"Well, don't just stare. Ellen, Jo, this here's Dean. He's concussed, badly bruised, and, oh, yeah, shrunk down to doll size by a witch. We need a place to stay two-three days, Ellen. I need a bed and meals, and help keeping him alive until we can get the spell reversed. Don't be rude, Dean. Say hello." Bobby's pretend affability isn't convincing Ellen who is standing pretty much frozen in place.

"Hello, Ellen, Jo." Dean straightens up, standing shoulders back like his dad taught him, bow legs spread a little for balance and trying to use his best manners. "Pleased to meet you."

Ellen snorts and gives Bobby a dirty look before pointedly looking at her daughter. She moves a little closer to the cat carrier. "Dean? As in Dean Winchester?"

Dean glazes up at her, eyes wide as he realizes she's already figured out exactly who he is. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Dean Winchester."

"We've met before, Dean. You must have been nine or ten. Where's your little brother?"

Dean shrugs a little. "I'm sure we have met before, but right now everything's – well – I guess I'm still getting used to my new perspective. And Sam's with Dad." He's been standing with his head tilted back to see Ellen, and the position aggravates his concussion. He staggers with dizziness, and goes down on one knee, palm on the ground as though trying to still its spinning. "Umm, sorry." He's mumbling and trying to just stay still while things feel as though they are spinning around him.

Ellen's eyes take in his turban, and she gives a big sigh before she mumbles. "Well, I always was a sucker for pretty eyes." Ellen turns toward Jo, and she's not happy with what she sees. Her fifteen year old is looking at Dean like he's a prize she won in a lottery.

"JoAnna Beth, I need you to go dig into those boxes of old doll furniture and clothes to see if we can't find enough to make Dean more comfortable. Then I need you to wash everything really well and bring it back here." She waits a moment but Jo is still gawking. "Get going, Missy."

As Jo clears the room, Ellen turns back to the hunters. "Dean, you sit all the way down a minute and wait there. I'll be back to check to see what's going on under that bandage as soon as I get this old coot settled." She plunks two pain killers next to Bobby and tells him to swallow. Then she gather's the bags Bobby had with him. "C'mon Bobby, let's get you set and let me peek under your bandages. After that, you should grab a nap. I'll wake you in a couple hours for dinner."

As they walk away down a hallway, it occurs to Dean that he's alone and he's thirsty; he just couldn't bring himself to drink from the bottle his dad put in there like he was some kind of animal. Dean stands back up and limps over to the cold glass of water left of the table. He studies it like he does every other problem in his life – it's an obstacle not an ending. Dean decides to drag the napkin holder closer and knock it over, which will give about four more inches. He gets so involved with his plan that he doesn't notice the tabby until it's crouched in front of him, tail whipping back and forth.

Dean reaches for his gun, but then he realizes he's wearing the ill-fitting Ken doll sweats. Keeping his movement slow, he takes one step back edging toward the glass. The cat hisses. Dean lunges and knocks over the water glass which spills, splashing the cat who leaps down.

Dean rushes toward the carrier, thinking he could lock himself in, or at least get a weapon and go down fighting, but he slips in the spilled water, thudding down onto his already bruised leg.

"Cat food. I'm gonna die as kibble." Dean mutters. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to watch, and then he's suddenly swept up and plunked somewhere dark.

"Scat, Lester." It's the voice of the young girl, Jo. Dean wriggles a little and sits up to peek out, realizing he is in the pocket of her black apron. Jo grabs a bar towel and mops up the table carefully so she doesn't bump him into things. "What were you doing?"

"Uh, I was thirsty, but then the cat…"

"Is there something wrong with the water bottle?"

Dean snorts. "Besides I'd rather dehydrate than drink like an animal?"

"I've got an idea." Jo moves over to the bar where she takes a shot glass and fills it with water. She looks around and finds a small plastic coffee stirrer. "Let's see if this'll work as a straw." Jo reaches into her pocket carefully, wraps her hand carefully around his waist and sets him on the bar.

Standing, Dean finds that while it's a little big, he can suck water through the straw. He empties the shot glass. "Thanks." He lifts an eyebrow at her and then blinks a few times. "Do you think we could try some whiskey this time?"

"Don't be getting my girl in trouble." Ellen's suddenly there beside her daughter frowning down at Dean.

"Sorry, ma'am." Dean gives her a crooked grin. "It's kind of my middle name."

"I'll just bet it is. She's fifteen."

"And I'm not exactly a threat today." Dean retorts.

Ellen turns to Jo. "So why'd you put him up on the bar? Don't you think we might have trouble explaining this if a civilian wandered in?"

"Guess I'd stick him back in my apron pocket. Besides, Mom, I thought Bobby'd get upset if we let Lester eat him." Jo's grin – almost – gets Dean to smile, but he's been this small since he woke up this morning, and his day has completely sucked. Being carried, in a pocket or not, ruffles his pride.

