World of Winchester-Craft (continued)

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

A/N: Sorry for such a delay in updating, everyone—stoopid real life got in the way again. But after that emotional and man pain-filled finale, I figured we could all use some crack. So enjoy! Oh and just to warn you—there is a pretty crude joke and image in this chapter, but I couldn't resist, hehe…

Chapter Four: Chapter the Fourth

Dean the Ogre jumps out of the way just as the Impala dragon's jaws would have snapped his body in half. The dragon roars in outrage and charges at her prey. The ogre recovers and runs off, and the dragon screeches as she gives chase. Sam flies after her.

"No, don't hurt him!" He flutters up next to her ears, but she ignores him, yellow eyes fixed on the monster retreating down Licorice Lane. That's when Sam sees something dangling from her front tooth: Dean's amulet. She thinks the ogre killed Dean! Sam realizes. He flies on again, olive wings beating the air like fists, and catches up just as she rounds a corner onto the main street, but he gets smacked by her tail and lands in a birdbath filled with sweet cappuccino froth. She chirps at him in apology, but then focuses her eyes back on the ogre. Sam tries to get up, but the froth is thick and sticky and everywhere. He's trapped. Up the street, he sees Dean by the candy fountain, hands out in front of him as he struggles to speak.

"B…baaa…bab…y!"

The Impala growls at him and takes one stomping step forward, smoke blasting out of her nostrils. The ogre stays where he is, still fumbling his words as the Impala comes closer and closer. Sam struggles to free himself, but the frothy coating on his wings weighs him down. All he can do is watch as the huge green ogre cowers before the enormous black dragon. She opens her mouth, sweeps her head low, strikes—

—but doesn't bite down. Instead, she tilts her head just so, resembling a really big kitty as she listens. Sam wonders what's going on when suddenly, he hears it too: someone humming a tune. The voice is so low and gruff that Sam knows it can only be from one source, and he looks at the ogre with the same head tilt as the Impala. The tune is somewhat familiar…Sam knows he's heard it before. So why are you humming a song, Dean? Sam wonders. His eyes drift to the Impala. And why is she listening?

The dragon tips her snout right into the ogre's face and takes a sniff. In an instant, the malice is gone from her eyes, and she's licking the creature head to toe and chirping happily. The ogre wraps his big green arms around her face and nuzzles her right back. Sam's little fairy heart starts beating again, and he relaxes. Then he frowns when he feels cappuccino froth creeping into his underwear.

"Here, let me give you a hand," a stranger's voice offers. Sam looks up and finds a man smiling down at him. The clothes are strange—tattered pants and a long but equally tattered white jacket, similar to a chef's uniform—but Sam knows that mustache anywhere.

"Rufus?"

The man gives a little frown of confusion. "No…I'm Matthew. Why did you call me Rufus?"

"Sorry, you look like someone I know."

"Oh." Rufus—er, Matthew—smiles warmly. "Well let's get you out of that sticky mess." He produces a watering can and gently pours water on top of Sam, clearing him of the foam. The ogre and dragon walk back to them, and when Dean sees the hunter's look-a-like, he's just as visibly confuzzled as Sam was.

"It's not him, Dean," Sam tells him. "Already checked." The man hands Sam a dishtowel to use to dry off, and Sam accepts it with gratitude. "I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean." The Impala grunts out the dragon version of an 'ahem-hem.' "And this is the Impala," Sam quickly amends. The dragon chirps and nods and then fixes her gaze on their new acquaintance.

"I'm Matthew," he says to the newcomers. Then he gestures to the building behind Sam. "This used to be my home and pastry shop." He looks at Dean and adds, "And I used to be a pink ogre." Sam and Dean look at each other with surprise and Matthew smiles warmly. "Thank you for breaking my curse. I've been an ogre for nearly 150 years." His smile wanes as he beholds his town. "I'm the last survivor."

Sam flutters his wings to rid them of the last water drops, and he holds the dishtowel high so that Matthew knows to take it back. "What happened here?"

Matthew frowns. "You're a fairy. Surely you've heard of the Candyland Curse…"

"I'm not really a fairy," Sam informs him. "And my brother here isn't really a barbarian. We're human."

