19: Where Angels Fear to Tread

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: NC17 slash

Year/Length: 2008/~8455 words

Pairing: Dean/Sam

Disclaimer: No profit was made off this. The characters belong the originators of Supernatural. Was all in pure fun.

Warning: crack! Wincest

Summary: "I don't know about you, but I want to see a river that's all pink and sparkly. You've got to admit that it's different." Sam flashed a rare grin at his brother. "I just want to know what's causing it. Seems like we've got some whacked-out, Disney-inspired witch out there in Idaho, and it's our duty to go and mock if nothing else."

Series: Supernatural Virtual Slash Season 3

Beta: ailurophile6 for which much thanks.

The day was growing late. Sam and Dean had finally said goodbye to Bobby, on their way to investigate what was likely the most improbable supernatural phenomenon they'd ever seen reported. "Seriously, Dean, It says right here in the paper that the River Kootenai ran for several hours yesterday with shocking-pink, sparkly water where it passed alongside the city of Porthill, Idaho. I don't know about you, but I want to see a river that's all pink and sparkly. You've got to admit that it's different." Sam flashed a rare grin at his brother. "I just want to know what's causing it. Seems like we've got some whacked-out, Disney-inspired witch out there in Idaho, and it's our duty to go and mock if nothing else."

Dean was less enthusiastic than Sam about the case. His thoughts were focused increasingly on his own, pressing problems. Somewhere out there was the demon who had the lien on his soul. He glanced over at Sam, "I think you're just into pink. If they made men's underwear in pink you would wear it." He smacked Sam's leg. "It's probably some bacteria or something. I don't think it's anything supernatural, and we're going to be wasting our time. I mean seriously, a pink river! Someone was probably playing a joke and poured some dye in it or dropped their red tee-shirt in it. I mean it can be explained without resorting to the supernatural."

"Oh, come on, dude. Don't you want to see a sparkly pink river?" Sam was still grinning. "It may be the only time you ever do. Not only that, but maybe Tinkerbell will be there. I always thought of us as being two of the lost boys anyway." He returned to his iPhone, swiftly working out the best route up into the mountains.

They wound their way up into Idaho, towards the Canadian border, but it was evening before they arrived on the outskirts of Porthill. Sam insisted that they drive down to the river to check out the pink sparkles, and together they stood and looked down at the water. It was no longer pink - if it ever had been - but there were most definitely sparkles all along the river bank. Sam's eyes opened wide. "Dude, what the fuck?" he breathed.

Dean crouched down, looking at the bank. "What the fuck is definitely the question. It has to be some kind of prank." Dean pushed himself back up to his feet and looked over at Sam. "I guess we should make our way into town and ask around, huh? See what happens." He turned and started heading back toward the car.

The town itself was quiet, and as they pulled into the motel close to the center, Sam turned to Dean. "Okay, let's go get a room and pump the attendant for information.

He was first out of the car and into the office, quickly negotiating a room for them and paying for it with one of Dean's credit cards, this one in the name of Peter Parker. He was trying to think of a way to bring the conversation round to the pink water phenomenon, when the attendant himself suddenly said, "The water's back to normal now, so don't worry."

Dean was leaning against the counter, looking out the window as the guy spoke, but he moved closer when he heard that. "Oh yeah, good. Though m'bro here is gonna be disappointed." He smacked Sam on the back and slid away from the counter once more, going back to the window. There was something going on outside, and Dean was idly checking it out. A guy and his girl were arguing. Another girl, a shapely one with a big chest and blond hair was apparently trying to break them up.

Sam, secure that he wouldn't get anything further out of the clerk, turned to go find their room at that moment. He could see Dean watching the altercation outside and sized up the protagonists, quickly spotting where Dean's area of interest must lie. "Dude, she's brawling. You don't want to get involved with some crazy, brawling chick, even if she has got a rack like a pair of waterwings."

Dean turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Sam. "Dude, you are jealous." He smacked Sam's arm. "And waterwings aren't so bad." He winked at his brother, "Okay where's our room? Once we're settled, I suggest we head to the local diner, and maybe we can get some answers there." He turned back, looking over his shoulder, only to notice that the busty blond had gone. Oh well.

Sam had been watching the blond, too, but he turned to indicate that they were in room number three, and a second later the blond had vanished. Heaving a mental sigh of relief that the woman was no longer visible to distract his brother, Sam led the way to their room and opened the door. Dean went back to get the car and pull it up to their door. No sooner had he switched off the ignition than Sam was collecting their bags and taking them inside. "Food sounds like a good idea anyway, dude. I'm starving. Let's go find the local rumor central, shall we?"

