OKAY SO I WROTE A SEQUEL TO THIS BITCH. I may continue to do so as long as it doesn't get in the way of my actual srs bsns stuff. But still I'll probably slack off on that because these are fun as fuck to write.

WARNINGS: OK IF YOU HAVEN'T READ DEMENTED PARANORMAL FUCKFEST, READ IT. that is all the warning you're getting.

Room 15, random motel outside of a small, rainy town in Washington

"Okay, now, Dean," Sam said, "you're going to 'move your right leg exactly five inches to the left'…no, your other left…what the fuck, that's more like ten inches, are you deaf?"

"Well," gasped Dean, from his awkward position in the bed, "why don't you do this then? Or get angel boy do to it. He's more bendy."

"At the moment, Dean, I do not wish to do…that. I'm more concerned with the fact my head is dangerously close to the ceiling fan." Castiel said, nervously looking over his shoulder at the ominous fan in question.

"You dicks!" Sam exploded, "you know how long it took me to work up the courage to check this Kama Sutra out of the library. The least you can do is perform 'Camel Regurgitating Pomegranate Seeds' with me."

"Sam, that position is for two people, one of which would be a woman," Castiel explained, because angels know that shit. Everyone in Heaven are huge perverts, especially God. Why else would practically everything in the Alien movies resemble penises and vaginas? Seriously, those things are like one big cinematic euphemism.

"Well, I thought I could just wedge myself in later or something! I mean, if you want to come over here and help me navigate this thing to find the three person positions, be my guest!" Sam said defensively, "And besides, one of you can be the girl. It shouldn't make too much difference, right?"

Nobody said anything.

"Right," Sam continued, "so, what's going on here? Is anybody getting penetrated yet?"

"No," Dean managed, "but standing on my head is really uncomfortable, Sammy. Can we do something else, please?"

"No," Sam said firmly, "anyways, we're doing something wrong. Dean, your dick should be in Cas' ass right now, and his should be in…your vagina. Wait, what?" Sam asked incredulously, peering more closely at the page.

Dean shifted slightly, and Castiel had a look of horror on his face as he, in turn, was pushed closer to the ceiling fan. "Sam, I really think-"

"God, this thing is confusing. It's like those models we used to do as kids with all the little pieces and the instructions made no sense and the tube of glue was too tiny. D'you remember, Dean?" Sam looked up.

"No."

"Oh, of course you do. Or those puzzles we used to, where we weren't sure if we were just missing pieces or what, and there was so much sky – "

There was a knock at the motel room door.

"Fuck!" Dean and Castiel both collapsed on the bed. Sam got up to answer the door, while his two lovers both let out a sigh of relief as they were no longer in danger of snapping their necks or being decapitated by a household appliance.

Sam opened the door to reveal the motel manager. He was looking very giddy, and practically hopping from foot to foot in excitement. Sam was wary that he had heard their passionate romances and wanted to join in.

"What do you want?" The hunter asked suspiciously. The man craned his neck to see past Sam, and the youngest Winchester shifted so the old guy couldn't see Dean and Castiel's nudity.

"Oh, well, I didn't want to interrupt or anything…" he started off, leering slightly at Sam, who shuddered, "but I thought you might want to know, in town today, they found another dead body!" He finished triumphantly.

Oh shit, that's right, Sam thought, we can to investigate mysterious deaths around here, didn't we?

"So…uh…what state was it in?" Sam asked.

The man leaned in conspiringly. "Well…I've heard that it was drained completely of blood…" he whispered, "and, covered in some kind of…sparkly stuff." He looked positively gleeful at this news. Sam realized he must be one of those sad, small-town gossipy people, and that's the reason he had come to tell them, and not because he was like a plot device or anything. Sam also realized, with a certain degree of horror, that this man was now leaning against the doorframe like he was preparing for a long chat.

"Well, um, thanks for letting me know. Mr…." Sam trailed off expectantly.

"Oh! Mr. Meyer," the dude offered delightedly, "But you can call me Stephen. Or Steve. Whatever suits you!" Dear God, he actually giggled.

"Um, thanks, er, Steve. But I'm sure you have other motel managerial duties I'm keeping you from…" Sam said, with a vague gesture.

"Oh, no, don't worry about that. You're my only guests right now," Steve said wistfully, glancing at the almost-empty parking lot. He leaned in even closer to Sam, who unconsciously leaned back. "You know," he whispered confidentially, "sometimes I go months without hearing another human voice."

"Um. Well. That must suck, but I've got to go now…uh, ThunderCats are on." And Sam slammed the door, cutting off Mr. Meyer mid-sentence.

"Guys," Sam groaned, "some idiot's died, we need to go into town to look for clues or whatever."

Dean pulled off of Castiel's cock. "Do we have to?" he moaned.

"If we go into town, Dean, I'm sure we could get ice cream or something," Cas soothed. And then grabbed Dean's hair and roughly shoved his dick back into his mouth.

"Well," Sam said, "I guess we don't really have to, but now that I've heard about the ice cream thing and cemented it in my head, we do. So let's go."

Everyone reluctantly cleaned up and got ready to go, completely oblivious to what was in store for them later.

To be continued…

Don't worry they won't get all driven and case-oriented in this one

Everyone will just be as inept as always