There's a story about a man who gets unstuck in time. The story tells how he stays in Schlachthof Funf and the Dresden population gets slaughtered like as many animals went through Schlachthof Funf when it was still a slaughterhouse. So it goes. Dean Winchester reads the book about Billy Pilgrim, the college boy who went through the war unarmed, a few weeks after his brother left for college. Dean is 25, and hasn't been a boy for 20 years. He finds it in a gas station. It's lying on the floor and the last five pages are drenched with water. He reads it in an afternoon, and the sun sets while he stares at the smudged ink of the last five pages. He drives for thirteen hours trying to find a bookstore that's open and sells the book, or just the last five pages; he'd be happy with that. When he finds the book he realises the time that's passed, and the only reason the bookstores are open is because he's driven across three states and wasted too much time and gas for his job. He read the last page and thought. He thought back to every hunt he'd ever been on, and how many birds had ever asked him 'poo-tee-weet?' but he'd just ignored them because, birds. They're just animals, what do they have to say about anything?

And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like "poo-tee-weet?"

Wiser words were not spoken by any human, at any rate. Dean remembers all the wise birds, after every fight with his dad, every time Sammy was sat in the gentle sunshine of a quiet park in a quiet corner of a noisy indistinctive state in the corner of the USA, reading something that betrayed his want to go and get an education, a life. The birds were especially lively on the day Sam disappeared for college. They sang all day and all night. They weren't shedding wisdom, it was just in the middle of summer and they were being noisy little bastards. Funny how some things can be so wise and so stupid from one moment to the next. 'Keep your singing to the next massacre' Dean didn't say. 'Keep singing just in case someone feels like they've been through a massacre' he still didn't say, but he felt like that was a little closer to the truth. Stupid, wise birds.

He keeps the book under the driver's seat of the Impala, with his favourite gun, and Sam's drawing of their 'happy family' from first grade. Him and Sam holding hands in front of what's meant to be the Impala, with a little 'Motel' sign in the background. 'Home' is written just below them. Dean doesn't look at the drawing much; he doesn't want to ruin it. Knowing it's there is enough for him. He opens the book much more often. He bought the paperback version, and threw the semi-soaked, ruined hardback into a ravine.

He wonders if he's trapped in amber, forever having this moment, never able to escape it.

He doesn't feel trapped in amber.

Dean reads page 160 a lot. The second paragraph in particular. Dresden had just been bombed and the German population had fled in anticipation of Russians coming to pillage the city. The American soldiers stayed behind to look for spoils of war. The second paragraph goes like this:

Billy stayed in the wagon when it reached the slaughterhouse, sunning himself. The others went looking for souvenirs. Later on in life, the Tralfamadorians would advise Billy to concentrate on the happy moments of life, and to ignore the unhappy ones-to stare only at pretty things as eternity failed to go by. If this sort of selectivity had been possible for Billy, he might have chosen as his happiest moment is sun-drenched snooze in the back of the wagon.

Dean reads this page when he's tired of trying to find his father. When his father dies he whispers 'So it goes.' and recites the second paragraph of page 160 of a book he found on the men's room floor. When he's going to Hell and the year won't move slowly enough, he sits in an uncomfortable chair in a crumbling motel while his brother is out and whispers 'stare at pretty things' while remembering the fourth of July, 1998, with his brother in a field. He comes back from hell and he reads it fifteen times. He goes through the book and finds every time it says to concentrate on the happy moments of his life. He ends up counting all the times it says 'So it goes.' Every time something dies, the sentence or paragraph ends with 'So it goes.'
He decides the answer is 'far too many'.

Dean wakes up on a plane with his little brother's hand on his shoulder, and a column of white light reaches to the sky. It's war, he realises. He's at war. He's travelled in time, he's met his parents when they're younger than him, he's unarmed against the enemy. They land and Dean collapses, pushes his head against the floor. The last time he was on a plane the devil escaped, the time before that the plane nearly crashed because of a demon. Winchesters were not meant to fly.
If only the bloody angels would listen to him.

The angels tell him things. They tell him about religion. He reads the book from cover to cover and buys every other Vonnegut book. He decides he likes 'Cats's Cradle' but the religion Bokononism in particular. He never mentions it to the Angels. The summary of Christianity in Slaughterhouse 5 is where he'd start with if he were to talk about books with angels. Like angels would want to talk about books.

