trunk then disappeared from view. Dean heard the zap of electricity and knew his father had used the taser. The creature screamed horribly for several long moments, then there was nothing but silence.

“Daddy? Daddy!” Sam shouted.

John stood from behind the Impala and gave them a thumb’s up. Dean shook with relief.

Jimmy looked at Dean and grinned. “Dude, your old man kicks ass, doesn’t he?”

Knowing their nightmare fairy tale had finally ended, Dean grinned proudly. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

*End*