Chapter Text
If you were to open the trunk of the slightly-battered but well-loved ice cream truck in the parking lot, with the fading green paint and the green-and-purple logo identifying the truck as Spooky Scoops, you would be fairly surprised.
In reality, there was no trunk. The back doors opened to the serving area of the truck. Near the doors was the storage area, the area they referred to as the trunk. There were two freezers on either side of the truck, only one of which was ever kept on. One had extra gallons of ice cream, vanilla and chocolate, the ones that always sold out. In the other was extra cups and cones, along with some napkins. If you were to lift up false bottom, you’d find a cache of weapons: guns, knives, drivers’ licenses and at least two bags of salt, sitting beside one bag of sugar. Stuffed between one of the freezers and the serving counter was a sleeping bag and several blankets, for when there wasn’t a motel room to rent.
Only Cas and Gabe were the only ones that could even know how funny it was to be ice cream truckers moonlighting as hunters. At least it game them an excuse for why they traveled so much.
It made pretending to be FBI hard, though.