Warnings: None that I can think of

Present

It was a demon. A demon had sent Sam back in time somehow. Dean didn't even know that demons had that kind of power. Unless it was a very old and very pissed off demon, and Dean knew the perfect one for that. Well, he knew several, but most, if not all of them were dead. Except for one.

Crowley.

He was sure that the self proclaimed King of Hell would be petty enough to hold on to the spirit of a teenage boy who was a victim of circumstance. The only thing he didn't know was why he would do that. There was more to the story than he knew and he needed to get to the bottom of it. And he needed Cas to answer his freakin' calls already!

There were all kinds of things that Dean was looking into. Could Ritchie have made a demon deal? Could he have pissed off the wrong demon? Wrong place at wrong time? Considering that Ritchie was only 17 when he died, Dean found it hard to believe that the demon deal was the right path, considering that most of them were 10 year deals and Crowley wasn't that much of a heartless bastard.

"God, where is Sam when I need him?" Dean asked, looking over at the chair Sam would have been sitting in. It's not that Dean minded doing the research, it's just Sam loved doing it and he would much rather Sam be there.

"Dean." A voice said behind him. Dean jumped up, ready to shoot, when he saw Cas standing there.

"Son of a bitch." He growled, laying his gun on the table. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I've been busy." Cas explained. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah well I think we've got things that are a little more important right now." Dean said. Cas looked around the room.

"Where's Sam?" He asked. Dean laughed.

"Sam is in the 1950's because of a demon that is holding a ghost hostage." Dean explained, making Cas look at him like he was crazy. "And I've been calling you so you could go back there and get him, because he's going to die in a plane crash."

"How do you know that?" Cas asked. Dean turned the laptop around to show the news article, listening Sam as one of the dead. "Oh."

"Oh? That's all you have to say?" Dean asked. "Go back there and get him!" Cas closed his eyes, trying to hone in on Sam's soul so he could pull him out, but everytime he thought he got close, he was pushed away. "Why are you still here?"

"I can't get to him." Cas said.

"Can't? Or won't?" Dean asked.

"I can't." Cas said again. "I'm trying, but it's like something is blocking me from getting to him."

"How can something be blocking you?" Dean asked. Cas just shrugged. "Oh for the love of god…"

"You said it was a demon, right?" Cas asked. Dean nodded. "Well, maybe that's what's blocking me."

"Can you sense if it's Crowley?" Dean asked. Cas closed his eyes and tried to focus. But he wasn't getting any readings on Crowley. He could get snippets of a demon lurking around, but he couldn't find him. And it sure wasn't Crowley. Crowley loved to show off.

"It's not him." Cas said. "Whoever it is, they're old. And powerful." Dean nodded, ready to just get sent back to the 1950's when there was a knock on the door. Dean slowly made his way over, gun at the ready. Cas had his blade if he needed it. Dean slowly opened the door and relaxed, opening the door.

"Dean." Maria said, standing there. "You'd be a hard man to track down if Sam hadn't told me where you'd be." Cas stared at her as she walked in. Maria looked over at him. "Sam didn't talk about him though."

"He's a friend of ours. His name is Cas." Maria nodded.

"He might have mentioned the name once or twice. I think I heard it...when he was...praying?" She shook her head. "Anyway, I've been carrying this around with me since 1959, and now that I've finally found you, I thought it was time to give it to you." She handed Dean a worn out, yellowed envelope. Dean saw his name scrawled on the front in Sam's all too familiar handwriting.

"You've had this since 1959?" He asked, looking up at her. She nodded.

"I'm glad that living in 2013 didn't dull his letter writing skills any." She joked. "Well, I guess I should be going now."

"Thank you Maria." Dean said. Maria nodded and turned to leave. Cas closed the door behind her then looked at Dean, who was already sitting on the bed, just staring at the envelope. He slowly opened it, seeing a letter and a couple photographs inside. There was one of Sam standing with Buddy, The Big Bopper, Ritchie, and a few other people he didn't really recognize. He flipped it over and saw all the names listed, including Waylon Jennings, which surprised Dean a little. The other pictures, two of them, were almost the same, just different people. Dean laid them to the side and started to read the letter.

Dean,

If you're reading this, I probably didn't make it back. I gave this letter to Maria Holly. Hopefully you'll get it at a decent time. And if you got this, I'm sure that you got some of the details from Maria. I tried to get back, but nothing worked. I would love to be able to come home. I'd love to be able to save Buddy and all of them, but I know I can't do that. Ritchie is actually a really nice kid in real life. I wish you could've met him before he was a ghost. I think you would love all of them.

I work for Buddy, so I'll be going on tour with him. Which means I will be there first hand to see him die. After it happens, I'm going to go back to hunting with Waylon. He's very old school, but he's cool. And he knows what he's talking about. Maybe I can teach him about some of the new things that we face around our time.

I wish I knew what sent me back. Maybe you're having more luck than me. I've tried calling to Cas, hoping that some version of him would hear me, but no luck. So I guess I'm going to get to live through the 60's and 70's. Maybe I'll hit up all those concerts that you would love to go to and buy you some shirts. Somehow get them to Bobby or something.

I'll see you around.

Sammy

Dean looked up at Cas. Cas could see the determination and heartbreak in Dean's eyes. The letter wasn't long, but it was enough.

"Find out what it blocking you so I can shoot it." He growled. "Sammy's coming home. I'm not letting him die. Not again."