The visitor from outer space made a serious study of Christianity, to learn, if he could, why Christians found it so easy to be cruel. He concluded that at least part of the trouble was slipshod storytelling in the New Testament. He supposed that the intent of the Gospels was to teach people, among other things, to be merciful, even to the lowest of the low.

But the Gospels actually taught this:
 Before you kill somebody, make absolutely sure he isn't well connected.
So it goes.

He realises he will be a part of the bible, and has never paid much attention to how well connected the monster he is about to kill may be.

He finds the idea of Bokononism very amusing. If he were to follow a religion it would be something like Bokononism, the religion that continues due to political strife. The religion that was founded and named after a man called Bokonon, and is Christianity but different. He likes the way the world ends in 'Cat's Cradle'. He likes the way the Bokononists die as one. He likes the idea of Ice-nine, which freezes everything moist it touches. He likes the idea that the world could end in a second and a three months, both at once. The water would freeze and the world would end in a second. The people would spend three months trying to survive, and end up succumbing to Ice-nine. He wishes it would be so easy.

He realises Vonnegut could have been right about some measure of the fourth dimension and time when he is told he will save the Earth. The true Michael sword never came to pass, but Sam Winchester's pure force of will, and the love for his home and brother saved the whole world, and he took four years and a rite of purification to believe in himself again.
The drawing under the front seat of the impala never seemed more pertinent.

He thinks about the fourth dimension and he thinks about page 93 and 94 of Slaughterhouse 5. There is a paragraph that carries on from one page to the next, the paragraph goes as such:

The Tralfamadorians tried to give Billy clues that would help him to imagine sex in the invisible dimension. They told him there could be no Earthling babies without male homosexuals. There could be babies without female homosexuals. There couldn't be babies without women over sixty-five. There could be babies without men over sixty-five. There couldn't be babies without other babies who had lived an hour or less after birth. And so on.
It was gibberish to Billy.

Dean thinks it has something to do with motherly instincts. Male homosexuals have to choose to gain a motherly instinct, women over sixty-five have to hold on to it. Babies need an incentive to live. They live for people with these motherly instincts, and so they do not die out like all the babies that only live for an hour. So it goes.

He thinks maybe he is one of the males that adopted the motherly instinct. He wonders if he never had to raise Sam, would he never identify as, at least partially, a male homosexual.

No, he thinks. He never liked men as much as he did women. He is the exception that proves the rule. He looks at the angel Castiel and it doesn't seem so believable.

He spends a year living with a woman and her son, and knows this will be one of those times he will look back on when he needs to ignore his unhappiness. One of those pretty things.

The next months feel like falling. They feel like being encased in amber. He realises he's been helpless to stop anything, and Vonnegut's impression of 'free will' is outstanding.

"If I hadn't spent so much time studying Earthlings," said the Tralfamadorian, "I would have no idea what was meant by 'free will.' I've visited thirty-one inhabited planets in the universe and I have studied one hundred more. Only on Earth is there any talk of free will."

Castiel confesses.

Castiel defeats his enemies.

Castiel defeats his pseudo enemies.

Castiel asks for help.

Castiel tries to apologise.

Castiel walks into the lake.

Being encased in amber had never felt so soothing.

There is a page in the copy of Slaughterhouse 5 Dean bought, page 100, that says 'Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.' That is all it says. On the anniversary of Kurt Vonnegut's death, Dean copies page 99 into his journal, rips it out and puts it into the book. He then rips out page 100 of Slaughterhouse 5, burns it, and sprinkles its ashes into the wind. No one sees him do this. He did not want to mourn for the death of the writer that gave him hope publicly.
He tries not to read the page he copies.

"You must have secrets about the war. Or not secrets, I guess, just things you don't want to talk about."
"No"
"I'm proud you were a soldier. Do you know that?"
"Good."
"Was it awful?"
"Sometimes."

Dean thinks that all war is awful, whether it's between a hunter and a demon, Lucifer and Michael, or the World. It's awful, but it's necessary. So it goes.
He thinks Richard Roman has no right to anything, not when he's appeared by accident and his only claim is 'I was made first, and I'm strong.'

He finds Castiel- Emmanuel and he thinks of the hobo in the box car.

"This ain't so bad."

Nine hours later he leaves Castiel in a mental home with a demon for company. He thinks of the hobo's last words;

"You think this is bad? This ain't bad."

