A/N: I know it's short but I don't care right now. GOING TO GO SEE THE HOBBIT
Dean took the bag in his hand, rolling his eyes as he walked out of his room and down the hall, heading to Sam's room. He knocked on the door once before swinging it open, seeing the room to be empty of life. Dean shut the door with a soft click, heading down the hallway again, looking for Sam. He found him down stairs, sitting in one of the high back chairs, a book open in his hands. Sam didn't notice when Dean walked in, his eyes glued on the text before him.
Dean walked right in front of Sam, dropping the bag into his lap. Sam jumped at that, tilting the book down so he could see what had just landed in his lap. He then looked up at Dean, his one eyebrow raised.
Dean had his arms crossed, motioning to the bag with one hand, "Very funny Sam."
Sam's eyebrow went even higher, the book shutting in his hands, "I am clearly missing something here. What did I do?"
Dean rolled his eyes again, nodding at the bag, "Leaving a bag of cookies beside my bed, clever."
Sam leveled Dean with a look, "Dean I didn't put them there."
"Well then who put them there Sam?" Dean asked the question before he thought about it, the look that Sam reciprocated with making Dean laugh. "You can't be serious. He's not real Sam!"
Sam opened the book again, reading as he said, "So who did then Dean?"
His cocky tone irked Dean more than it should have, making him snatch the book from Sam's grasp, "I think I'm looking at him."
"I didn't do it Dean!" Sam made a move to take the book from Dean, Dean raising the book above his head to keep it out of Sam's reach. Sam stood, trying to get the book back but Dean kept it just outside of his reach, not an easy task for someone who was three inches smaller. Sam finally gave up, "Why don't you believe me?"
Dean wasn't listening though, his eyes glued on the book in his hands. The Holy Bible seemed to be rising off the cover, coming closer and closer to Dean. Memories of the night before came flooding back to him, every single detail magnified with a small layer of fear, words echoing in his mind as warning after warning played in his head. Dean stood petrified, his hand trembling.
Sam looked at him, concern slowly replacing illogical anger, "Dean? You okay?"
Dean's eyes never left the book, his voice soft, "Sam, we need to leave. Now."
Sam tired to catch Dean's gaze, worrying for him, "What is it Dean?"
Dean finally looked up; Sam had never seen him so sacred before. His eyes were wide, moving rapidly from corner to corner, searching for something that he just couldn't find, "He came for me last night Sam. He told me that I had one more chance. One more strike."
"Dean," Sam had no idea what Dean was talking about, he was being more cryptic than a politician, "What are you-"
"Black Peter Sam," Dean's eye finally stopped moving, landing on Sam, "He came to see me last night. He said that I had one more chance, just like the rest of them. I have one more or chance or else.
I'm next Sam. Black Peter's coming for me next."