1959

Christmas came and went, and Buddy and Maria treated Sam to a wonderful holiday. Buddy's family was so welcoming of him too, having heard lots of good things about him from their son over his stay there. It had felt like years since him and Dean had set down and shared a Christmas together. Honestly, it was probably before Dean went to hell. But January came quickly and Sam knew Buddy's time was drawing to an end.

"Come on Sam. We're going to be late." Buddy said as he waited for Sam. They were meeting up with Waylon at the little studio just outside of Lubbock.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Sam called out to him, rushing down the stairs as he slipped his leather jacket on. "This hair stuff is more trouble than it is worth."

"You know, I have a friend who is a barber…" Buddy suggested, a smile spreading on his face. Sam glared at him.

"I am not cutting my hair." He said. Buddy just laughed. He loved teasing Sam about his hair. "I thought you said we were going to be late." Buddy opened the door and motioned for Sam to follow him out to the car. The drive to the studio wasn't that long and Buddy really just liked to give Sam a hard time.

Sam had learned to play the drums on a few songs, allowing for Carl Bunch to have a few moments to relax. Buddy was making plans to start a band with Sam and Waylon once this dumb tour was over. The Winter Dance Party tour. They would be on the road less than a month but would have 24 shows. Sam wasn't looking forward to it, and honestly, neither was Buddy. He knew he needed to perform to get money, but something about this tour just seemed off to him. He could tell Maria didn't want him to go. It was the first time they would be apart for a long time since they had gotten married. He was sure that was it.

The studio had a full parking lot of cars. Sam spied Waylon standing outside of his, smoking. He tossed the butt down and crushed it with his foot when he saw Sam and Buddy pulling in. Buddy parked the car and Sam got out, stretching some as he did. He was used to going long miles in the Impala, because it was like home to him. Buddy's car wasn't bad, and it was one of the newer models for the time, but it wasn't Baby. And it killed his back.

"You guys ready?" Waylon asked, joining the pair as they headed toward the studio. "There's a lot of energy in here."

"We're going to have to meet them sometime." Buddy said, opening the main front doors. "It's either now or right when start the tour and are having to share a bus with them." Sam, Buddy, and Waylon made their way inside. Making their way down the hall, they made their way to the room where their party was waiting for them.

"Well, there you are!" Tommy Allsup saisd, standing from his chair. "Always late."

"Yeah, but I know how to make an entrance." Buddy smirked. Tommy and Carl had already met Sam and of course they knew Waylon. Carl was helping Buddy teach Sam some beats, while Tommy pouted that he was upset he didn't have a backup guitarist.

"It's nice to meet you finally." A man said, coming forward to shake his hand. "I'm JP Richardson, but everyone calls me the Big Bopper." Sam stared with wide eyes as the two musicians shook hands. Another man, one that Sam knew from his own time, came over. He wasn't as ghostly looking this time though.

"I'm Ritchie." He said, shaking Buddy's hand just like JP had. All three of these musicians together was a little surreal. Especially because Sam knew that in about a month, those three would be dead. Sam wanted to save them. He wanted to convince them all to stay on the bus, to not go anywhere near the plane that day. But he knew the consequences of his actions. Maria knew it too. That's why she had been acting so weird since January hit. It was just a waiting game now.

"Sam." Waylon said, elbowing the hunter in the side. "You spaced out on me. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a big of a headache." Sam smiled at him. "Was someone talking to me?"

"That'd be me." JP laughed. A hearty, deep laugh. "Are you going on tour with us? Carl here has been telling us how good of a drummer you are."

"I'm not that good." Sam chuckled, a blush started to appear on his checks.

"Sammy here is just modest." Buddy laughed. "He's actually pretty good. A few more years of practice and he might be one of the greats. I can't believe how fast he picked it up."

"My mama said it was no time before I was just learning instruments. I would pick one up and 'bam!', I could master it in about a month." Ritchie explained.

"How old are you kid?" JP asked, looking Ritchie up and down.

"Seventeen man. The sweet age, as my brother says." Ritchie explained.

"Dear god, you guys just keep getting younger and younger." He joked.

"I'm twenty-nine, if that makes you feel any better." Sam told him. JP smiled.

"Actually, yes it does." JP smirked. "AT least I'm not the oldest in the room." Sam just shook his head. "Well, I was under the impression that we were going to play for each other and not just make small talk.

"Wait!" Ritchie said. "I have to get a picture to show my mama." There was a bit of light teasing, but soon, a Kodak was coming out and the group was all getting together. Sam stood off to the side. "Sam, what are you doing?" Ritchie asked as he got the camera set up.

"Waiting for you guys to get done." Sam said. JP shook his head.

"Come on, get over here." He said.

"But…" Sam started to argue.

"Sam, you're as much apart of this as everyone else." Buddy said. "Now get over here." Waylon reached out and grabbed Sam's hand, pulling him into the group. Once they were settled, Ritchie started the timer and ran to join the group. Once the flash cube went off, he pocketed the camera. He wanted to get it developed before the tour so he could have a fresh roll for the tour, and he could get some pictures sent out to his mom.

"Okay, are we gonna play or not?" JP asked.

"Yeah, yeah, we can play now." Ritchie laughed. "Who wants to go first?"

"How about the old man goes first?" Buddy teased, since he wasn't much older than Ritchie. JP glared him down. "What? Afraid you might break a hip?"

"I'll show you breaking a hip." JP grumbled as he got set up, ready to play "Chantilly Lace". Sam set back with Buddy and Ritchie, ready to watch the performance at hand.