Dean nodded, locking the Impala up. "I think we can walk." He waited as Sam locked the room, and then the pair of them sauntered down the street. "I'm telling ya, this feels like a waste. I don't think anything is going on here; it's just a sleepy ass town, and maybe it's concealing a bunch of teens who want to liven things up." He spotted a diner as he was speaking and quickly made for it, heading inside with Sam right behind him. People stopped what they were doing and looked up at them as they entered, and Dean paused for a moment, watching warily until they went back to eating.

"What?" Sam had followed him in and bumped into him when he stopped moving. "Dude, Why'd you stop?" He made his way over to the only empty table, which just happened to be in the window, and took a seat, waiting for his brother to join him. When the server arrived with menus he beamed at her. "What kind of special you got today?" he asked. "Been on the road all day, and I'm starving. Cheetos just don't make a filling meal."

The woman sniffed at him. "I should think not," she said. "Special today is chicken pot pie. Soup is tomato, or you can get the club sandwich."

Dean shook his head and kept walking, "The act like they haven't seen people passing through."

"It's cause we don't," the woman looked at them, "Yer order?"

"Oh, yeah, coffee and a club sandwich." Dean looked at Sam for his order.

"I'll have the pie." Sam nodded. "And coffee too, please." The waitress stalked away to give the order, returning a few moments later with the carafe of coffee and filling the mugs that were on the table ready. "Won't be but a minute," she said. "You boys come far?"

"South Dakota," murmured Sam. "Thinking of going up into Canada to do some hunting." He frowned. "Say, when we stopped at the river to take a look, there was glitter all over the rocks. Someone been having a party down there?"

"No," she answered, "River turned pink, Harvey over there collected some, that's what you see on the counter." Turning, she walked away without further ado.

Dean looked at Sam then at the jar upon the counter. "Oh we so gotta check that out." He was up out of his seat and over inspecting the water before he'd even finished speaking.

It was true; the water was pink, and not just any pink, but rather the kind of pink that little girls' barrettes and little ponies were usually made from. Sam blinked as he studied the water in the jar on the counter. It was very definitely pink, and there were indeed silver sparkles floating in it. "Whoa!" he said. "Dude, look at that!"

Dean crouched down and looked at it. Little sparkles floated in it. He took the jar and unscrewed the top, opening it up to look inside. Swirling it around, he frowned and turned to Sam. "Smell this. Dude, it smells like Kool-aid!"

Sam's eyebrows disappeared up into his hairline as he studied the contents of the jar. It certainly did smell like Kool-aid. It looked pretty much like it too, aside from the sparkles, but Sam was suspicious. There were no reported incidences of rivers turning into Kool-aid anywhere in the history of the world, and as such he felt he had to put it to the test.

"So, you gonna taste it, dude?" he asked Dean, hiding a grin.

Dean froze then looked at Sam. "What? Did you actually ask that question?" He looked back to the jar then shoved it to Sam, "You drink it. It's more your speed of drink anyway."

"I believe I'll pass." Sam was pushing the jar away as he spoke, and some of the contents slopped over to stain the front of Dean's shirt. He backed away rapidly, not trusting his brother. "Uh... oops," he said. "Sorry about that. Well, at least we know now that it isn't corrosive. That's a start."

Dean looked down at his shirt then rolled his eyes and set the jar down hard. "Great. Yeah, good to know. Oops." He moved away, pulling off his outer shirt as he took his place back at their table, dabbing it with Sam's napkin. "Okay, I say we eat, then get the hell out of here. There's nothing here but a bunch of publicity hungry locals wanting media attention."

"Eat, right." Sam had followed Dean back to their table. "I knew we came in here for something." He smirked at Dean. "What makes you think that folks aren't on the level, anyway?"

The waitress appeared just then, bearing two plates full of food. Sam looked up at her as she dumped his meal in front of him. "Hey," he murmured. "Has anything else out of the ordinary been going on, or just the pink water?"

She was about to say something, when suddenly, on the other side of the glass, Sam saw something drop from the sky - a little green something, and then another, and then a third. Pretty soon there were multitudes of them. Frogs. Little green ones. All wearing little gold crowns on their heads.

Dean hadn't been paying to much attention, it was focused upon his food. He'd lifted the sandwich to his mouth and was about to take a bite when he heard the thumps against the glass. He blinked and dropped his sandwich, his mouth still gaping open in surprise. He rose to his feet at the same time as his brother, and they both rushed to the door to look out.

"Is that really a frog wearing a crown?" Dean gaped at Sam.

Sam had no words. He too was transfixed by the scene outside. There were little green frogs all over the sidewalk, and as he watched, a pretty black girl shrieked as one landed in her cleavage and began a wriggling dance as she attempted to dislodge it.

The frogs were still dropping from the skies, although the shower seemed to be tailing off a little now. Shaking his head, Sam tried several times before finally finding his voice.

"Dude," he breathed, his voice awed. "It's true. Walt Disney was a demon." He turned to Dean. "Don't suppose it's a good idea to go out and grab one and kiss it, just to see what will happen?"

