Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. And I think we should all be grateful for that.

Warnings: TWT, slightly cracky (mostly the first chapter, I think), non-con, Wincest (that would obviously include slash and incest), some angst later on.

I've finally watched some Supernatural. And then I decided to write. Not necessarily a good idea since I had no idea of what to write and just sort of started writing. The result is decidedly strange. I really don't have much else to say.

Dean woke up to the realisation that he was lying on something extremely uncomfortable. This wasn't the first time it had happened. In fact he had a disturbing habit of finding himself waking up in uncomfortable places. Usually after he'd been knocked unconscious by something. And occasionally because he'd gone to sleep there in the first place. The problem was that he was pretty sure that he'd gone to sleep in a reasonably comfortable motel bed and there was no reason why he shouldn't be waking up in the same place. What he shouldn't be doing was lying on something that felt very much like gravel.

Dean blinked and opened his eyes. Definitely gravel. And what looked like grass a bit further away.

He groaned as he sat up. Dean could now with certainty say that lying on gravel while wearing nothing but boxers was an experience he was in no hurry to repeat. As he looked around he tried to brush of the smaller pieces that were stuck to his skin. He was also making a firm decision that from now on he was going to wear a t-shirt to bed every night.

What he'd woken up on and was now sitting on was in fact a road, a gravel road. And yes there was grass, with some twigs and dead leaves and trees. That was about all he could see from his current position. Also it was definitely daytime.

Would it have been too much to ask to leave him on the grass instead of the road? That was just being mean.

"Finally. Took you long enough to wake up." A voice grumbled from behind.

Dean whipped his head around.

It was Ellen. Or at least something that looked a lot like Ellen. Because last he remembered he'd been three states over from the Roadhouse and he didn't really think Ellen would be wearing that.

That being a sheer white dress that stopped above the knee, was cut rather low and clung in all the right places. For some completely strange reason she was also wearing a pair of light pink fairy wings of the kind you usually saw on very young girls on Halloween or on a completely different kind and definitely older girl… which Dean wasn't thinking of at all at that moment.

Damn… maybe he'd been looking at the wrong Harvelle. That was something he was most definitely not going to think about the next time he saw Ellen. The real one. Because the lady could be scary.

"Right lets get this started," the woman who wasn't Ellen and probably not really a woman, at least a human one said and pushed herself away from the tree she'd been leaning against.

She walked toward Dean who suddenly scrambled to his feet as fast as he could. And ow. Bare feet on gravel hurt.

Dean jumped over on the grass and realised that not-Ellen was standing just a few steps away from him, giving him the kind of look that Ellen just shouldn't be giving him. A slow appreciative look that made him want to do his best at covering himself with his arms. He didn't because that would have made him look even more ridiculous than standing around in his boxers and Dean didn't get embarrassed in situations like that. But Ellen!

"I know that which thou art seeking good sir," not-Ellen said with a straight face, her eyes finally looking at Dean's face.

Dean blinked. Ok, this was just getting weirder by the second. And it was fucking weird enough to begin with.

Not-Ellen looked at him meaningfully and waited.

"Alright, whoever you are…"

"Yes," not-Ellen almost yelled out, and gave him that look he usually got for looking at Jo for too long. "Yonder lies the castle where thy true love lay sleeping." She thrust her hand out pointing down the road.

He looked that way and couldn't see anything else than the road and some trees.

"Look lady just tell me what the hell is going on here." Dean was sure there was a better way of handling this, but he'd just woken up in boxers in the middle of a damn forest, with some weird woman who looked like Ellen and he was not feeling his best.

"I'm trying to stay in character here," she complained. "You're not helping."

Dean thought about punching her, but he had no idea what she was and he had no weapons. He didn't even have clothes. It might make things worse.

"Don't tell me, you're supposed to be the fairy godmother."

She looked at him and pointed at the pink wings with sparkles on them.

"Right." Dean muttered. This wasn't just weird, it was downright crazy.

"Now sweetie, try to play along."

"I'm really not…"

"Do not despair," she interrupted with a slight glare. "A true heart shall conquer even trough the darkest hour."

"What the hell…" She glared at him. Dean hesitated for a moment. "Dost…? Doth… that mean?"

