For Chynna (who, at the moment, is going by Apoapsis / codepcendency) who came up with the superphantom swing era AU in the first place. We've flailed together about the idea, talking through ships and plotlines and drawing a little fanart (which I've linkedon my profile page), but I think this is the first fic for it?!

I have no clue where it would fall in the timeline or if it's anything like Chynna pictured (and I couldn't consult her because this was a surpriiiiiise~) so nothing in this should be considered canonical in this universe yet (if anything can ever be canonical in an AU?). I'm just throwing this out there because it's Chynna's birthday today and I have been wanting to write at least one installment from this AU since November so I tried as hard as I could to make this come together today and HERE YOU GO OMG IT IS REAL

And oh my word this is like the sappiest thing I've ever written. It's like dripping with ooey gooey marshmallowy samethyst fluff before Dean butts in and steals the limelight so I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS.

For the Sake of the Song

April 16, 2015

For Chynna

Title from a Blakemore's Night song

(and the word I would have used as the title if it sounded like a title: Balter; v. to dance clumsily)

The dance hall was nearly full to brimming with all of their friends. And friends of friends. And even vague allies, because you couldn't afford to offend any of them over something so small as an invitation to a wedding reception. Not with things going the way they were.

But they didn't mind, especially when the buzz of conversation and laughter filling the room made it seem like everything was right in the world. Everyone was dressed to the nines, mingling around the tables of food and elbowing between close knit groups in order to get to the dance floor whenever Jimmy Dorsey began playing.

Sam noticed none of it besides what his subconscious training tucked into the back of his brain just in case he needed it later. But he was determined that he wouldn't. Nothing would happen, no incidents would arise to ruin the perfection of the evening. He and Dean had taken every precaution they could think of and he knew that his brother wouldn't let anything happen on Sam's big day.

And so much had been going wrong for them lately that they were long overdue a night where everything just went right.

So he spent his time staring at the violet eyes looking up at his and kept swaying in time with the music, ignoring the people that weren't Sam and the voices that weren't hers. Everyone gave the couple a wide berth as they swept across the dance floor like they owned it. For tonight, they did.

He guided them through steps that she followed effortlessly, her dress fluttering and swishing around her every time he took her through a turn. She spun out and in—always, always coming back to him and wasn't that the most incredible thing he'd ever heard?—and glided across the floor like she could be floating on it.

Her feet moved quickly, following his lead without wavering, trusting that he would catch her hands again at the right moment and keep her from falling when he dipped her nearly to the floor.

She never took her eyes off of him and he gazed back, entranced. Smiling so broadly that he couldn't feel his face anymore but that was fine by him because this was real. They were here, together, dancing. As man and wife. Because they were married and there had been a service and somehow it had been a haze that he'd remember every single second of until the day he died.

And the only thing he knew right then was that he never wanted this to end. He wanted to always be dancing, until the world ended around them, and staring endlessly into Sam's eyes until he drowned in the fierce love he saw there.

But, while they could ignore the world, it would not ignore them. Time still passed as normal for the people surrounding them and one song flowed into another and another and finally came to a stop as Cassie walked up to the microphone in front of the band.

Sam wrapped a hand around his wife's head and drew her close. She hummed contentedly and nestled closer into his chest, one slender hand curling into the lapel of his jacket. A nicer one than he used for business. Dean sprung for two top of the line suits for the occasion—or, as top of the line as his legitimate earnings could afford on top of covering most of the things that the wife's family was supposed to provide— even if they'd never have a proper use for them again. Just another reason he needed to thank Dean on top of the million that already made up his life.

But that was starting to think about the outside again, so Sam pushed the thoughts from his mind, allowed himself to be selfish on his wedding day as he held the love of his life in his arms.

They swayed easily for a moment, oblivious to the people celebrating their union until there was a tap on Sam's shoulder.

He jolted and turned, for a moment so taken off guard that he was pushing Sam behind him before he realized that there was no threat.

Dean didn't let his grin falter, because even if the move on his brother's part might have made for good excuse to embarrass him, it also stemmed from such a sad reality in their existence that it really wasn't funny at all.