Dean stood dumbfounded. He'd started to move out the door when Sam finally spoke, but he paused, turned back, looked over at Sam and punched his arm, "I told yo that, remember? Back when you were eight." He pulled the door open. "And you can kiss it, I'm not gonna kiss it. I'm just relieved they didn't stand up and start singing." The bell on the door jingled as he stepped out.

Thoroughly bemused, Dean just stood looking down at the little amphibians. Some of them were making croaking sounds. He kicked at one with his boot making it hop away, and then leaned back, and staring down the street, first one way and then the other. "Okay, this is just ... eww."

Following him out, Sam bent to pick up one of the small amphibians. It sat in the palm of his hand, blinking dopily at him, and Sam gave Dean a grin before bending to drop a little kiss on it. For a moment, he half expected it to turn into a handsome prince, but all that happened was that the frog gave a little, half-hearted wriggle and popped out of existence again, leaving Sam gaping at his empty palm.

"Did you see that? It totally vanished on me. Dude, what the hell is going on here?"

Dean shook his head, "I have no freaking idea." He had heard the frog disappear, making a sound like popcorn in a microwave as it vanished. "Okay, I think we need to look in Dad's journal, see if he mentions anything like this. Because I'm at a loss." He turned and walked back in, "And you are so not kissing me after kissing a frog."

"It's not as if I used my tongue," grumbled Sam, trying to suppress the hysterical laughter that was fighting to break free. He had a feeling that he might not be able to stop once he began. Taking his seat once more, he turned back to his pie and fries, noticing as he did so that the frogs had begun vanishing from the sidewalk outside. That was it; his will crumbled, and he began to laugh helplessly.

Dean kicked Sam under the table. "Cut it out," but he was starting to grin as well. "Something seriously wrong is going on here. We have to be ... serious." He cleared his throat. His lips twitched as he tried to contain his laughter as well.

There were tears in Sam's eyes as he flailed helplessly. He tried to stop laughing, but it was a good few minutes before he actually made it. When at last the hiccups of mirth had subsided, he gazed at his brother out of watering eyes and shrugged. "So I wonder what's next? Whatever it is can't possibly give up now."

"But why is it doing it and what is doing it," Dean took a bite of his sandwich and kept eating.

Their meal finished, they headed back to the motel so that Sam could look up any references to do with frogs wearing crowns. He was prepared to believe that there would be very few. Firing up his laptop, he began to search through references to rains of frogs, finding a fair number of instances of rains of frogs, but as he'd suspected, none wearing little gold crowns. He'd just sighed impatiently and logged off the Internet when he began to itch. His first assumption was that Dean had hit him with the itching powder again, and his first instinct was to look for some way to retaliate. "Dude, I hate you," he growled.

Dean looked up, "What?" He was looking through their father's journal and having no luck himself. He slapped it closed and scratched his head.

"You've put itching powder in my shorts again, haven't you?" Sam got to his feet and did a little shimmy, trying to calm the offending irritation down. "What did you have to go do that for? I didn't do anything to you." Glaring at his brother, he bared his teeth in a snarl. "No matter. It's on now. You'll be sorry you started it."

Dean chuckled, "Bring it on; you know I'll win, but I didn't put itching powder in your shorts. If I did, I would be laughing it up by now. Well and rubbing it in with some corny joke of you catching crabs off a toilet seat, cause we know you don't sleep with enough girls to get it any other way."

"Dude, you suck." Sam couldn't stop scratching, and now it was not just his ass that was itching, but everywhere. He bit his lip. "So if you didn't do anything, why aren't you itching as well? You know perfectly well that you can't catch crabs off a toilet seat."

Dean reached up and scratched his head, not even thinking it might be connected. "You can't? Well I'll be damned." He shifted then shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you are allergic to something. Go take a shower and see if that helps. Maybe you walked into poison ivy or something."

Grumbling, Sam flounced off to the bathroom to do as Dean had suggested. The itching was intolerable, and seemed now to be all over his body, from his toes up to his scalp. He ran his fingers through his shaggy mop of hair, thinking that it was growing long enough now that he was almost thinking of getting it cut. Growling and cranky he studied the huge red blotches all over his body and then turned the water on so he could step under the shower.

Dean rubbed his head, frowning as he tried to contain the itching that had started. He shrugged and went back to cleaning his guns, intending to finish up and then maybe do a little research while Sam was showering. Dean had to wonder what was up. Nothing in his father's journal mentioned anything like this, and it was frustrating him. He set his shotgun aside, rose to his feet and went to look in the mirror, conscious that he was getting hives as he began to scratch his head again. Was he getting dandruff too? He paused in his study of his face and looked down. As he did so, he caught sight of the Gideon Bible that had been left in the motel room.

Picking it up, Dean moved back to the bed and started reading. His eyes went wide as he suddenly began to put two and two together.

