DON'T HARP ON ABOUT IT

WOW: empty. Not all angels play the harp. Are you listening, Dean?

Disclaimer: I don't own him ...

xxxxx

Young Castiel sighed, glancing around the empty classroom, then out through the window at the other little angels, swooping and laughing outside as they played tag around the clouds.

Resentment simmered within him. He wanted to be playing with his friends; instead, he was stuck here, in detention, all because he hadn't been paying attention in harp lessons.

He didn't even like the harp; stupid girly plinky-plonky thing.

Castiel swore that he'd never play the harp again, and he'd certainly never own one.

Millenia later, and Castiel's still wondering why it's so hard for Dean to understand. He REALLY doesn't have a harp!

xxxxx

end