Disclaimer: i don't own spn.

Sorry it's sooooo late :P my excuse: gcse exams, though in reality im just really lazy. It's just part of my genetics, okay!


"Everything okay there, Sammy?" a feminine voice called, just as Sam put down the phone. The younger Winchester jumped and whirled around to see his older brother... sister... whatever standing in the doorway.

"What?!" he blurted, hoping to god dean had not heard his conversation with Bobby. "Yeah... fine!" Dean walked further into the room, eyebrows raised at the phone, still in Sam's hand. "I was just... um... getting some tips off Bobby." Sam added quickly.

"Sam, we already know everything about ghosts!"

"Yeah... well... never hurts to have a second opinion." Said Sam, giving his brother a half-hearted smile.

Dean nodded slowly, still looking a little disbelieving. "Right, well, anyway... I was thinking about this ghost son-of-a-bitch, why'd he wait until now to attack Sophie?"

"I was wondering that, too," said Sam, relieved that his brother had changed the subject. He grabbed his laptop from the table, and opened it. "Didn't she recently dump her boyfriend?"

"What? So the ghost doesn't like other company?" Dean asked, before frowning. "Do you think one of us will have to go alone?"

Sam paused, scanning through the text on his screen. "No," he said, suddenly. "Back in 1987, two women were found dead, in the flat."

"So, just men?"

"Or women without sophisticated jobs," said Sam, closing his laptop. "We're gonna have to put on some disguises if we want the ghost to show up."

"Great," said Dean. "So no chance of you letting me ditch this spell, so you can go solo?"

Sam grinned, "No chance."

"Ah, well," Dean sighed, standing up. "I gonna go make some new ID cards, before we have to go save this Britney bitch. We've got until dark, right?" Sam nodded. "Right, you go get us some formal clothes. Make us look like journalists, or something."

"Got it."

"Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I am not wearing a skirt." Dean finished, before leaving the room.


Sam chucked the bags of clothes on his bed, while Dean lay on the other, loading his gun with rock salt.

"Dean," said Sam, suddenly. "I've just thought; we're gone have to put on make up."

"Shouldn't be too hard," said Dean, picking up a bottle of mascara. "Girls do this all the time."

"But they've had practice," said Sam. "And we have to look sophisticated."

Dean shrugged, and headed over to the mirror. He unscrewed the top, brought the wand up to his eye and immediately splotched mascara all over his face.

"Shut up, and pass the wipes." Dean snapped, as Sam snorted with laughter. "Maybe I should try the eyeliner first." He said, once he'd wiped the black goo off.

"Suit yourself," said Sam, stilling grinning as he passed the pencil over.

Dean tugged it over his eye lid, and swore when it ended up uneven and blotchy. "Why the hell is this so hard?!" he exclaimed, pulling out another makeup wipe, as Sam stuffed his fist in his mouth to stop him laughing. "I can do this, okay!" said Dean, angrily.

After about an hour of Dean swearing, while Sam did more research, Dean cried out, having finished his makeover. "There, done. What do you think, Sammy?"

Sam looked up, and then flinched away quickly, gulping down his childhood fear. "You look like a clown," he said, quietly.

Dean looked back in the mirror. His cheeks were bright pink, his eyes covered in blue eye shadow, and his lips bright red. He sighed and grabbed another makeup wipe, "I might have used a bit much."

Sam snored, "Understatement of the year. Maybe we should get it done by a professional."

"But that cost money!" Dean exclaimed, frowning at the multicoloured smear across his face, caused by the makeup wipe.

"We have to look sophisticated, Dean." said Sam.

Dean sighed, "Fine, but you're paying." He said, before chucking his used wipes at his brothers face.