So Hami said that he actually liked my songfics, tht he barely read them but he liked mine and i culdn't help but be flattered. So i wrote this one. So, ok, i've had this one planned for a while, i just actually worked on it and posted it. So go me.
This is slightly depressing. I warned you.
So there. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own SPN. But today, as i watched the show come back from the season hiatus, it felt like i did. Becasue Cas almsot got a hug, so i think the directors are actually listening to the fangirls since a few eppies back Cas had a boner and was watching porn and KISSED smeone. Although, since it was Meg, i wasn't really a happy camper.
Anyway.
I also don't own the song: The Day The Music Died by... um... well, some guy and i don't feel like looking it up, just know its not mine either. kay? Kay.
Dean: I can't wait to see this.
Cas: Literally or figuratively becasue it sounded like you were bing sarcastic...
Gabe: How am i related to you again?
Cas: O.o We were created by God gabriel. How can you forget THAT?
Gabe: *facepalm* He can't be serious.
Cas: O.O What? I am very serious. Dean?
Dean: 8D Don't worry Cas.
Sam: Yeah. Don't worry.
Gabe: Now THAT, THAT was sarcasm.
American Pie (The Day the Music Died)
A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they'd be happy for a while.
The war was over. Or at least Dean had stopped fighting. He'd lost too much and when it had been evident that they couldn't win, he had stopped. Just gave up. After all, ten years is way too long to be doing something as dangerous as fighting the Apocalypse. And maybe everyone would go to a better place; he didn't know.
But Dean let himself remember on that lonely day of September 18, the tenth anniversary of when he was pulled from Hell. He remembered the world as it was before all of this happened, before it was threatened. Before everyone's way of life was shattered. And it made him smile a little.
Because there had been hope back then. But it had been such a long, long time ago. When the actual prospect of hope with the people he loved would make him smile.
He knew that if he could have just one more chance that he could save these people, that if he had more help he could fulfill his duty to the world. And maybe, after it had been saved, he could be happy for a while.
But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn't take one more step.
But he remembered how the winter months had made him shiver and when his brother, nor angel, nor surrogate father had returned to him, his life had withered away. He'd taken miscellaneous hunts, searching the paper for them, scouring them down.
He remembered failing at every single one of them, the will to fight and help living people just out of his system.
He remembered having to go tell his clients that he had failed, that someone close to them had died in the process of trying to help. And one day, he couldn't even take a step toward the door.
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.
It had been a newly wedded woman. Her husband was missing and Dean had suspected vampires. He was in the middle of the Apocalypse, trying to save the world all by himself, but, he had taken the job nonetheless. And he had failed.
Completely and utterly failed.
And he hadn't had the balls to go to the woman and tell her that her husband was dead.
He couldn't remembered really if he had cried when he read about her in the news, the police finding her husbands remains in an abandoned warehouse weeks later. He couldn't even imagine how the woman had felt, being abandoned by Dean who was supposed to help and then by her husband, who was now gone.
And something had stirred inside him when he realized all his hope for the world to be saved was gone. Something winced and cringed and shriveled up and died.
The day his hope was gone forever.
So bye-bye, miss American pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinking' whiskey and rye
Singin', "this'll be the day that I die.
"This'll be the day that I die."
So Dean had told the state of Louisiana goodbye and had drove his Chevy Impala on that anniversary of the day he was raised from Hell. He sat there, at the levee, thinking of better times, but stopping himself before he could. He walked over to the levee, saw that it was dry and took that as another sign of the Apocalypse.
That the world was ending and he could do nothing about it.
Dean left the Impala there and walked to a nearby bar, and for the first time in years, decided to get really drunk. He needed it, deserve it even, and in a small town like the one he was in, it was easy enough to do.
He walked in on a bunch of drunken men singing a song that Dean barely recognized coming out of their slurring mouths, with shouts of, "Ooo Wee, this'll be the day that I die, boys! This is it!," and whistling and shouting.
