A/N Wow okay hello. So... what is there to say? I watched this episode, "Free To Be You and Me," and I couldn't get rid of the obvious plot bunny that sprung from it. I'm just going to say- it takes me so fucking long to write smut, Jesus Christ. This was... what... a month of work? At least? And it's short enough to be done in a day or two. Argh. It was fun, though- very fun, eheh. Though it also drives me crazy to write Destiel that isn't full of angst and emotion... practically impossible, which is why this ended up a bit more about the guys' ~feelings~ than I originally intended. ANYWAYS. Please review, I'd really appreciate it!

Rated M for sexual content and naughty language ;3

Disclaimer I don't own Supernatural or any associated characters, events, etc.


Well I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this:
The fourth, the fifth,
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

~ "Hallelujah," Jeff Buckley

The night was silent, for the most part, as Dean squinted down the road. The Impala's headlights swerved over the dusty gravel, and despite the rather dreary, lonely sight, he could barely stop himself from grinning dumbly out the windshield. Laughter was still tight in his chest, and he had to bite down on his tongue to hold it there, knuckles straining on the steering wheel. Beside him, Castiel seemed to be rather confused by the sight of his own coat hanging half-off his shoulders, pulling at the fabric and considering it in an almost fascinated way. Dean glanced sideways in his direction as he rubbed the tan material between his fingers, then rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to the road.

"What are you so fussed about? Feelings hurt? Admit it; it was freaking hilarious back there."

"To you, maybe," Cas muttered in response, sitting back straighter against his car seat and turning to gaze out the window, arms folded tightly over his chest. "I can't say my feelings are hurt, but I'm not particularly amused by the situation, either."

"Oh, give it a rest," Dean snorted. "You're completely put off, and you know it. You were interested in that chick, weren't you? You're disappointed?"

"Why would I be disappointed? I didn't have any interest in her… I didn't even know her."

"Well, that's not exactly the point," the hunter sighed, exasperated by the angel's ignorance. He turned the corner sharply, then brought the car to a crawling pace, removing his hands from the steering wheel and propping his knees up against it instead, steering riskily but effectively as he turned to fully face Castiel. "You aren't supposed to like her, not for who she is, you're supposed to…" He lifted his hands for a moment, prepared to explain, then threw them down with a groan. "Screw it. There's no way I can try to explain this to an angel."

Cas frowned pensively, his profile outlined against the faint glow of the headlights. "I suppose I am… dying a virgin, after all."

"Not necessarily," Dean found himself saying, without so much as considering the words. "There's always some way to get sex when you really need it." He drew out this thought in an almost contemplative matter, lazily tilting his legs to direct the car down a side road. He tucked his hands behind his head casually. A tense sort of silence filled the dark interior of the Impala, Cas sitting with a remarkable stiffness.

"Are you scared of it at all?" Dean asked finally, unable to put off the question any longer. "Of, you know… dying." Because God knows I was terrified. Not that I told anyone, not really… not just how badly it frightened me… and with good reason, too…

I would have stayed there forever if not for you…

That thought brought him up short, because it was true. He treated Cas casually most of the time, but it was this man, this angel who had taken him away from the most torturous agony of his life. The crimson handprint on his shoulder seemed to burn suddenly, with a fiercer intensity than the light tingling that he'd grown used to constantly enveloping it. He'd never so much as thanked him for everything he'd done.

"No." Cas's voice was cold, low, and dark, the single syllable carrying the weight of ages in it. "There are worse things to go through than death, and my sacrifice is a small one considering the extent of the positivity that it should initiate."

"You and your fancy words," Dean scoffed, impulsively lowering his legs and pressing one foot down on the brake. The car slid forward a few yards before grating to a halt, the engine still purring softly. "It's a big thing, though—dying. I'd expect you to be a bit more worried, to be honest."

"I'm dying for what I believe in." Cas's head dipped, and his deep blue gaze fixated intently on the dashboard. "That's all that matters. I was created to fight for the greater good, and that's the way I intend to go out."

"How old are you, Cas?"

The angel's dark eyebrows drew together, and he tilted his head to stare at Dean curiously. "I… don't count it in years," he finally murmured. "Since before humanity… I've been alive for longer than you can comprehend."

