It was official. Sam Winchester had a headache.
“Did not!” His brother Dean (50% of the cause of his headache) insisted.
“Did too!” Buffy Summers (the other 50%) retorted sharply.
Buffy’s younger sister Dawn was curled up under Sam’s arm and against his chest in the backseat of the Impala. Sam thought she was asleep until she asked him tiredly, “How long have they been arguing?”
“Listen, you lunatic…”
“Don’t lunatic me…you…you…”
“C’mon Buffy, quip me with your best shot!”
Sam rested his cheek against the top of Dawn’s head. Under normal circumstances, he would have felt cozy and lazy holding her like this…but his head hurt too badly. “An hour and a half,” he told her.
“Sam, honey, please kill them.”
“I loathe you,” Buffy informed Dean.
“You do not.”
“I do too!”
Dawn’s plea gave Sam an idea. Sam nudged her out of his arms. She grumbled in protest but relented. When Sam began to rummage through the bag on the floor, she asked, “What are you looking for?”
From his spot in the driver’s seat, Dean informed Buffy, “You know what your problem is? You’re spoiled.”
“I am not.”
“You are too.”
When Sam cocked the hammer on his gun they finally (finally!) shut up.
“Sammy? Whatcha doin?”
Dawn nudged Sam. “I didn’t actually mean it.”
“Concede,” Sam demanded.
“What?” Dean asked.
“It means you’re supposed to admit you’re wrong,” Buffy told him.
“I know what it means!”
“One of you concedes or…”
Dean scoffed, “Empty threat, Sammy. You wouldn’t shoot your own brother.”
“No,” Sam admitted. Then he swung the barrel towards his window. “But baby’s gonna need a new window.”
Dean gasped, “You wouldn’t!”
“Oh, I would.”
Buffy smirked, “Time to capitulate hot shot.”
“Bufffeeee,” Dawn sang out. In her hand was a wooden stake, which she dangled precariously out her window.
Buffy gasped, “Mr. Pointy!”
“…Is gonna be nothing but a pile of splinters if you two don’t do exactly what Sam says.”
Looking back, Sam decided that this was the exact moment that he fell in love with Dawn Summers.
“So,” Sam laid down the law. “One of you better admit that you were wrong and quick.”
“Um…” Dean glanced nervously at Buffy. “Do you…?”
“No. Do you…?”
“What’s the holdup, kids?” Sam asked.
Buffy and Dean exchanged several more nervous glances before Buffy admitted, “We can’t actually remember what we were fighting about.”
Dawn growled, “Pull the trigger.”
Funny thing. Sam never realized that gunfire and shattering glass could cure a headache.