Author: auntmo9

Artist: dizzojay

Recipient: spn_bigpretzel LJ community

Original Prompt: from boysinperil: Growing up in hotels made Dean an expert in bad television. What's his most guilty secret?

Title: The King of Cable

Rating: PG-13 for language

Spoilers/Warnings: Takes places in a non-specific time at the end of Season 8/beginning of season 9,where Crowley is being held at the Batcave but no other mentions any other season 9 activities. Also, Gabriel is alive.

Synopsis: A stormy night has the boys holed up in the Batcave. Unfortunately, they have Crowley for company, and he won't keep his mouth shut, so Dean decides to engage in some of his guilty pleasures…food and television. But that doesn't keep Crowley's mouth shut, and before he knows it, Sam is entertaining the demon with stories of the television that Dean has watched and the TV doctors he has loved.

Thank you to my wonderful artist and co-mod, dizzojay for working with an incomplete fic and yet turning out a piece that goes so well with the story. And thank you to tari_roo and zelda_addict for the beta work on this story and for ramblin_rosie for allowing me to bounce ideas off of her.

This story was prompted by boysinperil and was originally intended for her but she was unable to finish the Spring Fic Exchange. So as a Thank You to all the authors, artists, betas, cheerleaders and commenters, this is for the entire community! You guys are why the mods work so hard to make this a fun place to be! We come here each day because we know you want to be here, too!

"Do you even know how to keep that trap of yours shut?" Dean growled nearly as loud as the thunderstorm currently rolling through the Kansas sky outside the bunker. "You haven't stopped yakking since we moved you out of the dungeon."

"Well, what do you expect? A demon has to get all the fresh air he can get after Moose here went traipsing around the place, knocking over essence of Nargle and contaminating my dungeon!"

"It's not your dungeon," Sam grumbled as he snatched some popcorn out of Dean's bowl. "It's where we allow you to exist as long as we consider you useful, so I'd be quiet if I were you and be glad we're letting you up here while the dungeon airs out."

"It's still no way to treat the King of Hell. Leaving me alone for hours on end, chained up like an animal. It's inhumane, I tell you!" barked out Crowley as he rattled his chains. "Even now, you've got me penned up on the other side of the room. I can't even see the bloody TV!"

"You are not here to be entertained," Dean pointed out as he picked up the remote and changed the channel on the television. "Besides, you might be the King of Hell, but I'm the King of Cable, and right now, I'd rather watch Toddlers and Tiaras than listen to you moan about how you are treated." Settling down into the couch, he turned up the volume in order to drown out both thedemon and the storm.

"King of Cable," muttered Crowley. "Bollocks. As if that added any value to one's life."

"Really, Crowley?" Dean asked as he searched through the channels for something he wanted to watch. "You, who clawed your way up in Hell by trading people's souls with less integrity than a Wall Street broker, are judging me?"

"I'll have you know I have more integrity in my business dealings than all of Wall Street combined," the demon responded as he tried to maintain an air of dignity chained to a chair.

Dean just stared at him over the top of the television. "Sure, and I am People Magazine's Sexiest Man to Come Back to Life."

"Dean, stop egging him on!" Sam said in exasperation, gently shoving his brother in the arm. "It is bad enough having to listen to him, but you are only making it worse!"

"Oh come on, Sammy! I'm just trying to wear him out," Dean said with a grin. "Maybe then he will shut up and we can watch Hoarders."

"Wear Crowley out? Dean, that would be like getting you to give up your addiction to television doctors." Sam realized his mistake the second the words were out of his mouth.

"That explains so much," Crowley said before a wicked grin split his face in two. "TV doctors, heh. Have a bit of a fancy for Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, Dean? Maybe Dr. Abby Lockhart is more your style? Or do you get lost in the eyes of Dr. Juliet Burke?"

"Oh no," Sam laughed despite himself. "Much, much better than that."

"Don't you dare, Sam!" Dean cried as he looked back and forth between the other two occupants of the room. "Besides, Extreme Couponing is about to start. I don't want to miss that."

"Really, Dean? You already have 1,537 rolls of toilet paper, 412 Hostess cherry pies, and enough cans of tuna to build your own cruise ship all stored here in the bunker."

"And all for only $5.87," Dean stated proudly. "Besides, I have it on good authority that in an apocalypse, that toilet paper is worth gold."

Crowley leaned as close to the brothers as he could, innocently prying, "So more about these TV doctors."