Dean shuddered at their jests. He knew all too well that what he was planning on doing was going to result in just that. He had contemplated it; there was no other choice.
So he was going to get drunk and remember before he did so.
He sat down at the bar, ordered a few drinks and when they came, downed the first beer in one go and then sipped the second a bit slower. When that was finished, he nursed the third and then, he let him self remember.
"This'll be the day that I die," he murmured, getting lost in the memories…
Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Castiel looked at Dean in confusion. Dean had just said that he had created the word 'pick-up line' that it was practically his middle name. The angel though, he was technical. "Did you write the book of love?"
Dean blinked a few times. "No, Cas, it's… it's just a figure of speech."
"So… you believe in love?" the angel asked moving loser to Dean's face.
The hunter sobered up. "Only with the right person Cas," he murmured, stroking the angel's face.
"So you have faith in love, but… you have no faith in God? The being that is love?"
Dean made a face pulling away. Cas had just ruined the mood. "No Cas, I don't. I'm not going to believe in this big huge entity just because the bible tells me to."
Castiel got closer still and leaned into Dean's face, sharing his breath. "What if I told you to? Would you believe, then?"
And how was Dean supposed to answer that, when Castiel was giving him these huge eyes that outmastered Sam's any day? "Yeah, Cas," he whispered, warmth pooling in his stomach as the angel closed his eyes and made delicious noises when he moved in closer, brushing his lips against his throat. "I believe everything you say."
Do you believe in rock 'n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
It was Dean's turn to ask questions now, as they lay in bed, finally sated. "So Cas.. do you believe in rock and roll?"
The angel quirked a slim eyebrow. "Dean, that is not a plausible question."
The hunter laughed. "Sure it is. Do you believe in music and the message it sends, is what I'm saying."
Castiel blinked. "Then yes," he said slowly, "Although… Metallica and Led Zeppelin are not exactly what I'd call 'life messages'."
Dean chuckled again, carding his fingers through Castiel's hair, the angel preening. "Ok, ok. I'll give you that one. How about this. Can music save your mortal soul? Real question now Cas, so I want a real answer."
The angel paused, his eyes closed as he thought and making Dean want to kiss his lids. He opened them after a few moments and said, "I think so. If you believe in what you're hearing and can learn through it, be inspired by it. If you can ask forgiveness through it. Yes. I think so."
Dean hadn't been expecting that. Nor the next question that came out of Castiel's mouth. "Dean… can you teach me how to dance?"
He blinked. "What?"
Castiel propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Dean, earnest in his eyes. "Dance. Can you teach me? And not how to … 'head bang' or 'fist pump'. I mean… slow dance, to a sweet song." He looked at Dean from under his lashes. "Will you?"
And Cas was doing the eye thing again, the ones that kicked Sam's eye's ass.
"Yeah, Cas," Dean whispered, pulling the angel close to him and listening to his vessel's heartbeat. "Yeah. I'll teach you how to dance real slow."
Well, I know that you're in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin' in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.
Sam snuck a look around the corner of the school they were investigating. The gym was set up for the prom that was the next night. And standing in the middle of the decorations and confetti were Dean and Castiel.
There was a lone DJ that was messing with some of the buttons on his set and Sam's brow crinkled in confusion as Dean walked up to him and requested a song. After the young woman nodded, dean made his way back to Castiel and took off his jacket. He also undid his tie and made him roll up his shirt sleeves.
The song that came on was slow then, and Dean gathered Castiel close to him and started to sway their bodies to the sweet melody. The angel's eyes closed in bliss and Dean's lips twitched up into a smile as the angel finally got the hang of it and they both were swaying, holding onto each other as if they were drowning and only the other could hold them up.
Sam smiled to himself. This was probably the most vulnerable he'd seen either of them in all the years that he'd known them. It was refreshing.
Suddenly, the music skipped and swished and a hearty sound came from the speakers. The DJ looked embarrassed but Dean only smiled and toed off his sneakers, indicating to Castiel to do the same. And then, he took the angel's hands and swung him around in a silly fashion. Dean was wearing a full blown smile and Castiel was wearing one too and that alone made Sam smile in surprise and happiness for them both.
