Set at some point after chapter 75 of Crimson1's Incubus. The songs belong to their respective owners, as does Supernatural to it's, and Sasha to his kind and loving mistress who lets us play if we like. I own nothing.

The final strains of the Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 in F major faded away on the Impala's speakers, and Dean had to resist the urge to beat his head against the steering wheel. Dean braced himself, hoping the next song would be better.

When the world and I were young, just yesterday,

Life was such a simple game a child could play…

Great. Just great. The friggin' Monkees!

A few days earlier…

Dean continued laughing at his wisecrack even as Sasha and Sam trailed off. He was about to make another crack about their prudery when he felt a very Mom-like smack on his ear.

"That was lewd, Dean."

Dean glanced into the review mirror and quickly pulled to the side of the road. Even though he knew Gwen was not Malak, the sight of that red head casually lounging in the backseat of the Impala made his heart beat fast, and not in a good way.

The fae reached over to ruffle Sasha's hair before leaning into the front seat. "I may be, as you so beautifully put it, the mother of all succubae, but I am not a succubus, and no, I am not getting any. If you must know, I'd be very suspicious and more than a little squicked out if Mike were to suddenly develop inclinations in that direction."

Dean laughed uncomfortably. "Sorry- but you gotta admit you two act like an old married couple."

"So do you and Sam. Michael is my oldest and most loyal friend." Gwen cocked her head to one side. "I think I'll smite you- it's traditional after all, if a human annoys a fae. Don't worry, it won't be forever."

And with that she was gone.

Dean didn't care that Sasha was humming along in the back seat and telling Sam that Shades of Grey was one of the two songs by the Monkees he kind of liked. Dean especially didn't care when Sam told the car in general that the lengthy boring ass piece of classical they'd just listened to was on some golden record that had been shot into space. Served it right, dull as dry toast and Earth had enough trouble without attracting attention from aliens....

What Dean did care about was getting his music back. He was still sulking that a tape labeled AC/DC had so far tortured him with I'll be there for you by the Rembrants, You Can't Hurry Love by the Supremes, that song from Snakes on a Plane, the classical crap, half the soundtrack of Rent, and now the Monkees.

Dean vowed to never, ever piss Gwen off again.

The worst part was if he tried buying any new music for the car it turned into a Best of Queen Album.

A/n: Couldn't resist. Apparently Gwen is a fan of Good Omens as well. Thanks to Crimson1 for her encouragement!