"Travelers," Matthew nods with understanding. "That explains it." He looks up at the ogre and begins his tale. "This place wasn't always like this. Candyland used to be a thriving town in the heart of Fantasia. People would come from every realm in the land to feast on our handmade candies and cakes. Everyone was welcome. We baked and made treats because it made us happy to make others happy—to give them a tasty retreat from their hardships." He heaves a sigh. "But then the fairies came, and everything changed."

Sam lands on Dean's green shoulder. "What happened?"

"Well, fairies like sweets. I mean, REALLY like them. And they were welcomed here just as warmly as everyone else. But they kept coming in greater and great numbers until we were overwhelmed with their constant demands for more. We couldn't keep up with their appetites! They were like sparkly locusts, consuming everything in and out of our shops. Other creatures stopped coming, since the fairies would have everything eaten before they arrived. They ate and ate and ate until one day, there was absolutely nothing left. No flour, no sugar, not even a single sprinkle. The fairies were furious and demanded more, but we showed them our empty pantries to prove that there was nothing we could do. The fairies warned us that they'd punish us if we didn't do as we were told, but we were fed up with their selfishness and we took a stand. 'Make it yourselves,' we told them." Matthew looks down. "So they did. They placed a curse on the whole town, turning everything into sweet stuff. That way the candy would never run out. But if any other creature tried to eat what they feel is rightfully theirs, they got turned into an ogre."

"That's why the candy didn't affect me," Sam realizes. He looks at Dean and crumbles at the sad look in those big green eyes, and he's forced to turn away. "So you ate the candy, just like Dean did, and that's how you became an ogre?"

"We ALL ate the candy sooner or later," Matthew groans. "The fairies killed all the crops and prairie in the area so that we'd either have to eat the candy or starve to death. Most of us held out as long as we could, but we all gave in eventually." He shakes his head. "Little did we know that the curse didn't end with becoming an ogre." He looks at Sam as he pats his belly. "The hunger got worse. It became a great, gnawing beast inside of us all, more monstrous than our new ogre bodies. Untamable, insatiable…" Matthew turns away. "Eventually everyone went insane with hunger, and…turned on each other."

Dean growls in disgust, and Sam throws Matthew his own horrified look as he cries, "You ate each other?"

"Most of them did, yes." He looks back at them. "But a handful of us were able to hold on and remember our humanity. We fought against our new nature and ate only the candy until we grew to hate what we once loved to make. Our small group began to dwindle as ogres let themselves starve to death instead of eating another piece of candy." His eyes gaze over the empty square. "My friend Jason died two years ago, leaving me alone."

"So if you didn't want to eat us, then why'd you attack us?" Sam asks.

"I was trying to scare you away! It's what we've done for centuries: whenever a stranger wandered into our ghost town and the curse was reactivated, we'd roar and run at them so they'd escape before they ate something. But then I saw that you were a fairy and my, shall we say, not-so-human side took over. I was overcome with rage for all of my fallen friends and family. If not for your brother here," Matthew glances up at Dean and gives him a thankful smile, "I believe I would have killed you, Sam. I'm forever grateful that Dean stopped me."

"That makes two of us," Sam says in truth. Dean's green ogre lips give a smirk in reply. "So how do we get Dean back to normal?" Sam asks.

"The same way you cured me," Matthew answered. "We have to feed him real food. But first we—"

Matthew doesn't get to finish his sentence: Sam beats his wings and a bacon cheeseburger appears in Dean's big hand. The ogre smiles and eats the sandwich in one big gulp, licking his clawed fingers with joy. They look at each other and wait for the change, but nothing happens. "Maybe you need more than one?" Sam wonders aloud. He promptly poofs up another, and Dean eats it right up, too. Still nothing happens.

"If I may, Sam, before you waste more food and time…" Matthew waits for Sam to look back at him before he goes on. "You can't feed Dean just ANY food. It has to be what he truly hungers. For me, it was barbecue ribs. One of you travelers introduced me to them back in Candyland's hey day, and all my years as an ogre, I pretended I was eating them instead of candy. Great Marmalade, they were wonderful!" He licks his lips in happy memory.

