Sam eased around the corner of the house, noting the small square window that faced the backyard. Keeping low, he eased up on his toes, and peeked into the opening. As he'd hoped the window opened up into the bathroom. He could just barely make out a young guy that had to be Phil, and Al through a door that led to the bedroom.

The plan, a Dean Winchester special, was for Sam to sneak up on the unsuspecting witch, while Dean, of course, held her attention. Sam lightly jiggled the pair of cuffs he held in his hands. Despite Dean's reassurances, Sam was still doubtful about how well the irons would work.

"Stone walls confine a tinker, cold iron bands a witch, but a musician's music can never be fettered for it lives first in heart and mind," Sam mumbled as he struggled to lift the old wooden window sash. Though he couldn't prove it, he had a feeling his brother had pulled that bit of lore out of his ass. After all, who'd want to confine a tinker, and if cold iron worked so easily for witches why had their father never mentioned it.

As the opening widened, he couldn't help but grimace at the low groan the window made. He paused for a moment and listened. Content that he hadn't been heard, Sam looped the irons around his hand, and got ready to hoist himself inside. Though he'd never mention it to his brother, it really was a good thing that Sam was the one sneaking in. The high window would have given Dean a lot more trouble. Even with Sam's height, the entrance wasn't easy.

Finally, quiet as a mouse, Sam dropped to the floor in the tiny space between the toilet and the shower. With a grimace at the irons, he pressed himself against the far wall. Out of sight, he waited as he listened in horror to Carrie's twisted story.

Al's declaration of Carrie's card-carrying Wicca status seemed to make a true impact on Phil. Sam could just make out the young man who stood outside the door pale faced and shaking. As Carrie predictably refuted the charges, the youngest Winchester strained for some sign that his brother had also made it inside.

"I'm thinking you oughta listen to the gnome, Phil," a deep voice replied. "Cause honey bunny's a witch."

Sam closed his eyes in relief for a moment as he heard his brother's theatrical entrance. Leave it to Dean to get right to the point, Sam thought as he rolled his eyes. His brother was never one to do things halfway.

Carrie's vehement denial, predictable in every way, left Sam suddenly impatient to get moving. All this monologging was wearing thin fast. At least it was until he heard the witch confirm that she'd tried to poison the Winchesters. Ready to put the bitch down, Sam tensed, cuffs at the all set, as he waited for his brother's signal.

"Now Sam!"

Dean's cry had Sam moving before he'd even realized it. Without thought, he darted out of the bathroom, his target only a few feet away, her slinky black dress making her an easy target.

888

"Now Sam!" Dean hollered as he prepared himself to spring at the bitch that had caused so much trouble. He moved forward just as his brother darted from the bathroom. Sam had the cuffs at the ready and he was fully focused on Carrie. Dean couldn't help but grin in victory. At least until Sam missed.

One minute his brother was a hairsbreadth behind the witch and the next he was flying across the room. His grin turned to a wince as Sam hit the far wall with a thunk that rattled Dean's teeth.

"Oh, no you don't, bitch," Dean growled as he launched himself toward Carrie and quickly wrapped his arms around her. "Gotcha," he cried as he tightened his grip.

"Do you think? Really," Carrie breathed as she suddenly began to chant.

"A little help here, Sam" Dean called out with a hint of panic as the skin of his hands began to grow warm. Like a slow spreading fire, the heat was traveling from where his skin met hers up his hands and onto his arms. The urge to put out the fire was nearly all he could focus on. Tears began to flood his eyes as he locked his hands together refusing to give in.

"All you have to do is let go," Carrie breathed.

Somehow, her words served to make things better. The idea that the flame crawling across his skin would cease if he just let go, made him tighten his arms even more. "That the best you got?" he ground out as he focused on locking his muscles.

Carrie's eyes narrowed at his words, and she began to chant again. Though he wouldn't have thought it possible the heat in his hands increased. Dean stared somewhat stupidly at his hands, shocked that the skin wasn't blackened and burned. "Argh," he growled as he fought to keep his hold.

The hard blow came out of nowhere,

Dean never stood a chance of retaining his grip on the witch. One moment he stood focused on the pain, the next he was flying across the room, and Carrie was free. Shocked by what had happened, it took a moment for Dean to realize the pain was gone as if it had never happened. Flexing his hands, he looked over to see Carrie lying in a heap by the window. Al lay on his back only a foot or two away, gasping for breath. Sam had gained his feet and was now standing over the woman.