They danced to a bluesy song next and then to a fast-paced one, the DJ seemingly trying out her material on them and liking their response. Soon though, both grown men were tired out. They thanked the young DJ profusely, but she just blushed and said that they were a cute couple. Sam waited for the moment when Dean would say, "We're not a couple," but it never came. Instead, Dean wrapped an arm around the angel's waist and said, "Yeah. I think so too."
And this time, Sam wasn't the only one smiling at that.
*D&CD&CD&CD&CD&CD&CD&C*
Later on, when Castiel was off seeing what the angel's had on Lucifer, Sam said to his brother, "Well, at least now I know that you're in love with him."
Dean looked startled and Sam felt a little hurt that Dean could admit his relationship with Castiel to a random stranger but not with his own brother. "What?"
"I… I saw you dancing in the gym," Sam confessed lamely. He waited again for the denial.
But it never came.
"Yeah," Dean said, breathlessly, "I am in love with him. Nice of you to notice Sam." At Sam's surprised face, he then said, "So let's get me a burger and pie to celebrate."
Same old Dean, Sam thought, but went for the burger anyways.
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.
As they ate at the dinner later that night, Dean thought of the past, and how he used to be. He recalled all the lonely nights he spent as a teenager. Hell, even the girls he was with new he was a lonely teenage boy, a sad one, as one girl had found it prudent to point out.
He remembered how he would show up at girls houses, a flower in one hand for them, Bobby's old pick-up truck behind him. He knew they thought he was a great kisser but could see right through him.
As he got older, he got better at hiding it until it was only one specific angel that could spot his bullshit.
And he was the only one Dean wanted to be able to do that.
Dean also knew that now that he was attached that he would be screwed when Cas was gone. Hell, if anything happened to the brother that understood his situation and was fine with it.
He'd be screwed, because they were his hope, his hope that they could get through the Apocalypse.
He'd be screwed, totally out of luck, the day his hope died…
I started singin',
"Bye-bye, miss American pie."
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', "this'll be the day that I die.
"This'll be the day that I die."
Dean opened his eyes, pulling himself out of happy memories, memories that just foreshadowed what was to come. He thought of the Impala, still by that dried up levee, waiting for him to come back. He thought of all the people that weren't waiting for him here, but in another place.
Well, hopefully in another good place.
Then men were still singing, shouting, "This is the day that I'm gonna die, gents! This is it!" and Dean tried his best to ignore there shouts, instead, opting for a shot of whiskey and rye.
And he found himself singing too. "This'll be the day that I die, this'll be the day that I die…"
Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone,
But that's not how it used to be.
For ten years he'd been alone, the remains of Bobby's house growing over with moss and lichen and such. Animals living there, taking refuge in the fallen walls.
But of course, that's not how it used to be…
When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me,
"And there was a jester," Castiel intoned. "But he was an angel. He had gone into the future and he discovered James Dean. He also stole his leather jacket but that is another story." They were telling tales by the fire in Bobby's house and Castiel's was by far the most interesting. An angel abusing his time travel powers: who'd've thunk it?
"And he said…?" Dean asked, his interest rising.
The angel smiled and the he laughed, surprising everyone. "He said nothing."
Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
"So what happened?" Sam had asked, like a lost puppy searching for its mother, he was looking for answers.
"Well," the angel said, "I don't remember all that well, but when the king bent down to retrieve his fallen napkin, he snatched the crown from his head."
Bobby laughed at that.
"And then, they put the angel up for a death sentence. But he was angelic and got away. So they never really got a verdict on him," the angel said. "He kept the crown though… Anyway, that was in King Arthur's court. He was not as just as many people think."
Dean raised an eyebrow. What a weird story to hear over beer and a burger in Bobby's cozy home. "Any other stories about famous people you got for us Cas?"