"Damn, cat." Ellen starts mumbling as she goes over to the table and gets the carrier which she brings over to the bar. "Climb in, kid. We've got bandaging to do and I've only got thirty minutes before the bar open."

As she closes the carrier behind him, Ellen turns to her daughter. "Did you get the stuff?"

"Yeah, it's on my bed."

The mom snorts. "You wish, Jo. I'm taking him into my room where I've got medical supplies laid out. Can you do two more things before I get you to cover this bar for a bit? Get the snake pit and make sure it's clean and got its lid. Then you bring it and the doll items into my room. Can you handle it?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Jo snaps out sassily.

There's that unsettling flying feeling again for Dean as Ellen carries him down the hallway to the living areas. Dean's glad no one can see him as he clings a little bit to the inside of the case. Next there's a slight whump as the bag gets set down on something hard before Ellen opens the door.

Dean limps out onto a desk, staring puzzled at the items.

"My husband was a fly fisherman. This was where he tied his own flies. I'm going to use it to check your head once we get that bandage off." Ellen's voice is matter-of-fact. She is doing her best not to hold what his father did against the boy.

But Ellen runs into a problem quickly. When Sam glued his wound closed this morning, he stuck gauze over it, and that's now glued onto Dean's head. "We're gonna need to soak it to try to get it off." Ellen tells Dean. "This basin has warm water in it. I need you to strip down and climb in laying back down with your head in the water so we can let it loosen."

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and gives her a scandalized look. Ellen almost chokes laughing. "Baby, you are too young for me for one. For another, I've seen plenty of naked hunters while I patched them up." She notices he just looks more stubborn. "Okay. Keep your underwear on then. Can we get this going? I've got a bar to run."

Dean strips off and scrambles to get in the basin, barely noticing she put her hand down to give him a step stool. He splashes into the water, but then doesn't seem to know where to put his hands to cover himself up. Ellen snorts before turning away to find the smallest possible needle and setting it in alcohol to sterilize. When she turns back, he is floating in the water with his eyes shut fast asleep.

As Jo starts to enter the room, Ellen holds her finger up letting her know to be quiet, and she is. On top of the dresser, Jo sets up a sixteen inch deep snake enclosure – empty and clean. Then she starts to get it ready.

Jo has an old carpet square she has cut to fit the bottom. After she gets it set in there, she starts setting out some furniture, beginning with a bed that she has improved with a foam mattress. Clean white handkerchiefs make up the bedding with a crocheted place mat for a spread. She sets up a café table with two chairs across from the bed, actually filling a small pitcher of water before setting it and a matching plastic cup on the table. Between them, Jo sets a modern looking couch and coffee table. She puts Dean's wallet, guns, knives, cell phone, and lighter on the coffee table, and his old and new doll clothes on what should be a vanity at the end of the bed.

Hoping he'll know what to use it for, Jo adds a small plastic bucket with a lid to the far corner.

"I didn't have much in the way of Ken stuff, Mom, but I've got these board shorts, another top, and a set of doctor scrubs." Jo's voice wakes Dean up and he startles. When he sees Jo and Ellen staring at him, he blushes a bright red that covers his face, the tops of his ears, and even part of his chest.

Ellen shakes her head. "That'll be enough gawking at him, Jo. Head out and try to bring back a tiny bit of food for him on one of your tiny plates. It's a wonder he could sleep with how loud his stomach was growling." She waits until Jo leaves to demand Dean sit up while she sets up the large magnifying glass on a stand her husband used to tie fishing flies. She uses nail scissors to snip off the soggy remains before putting in four tiny stitches and recovering it with much less gauze.

Dean sits patiently while she does this, and Ellen makes small talk. She also turns on a radio to a classic rock music station. Then she helps him get out of the basin, handing him the scrubs to put on after he dries off with a dry washcloth. She purposely turns her back to give him privacy. "Your bruises will get better if we make sure to let you soak for a while every day. Your head doesn't look too bad. Wish I could give you something for pain. Mostly, though, I'm gonna say that you need rest. Me, Jo, or Bobby will come check on you every couple of hours."

Ellen turns back around to find him dressed but wringing the water from his underwear over the basin. She plucks them from his hand, but hands him the board shorts and shirt. "Jo has a place all set up for you. It'll be safe from the cat." She holds her hand out palm up and he clambers on. "You'll be safe there and we'll bring you some food in a minute."

As she lowers him into the terrarium like enclosure, Ellen hears him muttering. "Sonofabitch."

The older woman laughs softly. "Don't worry. It won't bite you."

But Dean's stunned impression shows his doubt that the aggressively pink furniture wasn't out to get him.