People talked about the Winchesters. They were three men and a baby, literally. They had the big house out on Mapleview Drive, and there was always strange things being seen there, and strange people.

The two men who were there the most, Sam and Dean Winchester, were handsome and charming, but no one knew what they did for a living. Town rumors had them as drug runners, given that they were often out of town on "business trips". This was seemingly confirmed by the evidence Linda Vasquez had glimpsed with her own two eyes: the trunk of their big classic car loaded full of guns and other terrifying weapons, right before the cutest one—Dean—left one day.

The black-haired one with the sad blue eyes was some kind of foreigner—where he originated, no one knew, but Castiel Tenshi was definitely not an American name.

They were all homosexuals; Linda's binoculars had caught every single male there, kissing every single other male there, at least once, and she had spotted a lot more than that one day, shamelessly pressed up against the side of the house in full view of anyone with binoculars! Not that she was complaining, although she was of course obligated to tell everyone else of it.

In addition, there was a young butch woman who showed up one week of every month. They had decided she was Dean's sister, given their close resemblance, but the siblings must not have gotten along, else why would they never have stayed under the same roof together?

Said young woman was once again scandalizing Linda (and the rest of the nosy neighborhood gossips) by walking around shirtless, bra-less, and drinking a beer, all with the curtains open.

The only reason Linda hadn't reported such inappropriate behavior to the Department of Children and Family Services was that the strange woman was the only possible candidate for the baby's mother (although Linda wouldn't have put it past the group to have obtained the baby as part of a drug trade). If the young mother was nursing, it couldn't possibly be illegal for her to be shirtless around her baby. Still, it would be nice for someone, a police officer or social worker, to get some details on the strange bunch...

She decided she was going to get this settled once and for all. She was going over to her best friend, Helen Hewes's house for lunch that day, and she would get her friend (the second biggest gossip in town) to lay a plan to put the pressure on Helen's husband, who was a cop, to pull the woman over once and for all. He was always whining about needing probable cause, and not being their private attack dog. She was really sick of it.


"That woman is watching us again." Sam warned Dean. He didn't bother asking Dean to put a shirt on, or quit throwing up gang signs at the neighbor's houses, or any of the other things Dean did to titillate the bored housewives in their area.

They were in the kitchen, Sam making avocado babyfood for John Jr., and Dean having a very dubious breakfast of a beer and an apple.

"Want to give her a show?" Dean asked, sitting down his beer bottle and slipping his arms around Sam from behind.

Sam could feel the soft-weight of milk-laden breasts up against his back, and was sorely tempted.

However, it was exactly that sort of behavior that kept the neighborhood watching, and buzzing about their household.

"Not even a little." Sam said, nonchalantly.

Dean snorted. "You're no fun since you started playing Martha Stewart all the time."

"You could stand to play Martha Stewart a little more, I think." Sam replied calmly, continuing to mash avocados.

"Don't ride my ass because I don't want to feed the baby a bunch of organic poison."

Before Sam could respond to that (and they could once more re-hash an old argument for it's zillionth tired ending) Castiel walked in.

"There's a police man at the door."

Sam and Dean looked at each other. The kind of look that asked, fight or flight?

Apparently, "fight" was the answer. Dean headed out of the kitchen and into the living room, pausing to grab one of Sam's hoodies from the coat closet, and pulling it on before answering the door.

"Hello Officer. What can I do for you?" Dean asked, smirking coyly at the police-man.

"Uhhhhhh." the policeman stumbled, flustered. "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, ma'am, if that's alright."

"Whatever for?"

"Well uh, there have been, er, reports, that you've been walking around topless, which is illegal in this county, state, country..."

"Which is why I would never [italics] do such a thing, officer. I only take my shirt off to feed my baby." Dean said, batting his eyelashes and making the officer turn an even deeper shade of red.

"Oh, so it your baby?" Officer Hewes asked, curious against his will.

"Who's else would it be?" Dean asked, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't know, there being so many people here all the time and all."

"Look, officer, do you actually have any reason other than gossip for being here? Because I have had some issues with the neighborhood ladies trespassing in my yard. If you have nothing else to do here, you could help me file a report..."

"No, uh, that's okay. I can tell you're not the uh, indecent nudist type so I'll be on my way. Nice meeting you, ma'am."

He stuck out his hand for Dean to shake, which Dean promptly did.

"It's Denice, by the way!" Dean called out to the officer as he walked down the drive.

"I'm Donald!" he called back, before heading a few houses down the street to spread the gossip.

In less than two days the town now knew the name of the intrepid young woman living at 2244 Mapleview Drive. Donald Hewes was a hero.


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