"So we just have to figure out what Dean wants." Sam smiles as he faces his brother. "And I think I know just the thing." A big apple pie materializes out of the air. Dean roars in delight and eats the flakey goodness right up. He still doesn't change. Sam tries different pies—cherry, peach, strawberry rhubarb, key lime, you name it. Dean devours them all happily but remains an ogre through and through. After Sam magics up a cheesecake, the little fairy falls on his back, utterly exhausted. The ogre swallows the cheesecake whole as he rushes over to his brother.

"Smmy…okay?" Dean asks as he gently scoops the limp fairy into his hands.

"Yeah…" Sam murmurs. "Tired. Must be from all the magic." His small eyes look into Dean's big ones. "If you don't want pie, what DO you want?"

Dean's eyes soften. "You…okay."

"I just told you I was, Dean."

The ogre shakes his head, grunting with annoyance. "No…want…youkay."

"I think he's saying that what he wants is for you to be all right," Matthew provides. Sam shakes his head at his brother and flies up to face him.

"Will you please think about yourself just once? I can't cure you until you let me know what YOU want. And it has to be something to eat, not something about me or Matthew or anybody else. So what is it?" Now Dean shakes his head at Sam, seeming to be at a loss for an answer. Sam sighs. "Guess I'll just keep trying then…" His wings beat hard for a moment, but Sam cries out in pain and drops into Dean's waiting hand. "M'fine," Sam reassures him. "I'm just sore. My wings feel sprained."

"Well why don't you make it easier on yourself?" Matthew suggests. "Make yourself a tool that can feed Dean on its own. Then you can get your rest while Dean, hopefully, will reap the results."

"Like a magic plate?" No sooner are his words out than a sparkly purple plate appears at Dean's big ogre feet. Sam is breathing hard now, so Dean carefully lays him down on the sponge cake step next to him. He takes the plate and looks it over, not entirely sure how to make this thing work.

"Just…think of…what you want…" Sam pants. "And it'll…appear. I think."

So Dean concentrates, and half a sandwich appears. It looks like it's just plain white bread—if anything is in between, it isn't enough to be seen. Sam is very confused, but Dean looks sentimental—even for an ogre. He takes the little sammitch, smiles at it, and eats it whole. A second later, there's a flash of light, and Dean is standing as himself again. Well, his barbarian self, anyway. And he's naked. Huge and naked. Matthew turns away at once out of courtesy and awkwardness, but Sam sits up straight.

"Oh shit, something went wrong," he moans. "Now you've got three legs!"

Dean smirks and scratches the back of his neck. "Uh, Sammy…that's not my leg."

Sam's jaw drops, and his arms come up like something just hit him. Dean winks and turns back to his dragon, whom already has the amulet lowered and waiting for him. "Thanks sweetheart. My clothes still where I left them?" She nods, and Dean excuses himself and jogs off. When he comes back, sporting his furry Action Wear and boots, he finds Sam still frozen in squick, arms still up and jaw still dropped and now probably locked. Dean kneels down in front of the step and its petrified occupant. "Sam? You in there?" Sam doesn't respond at all, so Dean gently taps at one of his shoulders. All of Sam rocks as one, like he's turned into a little, freaked-out statue of himself.

"Is he going to be all right?" Matthew asks. Dean rolls his eyes.

"He'll be fine." Dean smirks as he carefully picks the little fairy figurine up. "He knows he's not supposed to look directly at the sun." He rests Sam in his leather pouch and then smiles down at Matthew. "Thanks for your help." He shakes the man's hand (and makes all of Matthew shake at the strong motion).

"My pleasure. Least I could do to repay you for curing me."

Dean nods and has another look at the town, its sugary structures still gleaming in the sunlight. "We can't let anyone else get trapped by this curse. Come on." He motions for Matthew to follow.

"What are you doing?"

"Destroying the town." Dean looks at Matthew. "You're okay with that, right?"

"Of course. I never want to see this place again." He looks around as they walk past the edge of town. "There is no happiness in our fair village anymore. Only evil."

Dean whistles for the dragon. "Baby, get your furnace ready." The Impala walks up next to him and looks down at his face. "Burn it," Dean tells her. "Burn the whole town. I want every last piece of cursed candy gone."

