You and Dean had faced monsters, demons, and the occasional apocalypse—but now? Now you were facing something truly terrifying: small-town cops with nothing better to do. Sitting in the back of the patrol car, wrists cuffed behind you, Dean glanced at you, shrugging with his usual smirk.

"Well, at least they didn’t shoot us."

"Not yet," you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

It all started with a hunt—nothing too dangerous, just a vengeful spirit causing some trouble in a creepy old house. You and Dean broke in to take care of it, only to be interrupted by flashing red-and-blue lights and cops swarming the place. Now, here you were, in handcuffs, being hauled off to the local station.

The car pulled up to the police station, and you and Dean were ushered inside. After fingerprinting and a thorough lecture about the law, you found yourselves in a small interrogation room. Dean was sitting across from you, looking like he was ready to charm his way out of the situation.

Officer Daniels leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Breaking and entering, trespassing... Want to explain why you were inside Mrs. Henderson's house?"

Dean sat up straighter, wearing that signature confident grin. You could already tell he was about to come up with something ridiculous.

"Well, officer," Dean began, putting on his most serious face. "The truth is… we’re, uh, amateur ghost hunters."

You shot him a look. Seriously?

Officer Daniels raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Ghost hunters?"

Dean nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, you know—salt, burn, save the town from evil spirits. We were just doing our civic duty, really."

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. Civic duty?

"And the shotgun in your trunk?" Officer Daniels deadpanned.

Dean paused for a second, then shrugged. "Ghost raccoons?".

Without another word, he waved for another officer, and the two of you were escorted out of the interrogation room and straight into a holding cell.

As soon as the cell door clanged shut behind you, you silently laughed at his excuse.