AN: Yup, still another chapter. I can't seem to stop writing them! I'd warn you about the highly juvenile humor contained within, but if you're this many chapters in, you are well aware by now.

So...who else in the Supernatural universe should I befuddle, bemuse, disorient, addle, muddle, or perplex next? Garth? Benny? Missouri? Raphael? Bobby's next door neighbor Marcy? Sky's the limit, folks. If I get a lot of suggestions, I can't promise I'll do 'em all, but I'll try. (Janice saw this AN and made a suggestion, so the next chapter is already in motion.)

Speaking of Janice, she did all her crazy beta magic and I'm grateful!

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Castiel walked into the kitchen, where it was instantly obvious that Mary and Crowley were having an awkward kind of standoff. Mary looked as tired as Cas felt, but that wasn't a surprise. For weeks, they'd searched for any sign of Sam and Dean. Then after what felt like an unholy alliance with the British Men of Letters, they'd finally laid eyes on the two men again, faced down (and killed) a reaper, and driven the long, long drive back to the bunker in mostly awkward silence. Sam and Dean were gaunt, and both looked and acted like they were suffering from PTSD – dozing off and jerking awake, constantly seeking out each other and looking around like they were confirming that, yes, they really were out of the prison. It was clear that they were haunted by their experience. It was equally clear that Mary had even less idea about how to help them than Cas did.

Crowley had been lurking (Sam's word) outside the bunker when the little party arrived. He claimed "a little birdie" had told him that the Winchesters were back and he just wanted to verify it for himself. He was uncharacteristically quiet when Dean teased him for worrying about them and readily came inside when invited.

Sam and Dean had headed off for showers, leaving the other three to entertain themselves. When the brothers didn't return, Cas had eventually gone off to make sure they were okay.

"They are fine," he reported. "They went to the, uh, Dean cave and both have fallen asleep. I do not believe we should wake them."

"In that case, I'm finding something to drink," Mary answered, never stopping her glaring at Crowley. "Somebody drank the rest of the scotch."

"Excellent," the demon chimed in cheerfully. "I have no doubt there is a stash of booze somewhere in this monstrosity. Knowing the Morons of Letters, it may even be decent stuff." Cas had been about to direct Mary to the storeroom that did, indeed, hold a "stash of booze" but stopped, reasoning that the Winchesters would likely not want Crowley to know its whereabouts.

"You don't have to stay," Mary muttered darkly as she left the room.

"Why are you here?" Cas asked Crowley flatly. "You weren't willing to help us when they disappeared. You said they were 'like herpes.' What do you want?"

"So jaded for a tree-topper. And it's true – they are like herpes," Crowley insisted unhelpfully. "Always popping up at the most inconvenient times. But I still need to make sure –"

"I have no idea what's in this, but if the bottle's this fancy, it's probably good," Mary interrupted, returning to the room with an ornate blue wine bottle. "Looks like it was some kind of gift." She tossed a gilt-edged card onto the table and started wrestling with the cork.

Cas glanced down at the overly curlicued writing.

Gentlemen –

Please accept this gift as proof that there are no hard feelings from my disbarment. I thought it a fitting choice, given the maturity that you display by hiding – pardon me, cloistering – yourselves from acting against any of the supernatural entities that you are pledged to study. Salud!

Cuthbert Sinclair, Esq.

"Wait!" Cas called to Mary as soon as he'd read the name of the benefactor. He was half a second too late, as announced by a POP as the cork came loose.

Nothing came out. Mary looked into the bottle and scowled. "Who gives away an empty bottle?" she complained. She ducked back out of the kitchen, grousing about being the victim of a fifty-year-old prank.

Cas grabbed the bottle and stuffed the cork back in as fast as he could, hoping (but doubting) that Sinclair had sent something as benign as an empty bottle to his nemeses.

"Oh…" said Mary from just outside the door, sounding odd. There was a mild thump, then a sniffle, then a blonde-haired child 4 or 5 years old appeared in the doorway. She was wrestling with far-too-large clothing. The clothing Mary had been wearing. "I fell down," she pouted.

Cas gaped for a moment and Crowley snickered next to him. "Oh my…" the latter drawled delightedly.