The dragon nods her massive head and stands tall as the men move off to the side to give her all the room she needs. Taking a deep breath, the Impala opens her mouth…and makes a loud, hissy noise. Matthew and Dean look at each other. The Impala resettles herself and tries again. This time a great cloud of smoke pours out of her throat, but still, no fire.

"Is your dragon broken?" Matthew asks. Dean glares at him.

"NO, she's fine. She's just never done this before." He runs over to his living car and soothes his hand along her jaw. She hangs her head low, ashamed. "Hey, it's all right. We're all getting used to our new forms here. And baby, you're the one that changed the most." She makes a very sad sound deep in her throat, so Dean lifts the tip of her snout up so she's looking right at him. "But you're still YOU in there. You've never, ever let me down my whole life. That's how I know you can do this. You just have to keep trying. All right?" She nods, and he gives her a little kiss. "That's my girl."

Dean moves to the side again but stays close this time, one hand on her long neck to show his support. The dragon takes a really deep breath, opens wide, and a weak flame shoots out. She chirps happily at Dean, almost sounding like she's saying, "I did it, I did it!"

Dean laughs and rubs his hand over her soft scales. "I know you did, keep going!"

She breathes fire again, and the flame grows stronger and shoots out longer. In seconds it's a huge blowtorch, shooting a stream of fire into the streets. The candy houses melt and the pastry shops sag as the heat spreads from building to building. Soon the smell of burnt sugar hits their noses, and Dean and Matthew start breathing through their mouths, but the taste of destruction on the wind soon pelts their taste buds. Once every last tree and treat are ashes, Dean pats the Impala to get her to stop. She pants hard, black silken tongue hanging limp, but there is unmistakable pride in her yellow eyes. All of a sudden, she coughs hard, and something small falls out of her mouth and onto the ground.

What is that, a tooth? Dean picks it up and holds it in his palm. It's definitely not a tooth. It looks like a rock of pure, molten lava, only solid and not at all hot to the touch. The fire inside it burns red and bright, and as Dean turns it around in the light, the lava seemingly trapped within turns with him. He holds it up to the Impala. "You okay baby? You need this, or…?"

She licks him and pays no attention to the stone, so Dean shrugs. Better keep it just in case… he decides, and he puts the stone in his leather pouch. Then he looks back at Matthew. "So! Know anyplace near by where we could get some food, beer, and sleep, in that order?"

Dean is resting as comfortably as he can on a too-small bed when Sam finally awakes with a start.

"FINally," Dean says, rolling his legs over so he's sitting on the side of the bed. Sam is on a big, square pillow on the floor, and Dean looks down at him. "You've been out all day!" Sam's jaw settles back down, but his saucer eyes still gaze at nothing, so Dean gets down on the floor and rests on his knees so he can look into the little fairy's face. "Come on, Sam," Dean grins, unable to keep the snark in any longer. "I can't help it if the view down there is awe-inspiring. And hey, now you'll know what to shoot for on that magical day when you finally become a man!"

"It's…huge," Sam whispers.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Always has been."

"No, it's HUGE."

"Well my entire body is a little bigger here—"

"No, Dean, you don't get it!" Sam flies up to Dean's face and pulls on his cheeks as if he's pulling on a jacket collar. "It's HUGE! It's WRONG!" Sam pushes right up to Dean's eyes. "It's bigger than ME!"

"So is everything else these days, Sammy..."

"Dean! It's an ABOMINATION OF NATURE!"

Dean frowns and waves him off. "Dude, enough with the insults. What did not-so-Little Dean ever do to you?"

Sam just flutters away, shuddering and rubbing his hands over his arms. He can't get the image out of his head, and dammit, that was something no little brother, especially Dean Winchester's little brother, should EVER have to see.

"Whatever," Dean says as he stands up. "I'll be right back."

Sam spins around as Dean heads for the door. "Where are you going?"

"Out back. The, uh, Abomination of Nature is calling." He grins and walks out. A few seconds later, Sam hears him pissing outside, and the stupid image is back in his mind AGAIN.

God I need a drink… Sam looks around and finds himself in a quaint cottage. Thatched roof, Tudor walls, wooden everything, including, Sam notes with humor, the TV. He flies down to face it and finds the same wooden-slash-magic technology as on his cell phone. "So they have TVs here but no indoor plumbing," he thinks aloud.

