A/N - So much of Supernatural for me is the music - and I've used a great deal of it in this story. If you're interested, there is a playlist on Spotify I've created of music from this fic called "Running with the Devil" - but really, you could search any "Dean's Playlist" and you'd get these tunes.

This story is complete, but I'm still working on editing later chapters. Most should be out in the week.

Lastly, there is a sequel in the works. Didn't expect to get so inspired! Here we go, please review if you enjoy!

Chapter One

"I can't fight this feeeeeelin this feeling anymore. I've forgotten what I've started fighting foooorrr."

"Really Dean?!"

"And if I have to crawl upon your floor, come crashing through your door - baby I can't fight this feeling anymore!"

Sam huffed and stared out the window at the barren Texas countryside. It had been hours, HOURS of just this; Dean singing his lungs out to whatever classic rock station he could get clearly on the Impala's old radio. It was the only way he could drown out the rest of his brain. The ugly, plain road laid out before him, straight for miles, it gets one to thinking about life, events - stuff he'd rather leave in mixed with his baby's dust, frankly.

If he were being honest, he was awfully tired of fighting some particular feelings - but when has being tired ever stopped him from continuing on like a locomotive.

"I live my life, like there's no tomorrow.

And all I've got, I've had to steal

Least I don't need to beg or borrow

Yes I'm living at a pace that kills"

He leaned his head back and shouted, "Running with the devil!"

"This is very appropriate."

"Shut your pie-hole Sam."

"It's more often than not, my salad-hole and no, I won't." Sam turned down the music to a dull roar. "You've been going for hours like this. Are you actually going to talk about what happened, or just scream all the way to New Mexico?"

"I'm just enjoying my sweet ride and classic rock like every red-blooded American man should." Dean leaned forward and blasted the music again. Did he want to talk? Fuck no. He didn't even know what to say about last night. All he really knew for sure is it made him really upset - not that he would stop to consider why.

"And that is why the birth of Christ was actually in the fall, like around September, according to your most recent type of calendar." Castiel finished as he brought the last bite of apple pie to his lips. He smiled slightly, which is the way he tastes all food - like he's enjoying the thought of eating it as much as actually eating it. Dean watched him carefully, observing the lines in his jaw move, the few days stubble dusting his neck. They sat in the grand room of the bunker, polishing off the last of their enormous meal - something had crawled up Sam's ass and he had decided to make the three of them a friggin feast. Probably had to do with the fact that the grocery store had a day after Thanksgiving sale on all the turkeys that didn't sell - he had waited until about a week before Christmas to make it. If the three of them were a nuclear family unit, Sam was definitely the wife. The thought made Dean smirk.

"What is it?" Castiel asked, meeting his eyes. They were a soft blue, comfortable. The familiar melody of Stairway to Heaven began to croon from the old lp player on a lower book shelf. Dean finished his bite before he spoke.

Oh, and it makes me wonder...

"Nothing - good job Sammy. Who needs a wife when you can cook like this?"

"Ha, ha." But Sam smiled proudly, picking up his and Castiel's plate and walking into the kitchen.

"You know, many of the world's best chefs have been men." Cas piped up, trying to start a conversation. He sat back in his chair, familiar overcoat tossed aside and his sleeves rolled up - it was a new look. A better look. For once he looked like he belonged in his own vessel's skin.

"Oh I know - it just wouldn't be me if I didn't give him a ration of shit."

Cas smiled slightly, wiping his mouth. "I've never had turkey before - that was quite delicious. But now I feel - different?"

"Slightly sleepy? That's the tryptophan - turkey makes you tired." Castiel looked puzzled. "It's a time honored tradition - fill your belly full of bird, then fall asleep with a beer watching football."

"Interesting…"

Yes there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run, there's still time to change the road you're on.

And it makes me wonder...

"Shh!" Dean hopped up and cranked the guitar solo. He closed his eyes - for a moment, he was Jimmy Page, air guitaring gracefully, or as graceful as such an act can be. Now that's the life he had wanted - rock and roll, women, booze, live hard, die young, no consequences. The only thing he's managed to do is die young, and even that didn't stick.

When he opened his eyes Cas was leering at him from across the table - that's the only way it could be described. The angel bit slightly at his lower lip, then seemed to snap himself out of whatever daze he was in as the song came to an end. His stare should have embarrassed Dean but he felt the opposite - some quiet part of him liked it when he looked at him like that. Like he was at the same time a delicious piece of meat and the most wondrous creature in all of creation.

"I wish I had the ability to travel in time." Castiel started, changing the subject. "I remember hearing in the day that they were amazing in concert but I didn't have the appreciation of music I do now."

"Yeah, they'd be where I'd start - or Hendrix." Dean mused, sitting back down and propping his feet on the table. He leaned forward to grab his beer. "Or Queen. Hell, I'd even settle for Skynard, if you're going to go all the way back."

"When was the last time you went to a concert, Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth, then shut it. Honestly, he couldn't remember. "High school? Maybe right after that?" He idly picked at the label on his IPA. "I didn't see anyone good, that's for sure. I remember sneaking into a Blink 182 concert, must have been about 16." The horrified look on Castiel's face was a good indication of how well he's been picking up on pop culture references. "Yeah, it was phase. I think I was just trying to flip the bird to my old man any way I could. Didn't last long."