And while Lennon read a book of Marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.
The angel perked up at the sound of his hunter taking interest in his memories. "Yes actually. John Lennon? He actually read the book of Marx at the same moment a quartet of angel's disguised themselves as humans and stared playing in the park outside his home. He got the tune of his first song from them."
Castiel smiled now. "And, I was part of it."
Dean blinked. "Seriously? What did you do?"
Castiel blushed now. "Well, actually, I wasn't very good with instruments so…they made me sing."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Sing?"
The angel nodded. "They played and I sang dirges in the dark with them and Mr. Lennon then found the words to his song. I believe it was, 'Eleanor Rigby' that we were playing."
Dean blinked. "That is so weird. What's a dirge?"
"Kinda like a funeral song, right?" Sam asked. Castiel nodded.
"No wonder it was Eleanor Rigby," Dean then muttered. And then, "Hey Cas, do you still sing?"
The angel blushed. "Of course. I just… don't."
Dean snuck his hand into Castiel's. "Could you? For me?"
One look into those Jade eyes and the angel broke. "Alright. Bu just one. Here is another song that we angels inspired among humans."
As Castiel started the opening words to 'Carry On Wayward Son', a song that seemed much to appropriate for an angel to have inspired, Dean thought again how lucky he was.
And how horrible it would be if anything happened to him. Any of them.
Because his hope would die with them.
We were singing,
"Bye-bye, miss American pie."
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', "This'll be the day that I die.
"This'll be the day that I die."
Dean pushed the next shot closer to him. The Impala would be by that old levee for a while; he wasn't going back any time. So he said goodbye to that.
And Dean found himself singing with the men in unison. "This'll be the day that I die!" he said at the top of his lungs, before collapsing back into his drink again. "This'll be the day that I die," he whispered to himself into his cup.
Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
The summer was hot and sweltering as Dean, Sam and Castiel made their way through Kansas to the town where the Devil himself was last seen. Already the birds were flying away, animals were hiding, finding shelter in their burrows, feeling the oncoming terror.
And then the birds started falling, hitting the Impala's window shield. Frogs had started to drop from the sky in other places, the brothers and angel had heard.
And now this was happening.
The final battle was definitely going down somewhere. And they were going to be there when it happened.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.
And it was going down. And they were there. And Lucifer was fighting with Sam in his vessel and Dean was having this sinking feeling that this was not how it was going to end.
They landed in the grass, roughing it out with each other. Dean went to go and help, but found that the area around his brother and the Devil was shielded.
He turned and saw Gabriel standing on the sidelines, smirking. "No can do," he said. "No interfering."
And Dean was so angry. He went to attack the archangel and was surprised when Castiel was already there, demanding that he put down the shield to let them get to Sam.
But the archangel just said, "No."
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
The air was thick with the smell of blood, a sweet perfume to the Devil Dean saw, and it made him boil with rage. Gabriel on the side was playing a tune seemingly from nothing and was enjoying himself.
Lucifer shoved Sam and Dean's heart seized, but just when he thought his brother was a goner, he shoved the Devil and gained the upper hand.
Dean and Castiel were about to cheer him on.
But they never got the chance.
'Cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?
Because then, Lucifer got up and slammed Sam into a nearby wall and his brother was senseless. Dean turned to Gabriel. "Let me go to him!"
"No," the archangel said, slight regret in his voice.
"Please!" Castiel now begged, not able to see Dean in so much pain.
And then, Gabriel promptly disappeared.
They turned to see why and gasped at the bloody mess on the floor.
It was Nick.
And standing over him was Sam. He looked up at them. And smiled.
No. It was Lucifer.
Dean's hope started to wilt.
We started singing,
"bye-bye, miss American pie."
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', "this'll be the day that I die.
"this'll be the day that I die."
Dean snapped his eyes open, throwing the drink onto the table in front of him. He shouldn't have drudged up that memory. It only brought heartache to what he was going to do.
