everyone has their demons. nowhere!verse follows sam, dean and castiel as they tackle their demons, hunt down dark pasts and fuck in an old chevrolet campervan.
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’’Cas, how come you got so much shit in your CD collection?’’

The van rattles unsteadily on some Louisiana dirt road, its massive body swinging back and forth like a big, creaky pendulum. Dean’s got his hand in the glove compartment, scooping out CD case after CD case, a large pile already accumulated in his lap. Cas taps his fingers idly against the steering wheel; eyes twitching and narrowing every now and then when they hit a nasty bump.

‘’Music is highly subjective, as all art, Dean’’ he says, with the distracted sort of voice of a cattle herder, or a single parent taking their kids on a field trip.

Dean glares at one CD with an impressive amount of contempt. Sam, propped up on the backrest, arms across the leather and knees bent beneath him on the mattress, arches to see what he’s found.

‘’David Bowie? Really?’’

‘’Hey, don’t knock Bowie’’ Sam huffs. ‘’He revolutionized an entire genre’’

‘’Yeah, I’m not taking this from a Genesis fan’’

‘’What’s wrong with Genesis?!’’

Dean starts counting off on his fingers, voice a mock attempt at sounding pedagogical.

‘’One: Phil Collins, two: Phil Collins, three –‘’

 ‘’Like Motörhead’s any better?’’

‘’Hey, now’’ Dean wags a finger at him. ‘’Motörhead’s classic! Not that you’d know good music if it bit you in the ass’’

‘’If by classic you mean garbage disposal and an auditory ulcer, then yeah, sure, Motörhead’s a ‘’classic’. Just like Sabbath and Metallica’’

Whatever remark Dean had to say, it disappears somewhere in the shriveling of his face. Contorted in unmatched levels of disgust, he holds another record up.

‘’The Smiths? Are you kidding me?’’ He shoots Cas a vague look of amusement. ‘’Wow, Cas, I didn’t know you were secretly a teenage girl going through her first break-up’’

Cas’ jaw makes a disturbing sound as it tightens, his fingers coming to an abrupt halt against the wheel. A tense silence falls between them, and it’s obvious Dean’s said something very wrong, but before he can figure out exactly which part of the joke offended their driver, Sam’s tapped his finger against another CD case.

‘’What about Creedence? They’re good’’

‘’If you’re gulping moonshine and dancing with a donkey, sure’’

Sam rolls his eyes.

‘’Nope’’ Dean flings the CD back into the glove compartment. He goes through several CDs, disposing of them in the same manner, only with increased speed and a rapid decline in care for their safety. ‘’No, no, definitely no – Bob Dylan?’’ He glances at Cas, who’s relaxed a bit, and shakes his head. ‘’Why am I not surprised?’’

‘’Dean, if you’re unhappy with my music, you’re free to add contributions of your own’’

‘’Yeah, I have, thanks, but someone threw out my Novak CD the same day I got it!’’

Dean gives Cas an accusatory look, but it lacks true vehemence. Cas makes an effort not to meet his eyes, glaring at the road as if it’ll vanish if he doesn’t.

‘’I know it was you, Cas, because Sammy may have terrible musical choices, like freaky ass Norwegian post rock—‘’

‘’Sigur Rós are Icelandic, Dean’’ Sam interjects only to be skillfully ignored.

‘’—at least he has the decency to appreciate Gabe Novak!’’

Cas huffs.

‘’C’mon’’ Dean spurs on. ‘’You listen to Dylan and freaking Simon and Garfunkel, but you don’t like Gabe? What have they got that he don’t?’’

‘’I find his music generic and derivative’’ Cas says, voice clipped and tight between his teeth. ‘’Highly unimaginative and downright insulting to the folk rock genre as a whole’’

Dean makes a low whistle and turns back to the CDs, deciding he’s talking to a lost cause.

‘’You’re both nuts’’

‘’Hey, Manic Street Preachers!’’ Sam taps his finger against another CD, only to be swatted away like a house fly.


‘’Oh, come on!’’

Dean shakes his head. ‘’If I wanted a head ache, I’d put on your Pink Floyd CDs. Ah, Hendrix! Now we’re getting somewhere’’

‘’I thought you didn’t want a headache?’’

‘’Fine. Blue Öyster Cult?’’ He flips the casing in his hand, brows raised. ‘’C’mon, everyone likes BOC’’

‘’I like them’’ Cas says helpfully in that way that isn’t very helpful at all. Sam shakes his head.

‘’No, too depressing. What about that one? Cash?’’