The shower didn't seem to help. Sam was itchier than ever when he came back out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. "Jesus, Dean, I've got hives," he growled. "I itch all over. I must have measles or something. Haven't I had the measles already? I thought I had them."

He was in a bad way. His skin was red and puffy, and his hair seemed to stand out on end, as if it were electrically charged. "We got anything for itches?" he asked, pathos trembling in his voice.

Dean got up and shoved the bible to Sam's chest as he grabbed his jacket. "Read! I'll be back with something that will help. I think that holds our answers." He headed out the door, going to the drug store to get what they needed. He returned about forty-five minutes later and tossed Sam a bag of oatmeal bath, and a bottle of de-lousing lotion.

"Lice?" Sam frowned. "Dude, what are you thinking this is? Where would we have caught lice?" He studied his arm, trying to spot any insects and failing. "You haven't been with any barflies for months. We can't have caught crabs." He paused. "And why don't you have itches as well, anyway?"

Dean looked irritated at Sam, "Did you even read the bible I gave you." He grabbed it and flipped it open to the page he'd found and then shoved it back at Sam. "The water, the frogs and now lice, does that ring a bell? Didn't you see Ten Commandments, 'Let my people go,' speech from Charles Heston?"

"The ten sparkly commandments? Dude, the frogs were wearing crowns! What makes you think that this is the same?" Sam frowned, fumbling through the bible with one red and swollen digit to find the description of Egypt's ten plagues. "Oh, Jeez! If this is some kind of angelic intervention, then the next invasion is going to be an invasion of beasts, and that kind of scares me, man. Beasts could mean anything. I think I'm kind of expecting a stampede of velociraptors straight out of Jurassic Park if it follows the pattern we've seen so far."

"C'mon, you're more scared of deadly kittens licking your toes and meowing at you than those things. We've faced ghosts, demons and more, and you are scared of overgrown lizards? I always knew you were a wussie boy, but..." He shook his head. "What we need to do is find out what is causing this, and I say we check out the churches here, see what the padres say."

Sam had grabbed the oatmeal bath and gone into the bathroom again to fill the tub, but he stuck his head back around the door and nodded. "Don't you want to wait for the beasts to hit first?" he asked. He studied Dean, gazing at him through his bangs with his most pathetic expression. "Guess we might as well. I'm not gonna be able to sleep anyway, while I'm all bloated and swollen."

Turning back to the tub, he stepped in and began to lower himself into the water.

Dean shook his head, "Just soak and try not to eat the oatmeal." He grabbed the door and closed it, grabbing the phone book and looking up the churches in the area. He was gonna have to treat himself. He got up to look in the mirror and then saw his hair was suddenly longer, so long in fact that it had started to fall in his eyes. "Dude, I think these lice are making my hair grow." He shouted at Sam.

The statement made Sam frown, but he'd already noticed that his hair seemed longer too. "That's kind of dumb," he yelled back. "Lice don't make hair grow." Whether they did or didn't, it was a fact that his hair was growing. His bangs had suddenly passed his chin and were now tickling his chest. The whole thing was baffling him. Still, the oatmeal did seem to be helping, and he scratched absently at his scalp, wondering if he should duck under the water and soak his head too.

Dean poked his head in, and it was clear his hair was longer. "Dude, you look like a hippie!" He walked in and handed Sam the bottle and comb. "Run that through your hair, should kill the little buggers." He had his own bottle. "We are so gonna need a hair cut."

"Hey, not so fast," smirked Sam, taking the bottle. "You look kind of hot." He unscrewed the cap on the bottle and sniffed. "What the hell is this crap anyway? It stinks, dude." He peered at the label, then shrugged and began to rub it into his hair. "So are you itching too? Do you need to climb into the tub after me?"

"I don't think I'm as bad as you." Dean started working the stuff into his own head and combing through his hair, then sat on the toilet lid to let the medication work. "Dude, something is not right. This is like a kid's version of the Ten plagues. You know what I mean? And I think we need to stop it before it gets to the first son death thing. 'Cause no matter what, that is not gonna end good."

"Damn, yes!" Sam nodded his head in violent agreement. "The plagues were sent by God, because the Israelites had been taken from their country and enslaved." He frowned. "I don't know about you, but I haven't seen any enslaved minorities around this burg since we got here, so why is the Angel of the Lord inflicting this Disneyfied replay of the plagues on the place?" He shuddered. "And you're the firstborn in our family, dude. I don't want to see you die. Not after the efforts we've gone to, to keep you safe." He paused, and then finally smiled. "Besides, you can bet your fine ass that your death would involve tinsel and a fucking light saber or something."

Dean looked at him, unsmiling. "More likely to be smothered to death by your attention while you're wearing pink ribbons in your hair." He leaned back and tried to think. "Well maybe someone feels this town is immoral? Trying to use the plagues as a warning. According to Exodus, God used the plagues to convince the Egyptians to let the Israelites go free. Remember the Israelites went to Egypt of their own free will, but Pharaoh made them slaves. And yes, I do watch Discovery once in a while." He stuck his tongue out at his brother.

