Sam looked askance at his brother. "Dean, did you pay *any* attention in history class?"

"Yeah," Dean replied with that I-told-you-so tone he tended to use when he took on a challenge he maybe should have let pass.

Sam folded his arms in front of his chest, tilted his head and taunted, "Prove it."

Face lite up, smug expression in place, Dean brought out his Colt from the back of his waistband and checked the magazine. "Magna Carta, 1215, Declaration of Independence, 1776. Any time people forget those two, shit hits the fan and that's pretty much history, dude, 'cause dumb asses always forget." Dean popped the magazine back into his gun, chambered a round then wiggled his eyebrows at his brother. "Now we gonna pop some giant-sized zits or keep talking? 'Cause in about a minute, if you ain't ready, Sammy, those pus-faced zombies are gonna make history outta you."