Besides, they were celebrating the Union of the Sammys and there was no place for any doses of cold harsh realities tonight, so Dean ignored the protective push and the ensuing awkwardness on his brother's part, hoping to make him forget it by asking a completely unexpected question, "May I have this dance?"

Sam's entire face scrunched up. "What… are you talking about?" he finally managed to ask.

Dean chuckled good naturedly about the benefits of college educations and turned to the other Sam, hand extended. "May I?" he asked.

She shook her head disbelievingly but smiled and stepped forward to take his hand. That snapped Sam out of his stupor and he began sputtering, "Dean, wait, no, be serious."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I am being serious."

"You can't dance with her!" Sam protested.

Trying to hold back a smile, Dean shifted in place, still holding onto the bride's hand. "Why not?"

"Yeah, why not? I'm a big girl," Sam added, other hand propped up on her hip.

Sam stared between the two of them incredulously, not understanding at all how his brother and his wife, who until now had barely spoken to his knowledge, were now conspiring against him. To what end, he didn't know, and that worried him because while he trusted Dean with his life and his wife, he didn't necessarily trust him not to try some well meaning but inappropriate and very poorly timed Welcome-to-the-Winchester-Family initiations. And he'd never seen Dean get within a dozen feet of a dance floor.

There was probably no way that this was going to end well. But the only thing he could think of to stop the proceedings was to say, "You're going to walk all over her!"

Dean waved him off. "You're the Sasquatch around here and if anyone's huge feet are going to step all over hers it's yours."

"You don't even know how to dance, Dean," he pointed out.

That stopped Dean for a moment before he replied, "Well, if you can do it, how hard can it be?"

He grinned at Sam's horrified expression and clapped his brother on the shoulder. Sam made one last appeal to his wife who suppressed a grin and tried to take the situation seriously for his sake.

"It's okay, Sam. I'll be fine," she assured him. Then, glancing sideways at Dean to make sure he got the message as well, she said, "I can handle myself."

Sam wavered.

"Come on, man, I'm pretty sure that the only other living member of the groom's side of the family gets to have one dance with the bride, right? Then she's all yours again." Dean could see the last resistance melt away at the words, but cringed inwardly at having played a card that would make his soulful little brother brood in the corner if left to his own devices.

No matter how fresh the losses were for them— for him— he'd tried to downplay mentions of loved ones they both wish had been there to see this day. It might have been an appropriate time to remember, but Sam had been through enough and he had wanted to just let Sam be happy for once. Wasn't this supposed to be the happiest day of your life?

"Hey," he said instead, "How about you get the lady a drink, huh? You've been dancing off her feet all evening and I'm sure she could use something. You too, huh?" he then added with a pointed look.

Sam glared one more time at his brother, for form's sake more than anything else, and finally agreed. "Okay, but just don't… kill her, okay, Dean?"

At Dean's mock salute, he huffed and started walking away, only to be accosted by well wishes on all sides.

Dean grinned after him and finally turned back to Sam's amused stare.

He cleared his throat. "So," he said.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Dean Winchester."

He raised his eyebrows, then feigned ignorance. "Me? I'm just trying to have a dance with my sister-in-law."

"Uh huh," she replied unconvinced even as she let him lead her out to an empty corner of the dance floor.

"Yeah," he replied. "Dancing. Fun stuff." They both stood still while people danced around them. Dean had to move them over a few feet to avoid getting trampled by a couple apparently affected by swing induced wanderlust.

"So let's see now, you put one hand here, right?" he said as he dropped a hand to her shoulder. "And the other one…" he drew out the word and flexed his fingers, musing on where the other hand should go. After a moment, though, he settled it gently against her waist and her growing glare faded into pleasant surprise.

Before she had a chance to say anything, Dean bobbed his head to a few beats of the song and then started whirling them away into the dance.

After a few measures, Sam realized that he wasn't just blindly stumbling along in time to the music. He really knew what he was doing. Not as well as Sam, obviously, who made one of his livings at it, but Dean was a lot more graceful than she ever would have imagined for a Private Investigator who had never voluntarily stepped foot onto the dance floor at The Portal or any other dance hall in town. Then again, there was probably very little that Dean was not at least competent in once he'd set his mind to it.