"Really?" Dean raised his eyebrows and turned fully in his seat, leaning back against the door of the Impala and folding his arms with a smirk. "What is that, a couple million? That's a long time to not get screwed in, I have to say."

"So you're still on that subject."

"Man, I'm always on that subject," he chuckled. "You'll find that most of us humans have a similar fixation. And I'm really working to find a way that I can get your virginity out the window before you get blown to bits."

"I fail to see why it's such a prominent concern for you."

"The thing is, Cas," Dean went on, ignoring the angel's interjection, "there aren't any girls in sight, and it's getting damn late—we wasted quite a bit of time in that place back there." His words were taking him down a path that he wasn't even fully aware of—it struck him that he might regret the sentences spilling out of his mouth, but he somehow couldn't find it in himself to stop their flow. "I'm starting to think that we might have to resort to… other methods."

Castiel's head snapped up, turning so that his burning cerulean stare seemed to singe Dean's face and neck. "What are you implying?" he demanded, straightening up and shrinking slightly into the corner. He wasn't blinking, and his chest moved in small, anxious palpitations, lips twitching slightly with each heavy breath. Dean suddenly found himself very focused on those lips, was staring at them as he spoke.

"There's nothing to imply. Subtleties are boring… they always go on for too long."

"Dean," Cas whispered.

"I'm not going to waste time anymore," Dean grumbled, hoisting himself up so that he was kneeling on his seat, leaning forward. Castiel was perfectly still, and the few inches between their faces seemed to quiver with electricity. "If there's one thing that I'm going to make absolutely sure of before this night is over, Mr. Angel of the Lord, it's that you get to sin a little bit more before you get blasted out of existence."

Cas's lips stuttered slightly, as though he was trying to formulate words but coming up with nothing. Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"I don't… what is there to… to get?"

Instead of answering, the hunter stretched his arms out slightly, then lifted a hand, cupping it against the angel's cheek. It was surprisingly warm, the stubble lining his strong chin rather soft, and even more heat flowed to the surface as Dean's fingers pressed against the skin, causing a pale scarlet flush over Cas's face and neck. Now his throat was quivering with accelerated breaths, but he still didn't draw away, didn't speak a word.

"I didn't know angels blushed," Dean scoffed. The only response from the other was for his stare to flicker back and forth rapidly, scanning Dean's face with an almost alarming intensity.

"Neither did I," he whispered suddenly.

"Guess it just takes a lot to prompt it. Should I feel special, then?"

"I… I don't know… maybe."

"Stop taking things so seriously," Dean grumbled, tilting his head and moving his gaze to Cas's lips. "Just sit back, for once… have some fun." His free hand was on the car seat now, gripping it, and his body stretched over the whole length of the front seat, leaning close to the angel, who was pressed against the chilled window, his dark hair flattened against the back of his head and sticking out like an aggravated cat's. "You know, you're actually cute… don't get me wrong, though, I'm still just doing this as a favor to you, man, don't forget that."

"A—a favor…?"

"So angels don't just blush, they also stammer. Sorry, dude, but I've got to say, you're looking more and more mundane by the moment." By now, their lips were centimeters apart, so that Dean could feel Cas's quick, light breaths, tiny gusts of air against his own mouth. As straight as the hunter had established himself to be, and as detached from this intended course of action as he had internally promised to keep himself, it was undeniable that the unnecessarily extensive foreplay was getting him more worked up than he expected.

"I don't understand," Castiel whispered.

"Don't give me that BS. We both know perfectly well…" Closer, closer… "that I'm not going to let you die a virgin."

Dean lifted his other hand as soon as their lips collided, bracing it against the cool, damp surface of the car window to hold himself up better as his mouth moved against the angel's. Something was causing him to be gentler than he first intended, but he tried to shake off the lingering feeling of softness—tried, in fact, to shake off the overexcited flipping of his own stomach as he leaned in, pressing against the angel's torso, running his thumb obsessively over the rough stubble. Cas himself seemed utterly stunned, frozen, and Dean pulled back long enough to observe that his eyes were stretched wide open like a fawn's, his lips parted in more of a frozen way than a welcoming one. Rather than being discouraged, though, the hunter simply moved his own mouth to Castiel's forehead, inching his mouth down and kissing his eyes shut.