Sam was probably going to regret this. Okay, he already did, but maybe if he was the one telling the story, these two just might stop bickering for a while. With a heavy sigh, Sam started. "It all began…"

"Um, Dad…" Ten year-old Dean approached his father nervously as he glanced at his brother's sleeping form on the hotel bed.

"What is it, son?" John answered crisply. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for bed like I asked?"

"I'm ready, sir," Dean replied as he stood up straighter. "Brushed my teeth and everything. I was just wondering…"

"Well, what is it? Go ahead. Spit it out."

"Are guns and knives the only things you use when you kill them? You know, the...monsters." Dean uttered the last word barely above a whisper in case his brother might still be awake.

"And what else exactly am I supposed to be using?" his dad asked him with a sharp look.

"Well, see, MacGyver, he can make grenades out of pine cones, bombs out of swamp gas, bamboo shoots, and mud, and all kinds of things with duct tape and his Swiss Army knife."

"Now wait a bloody minute, Moose," Crowley interrupted. "You're supposed to be telling me about Dean and his love for scrubs, or should I say Scrubs? Not about some nitwit, tree-hugging nerd with a pocket knife and an unhealthy obsession with duct tape that made mullets popular."

"Dude! MacGyver was awesome!" Dean retorted as he grabbed a handful of popcorn. "And you should be keeping your mouth shut. In fact, I might just use a sharpie on your face and draw a devil's trap across your lips to make it happen."

"Do that, and the intelligence quotient of this conversation drops dramatically."

"Well, it already did when you joined in."

"Stop it! Both of you!" Sam interjected, running both of his hands through his hair in frustration. "Now, where was I?"

"Dean, who is this MacGyver, and how do you know him?' John asked, suddenly concerned.

"He's on television. I watch him every week," Dean answered, excitement creeping into his voice. "And he always beats the bad guys. Usually with stuff he finds right around him!"

John breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, I can assure you that that even if pine cone grenades and swamp gas bombs were possible, they are no match for the sort of things I hunt. Maybe you should find something else to watch on TV, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replied reluctantly as he climbed into bed with his brother.

A few days later, when John returned to the hotel, he was pleased to see both of his sons watching what seemed to be a family show on television.

"Whatcha watching, boys?" he asked, setting down takeout on the table.

"It's Doogie Howser, dad!" Dean replied, jumping up to greet his dad. "He's a boy genius who became a doctor by the time he was only fourteen!"

"A fourteen year old doctor, huh? You'd have to be pretty smart to do that."

"Yep. Smart like Sammy," Dean said proudly before they all turned back to the TV.

"Oh, I was just visiting with Doogie, Dr. Howser," Vinnie said. "Listening to his plan to part Wanda Plenn's pulsating red lips with his prepubescent tongue."

"Part pwal-sating red lips with his pre-poobscent tongue," repeated Sam, his young face looking questioningly up to his father. "So, what is his tongue going to do to her lips, Daddy?"

John quickly grabbed the remote and changed the channel, ignoring Sam's question. "Dean, you can go back to watching MacGruber."

"It's MacG…" Dean started to say before catching the look on his dad's face. "Yes, sir."

"And Dean, tomorrow you and I are going to the shooting range."

"Yes, sir!" Dean replied with a grin.

"So, a pre-teen boy likes watching a teenage doctor and a know-it-all do-gooder," Crowley said rolling his eyes. "How utterly mundane of you. Let me guess, next you're going to tell me that he wore Captain America Underoos as a child? Quite frankly, I'd be more entertained if you told me he wore women's panties."

"Hey now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with, uh, Captain America Underoos," Dean said with a slight pink tinge to his ears, "and if you are that bored, I'd be happy to let Sam stop talking about my television past, and we can watch The Real Housewives of New York City. Those chicks got some serious crazy going on."

"No, no please." Crowley insisted. "Let Sam continue."

"So when Dean was sixteen going on seventeen," Sam started…

"Sammy! Get your ass into gear!" shouted Dean. "I want to be back at the hotel before it starts, and we only have like ten minutes. I can't believe we missed the first episode of the season because we were on the road."

"Seriously, dude? What's your problem?" Sam answered. "The hotel is like a five minute drive from the diner. I just want to wash my hands."

"I want to get ahead of traffic," the older Winchester replied.

"Of course. Because in a town of seventeen hundred, there is going to be traffic at nine o'clock at night. What was I thinking?" Sam muttered, barely climbing into the Impala before Dean drove away. "I forgot how important George Clooney is to you."

"What? No!" Dean denied as he drove the couple of blocks to the hotel. "There are some hot chicks on that show."