‘’Yeah, ‘cus the Man in Black is the very opposite of depressing.’’ Dean scoffs. ‘’Good call, Sam’’

‘’Whatever, man’’

 ‘’Joplin?’’ Cas says with a sigh, sparing them both a brief glance before turning to the road again. ”Or the Byrds, perhaps”

‘’Jesus, no’’ Dean grimaces.‘’Well, lookie here! Good ol’ Stones –‘’’

‘’No’’ Sam says quickly.

‘’Deep Purp—‘’


‘’Thin Lizzy?’’

‘’Definitely no’’


Sam gives him a dark look.

‘’Tough crowd tonight, huh?’’ Like he’s being forced to compromise, and believing himself to be very generous about it, Dean waves another CD in Sam’s face. ‘’The Who?’’

Sam considers it for a moment, pursing his mouth like it’s a taste to be examined, rather than a music suggestion. Eventually he shakes his head. ‘’No, not in the mood. What about the Doors? You like the Doors, right?’’

‘’No, you like the Doors’’

‘’Dean, it’s not like we won’t be playing every one of these CDs eventually’’

‘’Sam’s right’’ Cas says, sounding bored. ‘’There are only so many times you can play the same Led Zeppelin album before growing tired of it’’

Sam and Dean give him the same flat look in an eerie display of synchronization, one Cas thinks only siblings ever truly master.

‘’Dean once played When the Levee Breaks for five straight hours when we were driving to see Bobby for the holidays three years ago’’

‘’Yeah, no’’ Dean says. ‘’Ain’t ever gonna tire of Led Zep’’

Cas lets out a long, long sigh.

 ‘’Either pick something or I’ll play Beez In the Trap’’

Dean cringes, backing up against the passenger window like he’s just been threatened with some obscene form of torture. Sam could suppress his snort, if he wanted to, but doesn’t.

”Nicki Minaj? Seriously?!”

”I like her messages about female empowerment and self-assertion”

Sam makes a constipated face. ”I don’t know, Cas, some of her songs are extremely slut shaming”

”Oh God” Dean groans into his hand, pinching the ridge of his nose. ”You too”

”That is a valid point” Cas nods. ”But have you heard —”

‘’Over my dead body, Cas!’’ Dean swats his hand away from the CDs, arching over them protectively, back curved like a snarling dog. Cas sighs and turns back to the wheel.

‘’If you don’t pick a CD soon” he says evenly. ”that is looking to be a very likely outcome’’

‘’Alright, we got Radiohead – No, Sam — Same for R.E.M and I can only guess who put that in here‘’

Sam sighs, leaning his head against his fist, only mildly interested now.

‘’Pearl Jam, eh’’ Dean discards some more albums. Some without even looking at them, some glancing at only briefly; and others glaring at in prolonged disgust before violently throwing them away.

‘’Queen is good’’ Sam says, upon seeing the CD.

‘’Queen is good’’ Cas agrees.

Dean throws the CD back from where it came.

‘’I’m gonna assume you musical heathens won’t say yes to AC/DC –‘’

‘’Definitely not’’ Sam groans.

‘’I’m not even gonna ask about Springsteen or Straits. And we’re definitely not playing any god damn Damien Rice – ’’

Cas has started drumming his fingers again, now more in annoyance than simple restlessness. His eyes keep darting slyly between the road and the CD player, some secret plan hatching in his mind, unbeknownst to Dean who is becoming more and more engrossed in his filtering.

‘’No, no, no, nononono –‘’ The clacking sound of plastic hitting plastic echoes in the driver’s cabin, growing in pace and volume along with Dean’s dismissals. ‘’I swear to God, if I see one more Depeche Mode album –‘’

Swift as a cat, Cas’ hand has flicked on the CD player in one viper like motion; volume cranked up full, base thrumming under their feet, and it is with a very subtle look of smugness he leans back into the driver’s seat as Nicki Minaj booms through the van.

‘’Oh, Jesus, Cas, no, why the fuck –‘’

When Dean moves to turn the player off, Cas slaps his hand, shocking Dean into silence. He stares at Cas with a mixed look of betrayal and despair, horror radiating off him like a bad smell. Sam’s only barely keeping his shit-eating grin to a civilized smirk, watching in rising amusement as the five stages of grief play across Dean’s face.

‘’What’s that thing you always used to say, Dean?’’ Sam says, feeling oddly smug as he pretends to think about it. ‘’Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his..?’’

‘’Fuck you, Sam’’

Dean spends the rest of the day glaring between the two of them, considering if maybe he should just throw himself into traffic when Cas starts murmuring the lyrics under his breath in a stable monotone. It goes on until they stop for the night, and Sam thinks he’s probably never enjoyed a car ride more in his life.

#nowhere!verse #f #au ask #author: hanna #sam #castiel #dean
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