Disclaimer: Neither the boys nor anything related to Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just having some fun with the boys, playing around with Eric Kripke's sandbox.

YO—? NO.

By: Vanessa Sgroi

"No."

"Dean, c'mon…"

"No."

"Listen…"

"Sam! I am not now, nor am I EVER going to do yoga. Period."

"Dean, if you would just listen to me for a minute…"

The older Winchester scowled. "What didn't you understand about the word no—the 'N' or the 'O'?"

"Damn it, Dean…" Sam exhaled a perturbed huff. "It might be the only way to get a clue in this case. Why are you so against it anyway?"

"I have two words for you. Bare. Feet. I don't do anything where I have to have bare feet…"

"You swim…" interrupted Sam.

"So not the point, little brother. As I was saying, I don't do bare feet. And I'm definitely NOT standing around in those silly poses wearing those tight hot pants thingys…"

"You don't have to wear yoga pants, Dean. Sweatpants and a t-shirt are fine."

"The answer's still no."

Sam's hands flew to his hips as he frowned. He marched over to the small table and grabbed his laptop, thrusting it out to his brother. "Look—Dean—the three dead bodies, they're all connected in one way or another to this Sky Yoga place."

"So we'll just go talk to them."

"No can do. You can't get past the receptionist unless you're going to a class. I checked. Dean, c'mon. All I'm asking for is one hour—okay, 75 minutes. Think of it as power stretching. All right? We'll go, we'll observe. Maybe ask a few questions…"

"How about you go do it?"

Sam's voice trailed off as he widened his eyes. "Please?"

Dean groaned and ran a hand down his face. He pointed a finger at Sam. "Fine. We'll go. But I'm wearing socks."

"You can wear socks…"

"And we are never mentioning this again after today. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Let's go—class starts in twenty minutes."

** SPN ** SPN ** SPN **

Dean gawked at Sam who sat cross-legged on the thin foam mat. He was hinged at the waist, nearly touching the floor with his nose. "Seriously?" Dean shook his head and attempted to mimic his brother's pose, grumbling when he only managed to get about halfway down. Dean jumped when someone—the yoga instructor—gently caressed a shoulder.

"Don't worry—it'll take a little time and practice," she whispered as she drifted away, her bare feet padding lightly across the floor.

Dean softly grunted and stared at his own bare toes, wiggling them as if to make sure they still worked. Easy for you to say.

The yoga instructor returned to the front of the room where she effortlessly dropped to the mat and crossed her legs. "Okay, everyone—slowly straighten, lengthen the spine, and sit with the crown of your head pressing into the ceiling. Now take a deep breath. In through the nose. Feel the air as it fills your lungs. Now exhale through your mouth—feel the air rush from your body…taking with it all the bad…"

Dean fought not to roll his eyes. Oh, lady, if you only knew… I'd hyperventilate trying to get rid of all the bad.

"Now slowly transition onto your back and bring yourself into the happy baby."

The hunter did a double-take when he saw Sam lift both legs in the air and grab onto his toes with extended arms. His gaze toured the room and took in all the attendees mirroring Sam. With a nervous huff, he laid back and brought his legs up, self-consciously closing his eyes as he reached for his toes.

The instructor led them threw a good number of additional asanas, many of them intricate and downright imposing. Dean twisted, turned, and fumbled somewhat, but adequately transitioned between the various poses, ultimately deciding he like the Warrior pose the best. Eventually, he twitched his way through the final minutes of Savasana, not at all comfortable amidst a roomful of people flat on his back with his eyes closed.

Finally the instructor released them from corpse pose, requesting everyone to turn to the right and breathe for a few moments. After a return to the seated position, the class ended with the traditional "Namaste" and Dean quickly scrambled to his feet.

"Dude," he muttered to Sam as they rolled up their mats to put away, "where'd you learn to do that?" There was no small amount of admiration infusing Dean's voice at his brother's limberness.

"Do what?"

"Fold your gigantic-assed self into a pretzel?! Since when do you know how to do that?"

"Well, originally, I went with Jess a few times." Sam paused and rubbed at the back of his neck. "But…" he shifted from foot to foot, "but recently I…um…I found a little place…near the bunker…and I've…uh…gone there a few times. You know…when I could…"

"So you've been sneaking around to go to…yoga?"

"Uhh…yeah. It helped."

Dean shook his head. "Geez, the things you learn about a guy. Okay, Rodney Yee, let's go ask some questions and get the hell outta here." He grimaced. "I need a beer."

"We don't have to."

"What? What do you mean we don't have to? I thought that was the whole point—to get some 411 on the case."

"We don't have to because I know who it is," announced Sam.

"Know who what is? What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's a witch—we're dealing with a witch. And I know who it is."

Dean's sore muscles twitched and he smirked. "Let me guess," he muttered, glancing over at the petite blonde who'd led the class, "it's the instructor, right?"

"Nope." Sam pivoted and flicked his eyes to the right. "You see the old lady in the corner?"

"You mean the one that looks like the Grandma in Norman Rockwell painting? Yeah. You mean it's her?"

"Yep."

"How do you know?"

"I'm pretty sure I saw her levitate during Savasana."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Your eyes weren't just playing tricks on you?"

"I don't think so—she was lying right next to me. Besides I'm pretty sure she whispered some sort of incantation during the Ohms."

"All right then. Let's find out her name and get this over with."

Sam nodded and headed for the exit. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you know who Rodney Yee is?"

FIN