A/N: This is for Thru Terry's Eyes. This is the first time I've ever done a fic that is all dialogue, so I know that some of you will let me know if I need to up the meds and step away from this type of ficlet. Ambrosia is the nectar of the gods, which is probably just a fancy way of saying high end (real high end) booze.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dean, Sam, John or Bobby. Or Coyote. Damn, I wish I did.

Summary: This is Ambrosia. This is Coyote drunk on Ambrosia. This is how the Gateway Arch looked after Coyote got through with it. Any questions? Like I said, it's Terry's fault.


"Hi, Dean! Hi, old buddy, old pal…"

"Dude…I thought the Powers That Be blocked you from conjuring up Ambrosia."

"I haf ways, youn' *hic* Skywalker."

"So you're toasted. Three sheets to the wind. Feeling absolutely no pain. Comfortably numb."

"See, tha's why I like you! Ya got mad…obse..ober…obser…skills. You see stuff right. Alla time."

"Gonna tell me what's wrong, or do I have to drag it out of you?"

"Oooh, rough trade. Makes me tingly all over, big boy!"

"No way in hell. Ever."

"Why not?"

"You just changed into me in drag. Wearing a long black wig and a silk kimono. And you're busty."

"Wha? I just got in touch wi' my inner…my inner girl an' this…this is how ya treat me? Whassa matter, niño, don't you love me anymore?"

"Uh, look, I want you to sober up, Old Man. Right the hell now!"


" 'cause if Sam sees this I'll never hear the end of it. There's a reason his phone has a camera, okay? And he's not afraid to use it."

"Dun't…dun't haf'ta worry 'bout that."

"What? Why?"

"Cause I turned Sammy's phone into a teeny tiny little clown. Sammy likes clowns. So I…I changed his phone into a lil' bitty live clown who likes to hide in Sam's pockets. And tickle."

"So that was you. Thought so. Hate to be the one to break it to you, but Clown boy sleeps with the fishes. Nobody torments Sammy but me."

"Yuh...yuh killed 'im?"

"It was suicide. He jumped into the toilet trying to get away. One flush was all it took."

"Damn family…gonna run me crazy one'a these days…"

"So…any particular reason why you changed the Gateway Arch into a giant pretzel? A giant salted pretzel with big googly eyes on it?"

"Thought it was pretty. 'sides, it's low sodium."

"Uh huh. Okay, what's wrong? What the hell is this all about? Damn it, I can't believe I'm havin' a chick flick moment with you right here, right now!"

"You yelled at me!"

"I'm sorry, all right? It's just…you're standing there looking like me in that kimono with the hair and the boobs and it's freaking me out, okay?"

"You want me to sing 'I Feel Pretty'?"

"Hell no. You butchered that song the first time around."

"What 'bout 'I Kissed A Girl?'"

"What part of 'hell no' didn't you understand?"

"You use hurtful words."

"Oh, I do, huh?"

"Yeah. Ya got no 'ppreciation for the…the finer things, Deano."


"Yep. Deano. Deanie. Deanna. I coulda… I could win 'merican Idol. Simon an' Randy owe me….big time. And I got dirt on Secrest…"

"I said no. And stop pouting."

"You pout."

"I do not. I scowl. It's more manly."

"No. You pout. I googled it. Came up under Zoolander."

"That's Blue Steel, and that's manly."

"Iz not."

"Whatever. Stop twisting my -- our -- face that way. You look creepy enough as it is. Okay, what 's this all about?"


"You've been on a tear for the last day or so. That business with Sam. Bobby winning the lottery. The Grand Canyon..."

"Just thought it needed more holes, tha's all. So many pretty red rocks…."

"That was pretty sweet. Huh. Look, don't distract me, all right? And now you went and did this. Dude, I don't think you're in good with the Regional Commerce and Growth Association here."


"I'm almost afraid to ask, but I got to. What the hell is going on with you?"

" 'm…"


"'m happy!"

"You're what?"

" 'm happy!"


"See, I nev'r … nev'r kept a fam'ly this long b'fore. Never. They leave. They all lea' me one way or 'nother. But not…not you guys. An'…an' y' know what?"

"Uh, what?"

"I wuv you. I wuv you this much."

"Oh, crap..."

" I wuv John. An' Sam… an' you. An' an' Bobby...you guys…you…complete…me."

"Oh, brother…"

"You…you don't wuv me?"

"I - I do. I just don't need to say it."

"I wanna hear you say you wuv me."

"Damn it…"

"Ain't leavin' 'til you say it."

"Okay, okay. I love you."

"You mean you wuv me."

"Yeah. That."

"Say it."

"What? I don't---"

"Say it."

"All right! I wuv you."

"Whazzat? Can't hear you…"

"I WUV YOU! There! Ya happy now? Just in time to make the chopper five segment of the news at noon."

"Do John and Sam and Bobby wuv me?"

"Dude, you're gonna have to ask them."

"Okay! An' I wuv Bobby's dogs, an' Bobby's trucks, and the Impala…"

"Uh, could you change back to furry and four-legged? Like right now?"

"Okay. How's that?"

"Much damn better."

"My head hurts."

"Gee, color me surprised. How much of that stuff did you drink?"

"I dunno. A keg or two."

"Come on home, Old Man. You need to sober up. I know just what you need for that hangover. A greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray."

"Can I have a beer with that?"

"Then why the hell would you need to sober up?"

"My pup speaks truth. Gimme a minute...lemme change this Arch thing back to the way it was…"

"Whoa, wait a minute. Let's not be too hasty, now…"


As I said before, all complaints should be directed to Terry. Do I really need to up my meds? Terry, you and Phoebe put your hands down!