Summary: 4x22 Cheeseburgers, beer… Where's the pie?!

Did anyone else notice that the angels forgot the pie? That's the most important thing! Ahh!

Sorry if Zachariah seems out of character. I'm not too fond of him and don't pay much attention to his demeanor, except that he is too cheery about the end of the world for me...

All About Pie

Dean walked the length of the table, taking in the cheeseburgers and the ice bucket loaded with beers. "Huh." He lifted up one of the bottles. "Just the one I like."

"Of course," Zachariah said. "We wanted you to be as comfortable as possible."

Dean glanced at him. "Yeah, whatever…" He set the beer back down, looking around some more. He frowned. "Wait. Where's the pie?"

"Sorry?"

"The pie," Dean stated, annoyed. "Man, you can't stick me in here without any pie!"

"It seems we have," Zachariah replied. He gave a small smile. "Relax, Dean. It's just pie after all. You'll live."

Dean sputtered. "Just…pie? The world is ending and you say it's 'just pie?'" He threw he hands in the air. "For all I know, it could be the last pie I ever have! Go get me some pie!"

Zachariah huffed. "I'm not a delivery-boy."

"Well, I'm not going to wait around for the Apocalypse without any pie." Dean smiled slyly. He walked over to one of the small tables around the 'green room,' laying his finger on top of the ceramic angelic statues. It tipped over and crashed to the floor, shattering into a million shards. "Oops. Did I do that?"

The angel glowered. "One moment." He disappeared.

Dean tapped his foot impatiently.

Zachariah reappeared, a white box in hand. He literally shoved it into Dean's hands. "Here," he said stiffly, then moved to sit down on the bench in the corner of the room.

Dean opened the box. "Dude, you forgot the whipped cream."

Zachariah quaked internally.

Dean grinned. "Hey, you have orders to make me happy, so get me that whipped cream, would ya? Can't have pie without the whipped cream."

The angel glared, his jaw set fiercely. "Fine."

"And make sure it's not the crappy low fat kind!" Dean shouted as Zachariah disappeared.

Dean smirked, pleased with himself. He stuck his fork into the pastry. "Gotta have me pie."

Zachariah returned with a bottle of whipped cream.

"Sorry," Dean said cheerfully, not sorry at all, "I changed my mind."

If looks could kill…