"Uh huh," Sam answered with a sly smile, "and Clooney gets almost all of them. That's why you want to be him."

"Fine," Dean admitted as he walked into the hotel room and turned on the TV. "I want to be like Clooney. So sue me. Who wouldn't? He's smart, sophisticated, charming, and has a good sense of humor. Remind you of anyone?"

"Yeah," Sam replied as he plopped down on the bed. "He reminds me of George Clooney."

"That's not… Dammit, Sam! We missed the opening scene."

"You only missed a few minutes, Dean. Get over it."

The two of them settled down to watch ER. After about twenty minutes, Dean shouted, "Hey, did you see that, Sam?!"

"See what?" his brother asked him.

"That clueless intern…Dr. Babinski…Barinski…whatever his name is. The one eating the candy bar. He looked right at me and waggled his eyebrows! He freakin' waggled his eyebrows at me!"

Sam stared at his brother for about ten seconds, then he burst out laughing.

"Sammy! It's not funny. He waggled those eyebrows at me. He did!' Dean insisted, his face contorting in anger.

Sam got suddenly serious. "Are you feeling okay, Dean? Do you think maybe it was the two bacon cheeseburgers, or maybe the three slices of apple pie at the diner that didn't sit well?"

"Cut it out, bitch! I'm telling you the truth."

"Yeah right, jerk. Like I'm going to fall for that one."

"We didn't know it then, but the Trickster made an early appearance in our lives," Sam said.

"Ruining my television," Dean grumbled.

"And I continue to do so," Gabriel said, popping in next to Dean on the couch with a bag of Skittles in one hand and a box of Junior Mints in the other. "I mean, television is a wonderful thing in and of itself, but annoying the Winchesters is kind of like having candy at the movies-so much better when you put them together!"

"Oh, lovely," Crowley said. "Another formerly dead idiot enters the village."

"I was never dead," the archangel proclaimed. "I was just pretending, and Dean-o's adventures with TV doctors wouldn't be nearly as entertaining without me, so I'd pipe down if I were you."

"Really? You've been involved with all of my TV doctors?" Dean asked. "Wait…that came out wrong. Though with you, maybe not."

"No, I haven't been involved with all of your TV doctors," Gabriel replied. He paused, then smiled. "Doesn't mean I didn't watch you, though. Like that time in Paramus…"

"How come I'm dragging your ass to the mall on a Saturday, Sammy?" Dean grumbled as he pulled open the oversized glass door.

"We've been over this, Dean," Sam huffed as he blew the hair out of his eyes. "It's because you won't let me drive your precious car, and this is the closest place on Mr. Zimmerman's list to get the supplies I need for my project. Unless you want to drive into Manhattan?"

"No way! This place is close enough to New York as it is. I can't believe Dad had to come here for a hunt."

"Well, I suppose people need help everywhere, Dean."

Dean's eye caught a poster on the wall as they walked through the mall, and he put a hand on Sam's chest to stop him. "Whoa…would you look at that. Dr. Drake Ramoray is going to be here in this mall signing autographs, and look at the date on this thing. He's here today…this thing starts in thirty minutes. You're on your own, Sammy. I gotta go see this guy."

"To get a doctor's autograph? Why? What did he do, cure cancer? Oh, I know," Sam said with a smirk. "Did he find a way for people to eat all of the cheeseburgers and pie they want without getting indigestion?"

A dreamy look briefly crossed Dean's face. "No, but I bet he could if he wanted to. He has the most amazing life story, so much better than the story of that douche bag from the same town that left after a near fatal accident because of he couldn't get over his ex-girlfriend."

"What the hell are you talking about, Dean?" Sam asked, confusion plastered across his face.

"Dr. Drake. Geesh, keep up, Sammy! Everyone thought he died a few years ago. He fell down an elevator shaft and had so much neurological damage that the only neurologist that could have saved him was obviously himself, and that wasn't going to happen, so everyone thought he died, but really he had just been in this coma for years, and then, miraculously, he had a brain transplant and came back!"

Sam's look changed from confusion to incredulity. "Dean! There is no such thing as a brain transplant. If there were, it would have been all over the news."

Dean looked askance at his brother as they continued to walk through the mall. "Of course not, nitwit, not in real life! But Dr. Drake is on TV, on Days of Our Lives, one of the best freakin' shows ever!"

"Is this like the Clooney thing?" Sam asked with a laugh.

"No way, Sammy,'' Dean answered with a shit-eating grin. "This is even better because I'm going to meet Joey Tribbiani today!"