"There," he murmured against the fluttering lashes, trying to ignore the fact that they were brushing against his chin and lips and sending myriad chills down his spine. "See, it's easier when you don't…" He ducked down again, leaning in to give the angel a long, drawn-out but still dry kiss before finishing his sentence. "…Stare."

Dean could feel Cas's heart accelerating, the blood thrumming a thousand times faster than normal through his veins as he moved his own hand to the other's strong neck, running a thumb under his chin. He found himself drawn to the angel's lips over and over, unable to resist, like snagging one chocolate piece after another from a dish sitting on a side table. And the kisses were just as sweet, just as brief, though he worked to make them progressively longer and longer. The only problem was that Cas seemed to have no idea how to respond. Granted, he had stopped gaping like a blowfish, but instead, it seemed, had reverted to stiffening like a rock sculpture, painfully cold and indifferent.

"Cas," Dean finally sighed, sitting back slightly and giving his companion an exasperated look. "You can open your eyes," he added with a light laugh. His companion's eyelids cracked willingly, exposing a thin slice of crystal blue and absurdly dilated pupils. "Now, listen to me," he went on once he was sure that he had the angel's attention. "You need to kiss back, right? No one likes it if you just sit there stupidly. It's like making out with a rock or some shit."

"A… rock?" It was painfully clear that Castiel was genuinely offended by this comparison, and Dean had to bite back another far-too-entertained groan, instead sufficing to quell the other's uncertainty by leaning in and touching their foreheads together, slipping his fingers through his dark hair, almost petting him.

"No, better than a rock," he promised humorously. "Still, though. Trust me when I say that it's much more enjoyable if you don't just… sit there."

A firm crease appeared between Cas's dark eyebrows, and he dipped his chin in careful acknowledgement. His cheeks still glowed pink, but it was a slightly dimmed shade now, rather more reasonable. "I will try," he mumbled, and the little resolution was so ridiculous, so adorable that Dean couldn't stop himself from covering those stammering lips in his own once more, even offering a tiny bit of teeth as he nipped at the bottom one. And, this time, he did get a kiss back—a clumsy, unsure one, but it was still an attempt, and, somehow, that was all that mattered. "There you go," he murmured hotly, snaking one arm around Castiel's shoulders and pulling him closer, smirking at the oddly attractive way that the angel's head lolled on his neck, chin tilting upwards—such an utterly submissive gesture, which, added to his lazy, uncertain kisses and melted sapphire eyes, left Dean grinning giddily with premature pleasure.

"Not so bad, is it… lust?" he asked lowly, his deep voice scratching against both of their throats as he spoke the words practically into the other's mouth.

"Lust," Cas repeated, and his tones were much higher than usual, sounding almost like an anxiously whining kitten. "S'a sin…"

"That's right, big boy. You're a sinner now… how does it feel over on the dark side?"

"D-dark side?"

"Mm, never mind." He pressed in even closer, pinning Cas to the window, placing his palms against the glass on either side and letting the cool seep into his skin, combining with the warmth from the angel's body and the purring heat rising from the Impala's cushions, creating a shivery mix of sensations that both chilled and aroused him. A tiny whimper came from the other man as he slid his tongue into Cas's mouth, teasing at his teeth and lips, and he responded with a dark chuckle. One of his hands slipped from the window and wandered instead to the front of Castiel's long coat, which was still half-hanging off from his unfortunate encounter with the woman earlier. Dean took it upon himself to finish the job, pulling the heavy garment off of the angel's shoulders and sitting back for a moment, only to give himself a chance to fling it into the backseat.

"A-are you really going to…?"

"Hm? What, screw you?" Dean snorted, smirking. "'Course. I don't make promises just to break them two minutes later."

"But… what about…" Cas's throat convulsed as he swallowed nervously. "Aren't you supposed to… with… two men, doesn't it… hurt…?"

"Oh, so you have done your research, then?" he teased. "Naughty little angel."

"Not intentionally!" Castiel insisted defensively, but Dean was already leaning back, popping open the glove compartment and retrieving a black-capped bottle of clearly labeled lubricant.

"I'm not unprepared, you know. And I can always go easy on you."

"That… would be… appreciated, yes."

