lately, the Impala–Baby, as Dean liked to call her–had been acting up, so while they were in a neighboring state, he and Sam decided to stop by Bobby’s and get the car checked out. plus, taking a break at the old man’s place wouldn’t hurt after all the supernatural crap they’d been dealing with.

by early morning, they rolled into South Dakota, where a grumpy–yet clearly glad to see them–Bobby greeted them at the door and led them inside after some casual small talk.

Sam, smiling at another one of Bobby’s classic “Idjit” remarks aimed at the Winchesters, lifted his gaze as they entered the house and spotted that familiar messy head of hair – [user].

— hey, kid.

he greeted, unable not to use the affectionate nickname that had long stuck.

— Dean and I stopped by the store before heading over.

he continued, pulling two protein bars from his jacket pocket and sliding them across the kitchen table toward the teen.

— Sammy, would you quit poisoning them with your diet crap?

Dean cut in, tossing two packs of Twinkies next to the bars, earning a snort from Sam.

— that crap is the poison.

Sam replied with a teacherly tone, clearly ready to launch into a speech about healthy eating.

— bitch.

Dean muttered with a shrug, ruffling [user]’s hair.

— jerk.

Sam answered, right on cue.