Suddenly realizing the child (Mary. The child was Mary.) would be nearly naked once she worked her way free of her pants and socks, Cas pulled off his coat and button-up shirt as fast as he could. He pulled off his undershirt as well and hastily pulled it over Mary's head. She obediently put her arms through it and stepped out of the now too-big clothes.

Mary smiled beatifically, which made her look very much like the pictures of a very young Dean Cas had seen. "Thanks, Cas," she grinned.

The angel remembered how Dean talked to children and crouched down to her level. "You know who I am?" he asked cautiously, not sure how the apparent curse had affected her mind.

"Yup! I usedta be scared of you, but Dean and Sam like you." She pointed over the angel's shoulder. "And I'm not supposed to like him, but I kinda do sometimes."

The girl's comment made Cas realize that Crowley had fallen quiet. He looked over his shoulder to see that the demon was hunched forward slightly with a palm flat on the table as if in pain. Cas quickly stood and turned. "Crowley?"

"It's…the curse is trying…to affect my vessel," Crowley pushed out through gritted teeth. "Why...aren't you...affected?"

"I don't know!" Cas felt tendrils of near-panic. "Hold on. Do not turn into a child. And keep an eye on her," he ordered, rushing out to check on Sam and Dean.

The brothers were still in the "Dean cave," and even still asleep. However, they were no older than Mary. Dean, blonder and more freckled than Cas would have imagined, hadn't moved much from his spot on the couch, but Sam, floppy-haired even at his new, younger age, had crawled over to his brother as he must have done when he actually was so small. Dean had an arm around Sam, the big spoon even though they were nearly the same size. Seeing Sam had climbed out all his clothes except his t-shirt, which now fit him like a dress, Cas took his coat, which he'd reflexively grabbed as he ran from the kitchen, and laid it over the boys.

They didn't stir except to cuddle closer, making Cas nostalgic for something he'd never experienced – Sam and Dean innocent of the horrors the world contained. He sighed and left, grateful that they were sleeping and he wouldn't have to wrangle them while finding a solution for Sinclair's little revenge. He closed the door softly.

Cas didn't make it two steps before he heard a high-pitched voice moving in his direction singing, "I'm naaaaaaaaaked! I'm not wearing any clooooooooooothes!" A little dark-haired boy with a huge grin ran past as bare as advertised.

Cas opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Crowley!" he called when his brain came back on-line. To himself, he added, "This is not good."

He chased the laughter and shouting of the imp through the bunker, but the child version proved to be as tricky and difficult as the adult. It didn't help that Cas felt a little run-down, like his grace was leeching out of him somehow. He assumed it was working automatically to keep his vessel from being affected, but that a demon wouldn't have the same instincts.

Cas was just outside the war room, listening for any sounds that would let him know where Crowley was when a childish whoop drew his attention. Feeling like one of those Keystone Cops whose antics made Dean laugh so hard, Cas changed direction and ran toward the sound.

He found Mary on top of the giant telescope, giggling madly. Cas' eyes widened. He immediately imagined a conversation with Sam and Dean.

Cas: I finally found the solution to the childhood spell.

Sam: Great. Thanks. Where's Mom?

Cas: She, uh, sort of broke her neck. But I'll heal her next.

Dean [pulls an angel blade]

"Mary! Don't move!" he called.

Instead of listening, the child climbed to her feet and waved her arms. "Lookit! Lookit! I'm like an angel. I'm flying!" As Cas came closer, Mary leaped off her perch toward him, laughing as she went. Luckily, he caught her, though she immediately began to squirm to get down.

"Do not do that again!" he scolded, still coming down from his fear at seeing her up so high while in such a vulnerable form.

He heard crashing and smashing from the kitchen and set the girl down. "Don't climb anything," he added, plucking her down as she began to scale a bookshelf. "Just...stay put and be good, okay?"

She didn't answer, just started pulling books off shelves, but Cas hurried away anyway, more than a little worried about what Crowley in miniature might be up to. Oh, and if he still had demonic powers with no skill in how to use them.

He was right to be worried.