"No reason to bother with this crap yet, though," he added, tossing the bottle aside for the time being. "I like to… ease into it." He dipped his head closer forward, brushing their cheeks together, tilting his chin so that he could lightly nuzzle Cas's neck. "After all, we have a whole night… and if it's going to be your only time, it might as well be something special, right?"

The only response was a keening sort of whine, and Dean slid his hand up to the angel's neck, fingering the soft fabric of the thin tie that was looped there. He wound them between cloth and skin, savoring the luscious contrast of the two textures, then pulled tight, ignoring Cas's squeak of protest as the strong material choked him slightly. He rearranged himself so that he was sitting up straight, and, using the tie like a leash, he gathered the angel up to him, slipping his other arm back to support him by the shoulder blades, his fingers rubbing along his partner's spine. Now they were both fully sitting up, in the very middle of the car, so that anyone glancing in through the windshield would have a perfectly clear view of their occupation.

Fuck it. If anyone's stupid enough to investigate a lit-up car on the side of the road, then let 'em see.

Kicking off his shoes, he swept his legs up and tucked them under his body, positioning them carefully to allow more strength in his back as he held Cas in place. Once he was balanced properly, he began working at the knot of the tie, making sure to pause periodically and get in a kiss whenever proper. Castiel still seemed vaguely shocked at the whole process, but he never failed to respond when Dean moved in, and his breath would come faster every time their lips met—after a minute or so, he actually dared to dart his tongue out, and Dean accepted it between his lips gratefully, biting down on it lightly and caressing it with his own. Their combined technique was getting more and more sloppy as time progressed, until finally, by the time that Dean had finally managed to work Cas's ridiculous tie off, they were simply kissing each other's jaws and cheeks drunkenly, no longer particularly concerned whether or not their mouths touched one another. The vibrating car seats, propelled by the Impala's hungry engine, only added to Dean's pleasurable disorientation. He was beginning to get eager, a sensation felt in all areas of his body, and reflected this by dipping a hand down Castiel's shirt in a spectacularly undignified manner, fingers splayed over his collarbone and chest as he gritted his teeth against the warm, firm expanse of the angel's jaw, the hard edge of his bite disrupting the soft skin.

"Getting turned on, yet, Lord Purity?" he rasped, and he felt Cas's mouth open to respond, but the only noise that came out was a yelping sort of groan. Taking this as encouragement, he secured his other hand around his partner's wrist, lifting it and laying Cas's hand across his own shoulder. "Then show me… go on, we've still got all these nasty clothes in the way. Take 'em off, why don't you? Nothing's stopping you… in fact, this is an invitation…"

"It's not right," Castiel moaned. "It's wrong… I'm not meant to… to feel like this…"

"But you do, and you can't help that. Everyone gets aroused sometimes, dude. Fact of life. Might've taken you a zillion or two years to work out, but you had to face it at one point or another. It's inevitable."

"Not just… arousal…" The objection trailed off into a slight gasp as Dean tensed in surprise, involuntarily squeezing together the thighs that he hadn't realized to be wrapped around Cas's waist.

Not just arousal…

Shaking that aside for the moment—this was certainly no time to concern himself with emotions, of all things, especially not those concerning the angel who'd be dead in twenty-four hours' time—he proceeded to grip Castiel's wrist harder, prompting him. Slowly but heatedly, he felt his jacket come off his shoulders, leaving him in only the usual tight-fitting T-shirt and jeans. The other's hand lingered on the tight muscles of his back, and he let it stay there, small shudders running through him at the warm touch. "That's better," he murmured roughly, pulling Cas in closer and gently nudging the angel's hips with his own. The action sparked a low, rough gasp, and he took it as indication to go on, feeling the angel harden against the strong upper muscles of his thigh. Blood flowed heavily down to his own cock, and he bit down on his partner's bottom lip, at the same time thrusting forward harder, his jeans feeling ready to split open from strain. He felt Cas's jaw fall open at the action to make way for a desperate cry, and the fingers on his back tightened, nails cutting into his flesh through the thin barrier of his shirt. His legs bucked up slightly, involuntarily, and the other's hands were suddenly at the base of the T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, and he wasn't objecting, but instead guiding the actions, helping to rip it away and toss it into the back of the car. Then his fingers were flying to Cas's shirt, fumbling around with the buttons, struggling to slip them open.