"Well, I guess we could start checking round the churches, see if there has been an upscore of confessions or anything like that." Dean got up and turned on the water in the sink to stick his head under it and rinse out the medication.

The itching was easing off a little now, and Sam rinsed himself off under the shower and then clambered out of the tub. "I guess we could," he murmured, looking at Dean's suddenly very long hair. "Dude, I don't know what's happening to the hair, but if it keeps on like this I'm gonna be tripping over the stuff. You think it suits me this long?" He tossed the towel into the corner of the bathroom and went into the bedroom to look for some clothes, pulling on a pair of boxers as he was speaking.

Dean peered at Sam through the hair that was hanging in his eyes. He brushed it back wet and followed his brother out, waiting for him to dress, "I think you need to stop and get your hair cut. In fact, I'll meet you at the church after you do that." He smacked Sam's ass as he went by to grab the keys for his car. "So let's roll, dude."

"I don't think so." Sam gave his brother a grin. "No point in cutting it til it finishes growing. Besides, I could start wearing an awesome pony tail or something. That'd look pretty cool." He followed his brother out and pulled the door closed behind him. "Okay, let's go and annoy a few pastors," he said. "You think we should break out our dog collars and be priestly types, or should we be students or something?"

"Students," Dean answered quickly. "Especially with your hair." He climbed into the car and started it. "And no, your hair does not look awesome, looks like a girl," he smirked at Sam, then added, "But then it fits you." Chuckling, he started the car and started for the church nearest them. The day was hot, and he wound the windows down, letting the music blare, and hating that his hair was getting in his eyes.

He pulled up and climbed out, shoving Sam his backpack to carry. "We are college students doing an article on the bible or something. You're the smart one, college boy, make it up." He entered the church, running his hand through his hair yet again in a nervous tic. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could see the blond woman from the fight outside the motel office, talking to a priest. Dean elbowed Sam and headed over.

The priest looked up as the two brothers approached him and flashed them a harried smile. "Hello, boys," he murmured. "What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to interrupt your day, father." Sam was being his usual, polite self. "But we just came into town yesterday, and we're starting to wonder about the things that are happening at the moment."

"I know what you mean." The pastor nodded, turning to invite them to take a seat. "And what brings you both here to my church?" he asked.

"Well, it was the frogs that made us wonder," murmured Sam. "We're kind of worried about it maybe being a strange imitation of the plagues. First the rivers ran with blood, and here you had the weird, pink water. Then you got a rain of frogs, and we saw a rain of pretty unbelievable frogs this morning. Now we've got lice, and we're itching like mad. I'm a little worried that beasts are going to be next, and I'm really, really worried about the death of all the firstborn. I don't want to lose my brother."

Dean nodded and pointed to himself. "I'm worried about that myself."

"Well, honestly boys, this does seem similar, but it could be just..." The priest was obviously thinking hard, but not actually coming up with any comparison.

"Coincidence?" Dean finished.

"Well, yes. I don't think it's anything really to worry about. We get a lot of college people here, and some of them do like to play jokes," he informed them.

Dean looked over at Sam.

Shrugging, Sam gave the pastor a smile. "Are you a firstborn?" he asked the man. "Just asking."

Rising to his feet, he turned to leave, threading his way along the aisle towards the back of the church and the way out. As he got to the door, he froze. From the street came a loud whinnying sound, and as he watched, a shocking pink pony with a lilac mane came galloping around the corner, followed by a second, and then a third. "Oh, Jesus!" he whispered.

Dean stepped out, pausing as Sam spoke. He looked out and just stood in awe at what he saw. He stepped down the stairs, looking as more passed. He moved aside as another passed. "Is this what I think it is?" He looked back to Sam.

"It's the beasts," mumbled Sam. "And I guess it's a plus that they aren't velociraptors." He stood watching the horses gallop past, until the seemingly endless stampede finally concluded and all that was left were several piles of manure, gently steaming on the pavement. "Definitely the ten plagues," he nodded. "Maybe we should get out of town 'til they're done."

"Oh yeah, and let the other firstborns here die?" Dean looked back at Sam, frowning at him. "You find anything odd here. This conversation should be the other way around, dude. You're supposed to be the one so into saving lives and all that jazz." He moved around the manure and went to go check on his car. There'd better not be any on his car.

Following him, Sam leaned against the hood with his arms folded, scowling ferociously as he thought about how they could find the one that was causing this. He needed to do a little research. "Dude, there's something at the back of my mind, and it won't come out. I need to go visit the library and do a little research. You wanna drop me off?" He felt like punching himself in the head to try and dislodge whatever it was that was nagging at him. "You go talk to the rest of the priests, and I'll see if I can turn anything up that would indicate why a place like this might be subjected to the ten plagues."

