AN: Well, another crossover by your lovely SourSugarQuills. I love them, I really do. Anyway, I got this idea when I was listening from music, and how my idea of a small Cas looks a bit like a small Kurt.

Disclaimer- I own neither of these amazing shows. If I did, Cas would never, ever be thought dead. EVER.


Burt Hummel looked down on his wife and child. His child! He was still thrilled at the prospect. For years, they had been trying for a kid, with no success. And now, this! Practically a baby angel giggled at the child's mother's side. At one year old, the kid had sprouted a nice amount of auburn hair, and had the prettiest blue eyes he had ever seen. Kurt, was his name. A gorgeous, lovely name she had said. Not to mention it matches yours, she laughed, and he smiled. Kurt was currently laughing as his mother blew bubbles from one of the bubble blowing jars that you bought for a dollar at the supermarket. Yeah, his kid was a miracle, and nobody was ever going to hurt him. Ever.


Cas had been gone for a year now. Cas said he was falling, and what did Dean do? Absolutely nothing. He just figured Cas would still be there, he always did. He just thought that Cas would stay in his body, and then some way, they'd be able to get the Angel of Thursday hyped back up on his mojo. As usual, nothing went perfect for the Winchesters. When Cas fell, he died. Jimmy was long gone by then, and all they had to remember him by was a body, and a tan trench coat. They cremated the body-an old habit they couldn't help-and placed the trench coat in the trunk of the Impala.

Dean was getting ripped at the seams, and he took to repeating we'll find him, we'll find him, at night, after he woke up from his latest nightmare from perdition. He thought that Sam was asleep-he wasn't.


Kurt was two, and things started to change. At night he screamed whenever the lights went out. "Daddy! Daddy!" He'd wail. Of course, Burt would come rushing into the room, trying to calm his poor son.

"Shh, Kurt, It's okay, It's okay. Daddy's here. Daddy's always here." He murmured. Kurt always kept yelling until he said 'Daddy's always here.' Confused, Burt put the boy down, and tried to keep a light on.

The screams increased nightly. They were only reduced to sobs of "Why aren't you here, daddy?" As Burt held him.

"Daddy's here, Kurt, Don't you see? I'm daddy. I'm right here." Suddenly, the boys screams magnified by a tenfold. He pounded on Burt, screaming. "You aren't my daddy! Go away!"

"What's going on?" Mrs. Hummel asked, panicking as she burst into the room.

"I don't know, I told him I was his father, and he just broke out! I don't know what to do!"

Just then, young little Kurt's eyes focused on the book his mother was holding. It was a pretty, leather bound bible, with golden pages. He stopped making noise all together. "Book," He whispered. "Please let me see the book, Mommy," He stared up at her with the beautiful blue eyes of his, lip quivering.

"Sure, Kurtie," His mother looked down at him, a little confused. "Which book. Do you want Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, or Snow White?" She asked.

Kurt shook his head. "That one," He pointed at the book in her hand.

"This one? It's not a book for sweet little boys like yourself, Kurtie. This is a big kid book," She told him charmingly.

"No, that one." Kurt told her. " I want to see that one."

"Okay…" she sat down, with him. "Do you want me to read it to you?" She asked, more than a little confused.

"No," Kurt replied. "I'll read it." He smiles, and opens the book, taking it away from his mother. He reads it with expertise, each syllable flowing. The minutes flew by, and it was getting late.

"Time for bed now, honey," She smiled down at him.

He pouted. "Just one more stowwy?" He asked.

"Sorry honey, not tonight. I'll let you read more tomorrow, dear."

Kurt considers it. "You sure?"

She grinned. "Very. But for now, beddy-bye time. Sleep tight, my sweet Kurtie." She placed a small kiss onto his forehead as she placed him in the crib.

The next day, she tried to get him to read "The Hungry Caterpillar." His eyebrows drew together as he struggled with the words. He mangled and chopped them up, until it sounded something like this-"th-ee hun-gry cat-tepil-lar, was ver-y, very hun-gry. So he ate and ate, an' ate."

As Kurt ate the his peanut butter sandwich for lunch, his parents whispered. "How can he read Matthew without perfectly, but with something as simple as "The Hungry Caterpillar" he can barely make our the sentences? " "I don't know…Maybe we should just forget about all of this." "Alright," They agreed.


When Kurt is five, Burt takes him to the garage. The first word Kurt mutters is "Impala". Burt stares at him oddly.

"Where'd you learn that, kiddo?"

Kurt's brow furrows in confusion. "I-I can't remember. I don't know why…"

Desperately trying to change the subject, he moves on to how you change the oil.


Cas has been gone for five years now. Sam's afraid Dean will break. Chances of ever seeing the angel again are getting slimmer by the second, and they know it. Dean dances in death's grasp-if anything happens to him, he doesn't care. He gets hurt gladly. He no longer cares, no longer lives for things. Sam thinks the only reason that he didn't kill himself already is because of Sammy, and the Impala. Who knew what would happen if he died, and left the Impala in Sam's possession. He works on the Impala more than ever, though she's more fit than anything NASA has, let alone NASCAR. They're the only things he has left, her and Sam.

And he's not going to let them slip through his grasp, no way. He's not letting anything slip out of his grasp. Not anymore.