Disclaimer: Not mine, or I'd hire them out by the hour (charging extra for the lederhosen or the sparkly briefs)

Title: Upbraided

Rating: K+

Summary: The job's done, nobody got hurt, that's a win in Dean's book. If he can get a bit of a giggle at his brother's expense, that's a bonus...

Blame: This was written under the influence of some serious cold & flu meds, so I'm claiming diminished responsibility.

UPBRAIDED

"It's not funny." Sam didn't have to say it – he was wearing one of his most eloquent bitchfaces, which said exactly that – but in the face of his brother's smirk, he felt it necessary. "Dean, this is not funny."

"Yeah it is," Dean contradicted, still grinning.

"No it's not."

"Yeah it is."

"No it's not!"

"Okay! Okay! Don't get a twist in your hair, I mean, your panties," Dean said breezily as the bitchface cranked up another notch, "It's not funny. It's not funny. What it is, is frigging hilarious!"

"Dean..."

"Oh, come on, Sam," Dean made an honest attempt to stifle the laugh, "It's a little bit funny."

Sam muttered something mutinous.

"So, you want to go get something to eat?" asked Dean innocently. "There was a diner a couple of blocks up from..."

"No!" Sam yelped. "Absolutely not! You are going to get take-out and bring it back to the room!"

"There was a drive-through we could..."

"No!"

Dean peered at his brother. "Dude, is your bottom lip sticking out?"

"Idnwnanywntsme," Sam mumbled.

"What was that?" asked Dean. "I don't speak Vowelless."

I don't want anyone to see me! All right?" snapped his little brother.

"Okay, okay, back to the room, then I'll go get something," Dean had been teasing his baby brother since he was old enough to understand teasing, but he relented. "You know, Bobby said that this would only last for a day or two."

"Good," griped Sam, "Then I'll only have to stay indoors for a day or two."

Dean let it go. The job was done, the angry spirit was salted and burned, and nobody got hurt. In their line of work, he counted that as a win.

Well, nobody got physically injured, at any rate...

Mother Superior Josephus, headmistress of the Our Lady Of The Sacred Heart convent school, had been regarded as a tyrant by her nuns, her lay staff, and especially her students. She had ruled her educational kingdom with an iron fist, insisting on strict discipline in all areas, including faith, academic application and adherence to school rules. She had especially been a stickler for tidiness and modesty of personal appearance, handing out harsh punishments for the smallest of perceived infractions. When she died suddenly and unexpectedly, nobody was particularly upset. If anything, all who knew her rejoiced.

The elderly ex-students that the Winchesters had interviewed remembered two incidents very clearly: firstly, the day that Mother Superior Josephus once had hauled three girls up in front of an entire school assembly and cut off their hair, accusing them of 'disgustingly untidy, loose and wanton' appearance, and secondly, the fact that only a few students had turned up at her funeral, and then only a handful of senior girls who had attended for the express purpose of emptying small jars of urine into her open grave.

Maybe it had been the demolition of the old school building that had disturbed the vicious old nun, or maybe it was the 50th anniversary of her death that held some meaning. At any rate, the Winchesters had managed to salt and burn her remains before her screaming manifestations could result in any of her ex-students being hurt.

It wasn't until they'd filled in her grave and headed back to the car that Sam has let out a most unmanly squeal and... it had happened.

Of course, he'd tried to undo it immediately, but it just happened again. Dean had even tried to help, but no matter what they did... it just happened.

Bobby suggested that it was most likely a harmless lingering influence manifesting because they'd dealt with the ghost of an individual who'd clearly had an iron will. Sam had snorted in disbelief when Bobby had used the word 'harmless', but once he was assured by their practically-father that there was no danger, Dean couldn't help but allow himself to be amused. He even managed to get it filmed with his phone a couple of times as it was happening.

Bobby was right, it only lasted a day and a half. Which was good, because Sam finally stopped bitching, and they could get back on the road again, and on to their next job.

But Dean had to admit, if only to himself, that he was just a teeny weeny bit disappointed when it finally stopped.

Because watching his little brother's long hair mysteriously and carefully styling itself into a perfect bun, two neat braids, or an immaculate French roll would never get old.

I saw a picture of Mr Padalecki's hair. He's going to have to start doing something with it...