Little Crowley was standing on the kitchen counter, still au natural, pulling things out of cupboards and throwing them on the floor. The refrigerator stood open, many of its (fortunately meager) contents already dumped out. A fine layer of white powder covered much of the floor and one side of Crowley and something viscous was dripping off the counter at his feet. It smelled like a combination of maple syrup and soy sauce. "Fergus Rodrick MacLeod!" Cas gasped.

The demon child grinned and threw the canister he held in one hand at Cas. Cas caught it, but the top popped off and a cloud of oatmeal flew up into his face. Crowley took advantage of the distraction. Faster than a small child should have been able to move, he was off the counter and darting past Cas, the large bottle of olive oil he still held in his other hand leaking liquid everywhere.

Coughing, Cas dropped the oatmeal and tried to follow. He barely got one step down the hallway when his feet flew out from underneath him and he started to slide along the floor on the slippery oil. Crowley, a ways down the hall, froze at the sight, then his face lit up and he upended the rest of the contents of the bottle onto the floor. He took a running start and slid like a surfer back toward Cas, who was still skidding slowly.

Cas reached out for the boy as he went past, but his hand couldn't get a grip on the slick ankle. He stood and immediately went back down. By the time he recovered himself, Crowley was body-surfing back the other direction, whooping in joy. A piece of paper fluttered down in his wake, landing on Cas' cheek and sticking there. Cas picked it up and looked at it. It was the card that had come with the "gift" that had started the entire problem. He frowned as he carefully made his way to his knees. What he'd thought was just a decorative border was actually tiny runes.

"It's an evil eye curse," he realized aloud, ignoring Crowley moonwalking past him singing Billie Jean. "Romani. But how to fix it…?" Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mary was standing at the end of the hall, eyes wide. She appeared to have drawn wobbly flowers all over one arm.

"Romani curses take aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!" Mary cried, running and sliding like Crowley had, except on her rear end.

"What?" asked Cas, a little desperately. With the help of the wall, he made it to his feet and almost toppled again as Crowley crashed into his legs.

"You need aak, you numpty!" Crowley smirked from flat on his back on floor, which was luckily beginning to grow slightly tacky and a little less slippery.

A lightbulb went on in Cas' head. Mary hadn't been just cheering as she slid down the hall the first time. She'd been telling him what he needed to break a Romani spell. Keeping a hand on the wall, Cas closed his eyes. He'd seen the word aak somewhere in the bunker. Luckily, it didn't take long for him to recall standing in storage room 17 talking to Sam while the latter updated the labels on boxes of dried plant material. One of those boxes had been marked Dried Aak/Madar/Arka.

"Mary, Crowley, stay here," Cas ordered in a tone that would have garnered instant compliance from his garrison of angels eons before but which didn't seem to impress the preschoolers. He pointed at Crowley, still grinning maniacally up from the floor. "No more messes." He pointed at Mary, who was jumping up and down where a small puddle of oil had collected, splashing it over her legs. "No more climbing." He briefly considered trying to bring two slippery, reluctant children with him, then imagined how much damage they could do in a storage room of the arcane. "And both of you leave Sam and Dean alone. I'll be right back."

Cas ran, heedless of all the slip-sliding he did because of the oil coating his shoes. He quickly located the box full of purplish, astringent-smelling powder, now with Sam's neat handwriting on the front adding Calotropis Gigantea – cleansing and restoration. In smaller letters, it instructed Burn for Rapid Effect (non poisonous).

Burn. Good. Easy. Hopefully effective!

Hearing strange noises from elsewhere in the bunker, Cas hastily grabbed a simple censer off a nearby shelf and dumped a handful of the powder inside. He broke three of the extra long wood matches sitting next to it before getting one lit.

The powder flared immediately, the smoke making Cas' eyes sting. Grabbing the handle of the censer, he hurried back toward his charges.

Crowley was sitting in the doorway to the kitchen with a bottle of chocolate syrup in his mouth like a baby bottle. Mary standing next to a long row of stick figures with large fangs drawn on the wall. A dark purple marker was still in her hand. She dropped the marker and it rolled to a stop against a small saucepan that was setting innocuously on the floor. Crowley pulled the bottle of syrup from his mouth with an audible pop. Both he and Mary were blinking as if in confusion. Probably because they were once again adults.