"Wait. Who is Joey Tribbiani?" Sam asked, once again confused. "I thought you were going to meet some TV doctor."

"He's the actor who plays Dr. Drake. Seriously, Sam. Try to keep up. Look! There he is! I can't believe my luck. Let's go!" Dean exclaimed as he grabbed his brother by the shirt and pulled him across the concourse.

"Oh god, Dean. Please don't embarrass me."

"Hey, Joey!" Dean shouted and waved. "Dr. Drake. How you doing?!"

"So, tell me again why you are going to the mall with me? You guys hate the personal appearance things. I hate these personal appearance things. People get weird. The best thing about them is I get free sandwiches out of the deal," Joey said while walking down the mall concourse with Ross Geller at his side.

"I told you, I got a call at the museum from some guy asking about chupacabras, some mythical creature. Supposedly, some people think they are dog-like. This guy thinks they are some sort of ancient reptile, and he wanted to pick my brain, and if there is some ancient reptile in the area, maybe they're related to dinosaurs somehow. It could be a cool discovery, if I could get in on it."

"So, what does that have to do with a Mexican sandwich…which we are now totally getting when we're done with this thing." Joey got a faraway look in his eye as he thought about going to get his favorite food.

"What?" Ross, like most people, was confused by what Joey was talking about.

"The Mexican sandwich. The chalupa."

"Not a chalupa, Joey, a chupacabra. It is a creature, which this guy said he was hunting, and now that I think about it, that is kind of weird."

"Of course it's weird," Joey pointed out. "Why hunt for a Mexican sandwich when you can find it at every Taco Bell around?"

"Joey, I told you. You know what, never mind," Ross said, exasperated, as he glanced across the hall to see two guys angling their way toward them. "It looks like your adoring public has found you."

"Hey, Joey! Dr. Drake. How you doing?!"

"So at first, Joey thought Dean was hitting on him using his own pick up line," Gabriel said, wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes, "but once they started trading sandwich secrets, they talked for so long that Joey almost missed his appearance."

"Yeah, it was kind of funny," Sam said with his own laugh, "and once I realized Dr. Geller was a paleontologist, I picked his brain, too. Got an 'A' on my school project."

"Sammy, you would've gotten an 'A' even without the help of that museum nerd," Dean observed. Grabbing a handful of Skittles out of the archangel's bag, he continued, "And where were you that you managed to be able to share that little tale?"

"Well, being a janitor never goes out of style," Gabriel answered. Giving Crowley a long look he continued, "There's garbage everywhere to clean up, and no one really pays attention to the people who have to do the dirty work."

"I'll second that," Sam answered as he grabbed the empty beer bottles and headed to the kitchen to get more.

"Of course, Dean-o," Gabriel said, "there is another TV doctor that even Sasquatch here doesn't know about."

"What?" Crowley said mockingly. "Dean is keeping something from Moose? I'm shocked!"

"Zip it, Crowley," Sam snapped, walking back into the room with another round of beers. "Like a TV doctor is the worst thing Dean ever kept from me? It's not like he ever told me about the rest of these guys right away. So, who is it this time, Dean? Someone on the sci-fi side like Dr. McCoy or Dr. Who? Or maybe a baddie like Dr. Evil or Dr. Horrible? Oh, I know! Maybe it's a nerd like Dr. Sheldon Cooper!"

"Nice try, kiddo," Gabriel laughed, tossing back some Junior Mints, "but this one has a bit more in common with you knuckleheads than either of you would care to admit."

Dean leaned back against the pillow with a sigh. Sam was off at Best Buy getting his geek on, and he had a rare few moments to himself in the motel to relax. Not much to do, but channel surfing was always an option. Of course, even with free cable, you could have eighty channels and still have nothing to watch on a Tuesday afternoon.

"OK, I can live with M*A*S*H reruns," Dean said to an empty room as he dropped the remote on the bed next to him. "Because Days of Our Lives is not the same since Dr. Drake Ramoray rejected his brain transplant and went to that big hospital in TV Land heaven."

Dean watched in contented silence for a few minutes before muttering, "Charles Emerson Winchester III. No freakin' way that dude is a Winchester. He is too arrogant, rude, and annoying."

"I thought arrogant, rude, and annoying were the three legs of the stool that you Winchesters sat on?"

Dean whipped his head around to see Gabriel casually lying on the other bed, head propped up on his arm, cheeky grin plastered on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean snarled. "I thought we left you behind in Ohio."