She looked up in surprise to see him grinning. He probably knew exactly what she had been thinking, too.

"You know how to dance," she said, practically accused.

"Never said I didn't," he pointed out. And in his defence, he hadn't. He'd just let everyone assume.

"So when did you learn?" she asked around a turn. "You've never shown any interest in it before," she added when she spun back.

Beyond the first day Sam had shown up, brother silent behind him as he cased out the joint and scrutinized every singer and dancer on stage, Dean hadn't even come into any of his brother's rehearsals except for the few times he interrupted to drag Sam out on a case. But she wasn't about to rub that in his face. Dean had a hard job and Sam was his only back up.

She knew that as much as Sam loved the dance floor, he would choose his brother— and avenging the death of their parents and saving the lives of every innocent in the city— every time they conflicted. And she was glad that he had family who would drop everything for him in return. That hadn't ever been her experience but, because of Sam, she was starting to understand.

They continued swirling. "Well," Dean finally answered. "There was a wedding coming up and I couldn't go disappointing my brother, now, could I?" Something else softened inside her at the admission that she knew Sam could see so clearly but would never hear spoken aloud.

Despite what she'd feared, and the dangers of their job, she knew that there had never been a chance of Dean trying to discourage their wedding once he knew how sure they both were about it. For all his blustery, inappropriate, devil-may-care attitude toward pretty much everything in life, he was too selfless when it came to his brother to keep him from pursuing his shot at happiness wholeheartedly. And, considering that his veto was the only thing that could really have stood in their way— because, as everyone could easily see, she was perfectly capable of having a wedding even when both parents refused to show up in order to protest the mismatched alliance— she figured she owed him a dance if that was what he wanted.

"Well," Dean canted his head. "That and do you know how much I've had to watch Sammy practice over the years? I could pull out something else if the waltz isn't quite your style," he offered, switching up the footwork so quickly and unexpectedly that it took her a full two measures of baffled movement to realize that he'd changed to the Lindy Hop.

At her frown, he said, "West Coast more your thing?" and spun her out to catch her hands in a loose grip between them as he switched to an open swing style.

"Somehow, I don't think you got all of this from watching your brother practice," she said, adjusting to the new set of moves.

Dean turned and slid past her, wiggling his eyebrows as he admitted, "I also found this really great girl to give me some… private lessons." And just like that, he was back to playing the image of himself. Sam huffed, but she had to admit that whoever he'd found had certainly done their job. Thoroughly.

He twisted her into a side by side position and they began walking across the dance floor, cutting through the other couples as they twisted their shoes with every step.

"So," he said.

"So?" Sam prompted when there didn't seem to be any more.

She looked up to see Dean's face working through a mix of emotions she couldn't even try to read.

"I want you to… take care of Sammy."

Sam fought the urge to snort because the words sounded ridiculous, but the sentiment behind them was very real. "He knows how to take care of himself, Dean," she said, seriously. He knew it better than she did.

"I know," he quickly assured her as he spun her out to her fingertips and back. Once they were face to face again, he stared at the shoulder of her dress instead of looking straight at her. And he seemed to give up on finding the next move in favor of keeping up a steady rock-step.

"I don't trust anyone else in the world more with a gun or a blade but… but with this… marriage stuff…" He shrugged as much as he was able without breaking their grip. "It's just been hard for him, you know? With the way he had to grow up. I tried…" Dean broke off sharply and snapped his jaw together.

Sam realized, perhaps for the first time, what this day really meant for Dean. What his role in Sam's life had been with a murdered mother and a revenge driven father who'd eventually been killed by his obsession. And what he was giving up by letting go.

He was like an older brother, partner, protector, and parent all wrapped up in one person. The brothers had only had each other for years, but now Dean was passing the torch, sharing some of the responsibility and trust with a girl that he didn't really even know, but whom his brother loved. That seemed to be good enough for him.

A wave of fondness rushed through Sam for the brother of the man she loved and even though she wanted to smack him for the things that had come out of his mouth in nearly every other conversation they'd ever had, she wanted to be worthy of his trust for his sake as well as Sam's and her own.