Not-Ellen smiled encouragingly. "I wished to speak words of encouragement, for time doth grow short and thou must hurry lest thy true love be lost in sleep eternal."

Dean thought about that for a moment. "My true love?" He asked at last. The rest made some sort of sense at least. Well someone might be dying… or something.

"Yea, thou must rescue thy true love." It was clear that she was starting to think that he wasn't too bright.

"Who…?"

She shook her head, with a long suffering look. "You know. Sammy. Ringing any bells here?"

"Where is he?" Dean asked sharply.

Not-Ellen sighed. "Yonder lies the castle where thy true love lay sleeping," she pronounced tightly.

"You're not going to tell me anything more are you?"

"You really aren't getting into the spirit of this." She looked at him with some reproach. "Fine then. Stroke of midnight, that's how long you have. And I really wanted to get that into a nice sentence." She pointed again. "That way."

"Anything else?"

"Sorry, you'll have to figure out the rest for yourself."

Well, standing around in a forest wasn't going to help him. He might as well start walking. Since he really couldn't do anything about the woman at that particular moment.

"You know we're brothers, right?"

"Are you ever going to love anyone more than Sam?" She countered.

Dean shrugged. That was fair enough observation.

Not-Ellen grabbed him suddenly and Dean was going to do something about it, except that there were lips and tongue and he got slightly distracted and instead ended up pulling her closer.

It was a very nice kiss.

"For luck," she smirked as she pulled away. Then she… vanished. In a sort of sparkly, pinkish cloud.

"I'm never mentioning this to Ellen." Shaking his head Dean started walking in the direction she'd pointed out. Not like he had much of a choice.

It didn't take him all that long to walk out of what turned out to be not much of a forest after all. It wouldn't have taken as long as it did if he'd had shoes at least. Forget sleeping with a t-shirt, from now on he was sleeping fully clothed. And armed. A knife under the pillow was clearly not enough.

One of the first things Dean noticed as he got away from the trees was that he wasn't actually too far from the motel where he should have been waking up. He headed that way. It was his best bet for finding out what the hell was going on here. Not to mention the fact that he was missing his clothes and weapons. If he was really lucky he might even find Sam.

Yeah, right.

There was something seriously wrong with the town. It was freakily quiet, even for a quiet small town. Quiet as in not a single person anywhere.

That's until he saw the motel manager. Who just happened to be lying half way through the front door to the main office. That was not a good sign.

He was lying with his back toward Dean. He grabbed a shoulder to turn the guy around.

Warm shoulder.

He looked at the guys chest rising.

Breathing.

Definitely not dead then.

And no injuries that Dean could see.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked, trying to shake the guy.

Nothing.

"Ok." Dean looked around, but nothing else seemed out of place. "You just wait right there." He patted the guy on the shoulder, before stepping over him. He didn't have a key to his room and there should be a spare somewhere.

Armed with the room key and a pair of scissors, the only thing resembling a weapon he could find, Dean slowly opened his room door. Everything was just like it should be. Or at least the way it had been when they went to sleep. And no Sam. Everything else was there though.

The first thing Dean went for was his phone. It turned out to be completely dead. So was Sam's which he had realised was still with rest of Sam's things.

After that Dean found himself some clothes, weapons and the EMF meter. The motel room turned out to be clean. Dad's journal didn't give him any clues either. There was nothing.

By now it'd been hours since he'd woken up and he still had no clue what was going on or where Sammy was. And apparently he was working with a deadline, if he believed the freaky fairy.

That was just great.

"Fine so… guess there's just the creepy fairy godmother." Who'd sounded like she was in a bad school play, but she had been talking about castle's and sleeping. Not to mention the whole true love stuff. "Sleeping Beauty?"

A fairy tale? Well, it made some sense. He still didn't know how they'd got caught up in whatever this was.

Maybe he should just follow the fairy godmother's advice. God, that was so wrong. On so many levels.

He hadn't seen all that many castles around though and it wasn't a very big place. He doubted there were any castles lurking anywhere close.

It was a very small town though.

"Fuck this." He slammed the door behind him.

"Oh, baby. It's so good to see you," he patted the Impala gently before getting in.

A small place, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find something that would pass for a castle in this shitty re-enactment of a fairy tale.

Right?