"Careful, Sam," Dean gasped as he struggled to shake off the memory of the pain.

Sam shot him a lopsided grin and said, "I'm not too worried."

Dean blinked hard, trying to make sense of Sam's lighthearted reply. Granted his baby brother hadn't just felt the fires of hell licking their way up his forearms, but still, the kid usually had more sympathy to spare after watching his big brother get knocked down a peg or two. With a groan, he struggled to his feet and moved toward Sam and Al. The little guy had gotten to his feet with much huffing and puffing and now stood by the younger hunter's side with a disgusted look on his face.

Still playing catch-up, Dean rubbed his face and shook his head before he at last looked down at the witch that lay motionless on the ground.

"Holy Crap!" Dean yelled in horror as he jumped back a foot. With a hard swallow to push down the vomit that threatened to come up, Dean glanced down at Carrie. "What the hell happened to her?"

With a nudge and a grin, Sam said, "Those damn iron cuffs worked, she's lost her mojo."

"Huh," Dean muttered as he forced himself to note the changes in Carrie's appearance. Gone was the long, luscious, mahogany, locks, in their place were greasy strands of hair that at best could be called mousy in color. Her skin, which had rivaled porcelain in its perfection, was now mottled red and covered in acne scars. Even unconscious, Dean could see a pair of yellowed buckteeth protruding from under her upper lip. An upper lip that was hairy enough to rival Dean's current five o'clock shadow. The button nose that had been slightly upturned was now more reminiscent of a pig's snout, complete with hair that waved in and out with every breath.

"Guh, that's just wrong," Dean groaned as he put a hand to his face to block out the images.

"Dude, are you kidding me? I had sex with that," Al cried his voice nearly cracking with his last words.

Suddenly thankful that he hadn't stumbled upon Carrie under different circumstances, Dean leaned down and patted Al's back in sympathy. "Good point, tiny. Better you than me."

"Uh, hello, I mean, who are you?" a timid voice suddenly called.

Dean turned to face Phil and sized the young man up and down. "We're the guys that just saved you from that," Dean said as he stepped sideways and pointed toward Carrie.

Phil frowned as he glanced toward the witch. "That's not Carrie, I mean it can't b—" Phil's words cut off with a sudden retching noise. With another groan, the guy turned and ran for the bathroom, with one hand over his mouth.

"I just don't get it," Al moaned as he watched his friend disappear.

With distaste twisting his features, Dean stuck his boot out and nudged the unconscious woman's prone form, rolling her onto her back. "She was working a serious glamour."

Sam nodded in agreement and added, "It's probably been years since she saw her true self."

Carrie's face wasn't the only thing that had changed. Though she was still tall, she was now all skin and bones. The curve hugging black dress she was wearing now hung on her thin frame only serving to emphasize her flat chest.

As he stared down at the girl who had only ever wanted to be loved, Dean couldn't help but feel a stirring of pity. "She destroyed herself trying to become what she figured Phil wanted."

"I never wanted any of it."

Dean turned to watch as Phil stumbled from the bathroom. "When I first met her, yeah her looks were a turn on. Only for the first couple of years, it was who Carrie was that I loved, not what she looked like. It was only later that she began to change."

"I guess in the end her power began to control her," Sam said.

"She dead?" Al asked seeming none to upset about the prospect.

Dean toed the witch again, earning a loud snort for his trouble. "Naw, she's just out cold. You packed quite a wallop in that tackle, Al."

Al grinned as he pointed proudly to his chest. "They didn't call me 'Big Al' for nothing."

With a shake of his head, at Al's bragging tone, Dean turned to his brother. "You ready to get out of here?"

"More than," Sam said as he knelt down next to Carrie. "Look at the cuffs."

Dean took a knee next to his brother and for the first time got a good look at the antique iron cuffs. The metal looked as if it had fused with the skin on her wrists. Careful to avoid touching the metal, Dean let one finger hover over the smooth silver band. The heat pouring off the metal was enough to make him pull his hand back in a hurry. "Looks like whatever she was hexing me with melted these suckers to her skin."

"Ugh, gross," Phil said as he continued to keep his distance.

The young man still looked a bit shaky to Dean. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair stood up on end, and his hands seemed to be shaking uncontrollably.

