A week had passed since the pie-in-the-salt-ring incident and Dean was still pissed about it. He'd had to wash every scrap of cloth in the bunker before Sam would let him have the pie.

"I swear I'm gonna get you back for that, bitch," he'd mutter every time he saw Sam who would always smirk in reply.

Now Dean was actually ready to follow through with that request. Crowley had finally taught him how to harness his telekinesis, and he was planning to use it.

He told Sam that he was going out to get laid and drove the (now un-demon proofed) Impala out of the garage. Then he parked it in a ditch and zapped back to the bunker, sneaking into Sam's room.

His brother had all the normal things he'd expect: hairbrush, pain meds, slippers, lotion, tissues (hopefully Dean wouldn't have to witness those being put to use), etc. His plan was simple: hide under the bed and make stuff fly around whenever Sam tried to use it.

Five minutes after Dean hid under the bed, the door clicked open. Sam was singing to himself, loudly and off-key. It was like a scene from a low-budget horror flick. The first thing he went for was his iPod, which Dean flicked a few inches to the left.

Sam jerked his hand away, then looked around and tried again. This time, Dean made it fly across the room onto the bed, trying not to break it. He was a demon, yeah, but he wasn't that mean. Now Sam was really getting nervous. The taller man hurried out, grabbing salt and an iron fire-poker.

Dean was really starting to enjoy himself now, blowing out all the lightbulbs following his brother and slamming the door in his face. It was almost too easy. Sam made it in, already pale.

"Why do I smell sulfur?" he asked himself, "Dean? Are you messing with me?"

The older man stifled a laugh and flung a pillow at his brother's face. He was enjoying himself more than he should've been, he knew that.

Sam was starting to get more panicked, "Who are you?!" he demanded, voice rising as Dean smashed a clock against the mirror, "What do you want with me?!"

This continued on for a good ten minutes. Dean smashing things and making wind blow in Sam's face while his little brother got more and more panicked. Then his brother finally snapped.

"If you want to kill me, just do it!" Dean froze, dropping the lotion bottle in midair, "I don't like being fucked with. Obviously something happened to make you come after me, so get your revenge and be done with it."

Dean zapped back to the car. He wasn't fighting, he thought, slamming his fist against the steering wheel, He just said to do it, like he thought he deserved it.

When Dean got home, there were going to be some serious discussions.

Aaaaand I'm late again.. Sorry about that, guys. Writer's block sucks. Anyway, hope everyone's month has been as lovely as mine. To everyone who favourited/followed while I was away, Hello, friends, and welcome to my weekly ramblings! I really really really (x100) appreciate you finding and joining my little circle while I was gone and it made my day to get those notifications!

Quick PSA type thing.. School is starting in a week or so, so I'm going to have a much more difficult time coming up with ideas with a fried brain. Suggestions are more than welcome! If you have an idea of something that you would like to see, pretty please shoot me a PM or leave me a review and I will write it in a chapter and credit you at the beginning!

Thanks for reading! Love you guys! :)