"Oh, you're bored and alone. I'm bored and alone," Gabriel answered in a sing-song voice. "I thought to myself, why not?"

"I'll tell you why not. I will fry your ass in holy oil, that's why," Dean growled as he jumped off the bed.

"You think I didn't send that off into Never-Neverland before I landed here, bucko? I'm not an idiot."

"No, you just play one on TV," Dean muttered.

"Speaking of which, it seems as though Dr. Sexy is not the only TV doctor that our Dean-o here seems to like," Gabriel purred as he glanced back at the television.

"What? Winchester? No way!" Dean protested. "He is an arrogant dick!"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Like I said, not the only Winchester that could be described that way, but this show isn't just about one doctor, and if I look up close and personal into your VCR, I see a deep and abiding fascination with doctors that doesn't begin or end with Dr. Sexy. I should've known."

"Should've known what?" Dean asked nervously.

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Gabriel chuckled as he raised his hand to snap his fingers.

Dean held up his hands and frantically waved them at the Trickster. "No, no…not again…"

The next thing he knew, Dean found himself lying on the ground, looking up at the engine of a vehicle, a Jeep most likely. The heat and humidity were suddenly oppressive, and as he wiped his face, his hand came back with oil in addition to sweat. Well, he thought to himself, at least this seems like something he should be able to handle this time.

He heard a rumble in the distance that didn't quite sound like thunder, and then someone was standing at the edge of the Jeep, and a voice that sounded somewhat familiar bellowed, "Rizzo, is that Jeep going to be ready soon? I want to leave today, not next week!"

Dean slid out from under the Jeep and stood up. "Winchester. Charles Winchester," he sputtered.

"That's Major or Doctor to you, Rizzo," the man said as his eyes narrowed on Dean. "Now when is that blasted Jeep going to be ready? I want to leave for Seoul today, so I can make the best use of my R & R!"

"Dammit, Gabriel! I'm going to kill you for this," Dean muttered as he spun around to check on the condition of the Jeep.

"What's that, man?" Charles bellowed. "Speak clearly. You can't go through life muttering."

"The Jeep is not ready, sir," Dean answered through gritted teeth, as he wiped more sweat off his brow.

"What?" exclaimed the major in frustration as he began pacing. "Why not? Colonel Potter explicitly said I could have one today."

"This one ain't ready," Dean pointed out. "Unless you want one without a fully functioning engine. There is oil leaking out of her, and until I can fix it, you're out of luck."

"Well then, give me another one," the doctor said, as if it were that simple.

Dean glanced around the motor pool. "There is only one working Jeep left, sir, and I can't leave the 4077 without a vehicle while you are on leave."

"That is unacceptable!" Major Winchester growled while pointing to the Jeep Dean had just been under. "Fix it!"

Dean plastered on his best smile as he remembered where he was. "Pardon, sir, but unless you're a magician and your finger is a magic wand, you pointing at it and telling me to fix it is about as good as telling your tent mates to close down the still."

"Why. I. Never." Charles sputtered out as his face began to turn red.

"I just bet you haven't," Dean answered as he casually wiped off his tools.

As the pair continued to go round and round, neither of the men noticed the approach of Colonel Potter.

"Winchester!" bellowed Potter.

"What?!" they both shouted while turning to look at the Commanding Officer.

"He was speaking to me." Major Winchester glanced at Dean with both curiosity and disdain before continuing, "Is there something that I can help you with, Colonel?"

"If you could quit your arguing for a gosh darn minute, I may have a solution for your dilemma."

"Dilemma, sir? There is no dilemma," the major answered calmly. "This man simply needs to give me the Jeep you promised me."

"Cut the bull crap, Winchester! They can hear you two arguing all the way back at HQ!" Potter exclaimed, nearly getting into the major's face. "Now, I can spare Rizzo for few hours. He can take you over to the 8063rd, and you can use one of their Jeeps to get to Seoul. Just know, I am only doing this to get you out of my hair for a few days. Capiche?"

"Ride with this cretin?" Charles asked incredulously, looking at Dean.

"Would you rather walk?" Potter asked. Turning to go he added, "I'm afraid that's the best we can do. Take it or leave it."

"Fine," Charles grudgingly agreed. "I will take it. I am ready when you are, Rizzo."

Dean bit back a chuckle. "Your chariot awaits, sir. Just remember, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

"What music? There is no music in these horrible contraptions." Winchester threw his bags in the back as he climbed in the passenger seat.

"Probably for the best," Dean acknowledged as he started the Jeep up. "We would probably have to listen to something awful, like K-pop."

