Four funny situations, one that shouldn't really be and one that isn't at all

"How bad is it?"

"Bad enough," Dean replied, eyes scrunched shut in pain.

"I'm driving as fast as I can," Sam assured him, casting one concerned look at the contorting brother by his side.

"Watch the road... I'll still look the same whether you're staring at me or not," Dean complained.

"Ok, ok... it's just that..."

"That what?"

"You look funny like that," Sam said, most defiantly not staring his brother.

"Laugh it up princess... next time a witch curses us, I'm stepping behind your gigantic ass."

"Come on... it looks funny."

"It's a banana... on my nose.... NOT FUNNY!"

The water spirit wasn't that much of a bother and the room was covered until the end of the week. It wasn't vacations for the Winchesters, but it came pretty damn near.

"Watch out for Sammy," John warned his older son. "Plenty of sunblock and no swimming past where I can see you two!"

"Yes, sir!" Dean said with a beaming smile so wide that managed to reflect the sunlight in his teeth.

It was a good day. Dean came back lobster-red, Sam was dead on his feet and John had sand in unmentionable places. But ice-cream heals it all.

How could people ride those things was beyond Dean's understanding.
The seats were scratchy, the leg-room was inexistent and the guy seating next to him smelled like stale garlic. Also, he might be slightly gay, unless staring at the person next to you and asking for their phone number in five different manners were normal occurrences in bus drives.

But dad's truck was busted, and Dean had been 'de-aged' to fifteen, with no wheels of his own while dad was working a case.

And Sam's appendix had filled for a divorce, landing his kid brother in the hospital. Fun times!

Ronald peeled his banana and took an angry bite. Bastard, gigantic asses, sons of bitches, stupid feds! What business did they have to come to his home and steal the hard evidence that he had collected? Probably were in on it too, those two pretentious shmucks, with their 'evidence in an ongoing investigation'...

MANDROID MINIONS! That's what they were. Oh! Oh... maybe they were mandroids too, with their too perfect jaws and flawless skins... Ronald, you're an idiot! Biggest chance of proving that all of your theories were right and you kick them out of your house. That's just perfect...

There was miserable, and then there was Winchester miserable.

Common person with a cold, gets a runny nose, spends a whole lot of Kleenex, sneezes, gets maybe a bit of a headache and a touch of fever. They feel miserable, granted, but they live.

Winchesters wait until they're in the middle of the harshest of Winters, in the worst of blizzards, practically buried in freezing snow, trapped in a ramshackle cabin who's fireplace doesn't work, completely outside cell phone coverage.

"Atchiiim!"

"Tell me that was not a sneeze, Sam."

Sam, the red nose Winchester, remained silent. Until he sneezed again.

Mary stabbed the pumpkin like the vegetable was her worst enemy. She hated Halloween, the night that celebrated all the freaks that her family had dedicated themselves to hunt. That they'd given their lives to hunt.

"Hey honey... I think that pumpkin gave her last breath some five stabs ago..."

Mary looked at the mess in her kitchen counter and dropped the orange stained knife. John's hands were warm against her swollen belly, caressing their firstborn. "You ok?"

Mary looked away from the mutilated pumpkin and back at her husband's hands. Ten years were still far away. There was time.