"No kidding." Dean walks back into the room and crouches down next to Sam. "It isn't all bad though—they have a shower back there made out of weird, hollow plants. Soaps and shampoo, too. Just no crapper. Go figure."

"Where are we, anyway?"

"Rufus—I mean, Matthew got us a place to stay the night. He paid a dwarf in this little village we passed through just after lunch. Cranky dwarf, though—I asked him if he knew Gimli, and he nearly chopped my hand off. Some people's dwarves, huh?" Dean stands back up. "Anyway, Matthew said he was headed for some other town to start up a new shop." Dean shakes his head. "Rufus as a pastry chef…I don't know, man, I think that may be even crazier than you being a fairy." All at once, Dean's I'm Five Again! smile appears, and he heads over to the window. "Hey, wanna see something funny?"

"Uh…no?" Sam knows he'll get ignored, and sure enough, Dean arrives at the window like Sam never said a word. The world is pitch black outside the glass; Sam wonders exactly what time of night it is.

"Watch this." Dean starts humming the same tune as earlier, when he was trying to get through to the Impala. In the blink of an eye—literally—the pitch black world parts in the middle, and a gigantic, yellow iris looks back in at them. Sam shrieks and flies backward into the wall as Dean belly laughs.

"Isn't that awesome? Just like Jurassic Park!" Dean pats on the wall next to the window. "Thanks, baby! Go back to sleep now." She chrirrups back, and her great eye shuts. Dean turns back to Sam, who is still glued to the wall. Dean peels him off and gently sets Sam down on the bed. "We really gotta work on your sense of humor."

"And you really gotta work on your singing."

"I wasn't singing, I was humming!"

"Yeah, and it was still off-key!"

"Meh, my Baby doesn't care. It's our song, and she loves it as much as she loves me and I love her."

Sam can practically hear the little smiley face at the end of that sentence. "You and your car…have a song."

"Yup! 'Pride and Joy,' SRV. Great song for a great pair." Dean grins through Sam's rolling eyes and 'give me a break' face. He blows a kiss to the window to annoy his little brother further (even though the kiss itself is genuine, of course), and then he reaches into his leather pouch and pulls out the sparkly purple plate. "Hungry?"

"Starving." Sam flies over as Dean thinks them up some pizza. Two big slices appear, and Sam darts down and claims his before Dean swipes them both for himself. Then a bottle of beer appears, and Dean pours a little into the cap and hands that to Sam. They drink without a toast, and then they dig in. Their happy munching is the only sound for a few minutes, Sam working his way through his single slice, while Dean thinks up more and more until his huge tummy is satisfied. Then he rests against the back of the bed, and it groans from his weight.

"That plate was a great idea, Sammy," Dean smiles. "Thank you."

"Well now you don't have to worry about going hungry again." Sam smiles when Dean shakes his head no, like a very pleased little boy. "Actually, I've been thinking about why you're so hungry all the time here. I think your metabolism grew with you." Sam licks pizza sauce off his fingers. "You know, bigger body, bigger demands."

Dean muses on this. "Makes sense." He sits back up and claps his hands on his thighs. "Need a lot of fuel to keep me moving. And thanks to you," he pats the plate, "I'll be just fine." Dean puts the plate back in his pouch.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam looks up as his brother looks down at him. "I wanted to ask you before—well, before, when you got changed back…and dude, why the hell did you strip anyway?"

"When I started changing into an ogre, I took my clothes off before I wrecked 'em," Dean shrugs. "I don't think I'll find any Big and Tall clothing stores around here, y'know?"

"Well I could've made you some clothes! Here…" Sam beats his wings, and a pair of trousers appears next to Dean on the bed: tight, sparkly silver trousers. A puffy white shirt, complete with bejeweled collar, appears seconds after that. Before Dean can say a WORD, Sam tries again. The shirt turns into a tee depicting cartoon, baby pandas having a tea party, and the pants become jeans with embroidered flowers on the ass. Sam grumbles under his breath and tries a third time. When a perfect pink tutu, shimmery tights, and a crystal tiara appear, Dean's had enough.

