"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN" Dean's voice boomed loud enough that he felt his newly adorned back flex.

"Sorry deano, I don't take too kindly to threats. Ipso facto, I can't help you."

"You son of a B-"

"Can't or won't do anything?" Baby Bro stepped foreword to cut Dean off. Dean pulled out bitch face number 35. He was pissed and these things were gigantic. And pink.

"Hmmmm...Ill let you know." And with a snap, was gone. A distinct jingling was heard as Dean, definitely NOT pouting , tried to balance himself on the bed.

"Hes fucking dead."