“Dean, the pie’s not going to go anywhere. If you keep stuffing your face like that, you’re going to choke.”

They were in some sleazy diner in a Deep South city Sam didn’t remember the name of, though he was sure it had something to do with a safari. Savannah? Sounded about right.

“You know, the secret to peach pie, Sam, is that the peaches have to be old. Slightly in that mushy stage, so they’re getting all alcoholic. I learned that from, well, a friend.”

“A friend being someone you conjured out of nowhere to back up your argument?” Dean shrugged.

“No, she actually existed. Although we never did get out of that crust making stage. Remember the scene from Ghost? Like that, but with dough. Also less necrophilia.”

Crowley materialised in the booth, followed seconds later by Castiel, although there wasn’t enough room and the angel ended up half awkwardly perched on the table and half in Dean’s lap.

“Have I missed something? I heard Dean talking about friends.” He shifted, trying and failing to move – the booth was too narrow.

“Um, Cas... this is the South, you know.” Dean tried to wiggle out from under him but there just wasn’t enough space. “You can’t just materialise in some dude’s lap in the South and expect that to be kosher.” Castiel didn’t seem to take the hint. “Get off me, Cas, before someone sees us.”

“Hello, Moose. I know what I’m doing here, but what brings you two to this little slice of... Hell?” Castiel scowled at Crowley, obviously put out because the demon had taken where he was going to sit.

Sam sighed.

“Is this going to turn into a smiting contest? I was trying to eat my salad here.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“That’s not a salad. That’s a deconstructed chicken sandwich with too many croutons and bacon bits.”

“See, Moose, the most beautiful thing about salad is how much you can get your minions to... alter it before the person that’s eating it realises something’s off.” Crowley picked up a lettuce leaf and idly waved it around. “What if I told you that my people see that your people like this greenery and have somehow tampered with it?”

“Crowley, have your minions... tossed it?” Castiel shifted again, but Sam just gave a ‘meh’ look and ate another lettuce leaf.

“You do realise that whatever poison is in there won’t work, right? I already tried drinking a whole bottle of the stuff. No show. Woke up the next day feeling fine.”

“Dean, I would prefer it if you did not carry your gun in your front pocket. It is poking me.” Sam was confused for about two seconds, because he thought they’d agreed to leave the guns at the motel. Then he caught Dean’s help-me stare and understood.

“Well, if you would get off my lap, I might have a chance to rearrange some things. Off, you are squishing it.”

“That would be unwise. Too much pressure may cause the gun to fire accidentally. That would be unwise with so many civilians around, as one of them may notice.” Dean looked like he was going to die of embarrassment, but nevertheless pushed Castiel off and into the tiny cubby of space between him and Sam.

Sam didn’t notice, as he was too busy squinting at the other end of the bar.

“Let’s not discuss what you and your human do in the bedroom, Angel.”

“Demon, our bond is profound. Do not presume to question it.”

“Something’s off.” Sam thought for a moment, then raised his voice to a shout. “EXCUSE ME, IS THERE A CHRISTOPHER HERE? I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MEETING HIM!” Crowley flinched and his eyes flashed briefly red.

“Sam, who is this Christopher? It is unwise to consort with those unknown, as I thought you realised from Ruby.”

“Cas, you have no sense of subtlety.” Sam shook his head. “There’s another demon here, at the other table. I saw her eyes. Not sure who, but now she’s glaring.”

“I have observed humanity for millennia. Your kind are not subtle beings, as demonstrated not least by your brother and you.”

Crowley decided that would apparently be an appropriate moment to ruffle Sam’s hair. Dean steadfastly pretended the demon next to his brother did not exist.

“Come now, squirrel, give Daddy some love...” Dean couldn’t quite stop the ‘eww’ from leaving his mouth. “Well, I can see where I’m not wanted.” Crowley snapped his fingers and dematerialised.

Sam scooted over so Castiel could have more room and pointed.

“Cas, over there. Could you go check her out? You know, go flirt with her or something...” Sam sighed. “You know what, never mind. Go threaten her with your knife.”

Castiel nodded and drew his angel blade before prowling over to the distant table.

“Yeah, go tell Cas to check out the hot chick in this town. Great move, though you should wait until the third date before you try smiting a demon bitch. Hey, you reckon all demons’ eyes flare when someone says Kris Kristopherson’s name?”

The girl at the faraway table lowered her hat, trying to hide. And as luck would have it, at that exact moment the bell dinged and Charlie walked in, ears plugged into ipod and not watching her step, banging right into Castiel. Castiel looked down at her as she winced in pain – angels were like concrete when you hit them, Sam knew that first-hand.

“Who are you?”

“I’m very sorry, Sir, I didn’t see you.” Charlie cowered meekly and bowed her head, making her look very small indeed. She tried to sidestep around Castiel, but her eyes caught those of the other woman – demon in the corner, before they lifted the menu up to hide their face again.

Dean quietly sat up and focused on them with a bit more interest.

“Is it just me or is Cas in the middle of a hot chick sandwich?”

“Nah, that’s your gutter mind working on hyperdrive.” Castiel returned to their table and Dean shifted up to make room.

“She appears to be of demonic origin. Should I smite her now or wait until she is outside?” Sam turned to Dean.

“You up for causing a scene? It’s now or when she leaves the bar. Dammit, this was meant to be a night off.”

At the other table, Meg gave up trying to hide and unleashed the full on glare at Charlie.

“Whatcha lookin at, Red?”

“...Nothing special, actually. Do you mind if I join you?”

Sam was watching them.

“What about the other girl, though – do you reckon she’s a demon too? They look like they know each other.” Dean contemplated it a bit.

“Nah. She walked straight into an angel. No demon is that suicidal or clumsy. Heh, this is booring.”

“Good point. And eat your pie, Dean, or we’ll be stuck here all night.”