Six damn thirty.
Trying to ignore his growling stomach, Dean drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of the Impala.
He'd dropped his little brother off in front of the bookstore more than two hours ago and Sam had promised, faithfully, to be waiting outside at 6 o'clock.
Yeah, right. Dean could see Sam through the big plate glass window fronting the store. He was sitting on the floor next to a big stack of books, reading, which is exactly where he'd been thirty minutes ago!
Dean's stomach growled again.
Damn it.
They were supposed to be having dinner in the diner over on Fifth Street. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a hunk of pie. Apple, with a scoop of ice cream on top.
If his brother ever got his book-reading ass out to the car!
Dean blew out a breath and glanced toward the store window again.
Sam was still on the floor, but now he was looking up at one of the store's two male clerks, talking animatedly. At one point, he rifled through the pages of the tome he was holding and read a passage aloud to his new best friend. They both laughed.
6:35.
At the end of his patience, Dean climbed out of the car. If he waited too much longer, the diner would be out of meat loaf and he could kiss that apple pie good-bye.
Heading toward the store, he was skirting the sale cart parked next to the front door when he was brought to a sudden halt by the sight of a paperback balancing haphazardly on top. It had a photograph of history's greatest asshole on the cover and the title, in lurid red letters, was Killing Hitler.
"Yeah, killing that fucker woulda been at the top of my list." Scowling, Dean pulled the battered book from the cart and thumbed through it, stopping to read an occasional paragraph, pausing longer on the multitude of photographs.
"Dean?"
Startled, he looked up as Sam, carrying a heavily burdened plastic bag, leaned in close to see what he was reading.
"You gonna get that?"
Dean hesitated. He hadn't even thought of it, but now that he had…
"Uh, yeah, think I am."
"Why?" Simple curiosity in Sam's voice.
"It's interesting."
Sam grinned. "That's the best reason to read any book."
"I guess so." Dean shut the book with a snap. "You know how many times his own people tried to kill that fucker and blew it? Assholes."
"Maybe I'll read it when you're done." Sam peered around Dean to look at the other books on the cart. "Hey, I haven't checked out those yet."
"Oh, hell no!" Dean grabbed his brother's shoulder and steered him toward the waiting Impala. "Get your butt in the car. I'll go pay for my one book and then we're gonna go eat."
Sam cast a last yearning glance back toward the cart, then gave in, letting Dean fold him into the passenger seat of the car.
His brother settled, Dean trotted into the store.
Should be interesting, finding out how so many people had managed to screw the pooch trying to kill that crazy bastard.
One thing Dean knew for damned sure. If he'd had the chance to kill Hitler, that pooch would definitely have remained unscrewed!