Dean nodded. "Sure, someone has to know." He climbed into the car and leaned to flick the lock open so that Sam could get in. "My baby's gonna smell bad. I think I'll wash her before I do anything else." He pulled out and pointed the Impala towards the library.

There were piles of manure littering the street all the way to the library. Dean dropped Sam off at the steps up to the library, and as he drove away, Sam stood and watched him go. The Impala was liberally streaked with horseshit, and he couldn't resist the grin that crept across his features. Dean would have fun washing his car down, that was for sure.

Turning, he went into the library and headed for the most recent set of newspapers to check out what had been going on in town during the past week or so leading up to the plagues.

Dean stopped to wash his car, finding a washeteria he could drop quarters in to spray his car off. He'd finished washing the bulk of the dung away and was walking around the car, checking for residual spots as he did, when he spotted the strange, blond girl again. She was strange to him, because she was fully grown and very hot indeed, but she was flouncing around like a child, singing the stupid, 'My Little Pony,' song. Of course Dean was never going to admit his knowledge of that song.

He tilted his head as he studied her.

She caught his eye, fixing him with a stern look that slowly changed as she studied him, melting into a smile. Her fair hair shone like spun silk, and her smile lit up her delicate features as she walked towards him.

"I know you," she said softly. "You and the other one don't belong here in this wicked place."

Dean quirked an eyebrow then looked around in case this lovely vision of a girl was talking to someone behind him. He turned back to her and raised his hand to point his finger to his chest, silently questioning, 'Me?' He shifted and he suddenly got the feeling that this lady was the one causing all the problems. "Wicked place?" He looked about again and then back at her, "This place is far from Disneyland pure, but it doesn't seem that wicked, either. I think the worst thing I've seen so far was someone not picking up dog poop."

"No," she said. "You don't understand. You don't know." She put her hands on her hips as she stepped towards him. "They're bringing drugs through from Canada. Do you have any idea just how much misery and heartache drugs can cause?"

"Drugs. From Canada?" Dean blinked at her, finding it hard to believe. "You serious? The most dangerous thing out of Canada is maybe the beer and the hockey teams. I mean, what kind of drugs? And how do you know? You the one that's behind all of ..." He motioned out toward the town.

"The wicked must be punished." She stamped, and little, golden splashes of something erupted around her foot, vanishing almost as soon as they appeared. "How is it that you are able to see me, anyway?" she asked him suddenly. "I am hidden from the sinners of this place. You shouldn't be able to see me."

Dean stepped back a pace as he saw the visual FX, then looked back to her. "Well, I've been told what I can do in bed is a sin, but ..." He smirked, then looked serious. "Sweetheart, whatever you are, you need to stop." The spray stopped flowing, and Dean dropped the hose, knowing he would need to put more quarters in if he wanted more. "I know drugs are wrong to transport, but, really, what kind are they? Heroine? Cocaine? What?"

The woman fixed him with a stare and reached to grab his arm. "You take this lightly, but I will show you."

Her fingers were like a vise, her grip like steel, and Dean was somehow moved, finding himself in a large shed full of boxes. "Here." The woman's voice was stern. She indicated the boxes that were stacked up to ceiling height. "See for yourself. Drugs."

Dean jumped as he found himself in the new place. "My car better be safe, sweetheart," he grumbled as he turned to the boxes. He frowned as he looked at them, then crouched to read some of the labels. Rising to his feet, he moved to the next, then another. He moved a few and read some more labels. "Are you serious?" The words exploded from him as he finally looked back at her. "These are pharmaceutical drugs. Heart burn. Blood pressure. Arthritis. Allergies. This is all expensive stuff. If you buy it from the drug companies here, the medicines cost a fortune. The pharmaceutical companies are raking in money off poor people who can barely afford to pay. These medicines are cheaper if they're produced in Canada or Mexico." Laughing harshly, Dean went over to stand before her. "These people are only trying to get drugs they need for cheaper, instead of putting their houses into debt. If you want to punish someone, punish the pharmaceutical companies."

"I don't know what you mean." The blond was frowning now, eyes flashing angry fire. "Are you defending them? Do you deserve the same fate as the people of this town?" Her face had turned bright pink, and she was emitting a glow now that seemed familiar to Dean. She stepped back, seething at him. "What is a pharmaceutical company anyway, and why would these people bring drugs covertly to this place, if not for evil?"

Dean looked at her then placed his hand on her arm, rubbing it. "Sweetheart, calm down." He looked at the boxes, then back to her. "A pharmaceutical company is the copmany that manufactures and distributes medical drugs. People get prescriptions from doctors and then go to the drug store to get these. But sometimes these things are really expensive, and often people are prescribed things they don't need just to make the bigger companies rich. And other times, the medicine might be just what the person needs but it's are so damn expensive they can't afford to pay for it. So people do what they can. That's all these folk are doing. Nothing evil."