"Listen, uh, Phil. You okay with calling the cops here? I mean you can tell them what she did to Al, maybe even help them locate his…" here Dean shot a sympathetic glance at the tiny gnome, "body."

Dean wasn't sure if it was the idea of justice being served or simply a matter of having a purpose, but Phil straightened up and nodded.

"I can do that," Phil stated firmly.

"Good," Dean said, more than ready to get moving. This job had been beyond weird, and that was really saying something considering his line of work. "Sammy, Al, let's load 'em up."

Sam nodded in agreement and started moving for the door, Al moved into formation just behind Sam, his little legs moving a mile-a-minute to keep up. Dean swallowed a laugh as he watched mini-me follow his sasquatch brother out of the room. He was ready to follow when Carrie let out a low moan.

"Is she…safe?" Phil said with a audible swallow.

Dean turned back to stare at the woman that was just beginning to come around. "Yeah, those bracelets will hold her and there's no chance of removing them. You might want to keep track of her, though. Make sure she's not building a dark alter in her jail cell."

Phil nodded seriously at Dean's words and then gestured toward where Al had just disappeared. "What's gonna happen to Al?"

Unsure of that himself, Dean settled for the truth. "Not sure, technically once they find his body he ought to move on, but…"

The kid put his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes for a moment. When he finally dropped them to his side, he seemed resigned. "Tell him I'm sorry. I had no clue…"

Not sure how that was possible given his girlfriends obvious crazy streak, Dean nonetheless believed him. "I'll tell him. You take care of yourself kid. Go ahead and make your phone call."

"Yup," Phil answered as he moved to pick up the phone extension.

Dean left the room, content that Carrie would get what was coming to her. Ready to get lost before the cops showed, he headed straight for the car. There he found Sam leaning against the passenger door.

"Where's the munchkin?"

Sam jerked his thumb toward the backseat where Al lay curled up on the black leather. "Phil call the cops?"

"Yeah, they're on their way. We'll head back to the hotel and lay low for the night. Head out tomorrow. Probably wouldn't hurt to check on Carrie, make sure she's out of commission."

"That works," Sam said as he opened his door.

"Yup," Dean agreed.

888

"Awwww…come on, Dean. All I want is one beer."

Sam couldn't help but grin as he watched Al sitting dead center in the middle of Dean's pillow beg for a brew. "Come on, Dean, what's one beer," Sam coaxed his brother.

"Grrr…fine, you want a beer I'll give you a beer. But I'm telling you now, you better not be up all night running to the head," Dean growled as he pried the cap off a bottle and handed it to Al.

Despite his brother's mean growl, Sam had no doubt that Dean was playing. The older hunter seemed to have become fond of their diminutive friend at some point over the last couple of days. If Sam had to make a guess, he would bet the change had taken place when Al had saved them from Carrie's spell.

Happy at last with his beer in hand, Al leaned back with a sigh and picked up the remote that had been lying next to him. "Who's up for a little TV?"

This time it was Sam that snapped, "No porn this time, Al. I'm not paying for you to watch "Forest Hump" again."

With a leer, made all the worse given his bright cheery cheeks and sparkling eyes, Al said, "Come on that's a classic."

Sam clenched his jaw and turned to his brother so Dean could back him up.

He should have seen it coming when Dean gestured with his beer and said, "You can't beat the classics."

Ignoring Al's guffaw, Sam turned back to the laptop that was resting on the table before him and continued his search for their next hunt. Anxious to avoid the police, the three of them had left Doylestown three days ago. They were now settled in some backwoods motel, in western Pennsylvania as they waited for word that Carrie had been fully dealt with.

"You think they found the body yet?" Dean questioned quietly as he dropped into the chair next to Sam.

Sam stole a glance at Al, who was laughing hysterically at a scene from Animal House. "I don't know. I mean he's still here so…" Sam let his words trail off. The fact that Al was still here and still a gnome didn't bode well. He was at the point now where he was afraid they were going to have to find his body themselves and take care of it.

"This sucks, I mean we can't wait around forever."

His brother was right, they needed to consider the future. The hard part was, both Sam and Dean knew what the future would entail if Al didn't move on soon. Anxious for a change in conversation, Sam brought up a point that had been bothering him ever since the scene in the bedroom. "You know those cuffs were pretty handy. I have to admit I was surprised they worked so well."

