AN: I know it's been a while since I added to this story...I kind of got caught up in Scorched Earth, which somehow ended up being my longest fanfic ever unless you count Whumptober.

I think I'll be adding one more vignette (though maybe not right away) after this, since Jenjoremy says it's okay to go past my normal five.

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Naturally the Winchesters arrived at Rowena's suite when she'd just managed to climb into her rosewater bubble bath. She needed the relaxation after the aggravation of dealing with them, and she wasn't about to get out now.

"Rowena?" Dean bellowed like the uncultured troglodyte he was. "Where the hell are you? We don't have time to screw around."

Rowena rolled her eyes and turned off the tap with her toes. At least Sam was polite. If Dean weren't so easy on the eyes, he might have no use at all. "In the bathroom, dearie," she called, making her voice light and airy on purpose to irritate him. "In the bath. Don't come in unless you want to join me."

The answering growl made her smile. Dean was really fun to annoy. "RoWEna! People are dying! Where's the damn potion?"

Rowena sighed loudly enough he hopefully heard her. "Oh, fine dear. Just take it. It's the blue ampule on the table in the dinette." She tried to picture what else was there. "Be sure not to take the phial, Dean. The ampule."

He called back something incomprehensible and Rowena heard the suite door slam shut. With a mental head shake, Rowena settled back against the neck rest and gently laid a wash cloth over her eyes, grateful that she had plenty of time for a nap before her room service was due to arrive.

Those boys were exhausting.

It was a long time later, bath and nap done, and fabulous meal eaten, that Rowena herself went into the dinette and saw the ampule she'd prepared for the Winchesters untouched and the phial missing.

Her eyes flew wide. "Oh dear."

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

"You call that a knife?" said Dean with a terrible Australian accent.

"That wasn't funny the first eight times," grumbled Sam, although he'd smiled the first time. He couldn't let Dean know that, though, or he'd really never drop it. "And they're duende, not Dundee."

"Too bad. He was cool." Dean twirled his knife and mimed stabbing it down. "Shivving that croc right in the brain. Ha!"

Sam bit the inside of his cheek rather than let a smile slip out. It was so damn good to have Dean at his side and just enjoying an old fashioned hunt. "Yeah, well you should get to do plenty of shivving. Duende might be small, but they travel in packs. And once they've claimed a place, they will die rather than leave."

Dean gave the knife one final twirl. "Didn't you tell me they're usually harmless, and since they're invisible, people don't even know they're there?"

"Yeah." Sam ducked under a low-hanging branch, grateful that the conversation was keeping Dean from his normal complaining about hiking. "Maybe being isolated for so long made this bunch feral or something. Anyway, the state opened this area and the ghost town up to hikers and suddenly people are turning up chewed to death. Rafe checked it out and barely made it out alive. He's run into them before and recognized their ululating, but he didn't have any Aspectu," Sam pointed to Dean's pocket where the potion from Rowena rested. "So he couldn't see them to take care of them."

They were hiking out to a ghost town that the forest was slowly but surely claiming. It was fairly remote, and on government land, so it had been left almost completely alone for a good forty years, until it had been opened up to the public six months earlier.

"You'll...what?" asked Dean incredulously (and predictably; Sam had winced as soon as the word had left his mouth).

"Think Xena's battle cry."

Instead of snarking back, Dean held up a hand. He was instantly in Hunter mode, and Sam followed without thought. "I see the first building. Time to juice up."

Rowena had said the effect would last three hours or less, so they'd waited until they approached the ghost town just to be safe. Duende never left their comfort zone, so they weren't worried about running into any on the 45 minute hike in.

"Two drops?" Dean confirmed, already carefully dripping it onto his tongue.

"Wait," warned Sam too late, frowning. "That doesn't look anything like Rafe described."

"Rowena's your friend," Dean grumped, but they both knew it was all for show. The witch was firmly in the ally category by now. Sometimes reluctant ally, but ally nonetheless.

"She probably just improved the formula." Sam dropped two drops of the surprisingly sweet solution on his own tongue. "She said it would start working right away."

"Okay," Dean nodded decisively. "We'll stick together and work our way through the buildings counterclockwise."

The first door opened easily enough, and they slipped inside, Dean going right and Sam left but staying in sight of each other. It was smooth, comfortable, and easy from a lifetime of practice.

Both men carried a variety of blades and guns, as the duende were most susceptible to ordinary weapons. They moved cautiously and kept their eyes peeled for the creatures. According to Rafe, they looked "like hairless, naked garden gnomes with sharp teeth and way too many fingers and toes."

Sam was in the groove of the hunt, now, the hyper alertness and silence of his movements coming automatically. Then, Dean stumbled.

Dean could be many things, but clumsy or inattentive during a hunt weren't on the list. "Dean?" Sam asked quietly but sharply. When Dean didn't answer or even look at him, Sam's confusion jumped straight to concern. Ignoring stealth, he cut across the room and ducked to peer into Dean's eyes. His pupils were a little dilated, but otherwise he looked fine, just staring at nothing. "Dean, what's wrong?"