Dean paid for what he drank and sat back. Not knowing if he wanted to leave yet and go back to the Impala, the Impala full of memories of Sammy. He sat there instead.
And thought back and back and back…
Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
It was just him and Cas now, Bobby nowhere to be found, not knowing what happened with him after his deal with Crowley.
And they were lost. The generation that was supposed to save the world had just lost an important member. Team Free Will was short one man.
And as they saw where all the signs were pointing to, they knew they had run out of time.
So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil's only friend.
Castiel hadn't been fast enough, almost human and unaccustomed to not having his angelic power. Dean had failed him and he had been caught by the Devil, screaming in pain as he was burned.
Dean tried to think of how something so horrible could happen to someone so pure and innocent.
He came up with nothing but that fire was the Devil's only friend in this world.
But he knew that was a lie.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that Satan's spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died.
Castiel was strung up on a stage in an abandoned theatre. Hanging by his wrists and struggling like a worm while the Devil wearing Sam's face started and laughed. Dean's fists clenched in anger and fear as he watched, making his way in, knowing instinctively that it was a trap, but knowing that it was Cas made him not able to turn back.
Dean knew that no angel, no matter that they had been in hell, been reborn in hell like Castiel, could break Satan's hold on Sam. It was then that Dean knew he was too late to do anything.
A fire erupted under Castiel, rising up until it was burning his feet. Dean surged forward to stop him, but he couldn't move and was slammed back. When he looked at Sam, his eyes were black.
And he was smiling again.
And so, Dean watched as the Devil sacrificed his angel, the flames crying high into the night. Sam, no, no, the Devil was laughing with delight.
And that was the day his hope had really died.
He was singing,
"bye-bye, miss American pie."
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
And singin', "this'll be the day that I die.
"this'll be the day that I die."
Dean opened his eyes to find that he was crying. All this drinking, or more accurately, all this not drinking was bring up memories he didn't want to think of, didn't want to remember. Why couldn't he just remember the good things?
Why?
But as the music played in the bar, Dean found himself, once again, softly singing along, slowly moving away from the bar and walking back out the door. He didn't go back to the Impala.
He never would.
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before,
But the man there said the music wouldn't play.
If there was one person who could convince Dean not to do what he was doing, they were dead or long gone. But he tried anyways. He went walking across the streets, looking as the sun shined bright in the sky.
There was a woman, a very attractive woman that didn't arouse Dean at all, sitting near a fountain, strumming her guitar. She was singing a soft bluesy song, lilting and sad and Dean felt his throat close up.
"Tell me there's good news," Dean said in a friendly manner. But he really, truly meant it.
The woman just smiled though and she turned away from him and went back to singing of lost loves and lost dreams and lost everythings.
Dean was near Bobby's house. Not that he wanted to go there. No. He wanted to go to the place that he had first felt that surge of true hope: the barn house he had met Castiel in.
So he went. Walked the whole way too.
It was late when he made it there, the sky beginning to darken when he stood at the barn doors, hesitating to open it or not.
He did.
It was empty and dark and smelled of mold and damp. The wooden beams were termite-eaten and the floor was dirty and worn. The walls had water stains going down the sides and there was many a variety of refuse all around.
The hope was gone from the place, the place that he learned that he was worth something, worth being saved, the place that made him seriously think about saving the world.
And it was all gone now.
There was nothing left.
Dean left.
And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
He walked around the neighborhood, heard the kids yelling and laughing as they chased each other, oblivious of what was going on. He watched in yearning as a young couple fumbled over their goodbyes, neither wanting to quite leave the other. He smiled at the lone girl dressed in black sitting on a tree branch way high up, writing poetry and day dreaming, heavy metal blasting in her ears.
Not many words were being spoken as the world moved and time went on. None had to be. Everything was being said with their movements, actions and feelings.
Which was practically the definition of the human race.
And he knew it was worth what he was going to do. That he was going to save this and that his final and most precious sacrifice was going to make so that they never knew the horrors he did, so that their lives could go on undisturbed =, just the way they were.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.
