Or what will probably be in the sequel if I ever write one
"Ah, and you must be Crowley," Death said, "the demon that had my Scythe. I'm afraid you won't be getting it back. It's in the hands of its owner now."
"Of course," Crowley said, backing away and being sure to put Bobby's kitchen table and Sam between him and Death.
"You're angel-married to the Angel of Thursday?" Harry asked.
"Apparently," Dean said. "You don't seem to put out by that."
"Are you kidding? I love Thursday! I was born on a Thursday." Harry grabbed Castiel, and pulled him in for a hug. The look Castiel gave Dean made it clear he liked this about as much as Dean enjoyed being hugged by the cupid, and that he felt it was Dean's duty to help him out of it.
Dean only grinned at him and Harry.
Dean thought he heard Castiel mumble, "He has the grip of an octopus," before he left, but shook it off.
"You're wife and your girlfriend met and didn't try to kill each other or you," Crowley said. "What the hell are you Winchesters made of?"
It was Death that replied, "Just because you weren't so lucky, doesn't mean that there aren't people that are."
"Wait, is that how you died?" Sam asked Crowley, before immediately turning to Death, "Is that how he died?"
July 31, 1980 did indeed take place on a Thursday. My Computer's calendar says so.