Dean wasn't sure what to think at this point, he just knew that something horrible happened and no one around him was even remotely worried about it. The pie was gone. The pie has vanished and everyone is saying they never touched the freaking pie that Dean spent hours slaving over. Okay, so maybe not hours and maybe he didn't even make it himself—he got it at the convenience store down the street for three bucks and some change, but it was bought with himself in mind! And now, unless in the five minutes of Dean's hyperventilating it's reappeared on the picnic blanket, he'd never even get the chance to take a bite out of it. What did Sam have to say about it? "Chill, dude, eat a salad for once and enjoy the day of peace." Dean had threatened Sam with a hair cut, but that had only succeeded in getting Sam angry enough to punch his shoulder.
What did Cas have to say about it? "I don't know about your pie, Dean, but..." And then the angel had walked right past Dean after a bumblebee. Sherlock and John had much the same response as Sam, telling him to move on and enjoy his day off, though Sherlock put it in words Dean could barely understand and he was almost certain the genius had insulted him at some point. It wasn't fair, he worked hard to keep what he has, usually did it without any real complaints, so why shouldn't he be able to relax with his pie? Because the universe hates him, that's why. Dean moves through the park, his hands stuffed in his jacket as he looks at all the other small families enjoying their snacks.
Why was it so hard for all of his friends to believe that they had a pie thief in their midst? Sure, the Summer afternoon was relaxing, the cool breeze kept him from becoming too hot, but it would only be made perfect if Dean had his pie back. Then he heard the noise, a strange wheezing sound coming from the spot of land his friends had staked as theirs. Dean looks over his shoulder, spotting the familiar blue box as it materializes a few feet from where Sam and John were discussing fighting techniques. Maybe the Doctor would listen to Dean's complaints? He walks back the way he came, the Doctor already out and socializing by the time Dean makes it back and his companion, a red-headed woman named Donna, was snuggling up to Sammy.
"Dean," the Doctor shouts with a happy smile, holding something behind his back.
"Look, Doc, we got a real problem," Dean starts, but cuts himself off when the Doctor revealed what was hidden behind his back. He held a pie in his hands, the sticker meant to keep the container sealed was ripped and a familiar designed was depicted on the larger part of the sticker. It was the design for the convenience store down the street and Dean could tell by the small knife mark in part of the tape that this was the same pie he'd bought earlier.
"I thought you'd like this. Accidentally landed a few blocks from here and some guy named Crowley asked me to deliver this. Looked a bit suspicious if you ask me, but pie is pie."
"Crowley," Dean growls, his hands shaking as he throws the pie in the trash. He hadn't been the one to open it, so that could only mean one thing. "He spit in it."
Meanwhile, across the crowded park and standing out because of the dark suit he wore, Crowley laughs as Dean throws the pie in the trash. It was petty, he supposed, and most would call it rather cruel, but he felt it was only natural that the King of Hell bully the Winchester boys from time to time. And what better way to torture Dean than have him throw away a perfectly good pie? Poor kid probably thought Crowley had spit in it.