Poor Dean's having a bad, bad night; he's exhausted, droopy and irritable and he just can't figure out why ...

Disclaimer: Don't own them. The following 100 words demonstrates why this is a good thing.


Sprawled inelegantly on his belly, Dean smooshed his face into the pillow and sighed.

Why couldn't he sleep?

He knuckled tired eyes, and gnashed his teeth angrily, burrowing deeper under the quilt. He was warm and comfortable and cosy;

So why the hell couldn't he sleep?

Rolling onto his back, he yawned miserably.

He was exhausted so why, in the name of all things good and holy couldn't he friggin' sleep?

He stifled a furious frustrated sob.

Why, why, why?

Suddenly, the key turned in the lock, and Sam's silhouette appeared in the doorway.

Dean smiled.

Ah, that'll be why.