"You're shaking," the angel whispered, and goddamn, his voice was so low, so rasping and almost growly, and the only proper response was for Dean to reach his free hand up and grip a handful of his soft, dark hair as tightly as possible, squeeze it as he kissed him with everything he possessed, morphing it into a high-pitched squeak. And Dean was shaking as he freed the last buttons, he was shaking like he was in the middle of some fucking blizzard, when in truth he'd never been more consumed by heat, heat radiating from the idle engine of the car and the burning skin of the angel whose shirt he shoved impatiently off the shoulders of, flicking it off somewhere under the seat that they had somehow both managed to climb on top of, legs wound around each other, now-bare chests pressed as tight as their fiercely moving lips.

Dean shifted his hips roughly, nuzzling the strong bulge in his jeans along Castiel's waistline, unable to resist a purring snarl as he felt fingers pawing anxiously at the rough fabric. But he forced himself not to help them in their attempt, to keep Cas desperate and whining because doing so felt so damn good. The angel twisted and writhed in his franticness, their sweaty chests slipping together and sending jolts of electricity down Dean's spine. He allowed himself a long, luxurious shudder, savoring the intensity of the action, then finally slipped a hand down his jeans, tediously tugging them off and reducing himself to his boxers. A sigh of intoxicated pleasure wound its way from Cas's lips down Dean's throat, and he took it as a prompt to move his hand to the gleaming curve of the angel's hipbone, tracing it ever-so-lightly with his thumbnail, then ducking down, gently pressing his lips to the waistline of Castiel's pants. His partner's response was to stiffen, thighs flexing uncontrollably as a series of frantic choking noises spilled from his mouth. His lips curved into a smile, and he allowed the tip of his tongue to trace the base of the other's stomach, lingering around his waistband.


"Who's shaking now?" the hunter breathed, though such a statement was rather void considering that they were both trembling like leaves. He began to gently run his fingertips along the outline of the angel's erection, clear through his dark pants. "Man, you're easy… might not even need the lube at all, if you keep going at this rate…"

"E-easy?" Even through a veil of tortured arousal, slight offense was easy enough to detect in Castiel's low voice. "Am I… easy?"

"Keep your wings on, big boy, it's nothing to freak out about. For all I know, girls like that kind of crap." He didn't bother to mention that there would never be an opportunity for Cas to want to seduce any sort of girl; for just the few hours before dawn, he'd allow himself to pretend that he wouldn't be losing the angel in the morning, that it was real feelings that had led to their being in this position and not pure desperation. "And maybe it's just me… you never know." He went so far as to offer a horribly flirty wink, his lips curling up yet farther. "I think you're about to realize that I'm rather above average in this area…"

"Stop… talking," Cas grunted out in frustration, his grip on Dean's shoulders tightening. He managed to silence him by turning his head around roughly, forcing their lips together again just as Dean finally wound his fingers down into Castiel's pants, slipping underwear and then ripping it off in a rough, hot motion, pulling away from the angel long enough to see his deliciously exposed under-half.

Cas looked away as if ashamed of the body that wasn't even his, but Dean kept his eyes fixated on his hands' target as they began to inch down from the angel's waist, curling around his unexpectedly sizable length and eliciting a sharp gasp from Cas, whose chest began to heave more powerfully than ever, his azure eyes squeezing shut as Dean began to stroke him with strong, even moments. His hips bucked again as he hardened even farther under Dean's fingers, and his teeth glinted in the low glow of the Impala's headlights, clenched against the uncontrollable tremors running through him.

On anyone else, Dean might have taken the time to heat up even farther, but he could tell that the angel wouldn't even try to hold himself back when his sex drive finally did catch up with him, and he was quivering enough already. "Hold it in," he growled, then took Cas by the shoulders, turning him and forcing him into the warm grip of the car's cushions as he pulled down his boxers to free his own alarmingly erect cock, letting out a tight-jawed sigh when the relatively cooler air washed over it. He tried to ignore the way that Cas stared in a practically enraptured way, reaching out to take ahold of the lube bottle and slathering his hand up, applying it generously and trying to do so in as quick a way as possible, not wanting to keep the trembling, wide-eyed heap in front of him waiting for too much longer. Once fully covered, he capped the bottle and tossed it aside, gratefully returning his attention to Castiel.