"K-pop? Whatever is that?" the major asked. "If it is anything like the Boston Pops, then yes, I am sure that someone like you would find it quite distasteful."

"Someone like me?" Dean asked slightly offended as he pulled out of the M*A*S*H unit. He shook his head slightly as he couldn't believe what passed for roads in rural Korea. "Dude, how do you even know what someone like me is like? You haven't even taken five minutes to get to know me."

"But you presume to know me?" his passenger replied with a sideways glance.

"I think I know a thing or two about Major Charles Emerseon Winchester III."

"Oh, pray tell," Charles replied with a roll of the eyes. He then grabbed onto the side of the Jeep as they hit a large hole in the road. "And watch where you are going."

"Hey, complain to the Chinese about the road conditions, not me. They're the ones bombing the place," Dean snapped back as he swerved to avoid another road hazard. "So, about you. Your're from Boston. You were at Boston General, Chief of Thoracic Surgery there. You have a sister. You like pranks, and you think you are above all of this, but you still like Marvel comics and the Three Stooges because well, dude, who doesn't?"

"How could you possibly know all of that?" Winchester asked incredulously. "And I beg to differ. I do not like Marvel comics. I like Captain Marvel."

"Whatever, you might want to re-think Marvel comics in the future," Dean said with a knowing smile. "And I know all of that because, dude, I know my tele…I pay attention, okay. I'm not some oaf in the motor pool."

"You surprise me, Rizzo," Winchester admitted begrudgingly. "You are not the lowlife from Louisiana I thought you were."

"Well, if we are being honest, I've told people that you give all Winchesters a bad name, but I don't think that's the truth."

"What does it matter to you if Winchesters have a bad name?" Charles asked, looking at Dean more closely than he had before. "And exactly how many Winchesters do you know?"

"The answers to all of that would surprise you too, dude," Dean said with his cheeky grin as he pulled into the 8063rd, "but you don't have time for that. Your next chariot awaits."

"So, did Gabriel bring you back after that?" Sam asked as he brought in a pizza and some beers to the group, placing them just short of Crowley's reach.

"Are you kidding, Samsquatch? I joined him for a bit first. We had to have some quality time with the nurses, and of course, Hawkeye, B.J. and the still."

Sam gave his brother one of his classic bitchfaces. "So, you partied with Gabriel in TV Land and never told me about it?"

"It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, Sammy! I'm supposed to turn that down?" Dean replied. "Besides, as I recall, you were too busy buying geek toys to care."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but didn't have a good answer so just sat down next to his brother in defeat.

"You know, boys, that's all well and good, but I'm still chained here to the bloody chair and table, I can't see the TV, and you haven't even given me a lousy beer, let alone some Scotch," Crowley moaned while trying to lean closer to the food and drink spread out before him.

"Well, boo hoo. You are just going to have to suck it up, buttercup. We already told you, this isn't about entertaining you," Dean replied with a smirk. Turning to the others he added, "But we are going to have to find something to watch. You know there aren't that many good TV doctor shows on right now. I'm all caught up on Dr. Sexy. Any ideas?"

"Well, technically, most of the guys on The Big Bang Theory are doctors," Sam said with a hint of hope in his voice. "We could watch that."

"Those guys are a bunch of geeks," Dean said with a chuckle as he picked a slice of pizza, but he turned the channel to the show as he did so.

"Won't that be like watching a bunch of Moose?" Crowley griped from his position across the room.

"I know," Gabriel said with a smile as he popped a lollipop into his mouth. "It's going to be wonderful!"


That is a quote from the pilot episode of Doogie Houser, M.D.

In Season 2, Episode 2 of ER, there was a clueless intern by the name of Dr. Barinski played by Richard Speight Jr. The rest was creative license.

Eric Brady in Days of Our Lives, played by Jensen Ackles, left Salem after a near-fatal accident when he could not get over his ex-girlfriend (yes, because it is a soap, it is much more complicated than that but who has the time?) This by the way occurred shortly before the fictional Dr Drake Ramoray would have returned to Days of Our Lives in the Friends storyline.

In M*A*S*H, Sgt. Rizzo was in charge of the motor pool and from Louisiana. This is the character that Dean gets dumped into by Gabriel. I refer to him by either Dean or Rizzo. To try to minimize confusion, I refer to Major Charles Emerson Winchester III by his full name, major, doctor, Charles or Winchester.

And the fact that I know all of this, as well as anything else hinted at or implied in this story, is why my RL friends call me The Queen of Cable.