There was a long pause. She said nothing, and the glow around her flickered, first green, then gold, then pink. All of a sudden, Dean found himself back beside his car, and the woman was nowhere to be seen.

Sam had been poring over back issues of the local paper, looking for some indication of what might made a whole town evil enough to punish, but had finally given up. He'd regretfully stacked all the papers back and gone in search of his brother. As Dean popped back into existence beside the Impala, he was just coming around the corner.

"Dean? How did you do that? Where were you?"

Dean gave a start, turning around frantically as he tried to spot the girl. "Where did she go?" He looked at Sam, who greeted him with a confused look. "The girl. Didn't you see a girl just ..." He stopped, then went and picked up the wand he'd spied, lying beside the car. "I think I found out who's doing this. I think she's some kind of angel." He turned back to Sam. "She's doing this, because the people of this town are smuggling in pharmaceutical drugs."

Blinking, Sam tried to assimilate what Dean had just told him. "But why would smuggling pharmaceuticals be something an angel would bother with?" he asked, thoroughly confused. "That doesn't make sense." He scratched his head. "You sure that it's an angel? I mean, I know it was the last time it happened, but I'm pretty sure that the last time didn't involve frogs wearing crowns and My Little Pony." Peering at the car, he pointed to a smear on the trunk at the back. "And you missed a bit, bro. She's going to smell really good if you leave that on there."

Dean stopped and looked then dug in his pocket for more quarters. "I don't know why," he confessed. "She didn't stick around long enough to answer that, but she had that same feeling mom had." He looked sadly at Sam. "And the last time, that guy wasn't an angel. He was a vengeful spirit, big difference. He just thought he was." He sprayed the offending smear on the Impala's trunk, and then went over the car one more time. "So we need to find her again, before she does something else. I guess we need a summoning ritual or something."

"I can try the one that I used in the church." Sam smiled, recollecting. "I've still got the Spongebob place mat. She'll probably like that, given her taste in froggy jewelery." Still smiling, Sam punched Dean's shoulder in a friendly fashion. "We should probably take the ritual back to the motel, though. Doing it in a church was far too likely to get me caught and arrested." He watched as Dean set the water going again and scrubbed at more encrusted manure that still clung to the Impala's wheel. "And did you ask her why the pink ponies and stuff?"

"She said these people were sinners," Dean answered. He sprayed the car one last time then put the hose away. Seating himself behind the wheel, he motioned Sam to get in. "Okay, let's head back to the room and see if we can get her to appear." He paused as he gazed over the car at his brother. "She did say one thing, though. You and I didn't belong here. She knew who we were. Pity she isn't a guardian angel. Wouldn't mind her as mine. She was a looker." He smirked as he fired up the engine.

"Typical!" Sam gave him a good-natured grin in response as he finally joined Dean in the Impala. "You have a way of cheapening things that ought to remain holy," he said. "And lord knows how reverent we should be when considering My Little Pony."

The ride back to the motel didn't take long, and, once inside, Sam began to prepare for the ritual, setting out candles and chalking symbols onto the floor in the bathroom. Once he was ready, he began to declaim the ritual, his voice deep and solemn as he spoke the Latin words.

Dean had opened a beer while he waited, but now he rose to his feet, placed it upon the dresser and began watching his brother anxiously, wondering if the ceremony would work. He hoped so. They really needed to put a stop to this while it was still amusingly inconvenient. If they waited too long, tragedy would ensue.

The room seemed to shake, and there was a sudden sound like a bell ringing far away. As Sam finished his ritual and set their dad's journal aside, there was a rush of air, and the blond woman Dean had been talking with earlier seemed to fall out of thin air to land on the bed, sprawling with her limbs akimbo.

"Oh, bother!" she said, jumping up. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

Dean had quirked his eyebrow as she fell onto the bed. Looking up at the ceiling, he wished that more pretty girls would fall from the heavens onto his bed. He grinned at her, and a wicked little thought crossed his features. Giving himself a mental shake, he tried to get serious. "You have to stop what you are doing."

"You can see me, can't you?" she said, stamping her foot. "Can he see me too?" She peered at Sam, a frown marring her pretty face.

"Uh, yeah," laughed Sam. "And you can see me too, so we're even." He turned to face her, pausing to extinguish the candles and put them back into the box he kept them in. "Dean's right. You can't visit plagues onto a whole town, just because there are people importing prescription drugs."

Dean looked at her. She was so blond. "What makes you think we wouldn't be able see you? We summoned you, so of course we can see you. Now, what are you, and, like I said before, you have to stop this."

"I'm an angel," she said. "And I'm studying for my finals. This is my practicum, and once I get a decent mark, I'll be able to graduate. If you stop me now, I'll have to think of a whole new presentation."

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to do that." Sam gave her a smile. "And I guess that our blood enables us to see angels, so there you go."

