Author's note: As I said, there is going to be a sequel to this story. It'll be posted as a separate story by the title of 'Those pesky butterflies'. Here's a little sneak peak for everyone who's been following my 'changing channels extended cut'... I hope to see some of you over at the new story! :-)

1

"Okay, Cas, just keep looking, we'll be in contact," Dean finished the phonecall with their angelic friend.

Who would have thought that it would be Becky, the super-fan, of all people who'd give them a clue how they could possibly end the Apocalypse? Dean would have loved to give all the credit for that to Chuck, but apparently the prophet had only written the little detail about the Colt being in the possession of some demon down, but hadn't thought about telling them. So yes, they had Becky to thank for ever finding out about that.

"He hasn't found Crowley yet?" Sam asked from his place on the passenger's seat, where he was going through some more newspaper reports on the case they would be working with two other hunters.

They had Bobby looking for Apocalypse-specific troubles and Castiel was searching for the demon who should either have the Colt, or know where it could be found. Thus forth, the Winchester brothers had decided to go on doing business as usual. After all, the average things that went bump in the night hadn't gone on an extended vacation just because the Apocalypse had started. Quite the contrary, in fact. Furthermore, Bobby had received a phone-call from the two hunters they would be meeting up with soon, saying that they really needed some reinforcement on the werewolf-hunt they were on.

"It's only been a week, cut the guy some slack," Dean replied, reaching for the radio he had turned off before he had picked up the phone. If Castiel said that he was searching, then he was searching 24/7. It wasn't like the guy was going to be sidetracked by anything. Alright, if God suddenly came back from his vacation, Cas might abandon his search for Crowley, but in this very unlikely scenario they would not need the Colt anymore anyway.

Yeah sure, God was going to come back, put all the dicks who were so keen on the Apocalypse – especially Michael and Lucifer – into time-out, and everyone would get to run over a meadow frolicking with unicorns and rainbows. Dean so believed in that.

"Come on, not again!" he groaned just a moment later, when he finally noticed that the radio was not playing the music it should have been playing. Something seemed to be wrong with the cassette-deck, because he sure as hell didn't have a tape with Adele on it. The next time they were at Bobby's and had some downtime, he'd have to check that out, but for the moment being he could only switch to another station.

"What the hell is wrong with the music in this state?" Dean grumbled after he had checked every station available and had only come up with pop-music and the sort of soft-rock he wouldn't be caught dead listening to.

"You mean because it's not all out of the sixties?" Sam commented with a small smirk before going back to the newspaper reports. They quite clearly were looking for a werewolf. The killings had started the previous month, but nobody had caught on quick enough to get rid of the creature, before the full moon had been over. As things were, they only had two days left before there'd be another month of waiting.

It seemed that the other two hunters had done a good job on the research already, but they had only been able to narrow the suspects down to three people, thus their need for backup.

Dean turned the radio off, after three ballads about broken hearts. He really couldn't stand any more of that crap. It wasn't music, it was torture! By all means, Sam shouldn't like it. There was enough pain in their lives without adding mindless pop music to the mix. It made Dean wonder, if his brother didn't simply have a very strong masochistic streak.

"Hey, Sam, you d'you actually like that sort of music, or do you just like it for the pain it gives you?" Dean asked in a lighthearted tone, after a – too short – moment of consideration, giving his brother a measuring look.

"What?" Sam simply replied, not completely sure if he had actually just heard what he thought he had. Okay, they both weren't sleeping all too well or all too much, but if it was starting to affect Dean's psyche like this, then Sam would have to make sure that he got a full night's sleep as soon as possible.

"Nothing," the older Winchester answered and immediately tried to change the subject to something else, "Why don't you share the facts on the case with the class?"

Sam gladly did that instead of discussing his taste in music, his brother's sanity, or a combination of both.