As the room spun slowly, the result of accidentally poisoning himself with basilisk venom, Dean Winchester pondered the mysteries of the universe: a functional clutch in the Impala despite the abuse he heaped on it daily, Sam's hair's resemblance to a yak, and what Bobby looked like without a trucker hat.
John Winchester was huddled into a corner of the cab of his truck (privately, he called her Bessie, but he would never admit that out loud), trying to present as small a package as possible and to give the other two men - his sons - as much room as possible, as they seemed to be busily investigating each other's molars with their teeth, and muttered under his breath "when will the mechanic get here?" incessantly.
Bobby knew his time was up, his marker was being called in, his appointment with the hunter's lodge in the sky was imminent, his bucket was being used like a football, the end was near.... when he began hallucinating the sheriff dancing with Crowley while they both were wearing tutus and Rufus, Castiel, and Ellen Harvelle were holding up placards with 10's on them every morning while eating his Beerios.
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