Disclaimer: Supernatural ain't mine.

Spoilers: References to season 4, especially the finale (aka 4.22 Lucifer's Rising).

Warning: I am still putting about as much effort into this as one would except from a cat with thumbs. Despite that, I hope that you will...

Read, enjoy, review! :D


Chapter 2:

Mullet Rock and Voice Mails


Sam and Dean are still chillin' like villains in the vortex thing. They may be two hunting bros with mad skills, but they also know when to not even bother. This is one of those times. After all, what sort of game plan could possibly be made once you're stuck in a car that appears to be floating in outer space? Exactly.

"Dean," Sam rasps.

Dean rasps back, "Yeah, Sammy?"

Sam and Dean exchange deep and meaningful glances, as if this single glance will able to convey every last bit of sentiment that has gone unsaid throughout their lifetimes.

Sam responds, "I just want you to know…" He breathes in painfully, as if he hasn't had water in days. Then he bravely continues, "If we don't ever make it out of this vortex…"

"Go on, I'm listening… little brother…"

"I'm breaking all of your mullet rock cassette tapes," Sam finishes, rather coolly.

Sam now straightens up, uses his moose hooves to brush his hair behind his ears, and no longer looks as if he's about to collapse. The thought must have been weighing heavily on his psyche. It's a good thing he got that off his chest. Keeping things to yourself will kill you.

"GOD, WHY SAMMY? WHY?"

Dean also looks more… vibrant, but for other reasons. Reasons like, adrenaline has just rushed through his body in order to give him the power to defend those tapes with his life.

Sam merely shrugs and says, "I cannot listen to another rendition of," he then begins to vaguely look like he's playing an air guitar, "wah, wah, guitar solo, raspy voice, guitar solo again."

Dean sputters, "But- but those are the best parts!"

Sam looks off into the distance, face scrunched up in indescribable pain. He ignores Dean, as he's trapped in his own little world of horrors, and says more to himself than Dean, "I can practically hear them running combs through their ridiculously long, sleek, glamorous hair."

"That's… kind of gay." Dean, dumfounded, adds on, "How did you make mullet rock gay?!"

"It's not my fault that all your heroes are music majors with a love for styling hair."

"Well I never!"

Sam gives Dean a weird look, but then shoots back, "Them's the break. We live in a cold, hard, dark world that'll eat you right up."

Sam looks down at his clenched fists, as if they hold unimaginable power that can only be earned through blood, sweat, tears, sacrifice, and all the other horrible things Supernatural has to offer.

He begins to talk to himself again, as if still trapped in that little world of horrors, saying, "And spit you right back out. Then eat you up again, digest you a little, spit the rest of you out, and then-"

"OH MY GOD SAM. How could I never have notice that your insides are pure evil? I should have figured it out way before the demon blood thing!"

Sam primly responds, "To be fair, I was incredibly good at lying, plus I gots dem puppy dog eyes." He looks thoughtful, furrows his brow, and says, "Also, that totally wasn't my fault! I was manipulated by Ruby at my most vulnerable point and then was victim to Heaven and Hell's whims."

Dean, now totally past all the angst from season 4- erm, that one year, says nonchalantly, "Yeah, sure. I totally get that… but… I never did understand why you'd ignore my heartfelt confession of love and brotherhood and stuff."

"Pft, when was that? Before or after you called me a monster and racked up the repair bill for my sweet ass hotel room?"

"After. I left you a voice mail…"

Sam looks startled for a second, and then queasy. "That's totally not the same message I got."

"What? What do you mean-" Dean looks startled for a second, and then queasy. He mutters angrily, "Friggin' angels."

Sam says, "Right?"