And where was God? Dean thought as he made his way to an abandoned field. When the world was dying and in trouble, where the Hell was God? Gone, abandoned the world, His sons, His children.
His creations.
Creations that He made of love, made to love, because He was love.
Dean had lost his father twice. He had lost his father's son, his brother several times and had now lost him the worst way: to Evil and the Devil. He had lost his holy ghost, his angel, his love.
And God, the real father, had just stayed gone. Took a train to the coast and was probably drinking a fruity girl-drink complete with a cherry on the stick and colorful mini umbrella nestled in the ice lying on top.
And here Dean was, risking his ass for the world. Giving himself up.
Finally.
And they were singing,
"Bye-bye, miss American pie."
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin', "this'll be the day that I die.
"This'll be the day that I die."
Dean said goodbye to America. Goodbye to his home. He said goodbye to his little Chevy Impala that he had left by the dried out levee. He took a swig of the whiskey he had in his flask and thought of the men singing.
"This'll be the day that I die," he whispered. "This'll be the day that I…"
He didn't finish. Truth is, Dean had been dead long ago. When Bobby had died in his house fire, when the Devil had taken Sam and destroyed his brother, when Satan had then killed his precious, precious angel.
He'd been dead for ten long years.
His hope had been dead for far longer.
"Yes," Dean said. "Take me Michael. Save the world. I'm saying yes."
There was a bright light in an abandoned field. And then, the dark of midnight set in.
They were singing,
"Bye-bye, miss American pie."
Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin', "This'll be the day that I die."
Dean opened his eyes. He wasn't Dean. Not really. Dean was still in their, but he didn't want to be, no matter the promises the angel was whispering in his mind, that Dean would be returned to a new world, a new Heaven and a new Earth.
So Dean took one last look at the world through his own eyes.
And then, he let go.
Michael fished Dean's flask from his vessel's pocket and threw it to the ground. He watched as the whiskey and rye seeped out into the ground. He didn't need the alcohol, nor did he need it tempting him.
He thought it strange, very strange, that the human should let go of life so easy. The last things that he had seen fly through his mind had been a still frame of his brother, Samuel, his surrogate father, Robert Singer, and his own brother, Castiel all by a fire in what he assumed was Robert Singer's house.
Or what it had been.
Humans, he thought to himself, not understanding and honestly not caring to. He closed his eyes searching for his brother and when he found him, he was gone in the blink of an eye, the space between a heartbeat.
He was going after Lucifer.
And the Devil was waiting.
The Impala waited. But no one came. No one would…
Many years from then, people will go by the levee. It'll be full though. And sitting by it, rusted into a piece of scrap metal will be an old Chevy.
Waiting, still waiting.
And it always will be.
So? What say you? Aye?
Dean: C.C What does that mean?
Cas: I think she wants us to agree with her.
Dean: L.L Oh. *ahem* So um... yeah. Kinda sad. But... I like. I'm just glad it didn't end that way...
Cas: I feel this way as well. Is was very well written.
Sam: It really was! 8D
Gabe: *grumblegrumble* I was a big dick in this though. *turns to Sam* Sammy, baby, you know I would NEVER do that to you, right?
Sam: *blushblush* Of course Gabe. I know.
Gabe: *smile* Good. XD
Cas: Gabriel seems pleased.
Dean: BD And you know, i would be too if we could get it on like in the third or fourth verse. You know what I'm saying? ;D
Cas: D.D Really Dean. Here? Now? How innapropriate.
Dean: *shrug* Hey, when there's nothing appropriate to say, go for inappropriate. So?
*waits expectantly*
Cas: *sigh* Alright.
*go off together for some sexy tiems*
Eve: *runs in out of breath* Wait, what'd I miss, what'd I miss? *looks at typeing* I missed the STORY? *takes closer look* I missed the SONG FIC? *looks around at our smug faces* Oh no! *gasp* I missed Dean and Cas going off for sexy tiems! *looks to audience* NO!
Review? Please?