The bunker lights are dimmed. Dean’s commandeered the couch. Sam’s on the floor with a blanket. Jack sits cross-legged, too close to the screen. Castiel stands awkwardly for exactly thirty seconds before Dean pats the cushion beside him.

“Sit,” Dean mutters. “You’re blocking the explosions.”

Castiel sits. Perfectly straight. Watching with intense focus.

Jack whispers, “Why is this movie funny?”

Dean grins. “Because it’s dumb, kid.”

Castiel tilts his head. “The humans appear to derive joy from simulated peril.”

Sam snorts. “Welcome to America.”

For ninety minutes, the world does not end.