From the direction of the Dean cave, Cas heard a thump and two voices muttering in surprise or irritation – and what possibly could have been "Get off me, you perv," in Dean's voice and "What the ffff," in Sam's -- then a bunch of rustling.

Cas slipped a little and dropped the censer.

It was about then that Sam and Dean came down the corridor, stocking footed and still adjusting their clothing. They froze and Cas took a second to review the scene better.

The floor had a large oil slick with patches of other liquids and a few small items like the pan, the marker, and a whisk littered the area. The censer lay on its side with a little of the aak powder, still burning fitfully, spilled out. Cas, Mary, and Crowley were in various states of undress and all well-coated in olive oil. Mary's left arm was decorated similarly to the wall, and she was pulling down on Cas' undershirt (her only clothing) to try to cover more of herself. Crowley was wearing only the oil, some flour, and a large smear of chocolate around his mouth. Cas, of course, was shirtless and there was undoubtedly still oatmeal in his hair.

After several long moments of stunned and confused silence, Sam spoke softly, "What the…" He trailed off still looking helplessly at the scene.

His brother finished the thought for him. "What the hell is going on here?!" Dean demanded. "Why is everyone naked?! And oiled up?!"

"Crowley is the only one who is naked," Cas protested weakly.

"Now that you've interrupted the orgy, I hate to make you all feel inadequate," Crowley stood and snapped his fingers, immediately dressed in his normal black suit and looking immaculate as always. He sounded completely unperturbed by his previous state.

"I'm gonna – I need – shower," Mary stammered, more at sea than Cas had ever seen her.

"Let me grab our clothes out of there," Sam said, his eyes still trailing over the scene in front of him. He abruptly turned and hurried away.

"I would apologize for the state of the kitchen and...other things," Crowley said, handing the syrup bottle to Cas, who took it mindlessly. "But I don't do apologies." He adroitly moved out of the doorway as Dean's eyes went wide and he started forward, avoiding the mess as best he could.

Cas stomped out the remaining fire and waited for Dean's reaction.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY KITCHEN?!" Dean bellowed so loudly that Cas whimsically wondered if he'd shaken the bunker's foundations. "Crowley!"

Of course, Dean's yelling had brought Sam back. He glanced into the kitchen and winced. "Somebody used every last bit of shaving cream to draw dirty pictures all over the shower room."

Crowley shrugged expressively, not bothering to hide a smirk. "I wasn't the only artist while we were...impacted. Check the library, Moose."

Sam's eyes went even wider and he ran off, ignoring Dean's continual swearing as he discovered the true extent of the devastation.

"Someone drew flowers and, and vampires (I think) in an original edition of Compendium of Demonology and Magic!" Sam cried from the library. It was nearly as loud as Dean had been earlier. He sounded utterly horrified.

Dean stomped out of the kitchen. "I am going to town to buy groceries," he announced to Cas and Crowley. "You two are going to get started on cleaning that up. After it's perfect, and only after, you can tell us exactly what happened here."

He stalked away, this time walking right through the mess on the hallway floor.

Crowley seemed to suddenly remember something. "As much as I'd love to perform menial labor with a halo and a couple furious Winchesters, I need to be going," he announced, sidling toward the exit.

Cas' eyes narrowed in suspicion, but before he could answer, yet another bellow reached them.

"WHO PEED IN MY BOOTS?!"

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AN: There are quite a few notes, if you are interested. On an amusing note (at least to me), I didn't want the burning powder to ignite a conflagration inside the bunker, so I found myself Googling "is olive oil flammable?"

It was in season 12, episode 9, First Blood that Crowley said the Winchesters were "like herpes."

Cuthbert Sinclair was one of the Men of Letters until he was kicked out for delving too deeply into the dark arts and trying to convince the rest of them to actively use their knowledge to fight evil.

The Keystone Cops were the "stars" of a series of silent films in the early 1900's. They were ridiculously inept and the movies were slapstick comedy.

Billie Jean was the song Michael Jackson was singing when he debuted the moonwalk on tv.

The aak plant is a real thing. Some believe that it has cleansing and protective properties, but I really chose it because I like the name.

The Compendium of Demonology and Magic is a real book, written by an unknown author circa 1775. Its full title is Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros and the illustrations are crazy!