"Yeah, I'll stick with the furry underoos, thanks." He gives Sam a pat on the back, sending the fairy sprawling face first into frilly pink. The clothes disappear as Sam swears under his breath. "So what was your question?" Dean asks before Sam can make another outfit from Barbie's closet appear.

Sam flexes his wings as he stands up and turns around. "What was so special about that sandwich you ate?" Dean looks confused. "You know," Sam continues, "the one that turned you back into you."

Dean's eyes soften with sentimentality, just as they'd done when he was an ogre, and he ducks his chin down, almost embarrassed. "You don't remember, do you?" Now Sam's the confused one, and Dean gives a little smile as he thinks back. "I was…nine? I think? And you were five. Dad was out on a hunt and I got the flu pretty bad—high fever, puking, the works. And you were so worried about me, even though I TOLD you I'd be fine. I even had some NyQuil I stole from the gas station. But you insisted on being pretty much glued to my side the whole week." Dean's smile widens as he remembers that determined little face. "You got me cold washcloths for my fever, you played toys with me, you read me stories—well, you TOLD me stories based on the pictures in the books, and I liked your stories a lot better. And one day, when I was so weak I couldn't get out of bed, you brought me a sandwich. It was only half a one, cuz it was the last of the bread, and all that was on it was sugar and butter. You told me it was a magic sandwich and it would make me all better, and you sat there until I ate every last bite. It was good—I mean, come on, a sugar sandwich? Awesome for a kid."

"Apparently it's still awesome for kids over thirty," Sam jokes. Dean looks at him and the two share a smile. "So why did the sandwich work when all your other favorite foods didn't?"

"I don't know…you were trying so hard to help, and you looked so frustrated and worried…" Dean gives a slow shrug. "I guess it just took me back to that memory. I felt like you cared about me again."

Sam's smile drops into disbelief at those words. Dean still looks nostalgic. Either he doesn't realize what he just said, or he's being brutally honest. Sam gulps as Dean blinks into realization. Or both.

"Dean…"

"Let's see what's on TV," Dean interrupts, and his huge body stands up and moves past Sam and the bed. He switches the set on, and a prize fight between a unicorn and a narwhal comes into view. A crowd of every kind of creature imaginable surrounds the ring, and when the sexy nymph walks by with her "Round Two" placard, Dean is grinning ear to ear. Sam knows he's lost his brother's attention for at least the next few hours, so he flutters away and settles on the big square pillow that is still resting on the floor.

I felt like you cared about me again, Dean repeats in Sam's memory. It hurts just as bad as the first time. He stares at that super wide, super muscular back, hunched forward over the comically small TV set. Sam doesn't laugh. In fact, right now it's taking everything in him not to cry.

I never STOPPED caring, Dean! he wants to shout. How can you possibly think I ever could? But the truth hits back. Hard. All those nights he snuck out with Ruby. All the times he let him down over the past year—argued with him, called him weak and pathetic. Strangling him until he nearly died! All so Sam could SHOW him that he was right and Dean was wrong, when Sam had it wrong the whole time. The guilt plows through him right after, destroying any tiny amount of remaining self-righteousness with it. Of course he thinks that I stopped caring, Sam realizes now. The real question is, why were YOU so surprised to hear it?

"You all right, Sammy?"

Sam looks up and finds Dean peering at him with concern. It makes Sam feel even worse. DEAN never stopped caring. Dean never stopped TRYING.

"Sam?"

The fairy fakes a yawn. "Yeah, I'm…just tired, y'know? It's been a long day."

"Get some sleep then," Dean tells him, already turning the volume down. "Tomorrow's probably gonna be just as much fun as today was." He turns back to the fight, and Sam settles down on his side. His wings drape over him as Sam sinks into the extra-soft pillow.

Neither offer him any comfort.

A/N Additional: Aww, boys :( Okay, the unicorn vs. narwhal thing was inspired by my unicorn vs. narwhal action figure set (yes, I really own one). I also included a LotR shout-out (with many more to come!) as requested by an anonymous reader, and in the next chapter we'll be dealing with sick!Sammy and caring!Dean, as requested by The Silent Wind and bohumut. Their prompts were answered—maybe yours will be next! Keep 'em coming!