Dean was almost awkwardly silent. He was a mixture of embarrassed and ashamed, especially for lying to Sam about what he remembered. He didn’t want to have had the truth spill out in this way, and even after this episode he wasn’t going to try to burden his little brother with the nightmares in his own head.
”Yeah…” he mumbled, thankful that Sam didn’t press him. He was sure he’d have to confess sooner or later.
A shaky hand slid through his hair as he got out of the car, beelining to a corner seat in the diner. He chewed on his lip as he awaited a waitress, not being able to look in his brother’s direction even for a brief moment.
Sam rolled his eyes. Of course Dean would have a death wish if it made things easier. “Yeah they don’t ‘normally’, but we haven’t exactly dealt with ‘normal’ in a while.” Sammy coughed a laugh.
He glanced at the sliding plate with a light shake of his head, tossing his hair, but didn’t accept the offer to share. “We should talk to the families of the victims later today. Hopefully that’ll give us some more connections between them. Maybe we’ll be able to pin the next target.”
He wrinkled his forehead, knitting his brow at the clunk of the mug hitting the table harder then expected. The look on Dean’s face showed something was strange. Very strange. Though Sam couldn’t pick up on what exactly is was. Sam looked down into his own cup as if it somehow effected his coffee as well. “What was that?”
Dean was too rattled to quip at Sam for being a smartass regarding normalcy. He was in the midst of continuing to test his coffee for signs of blood, even going as far as plunking a finger into the liquid to check the consistency and the color, looking like a five-year-old in the process. After finally lifting his gaze to his brother, he opened his mouth to wave it off, only to close it a moment afterward. What if this were related to the case? Sammy needed to know.
”Coffee tasted funny,” Dean said, relenting, even though he didn’t want his brother to worry about him. After all, it was his job as the older brother to worry, not the other way around. “A lot like, well, blood.” Was he cursed? Were all the first-borns in this town cursed?
”Hey, wait,” he piped suddenly, his chartreuse-colored eyes widening slightly. “Didn’t Dad have somethin’ about this place in his journal? Hasn’t he hunted here before?” He stuck his finger into Sam’s coffee to check it, too. Couldn’t be too careful, right? “I wonder if the case he did was similar.”
"Alien," She answered. "We used to be called Time Lords, but that’s so damn pretentious."
”Time Lord, huh?”
Dean couldn’t help the smirk that yanked at the corner of his lips like a fishhook and a persistent fisherman. “And what the hell do Time Lords do?”
“Uh, what? Dude. I only asked you if you’ve seen a little guy. My brother? Sammy?”
Dean remembered this day. Sammy was off getting carried away in some library with his science project last-minute, he…Had been getting carried away chasing tail around the school grounds. What Dean hadn’t remembered was approaching some dude who kind of looked a lot like himself for help, which concerned him the most. But he wasn’t about to freak out his younger self.
”What’s uh…What’s he look like?” he asked, stalling. The first thing he needed to know was whether he had been tossed into the past again, or if maybe his younger self was thrown forward.
”Why would you dip perfectly good fries in a goddamn milkshake?”
“Is there somethin’ wrong, sir?”
”Yeah, that dude over there just heaved all over the friggin’ place. I’m pretty sure you cut ‘im off an hour ago. And also pretty damn sure that your coworker’s been scorin’ some easy tips off of him since.”
"I told you I couldn’t cook! I’ll just throw it away."
Dean felt a little guilty for making the face, but Laurel’s reaction to his own reaction was gold.
”Maybe you’re more of a baker type of gal. You do pie? I friggin love pie.”
"What’s wrong with it?"
"Aside from the fact that it stinks like death or maybe—
— the fact that it’s two five-legged goats sewn together with fishing line? I mean, seriously, who does that?!”