If he hadn't been closely monitoring his brother's face he would have missed the momentary guilt that flashed in his green eyes. "Yeah, well I told you they'd work."

Certain he was onto something, Sam nodded and said, "We need to get ourselves another pair. I mean, hell, they were just iron cuffs right?"

This time Dean's unease came through loud and clear as he fidgeted with the bottle in his hand. "Well, I mean I don't know that 'any' iron will do."

"What do you mean, you gave me that little poem. I mean iron binds them, right?"

"Imadethe poemup," Dean slurred as he refused to meet Sam's eyes.

"You what?"

"Well, I had the cuffs and I was pretty sure they'd work, but I figured you needed a bit more convincing so I made up that cold iron bit."

Sam found he wasn't even surprised enough to get angry. After all, from the moment Dean had pulled out the cuffs he'd been highly suspicious. "Where'd you get 'em?"

Dean shrugged and said, "Some voodoo shop down in New Orleans, the woman running the shop swore they'd stop a witch."

"But you didn't know for sure," Sam questioned as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He really shouldn't find it hard to believe that his brother had based his entire plan on a pair of cuffs that might or might not stop a witch.

"Well I mean for sure…what does anyone know for sure. I was," Dean paused for a moment and seemed to consider something, "I was like 95 sure. Well maybe more like 85."

Unable to summon a reply to that stupid statement, Sam simply shook his head.

"Hey, Al, you weren't worried were you?" Dean called out good-naturedly.

Sam didn't bother to turn, knowing that Al would agree with Dean. Hell, it seemed as if Al would agree with Dean even if the older hunter declared the sky was red.

This time however, there was no snappy comeback. A feeling of dread rose up in Sam as he met his brother's gaze. Dean's expression made it clear what had happened. Slowly, Sam turned to face the bed.

There perched on the flower print bedspread was a tiny ceramic garden gnome. Its cold flat eyes stared up at the ceiling, as it lay prone on the bed. The only difference between this gnome and countless others was the beer bottle gripped in its left hand.

"Damn, Al," Dean breathed as he slowly approached the figure.

"They must have found his body,"

"What now, I mean do we give him back to Gerry?" Dean questioned as he stared down at the lawn ornament.

Sam shook his head, the idea of returning Al to his former house was abhorrent. He had hated that house. "Naw, we need to figure out something else."

"Pack your bags, Sam," Dean snapped suddenly in motion.

Unsure of what had set his brother off, Sam did as he asked anyway. "Where we headed?"

"I know just where we should leave him. It'll be a fitting tribute."

888

"Move him a little to the left," Dean ordered his brother.

Sam shot him a frustrated look before he carefully moved Al a bit to the left. Dean ignored his brother's cross mood and grinned broadly. "Perfect, just there."

As Sam stepped back, Dean picked up his old Polaroid camera and aimed it toward the ornate white porch that Al now sat upon. With a quick snap, Dean took the shot and then waited until the camera spit the picture out. "Alright you ready?"

Sam sighed long and loud, but accepted the beer Dean held out to him. "Dean, do you really think this is necessary?"

"Come on, Sam. Just look at how happy he'll be." Dean studied the large white porch that encircled the ranch and smiled smugly. "He'd appreciate it."

As he accepted the beer that Dean held out to him, Sam couldn't help but think his brother was right. Al would have appreciated this spot more than any other. Well, with the exception of the backseat of the Impala. "Yeah, but the Bunny Ranch?"

Dean shot him a wicked grin and winked, "Come on, admit it, it's perfect."

Unable to deny it, Sam finally broke down and returned his brother's grin. He had to admit the 'house of sin' was an enlightened choice. "Fine," he finally conceded. "What now?"

Dean turned to face the porch and seemed to admire Al's placement for another moment. Sam was just about to interrupt his brother's musing when Dean lifted his bottle and said, "Vaya con Dias, my friend."

Sam tipped his bottle toward the gnome and then took a sip. "You ready to get going?"

At his words, Dean turned and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Aw, come on, Sammy, you don't actually think I'm gonna pass up this opportunity."

Hating the blush that filled his cheeks, Sam groaned.

"Come on, let's go get a beer. Maybe see if Conchita still works here."

"Dean," Sam warned.

Obviously unafraid of his little brother, Dean tugged him up the steps. "Let's just pretend it's your birthday."

The End.