"Dean! Behind you!"
He swung hard, instinctively, and felt a satisfying thrum along the blade as he beheaded the vamp running at his back. He turned his head quickly, eyeing the corners of the barn as Sam found his feet.
"That was not what I had in mind when you said 'milk run'" Sam puffed, winded from his duel with two seriously amped up blood suckers. His face was bruised, and there was a gash across his cheekbone that was slowly seeping blood down his jawbone. Same stared at his brother, clearly put out by his 'running in half-cocked' attitude that nearly got them killed – again.
Dean turned back to face him, eyes clearly not focusing, and his thoughts elsewhere. Then, like a switch had been flipped, he stared Sam straight in the eyes, and a shit eating grin stretched across his face.
"Ah, c'mon, Sammy – what's a milk run without a little monster hunting?" Dean had blood splatter on his neck and across his nose, but he seemed as happy as a ten year old on wiz fizz. Sam wasn't so sure it wasn't an act – the Mark of Cain was affecting his brother in ways he couldn't understand, and sometimes, Sam would catch Dean staring off into space, his eyes blank and dead.
Sam shook his head, took a deep breath and huffed out a laugh, playing along with Dean's good mood
"Well, to be clear – a milk run without monster hunting would be a trip to the store for milk – without hunting monsters. Or possibly monsters that you choose not to hunt. Though why-"
'THANKS Cas." Dean exclaimed loudly, cutting off the angel before he got started. Castiel stared at Dean, silently understanding that he had said something incorrect, though not quite sure what.
Same turned around, feet skidding in the hay of the barn, "Good to see you haven't lost your touch, Cas – but you could have come in with us, instead of waiting in the car?"
Castiels' gaze drifted up to Sam, blue eyes piercing in the darkness. "I didn't think there'd be too much trouble here." His eyebrows twitched into a frown "Vampires and milk did sound like a strange combo, though."
Sam bit back a grin, knowing he'd just confuse his friend. After a small confused facial twitch, Dean chose to ignore the conversation and proceeded to head out of the musty barn and into the clear night air that surrounded the small Nebraskan farm they'd just invaded.
Baby was parked out the front, roof gleaming in the light of the quarter moon, rims muddied from their trek across the farmlands to their quarry. Dean popped to trunk, and pulled out an old cleaning rag from the pile in the back right hand corner. Sam soon came up beside him, and borrowed the rag for his own machete. Cas stood quietly away from them, staring out across the tree tops of the nearby woods, thoughts concealed behind his stoic, yet wondering gaze.
Dean wasn't fooled.
Dropping his machete in it's holder back in the trunk, he reached into the backseat for the cooler and extracted two beers, water beading off them as he popped the tops. He handed one to Sam, who leaned against the back of the open trunk and took a moment to reflect on the hunt, while Dean walked over to Castiel, one hand in his pocket, the other raising his beer to his lips. Taking a swig, and finishing with a heart 'h-aah', he looked at his trenchcoated companion, and stated the demand he wasn't sure he wanted answered.
"Talk to me Cas."
The dark haired angel tilted his head towards Dean, but didn't take his eyes off whatever had captured his gaze over the treetops.
"I'm worried about you, Dean." His voice was husky, deep, and Dean flinched a little, avoiding the urge to roll his eyes. Cas was always worried about him – he and Sammy needed to start a diary together – 'The Worries we have about Dean – by Sam and Cas.' He could see it in one of those Supernatural Fanfic sites that Becky wrote to.
Dean took another sip of his beer, allowing himself time to sound sincere
"There's nothing to worry about, man – I'm fine. Just killed me some Vamps, and we'll be home in time for breakfast. I'm good."
Castiels eye's snapped to Deans face, studying him intently. Dean wanted to squirm, wanted to smile and turn his gaze away with a laugh – but he knew Cas would be onto him. So instead, he held his gaze, proving his words were true.
The angel turned away first, his eyes flashing in the dark, frowning slightly.
Dean brought his beer up, paused, glancing at his friend, then tipped back his head and finished the bottle in several short gulps. He held the bottle up, and yelled out to Sam to get the shovels – it was time to bury the bodies.