With a pleasantly wonderstruck expression, Dean gawks at the leggy brunette grinding her hips on the catwalk. The siren red and glitzy devil's costume hugs her voluptuous body like nothing's he's seen.

"I take it all back… I love the Devil," Dean hears himself announce earnestly to the stripper as she kneels on all fours, pointy little horns and all, caressing her perfumed fingers under his chin.

His heads swims a moment, vision hazing out, and he closes his eyes, Reopens them. The 'devil' stripper jiggles and struts her way down the catwalk, heels clicking.

In her place, an angel.

Not the stripper 'angel' he was sorta hoping for, but a REAL friggin' angel — though there's confusion on why the fugly-looking, puffy white halo is being included. He's glad to see it being tossed away.

He expects "Cherry Pie" to die out in his dream's freaking sweet surround-sound with the newest arrival but it blasts just as loud as before. The rosy spotlight casts a healthy, serene glow over Cas's concentrating face. Dean's heartbeat paces a little quicker, throat feeling like cotton, and he finds himself unable to ask any burning questions (along the lines of "what the fuu—?") to Cas.

Way to barge into the dream to…

Dean gawks as the trench coat pushes over Cas' shoulders. The material crumples at his feet. The black suit-jacket underneath unbuttoning beneath Cas' quick working fingers.

Palms gliding over narrow hips and thighs. The jacket falls away, uniting with the coat.

Okay… not barging.

Knot of navy-blue tie pushing loose from the white, stiff collar of Cas's dress shirt. A sheen, a thin layer of saliva over Cas' opening lips — the bobbing of a masculine neck. Dean steels himself against the sudden need to feel that gratifying sensation — with his teeth, with his mouth, sucking the heat and perspiration from that skin until the angel would go boneless in his arms, moaning Dean's name—…

Someone clears their throat, loudly.

Dean finds himself not staring into an exquisite quality of blue, blue eyes, but another pair of eyes — mildly curious and shaded by curls of red hair.

"Anna…" he murmurs, curling his hands into his lap, almost protectively. Dream!Cas nowhere to be found at all. (Small victories…and, that totally… wasn't Cas!Cas. Uhh.)

"I was just, uh…was…"

"This is what you dream about," Anna states from her position on the catwalk. Her big, growing smile reads: 'Ahh, gotcha'.

But… what's to get?

Dean licks his lips, glancing away as his ears begin to redden, despite his best efforts to shove back his mortification.


"… …This is awkward," he murmurs lower.


Repost from Tumblr. Prompt: "Dean's dream in 5x13, except instead of those girls- stripper!Cas. Go." All bits of dialogue from the episode. Supernatural and Warrant's "Cherry Pie" are not mine.