"We should all go, one of these days." There was an odd lightness to Castiel's tone - maybe not odd so much as rare.

"Go where? To a concert?" Dean scoffed. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm serious."

"I'm sure you are Cas, as a heart attack. But we're a little busy you know, saving the world, defeating God's sister. It's not exactly like we're sitting on our thumbs." Dean felt himself grow irritated with the question. Concert? Sure, let's all just go have a picnic at the park and buy balloons too while we're at it….

"I worry sometimes that you and your brother don't spend enough time living your lives." His voice suddenly changing tone. "When's the last time you went on vacation? Or a date?"

"A date?!" Dean's voice squeaked. He coughed to regain composure before answering. "I have no trouble with the ladies, I believe that was you."

Castiel furrowed his brows and frowned. He looked genuinely offended. Good.

"I didn't mean - what I meant was, you both spend so much time fighting, and you aren't getting to experience the parts of the world you're fighting for." His words were carefully chosen, Dean could tell. He just didn't care.

"Evil doesn't take a vacation." He spat, and it sounded trite and cliche, even to his own ears. He swung his legs off the table - this whole talk was filling him with a powerful need to hit something.

"I don't even know what that means." Well now he's done it. He's pissed off an angel.

"I mean we don't get those luxuries Cas, and you know it. Why bother bringing it up?!"

"Because with the frequency you both die, it's very possible one of these days you won't come back - don't you want anything more than this?" He gestured with open arms to the bunker. The bunker that had been the only real home (besides Baby) they had ever known. Now he was insulting their home - and that really got under Dean's skin.

"Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" Dean barked and stood, grabbing his empty beer bottle as Sam walked back into the room.

"Your life is my fucking business!" Castiel growled back, with a surprising amount of rage. Some small part of Dean was very, well, intrigued by an angry Cas. Just not intrigued enough to stick around through his crap.

"Woa, what the hell guys?" Sam placed his hands out in front of him as if to shield himself from the anger filling the room. You could cut the tension with a knife. Dean wanted to cut something else.

"I don't have to listen to this."

And with that, he stormed away, mind so clouded with fury he couldn't exactly put his finger on what was making him so upset.

"Dean!" Castiel called after him - his voice pleading. But it was too late.

"Fuck off, Cas!"

"Fly by night away from here,

Change my life again.

Fly by night, good bye my dear.

My ship isn't coming and I just can't pretend…"

Dean tapped his hands against the steering wheel with the drums as they neared the Texas/New Mexico border. He could have gone through Colorado to get to Santa Rosa, but there was something about a Texas sunset in his rearview mirror that settled his brain. Piercing orange sky shrouded the car, giving the trip a rosey glow. He felt a little better actually, singing his heart out.

He startled Sam a bit as he cleared his throat, the music low enough to talk. "So, we didn't talk about the specifics of this case before we hauled ass out of there this morning; care to share now?"

Sam sighed but turned to face him, his features calm. "Well, it appears to be a normal case of child abduction - except that one of the older siblings claimed they saw a figure that they described to look an awful lot like Krampus."

"Like the monster that comes at Christmas?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "You know, I always wondered if he was real. In our line of work I would think we'd have already come across him years ago. Why is this happening now?"

"Not sure - probably a great question to ask an angel…"

"Really, Sam?"

"Just - what the hell happened? We had a nice dinner, I leave the room for ten minutes and suddenly you two are about to kill each other." Dean huffed in response, but stayed quiet. "And I've seen you two try to actually kill each other before and last night was worse."

"He stuck his nose where it don't belong. That's all."

"About going on a vacation?" Dean turned to Sam sharply. "What? He talked to me afterward. Unlike you, he wants to hear my opinion."

"Alright Oprah, then if he's already filled you in, what the hell is your opinion?"

"I think he's right - we spend so much time fighting, we forget to have fun. We should be living our lives a little Dean." Sam smiled and looked at the road. "Let's face it, it's pretty damn miraculous that we are still alive."

"See, that's the thing." Dean started, turning on the headlights as the last of the sun faded behind them. "We shouldn't be alive. We're living on borrowed time Sammy. My life isn't mine to enjoy, you know what I mean?"

Sam blinked a few times at Dean before he responded. "That could be the stupidest thing you've ever said. And you've said some doozies."

"Whatever."

"No - really Dean, you can't actually believe that?!"

"Why not?" His voice became gruff - he was getting frustrated again. This is exactly why he doesn't have heart to heart moments - no one really gets where he's coming from anyway. Not even his own brother. "Look, all I'm saying is, we're clearly still around to do some good here - fate doesn't keep bringing us back so we can holiday in the Hamptons."

"Don't you think we've earned a little rest?"

Dean sighed. "I think you and Cas have, yea. Me - I've got a lot to make up for. So I'll just keep plugging at it, if it's all the same to you two."

"Dean…"

"Drop it Sammy. End of talk." He meant to sound harsh, but his voice was tired, strained. His baby brother's hazel eyes were morose, but he knew when to stop pushing. Noticing an old diner off the highway, Dean decided everything was better after a burger and beer, and turned off without another word.