Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Author's Note: Please read and review!
"Sammy, what is that?" Dean Winchester asked, raising an eyebrow. He was warily eyeing the green sludge that filled his younger brother's cup. Dean leaned across the table until he was eye level with the cup.
Sam Winchester glanced up from his computer screen, "This? It's green juice, it's good for you. It cleanses out your colon, you know? Detoxing?"
"De-what-ing?" Dean asked, practically spitting the syllables out. "You don't even know what's in it so it's just green juice? Not apple juice or cranberry juice, or hell, even gin and juice, it's just green? I'll be damned, I never thought I would see the day when juice is just a color."
"Come on, Dean," Sam said, looking back to his computer. "We can't live off fast food and beer forever."
"We can't?!" Dean exclaimed sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. "I for one, accept your challenge, Sammy." In front of him, a burger was wrapped tightly in foil. Dean excitedly unwrapped it and took a monstrous bite, a speck of mustard dripping onto his chin.
"Gross," Sam replied. His features softened, "For what it's worth, I'm glad you have your appetite back."
Sam thought briefly about what Dean had been through recently: the Mark of Cain, becoming a demon, and then coming back to humanity in spite of everything. It was a relief he was cracking jokes again. Even though Sam knew Dean was still emotionally wrecked from it all, he was thankful his older brother was at least attempting to act normal.
"Yeah, yeah, can we please not do the chick flick moment right now?" Dean asked, wiping his mouth and taking another giant bite. "What's new in the world? Anything speaking our language?"
"Not really," Sam sighed. "A couple missing child alerts, a homicide investigation, they all look legit though, I think the locals can handle that. There was a story about some cow mutilations in Wyoming but another hunter is already on it. Have you heard anything from Cas?"
"Nadda," Dean said, popping the top off a beer and taking a swig. He chased it with another bite of his delicious burger.
"Maybe it's not a bad thing to take a little longer to rest, Dean," Sam said, his eyes filled with concern. Dean rolled his eyes and took another swig of his beer.
"I'm fine, Sammy. Besides, I'm going stir crazy sitting in here. We've worked a couple cases since…you know…" Dean avoided eye contact with Sam, then looked at his brother again, eyes blazing, "and each time I felt…good. I felt normal."
Sam exhaled thinking it wise to hold in what he wanted to say.
"Wait a minute, listen to this," Sam said, his eyes widening as they sprinted across the computer screen. "It's an article from The Times- Picayune."
"Bless you," Dean said automatically, crumpling up the foil his burger, now long gone, was wrapped in. Sam looked puzzled for a moment, and then chuckled softly.
"I didn't sneeze, Dean. I said The Times- Picayune. It's a newspaper based in New Orleans. Anyway, this weekend is French Quarter Fest. It sounds like it's a huge music and food festival, but that's not what caught my eye. This article is entirely about a bake-off that is held every year during French Quarter Fest, but get this, each year, one of the participants vanishes just before the winner is revealed."
"Go on," Dean said, eyebrows furrowed, taking another sip of his beer.
"So, the person who vanishes is always the judges favorite and most likely to win the competition, so the winner is always the runner up."
"You would think they would cancel an event with bad luck like that," Dean said.
"Right? According to the article, the bake-off was permanently canceled after the third disappearance, but pop up competitions are popular during the festival, and the authorities can't keep track of them all." Sam said, running a hand through his chin length hair.
"It's like the black-market Betty Crocker," Dean murmured, smirking to himself.
"Exactly! Anyway, for the last two years, at least two more people have been reported missing while participating in a bake-off during the festival. I think this might be our thing, Dean."
"Sounds like it, Sammy. So, we've got someone nabbing bakers, that's got to be a first. Does it say what kind of thing they're baking? Cakes? Beignets? It is New Orleans after all."
"Actually, pie." Sam said, holding back laughter.
Dean froze in his seat, his eyes glazing over slightly. Pie? Someone was messing with people who made pie? That was unforgivable in his opinion. One of the most unforgivable sins along with people who abuse animals, kidnap children, and willingly go by the name Dick.
"No," Dean whispered. "Sam if this wasn't our thing before, it is now." He stood up, nearly knocking his chair over.
"We're headed to New Orleans?" Sam asked, closing his computer.
"You got it."