Dean was lying on his bed in the motel room, his casted leg propped up on a pillow. Things hadn't been going well for him. He got rejected at the bar the night before. Then, the poltergeist they were after tossed him across the room of the abandoned house, breaking his leg. He had a can of whipped cream in his duffle. Why he had it, Sam said he didn't want to know, but he promised to bring Dean some pie from his store run. Dean stared at the can, anticipating the treat coming his way until Sam walked through the door.
"Dude," Dean said, "gimme the pie."
Sam winced. "Sorry, man… I forgot it."
Dean looked like he'd been slapped. He scratched at his cast and frowned.
"This town sucks."