"It's just been hard. Since Jessica," Dean said, chewing a lip and suddenly realizing from the way Sam tensed that former fiancées were probably not the best subject to broach with the bride at a wedding party. He tried to backtrack, "No, I didn't… Look," he pressed, trying to make her understand. "This is real, Sam. I've lived with the guy nearly all of his life. Sometimes I know him better than himself and this? You two together? Well, you know I don't put much stock in fate and destiny. But I think that you two were meant to be. And… I hope you know how lucky you are." He smiled at her fondly. "'Cause I'm starting to understand just how lucky he is."

Before she could say anything in response, they both recognized that the song was starting to come to a close and Dean picked up the pace, spinning her around until she was pressed up right next to him. With a final flourish, he dipped her until she was practically touching the ground.

Dean didn't pull her up until the last note of the song had faded away, drowned in applause, and then he easily hefted her up and twirled her out one more time so that she came face to face with Sam, who had come back with two drinks and a plate of refreshments if she wanted.

He'd also followed their progress around the dance floor almost nervously until he realized that, as with almost everything, Dean had things covered and there was no need to worry. One glance at his brother told Sam that Dean had noticed the ringside scrutiny, but he was smiling.

"All in one piece, Sammy. As promised."

"You good?" he asked anyway and she grinned.

"Yeah, but I could definitely use this now," she said as she grabbed his glass from his hand.

Dean took advantage of Sam's undignified squawk of protest to grab something off of the plate he'd set down and pop it in his mouth, saying, "And I could use one of… whatever this is."

Sam turned to smack him for stealing her food, but he ducked back, evading retribution until a girl slipped out of the crowd and slung a slim, dark arm through Dean's to join the group. Despite working with the bridge and groom, Cassie seemed to only have eyes for Dean.

"Well, now look at all of that fancy footwork," she crowed, playfully pushing into him with a shoulder.

He grinned right back at her, completely forgetting about his recent need to escape. "Well, I learned from the best," he said with a smirk before leaning down to kiss her.

Both Sams blinked.

"Cassie?" Sam finally asked, even though there was no mistaking the curly dark hair of her fellow singer. "You got your… private lessons from Cassie?"

Sam straightened at the mention of his brother and private lessons of any kind, unconsciously bracing himself for the fallout, but Dean and Cassie just grinned up at them.

"What can I say? She made sure to put me through my paces."

Sam groaned. Dean offered his hand to the singer and started bobbing his head along to the beat as the next song began.

"Now you two lovebirds have fun," he said, and with that parting order, he spun the two of them away until they were lost in the shuffle of the dance floor.

Sam stared after his brother, disbelievingly, although he, unfortunately, believed every word he'd just heard. "Wow," he said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Wow."

Then she reached up and pulled Sam down close enough for her to kiss him. They finally pulled away, breathless, and Sam looked into her eyes with so much tenderness that she wondered why she'd ever had anything to say against the emotion. Maybe it was just because it had never been directed at her. Maybe it was because it had never come from him.

"Wow," he said, face splitting into a beaming smile. "God, I love you," he breathed. And then he kissed her right back.

So Danny totally walked Sam down the aisle since her parents boycotted the event. Tucker did it in rehearsals while Danny was out on his super secret Phantom patrols and was their backup but yeah nothing was going to stop Danny from being there for her. (or did all three of them march down the aisle with interlocking elbows? XD)

And I thought you should know that during the screenplay, I was writing tons of dance moves between dialogue and when I went back to expand everything I realized that they were from like three different styles of dance and so in order to make everything come together the way I wanted it, I had to make Dean a little more knowledgeable in 1930s dancing than I'd anticipated.

Also, I was scared to mention other characters because I didn't know who would be dead or enemies/allies at this point since there will be flip flopping alliances and I don't know where in the story a wedding might be set. So I tried to keep the scene as contained as possible to work with whatever ends up happening in this AU, ahahaha.

But yeah, HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHYNNA and I hope this is the beginning of a beautiful fic. :'3