"Now, listen," he breathed, "normally I'd give you the full-blown finger process, but the fact is, you're gonna cum at any second. That's what I mean when I say easy. So I'm just going straight in, you got that?"

"Wh-what?" the angel choked, but Dean didn't repeat himself. Instead, he looped one arm around Cas's strong shoulders, using the other to direct himself as he entered in a single crashing motion, a sharp cry tearing itself from his partner's lips. He forced Cas forward, so that his chest was pressing hard into the leather car seat. The angel was keening in short, harsh bursts as he thrust strongly, letting out his own pleasured moans as one hand wound up in Cas's hair and the other clutched his hip, throwing himself forward again and again.

"Dean!" Cas wailed. "H-hurts…"

"You want me to stop?" he managed to get out between sultry, purring growls.

"N-no… don't st-stop… more… please…"

All too eager to oblige, Dean slammed his hips into Cas's one final time, his fingernails cutting into the angel's flesh and his teeth ground tight together. This time, the responding shriek was almost pitiful, but at the same time, it caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up, because it was primitive, raw and wild and utterly desperate. He felt Cas spasm underneath him, an action that flexed against his own cock in a delightfully aggressive way, and then sound wasn't the only thing coming out of the angel, and he barely was able to worry about stains on the Impala's cushions because he was too busy pulling out himself, just in time to allow himself a long, deep, shuddering release that touched every nerve of his body, caused Cas's name, twisted into a heavy shout, to fall from his lips with passionate force. He shivered with chilling electricity, then the tight arch of his back released as he slumped against Castiel, sighing when he was greeted with warm, strong musculature.

Cas was still breathing fast enough to be considered hyperventilation, his sapphire eyes wide and clouded with exhaustion as he stared into space, his fingers still buried in the cushion. "Not bad, huh?" Dean murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against the angel's ear. Cas's response was to let his eyelids drift shut, groaning wordlessly and practically melting into the hard seat.

"Yeah, you'll probably be tired," Dean mumbled, pulling himself up and reaching over for his boxer shorts. He himself could probably work out another orgasm or two, but he didn't want to strain the angel on his first—and last—time. Instead, he proceeded to dress in slow, tedious motions, wincing at the disgustingly scratchy feeling of the clothes against his skin. "Might want to put some clothes on, though." When there was no reply, he paused for a second, then frowned, leaning in slightly. "Cas?"

Nothing but his breaths, suddenly deep and steady. Talk about tired. It would seem that Cas was exhausted enough to fall asleep entirely during the couple of brief minutes it had taken Dean to dress himself. "Talk about easy," the hunter muttered, but he couldn't deny that it was rather endearing to see Cas's features rendered in such a soft, peaceful way. "Isn't sleeping supposed to be one of those things that you angels are too cool for? Or were you just never tired enough?" he questioned without expecting a response, tenderly reaching out to run his fingers along the dark softness of Castiel's hair.

Cut it out, you idiot. Fucking him is one thing, being all sweet and cuddly is another. Don't you dare let yourself forget that he's dying tomorrow.

Don't you dare.

He reached into the backseat to distract himself, retrieving Cas's coat and trying not to think about what he was doing as he slowly, methodically tucked it around the angel's form, covering him up and adjusting his position into something that resembled sitting up, though his head drooped down against the window, cheek pressed to the glass. It wasn't adorable, Dean reminded himself firmly, and he wouldn't care even if it was. Cas didn't so much as stir the whole time, and Dean finally sat back, settling fully into his own seat.

"Sleep tight," he muttered grimly, turning to face the road and settling his hands onto the steering wheel once more, foot slipping onto the gas pedal. "But before we go hunting any crazy archangels tomorrow, you'd damn better help me clean up."

Hunting any crazy archangels.

He didn't dare to think about the true implications of such a thing, not this late, not with warm pleasure throbbing in his chest—the wrong part of his body entirely—and Cas's endearingly slumped-over form in the seat next to him.

He couldn't let himself.

Maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
~ "Hallelujah," Jeff Buckley