A/N: This is pretty short, kind of pointless, and... I don't know. Call it a creative burst; the guts of my abilites are spread all over this laptop as proof. XD don't think there are spoilers...? Maybe for season 7, but nothing big. If there are any you spot, let me know, kthnx.

I don't own any of the songs. Title is U2.

There are some songs that Dean just can't listen to anymore.

And that really, really sucks. Having great songs ruined for him by his shitty life. It's like, they can take his blood, they can take his family, they can take his goddamn soul… and now they can take his music too?

"Sympathy for the Devil" is one of them. It came on the radio once while he was driving Ben to school, and Dean almost crashed the car into a telephone pole that he later swore jumped out in front of him.

But seriously, having to explain to his not-quite-son why he can't listen to The Rolling Stones anymore without actually telling him anything? If that wasn't awkward, he didn't know what was.

Oh, yeah. "Ben." There's another one. Not that he really liked Michael Jackson in the first place, but that one. That one really pisses him off.

And, of course, "Don't Fear the Reaper" is up there. How the hell does anyone expect Dean to not fear reapers? The Big Guy himself is not up on Dean's top- ten favorites either. Death is a scary-ass motherfucker, no matter what Blue Oyster Cult may tell him. Screw Romeo and Juliet and their eternity. Dean will take life, thank you very much.

The list goes on.

U2 is a constant reminder. "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" has that one line that won't get out of his head, the one about spoke with the tongue of angels and held the hand of the devil; and the thought of God sending any more of those winged dicks just scares him now.

Every damn song is about angels.

And he's ready to tell Kansas to just shove it already.

Dean drives the Impala through another deserted red light and doesn't reach for the radio, not tonight, because he doesn't want to wake up Sam and it's not worth the damn headache of trying to find a song that isn't his freaking life. It's chords and lyrics and too damn much, all cluttered up in his brain as he tries to make sense of what the hell he's supposed to be doing, driving this dead-end stretch of road.

He pulls around a corner and squints at the sunlight poking over some trees, and hell, there are probably some Leviathan hanging around there that he's going to have to run away from in a minute. So, no time for music anyway.

For a moment, as the sun finishes pulling itself up, the sky looks red.

Sunday, bloody Sunday, he thinks, and keeps driving.