Summary: Face it. Dean is insensitive.
I Dig You (Cult Hero) by frostygossamer
Here they are again, our heroes, down at the bottom of a deep grave that they've been digging up all night. It's getting close to dawn. They'd better do it now or never.
Finally they strike oak. Dean levers off the coffin lid with the edge of his spade, just to make certain. The coffin contains a jumble of bones and rags, the skull sporting a malevolent grin.
"That's her, sure enough. Old widow Watts who poisoned five husbands, just to get pushed under a train by the sixth when he found out she was cheating on him with some Casey Jones wannabe," Sam confirms.
"They sure buried her freakin' deep," Dean gripes, stretching his backbone.
"Dude, the sooner we salt and burn the old witch the better," Sam declares, as he throws their spades and pickaxes up on the graveside.
In fact the pit is now so deep that Sam has to struggle to lift his gangly frame up out of it. But he gets there.
He leans over the edge, resting his hands on his knees, as he speaks to the top of Dean's head.
"You want out, Shorty, or are you gonna just get comfy down there?"
"Very funny, bitch," Dean snickers, reaching his right hand up to his brother for a help up.
"Take my hand," he joshes, beaming up at him sunnily, "and I'm all yours."
Sam straightens up, turns on his heel and walks away, right back to the Impala parked by the cemetery gates.
"What did I say?" wails Dean from down in the hole.
Poor Sammy. You wait ten years, and the very thing you've been longing for him to say he finally he says, like this? Here? Now? In that mocking tone? Too much, Dude!
The End
A/N: Ever had someone you care about say "I love you" like a joke? You know they're never going to say it for real now.