Dean moved over to her, touching her arm, "Sweetheart, you really want to help these people, it's gonna have to be another way. An angel is suppose to be helpful, not punishing. I mean, man is only human after all. We make mistakes. We love. We learn."

"But it was so cool." She was pouting now, her lower lip stuck out like a little child. "And just wait til you see..." She caught sight of Sam's face and subsided. "Well, it was cool. I wanted to pass my exams and graduate at the top of the class, and now you've spoiled it. What am I supposed to do? Just tell me that!"

Dean looked at Sam and was about to say he didn't know, when an idea occurred to him, and he grinned suddenly. "Look, you want people to believe in miracles right?" He looked at Sam. "Well, it is the middle of summer, right. How about you make it snow?" He sat down on the bed and pulled her down beside him. "There has to be another way. C'mon, Sam. Can't you think of anything?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I'm not an angel, but it seems to me that the best kind of miracle would be to find someone who's having a really bad day and make them happy. There's enough misery in the world without adding to it by killing innocents. Surely you can find someone that's truly sad and fix things so that they don't need to cry any more."

"But I don't know anyone like that." The angel sat down on the bed and put her face in her hands. "And it's all going wrong."

Sam caught Dean's eye and made a face at her, then went to turn on the battered old TV set that stood in the corner. "Watch the local news," he advised her. "There's bound to be someone that needs help."

"There are tons out there. Look, things are bad everywhere. Farming is failing all over this area of the country. Maybe you can help them?" Dean rubbed her back. "Look! Look at that farmer right there. He needs help with his orchard. Looks like he could use a miracle."

The news was indeed filled with stories of floods ruining crops and the cold spring making everything late. The orchard that Dean was referring to was scheduled to be plowed up, because the trees had some kind of blight that was ruining them. There had been little or no blossom, and it was obvious that there would be no apples later on that year. For a moment, the angel sat and thought about that.

Finally she lifted her head, and there was a sparkle in her eye that had been lacking earlier. "All right," she said. "I can do that." She paused, turning pink and then purple as she appeared to be holding her breath. After a minute or two of this strange behavior, she turned to Sam. "At least, I can if you release me."

"Oops, sorry." Sam grinned as he muttered another line or two of Latin and waved his arms in a mystical fashion. The angel disappeared.

Dean looked at the empty spot on his bed, and then back to his brother. "C'mon! I so got to see this. And she needs a cheering team anyway." He grabbed his brother and towed him out to the car. He settled Sam into his customary scene, and they set off to drive the short distance to the orchard. Parking the car at the side of the road beside the fence, he hurried out and over to the fence, climbing over, hoping to see what would happen. He was closely followed by his grinning sibling.

It had begun to rain, and there was a very improbable rainbow hanging over the orchard in question, each color clearly defined and thick enough to walk on. "Damn, the girl is really into primary colors," murmured Sam, snorting with laughter as droplets of suspiciously pink looking rain trickled down his hair and splashed onto his shoulders. The trees in the orchard were beginning to put out leaves, the bark that had looked so scabby and sick on the news seemed to flow as it turned silvery brown, and thick blossom started to appear. As they watched, a horde of fat little cartoon bumblebees zoomed in and began to swarm in the blossom. "I guess she's got it all under control," he said to Dean. "Our work here is done."

Dean turned about ducking as bees buzzed around, and he sneezed from all the pollen that had suddenly begun to fill the air. Looking up at the rainbow and then back at Sam, he began to applaud. "I think she did that just for you," he smiled then turned to go back to the car. "Yep, I think she did a good thing here." He leaned against the Impala, looking proud.

"Yeah," agreed Sam. "What a relief." As the two of them climbed back into the car, a chorus of bunnies danced across the road and under the fence into the orchard, and Sam elbowed Dean. "Dude, get out of here, fast, or she's going to have us singing "It's a Small World", or something."

As Dean started the car and peeled away with a screech of tires, they could see the pink ponies coming over the hill.

Dean was packing up his bag, throwing his clothing in and glancing over at Sam. Sam's hair was cut back to normal length but he'd insisted Dean wait just a little while longer. To appease his brother, he had, although the constant flopping on his neck and forehead was infuriating. He wished things would just return to normal for both himself and Sam. He wished that they could just be two normal people, but since they'd been little that hope had become a pipe dream, gone along with their childhood.

He sighed softly, then shouldered his bag. "Ready?" He asked as he heard scratching at the door. He frowned at Sam. "That better not be some pink bunny with flowers." He walked over and opened the door, but his bag dropped, and he backed up as the hell hound trotted in. He'dd forgotten about sending the thing off to find out who held his contract, and now here it was, sitting upon the floor, looking back and forth between the two of them.

Dean glanced at Sam and swallowed. "I think he found my contract holder."

Back: Episode 18 –|– Next: Episode 20

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