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You've lived for so long and seen so much, it's seldom you're caught by surprise. By anything.

Dean Winchester has done it twice now, which is a surprise in and of itself.

The oddly satisfying flavor of fried pickle chips lingers on your tongue – and you might not be terribly impressed by mortals themselves, but they do produce some intriguing culinary creations – while you stoke up the fire and settle into your chair to think about the evening.

Your thoughts cycle back to Dean Winchester and his utter audacity, daring to bind you to him. You're not pleased that he thinks of you as a solution to cleaning up his mess, but at the same time you feel a flicker of something else, amusement perhaps, or admiration. His world has crumbled down around him over and over, yet Dean still stands, still keeps going.

You've personally reaped higher beings who gave up when confronted with less than Dean has dealt with.

He's also managed to slip from your fingers more times than any living being that doesn't have four legs, fur, and nine lives. That thought calls up a ludicrous image of Dean with whiskers and a tail, the tail thrashing impatiently back and forth as felines are wont to do when annoyed or anxious, and you flick it away with a shake of your head and a wry twist of your lips.

So perhaps you're more impressed or amused than you'd originally thought. It does happen, however infrequently.

You hope, however, that Dean heeds your advice and doesn't attempt the binding ritual again. Because as amusing as you might occasionally find him, you won't hesitate to kill him.

The fire crackles and pops loudly, and you settle more comfortably into your chair, enjoying the heat washing over you.

You might need to go get some more pickle chips, actually. You think they'd go well with the fire.