The angels stared at the young men locked together in a sixty-nine position.

"Um… yeah."

"See? Problem."

"Well, it's actually one of the most beautiful and passionate couplings this world has ever—"

"Be quiet, Castiel. We know your weakness for the Winchesters."

"It happens to be true."


"Yes. But it's a problem. They're never going to leave the house. Go on hunts. Have events unfold as they must."

"You fear they will simply indulge in their love and desire for each other instead of fulfilling their destiny."


Castiel sighed. "I will not be involved in this." And he disappeared.

The other angel stood at the foot of the bed, unseen, watching Dean shiver and call out Sam's name as he came.

"I hate to do this. I really do. But you need angst and occasional separation, or else you'll never get anything done."

He waved his hand.

A thick envelope dropped through the mail slot.

The return address was Stanford.