He thinks yeah, this is pretty damn bad.

Going back to the mental home, Dean realises Castiel doesn't have enough happy memories to ignore the bad ones, so he creates some. Honey, bees. Flowers and animals; as many pretty things as he can find. 'Insane' isn't the right word. 'Desperate' is what Dean would have gone for.

They send Dick back to purgatory, but get caught in the explosion. Dean spends months looking for Castiel, and gets to know how purgatory works. There are no birds in Purgatory, nothing to ask him 'poo-tee-weet?' and to recognise the massacres. Benny finds him about four months in. He is sick of travelling alone. There is no sunshine for him to have a snooze in. When he finds Castiel he feels encased in amber, and wishes for the moment to be eternal. Somewhere, it will be.

Out of Purgatory, Dean realises the truth of war. 'The Children's Crusade' has never seemed truer. Kevin and Garth and Charlie and Krissy and Aiden and Josephine and even Samandriel's vessel all seem young, so young. They don't deserve to die, they shouldn't have to live this life, they deserve for older people who have finished the useful section of their lives to live and die for this cause. Dean sighs and realises all the older people have already reached their ends.

He and Sam live in the Bunker. It's become a home, not as the Impala was, but a home none the less. The Impala is there, and lends to the feeling. He has his own room. He looks around the room, prays, and feels like amber is slowly drowning him.
They go on a hunt.

Wanting to use the purifying ritual on himself was utterly selfish, because he knew something like that wouldn't work without the sacrifice of something great at the end. Sam took the option away from him and proved his theory correct.
Stopping Sam from dying was even more selfish, but shutting the door to Hell wasn't worth his brother. Demons had been there before the apocalypse. Demons had been there afterwards. Demons had never been so much of a problem. Demons could be stopped.

They walk outside and angels are falling. Dean thinks of Castiel and knows what he feels for Sam is at somewhat motherly and somewhat brotherly and mostly possessive. What he feels for Cas is possessiveness but it's the possessiveness that exists at night between young married couples on holiday as they lie near the rhythmatic song of boat engines and

The wharf began to sing the same song, and then the honeymooners' headboard sang, too.

He knew waiting for Castiel would be the only option. A phone would ring and eventually it would be Cas. Or there would be a hesitant rapping on the door, and he'd be there, consumed by guilt for another mistake he'd made.

Castiel was not 'an Earthling'. He found focusing on the happy times of life much more difficult.

When Castiel eventually appears, covered in beard and looking like he'd walked all of 500 miles to get to their door, Dean pulls him into his arms and Castiel's legs give out. Somewhere in the distance a bird confirms what Dean suspected.

'Poo-tee-weet?'

"It's over, Cas. You're gonna make up for what you've done. It's gonna be okay."

Dean gives Castiel his copy of Slaughterhouse 5 to read while he recovers. He comes in with food for Cas, and finds him stuck. He is on page 89, and he reads the part about Jesus being a nobody and tells Dean it would have been a lot nicer if that was what had happened. He tells Dean that if Jesus had been a nobody, then betrayal may not be so strife in the world today.

Castiel looks at Dean and turns to page 96 and reads out

"That's one thing Earthlings might learn to do, if they tried hard enough: Ignore the awful times, and concentrate on the good ones."

He looks at Dean again and says; "That's what you do, isn't it."

It isn't a question.

Dean takes the book from him, sits on the bed with him and turns to page 160. "This one is worded better.

"Billy stayed in the wagon when it reached the slaughterhouse, sunning himself. The others went looking for souvenirs. Later on in life, the Tralfamadorians would advise Billy to concentrate on the happy moments of life, and to ignore the unhappy ones-to stare only at pretty things as eternity failed to go by. If this sort of selectivity had been possible for Billy, he might have chosen as his happiest moment is sun-drenched snooze in the back of the wagon."

It was something he'd never shared with another person, never revealed the depth to which he relied on it. He ended up talking with Cas, telling him all the memories he leant on during bad times. They walked through the bunker, Cas' legs shaking, Dean's voice shaking.

"...and now. I have never talked about myself for so long. I'll remember this."

Cas shoved him against a wall and told him in no uncertain terms that all his good memories seemed to feature him, and he's very sorry for what he's about to do, before sealing their lips together. Dean's arms wrapped around him in return, and the moment slowly spun, and coated itself in amber.