Dean didn't so much as blink, even when Sam grabbed one arm and shook him lightly. "That's it, we're leaving," Sam announced, tucking away the shotgun he was carrying and taking Dean's from his unresisting hands. He started to turn his brother back toward the entryway when animation abruptly came back into Dean's face.

He looked at Sam like he'd never seen him before, then suddenly grinned. "Tag, you're it, Sammy!" he announced and shoved Sam hard with both hands. Sam had been caught completely off guard by the move and landed hard on his back, gaining an imprint of his shotgun on his lower back and getting the wind knocked out of him. He was scrambling to his feet within a few seconds, but Dean was already dashing out the door.

What the hell?! Sam thought, running across the room and out the door after Dean. Duende can't possess people, and Rafe had been absolutely positive about what they'd be facing. A door slammed off to Sam's right and he ran that way. If there was something atmospheric that could affect Dean, it should have affected Sam too, especially once he came to that side...that side of...hey. You know what would be really funny?

Sam slowed then stopped. He was holding a shotgun -- Dean's, actually -- and shooting out a window would be really loud. It would probably scare Dean! Sam snickered at the thought and aimed at the closest unbroken window. The bang and resultant crashing of glass were sweet, but the muffled bellow was even better.

Sam laughed harder. He's forgotten how fun guns could be. Hey, now that there was a big hole, he could get into the little blue house without using the door! Cool. Sam climbed through, not noticing how the broken glass catching him a few places, just listening to the interesting sound of crunching under his feet.

The carpet here was squishy and wet, with a fetid puddle toward the back. Actually, Dean was standing right in the middle of it. Sam pointed at him. "I found you!"

Dean smirked at him and whipped a hand out from behind his back. He was holding his over shirt, which he'd apparently soaked in the water. He slung it at Sam's face.

Sam dropped the gun to ward off the dripping missile, so it wrapped around his arm instead of his face. Dean laughed hysterically anyway, then suddenly jerked sideways off his feet like something invisible had tackled him.

Wait. There actually was something invisible here, right? A trilling cry triggered some kind of memory that Sam couldn't quite grasp. By instinct alone, he pulled his Taurus and shot just above his rolling brother. Something shrieked and thudded into the wall, raising a cloud of dust.

It was hysterical! Sam thought he should be thinking...something about Dean, but amusement just overwhelmed everything else and he bent forward at the waist in laughter. Air whooshed as something flew just over his bent head with a shrill cry.

A tugging at his boots caught Sam's attention and he looked down to see Dean giggling as he messed with Sam's feet. Before Sam could figure that out, something invisible barreled into the side of his leg, buckling his knee. He couldn't get his feet apart -- oh, Dean had been tying his shoelaces together -- and he went down hard, landing across Dean's legs.

Dean laughed like that was the funniest thing he'd ever seen in his life. Then Dean was grabbing his shotgun and wildly swinging it around by the barrel. Every once in a while, he seemed to connect with something. He whooped each time he did, and Sam grinned. That looked like fun.

Sam sat up and cut apart his shoelaces with his boot knife. Boot knife to fix his boots! Man, was everything funny today!

Dean was staggering, blood blossoming on his upper arm as clear teeth marks appeared. Sam thought he should do something about that, so he punched the air next to Dean's arm and hit something. Eyes lighting up, he hit whatever it was much harder, knocking it (and Dean) down. They splashed into the puddle, which inspired Sam to jump up and down, sending water flying every direction.

Except his right leg didn't seem to want to work. He fell onto his hands and knees and looked up just in time to see Dean point the shotgun at his face.

He pulled the trigger.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

Castiel was feeling very grumpy. Some of his brothers and sisters claimed that angels were above such a petty emotion, but the truth was angels could be angry, irritated, and yes, grumpy as well as any human being could.

Given that Rowena had called with disturbing news that required him to drive for several hours, with a long hike to follow and the Winchesters in danger, well, he thought he was entitled to his grumpiness.

Sam and Dean were in the middle of a hunt and under the influence of a potion that made them essentially high: it severely impaired judgment, blocked negative feelings, and left behind "the mother of all hangovers" when it wore off. In addition, they were after monsters that they couldn't see. Having to leave Jack at the bunker alone wasn't even close to the worst part of the whole thing.

Cas had made it clear to Rowena whose fault the entire fiasco was. She'd refused to accept the blame. "I tried to help. Dean simply took the wrong container." She seemed to believe that she'd done her part simply by calling Cas to tell him they needed help.

As it turned out, Cas didn't have to hike at all to find his friends. He'd barely gotten out of his car when he heard their voices. "Dean. Sam," he called, then hurried to help them when they stumbled into view, leaning on each other. "You look terrible," he informed them, and it was an understatement.

They were both shivering in their tshirts. Dean's overshirt was missing entirely, and Sam's was bloody and tied around Dean's upper arm, which Dean was holding stiffly. Dean had a fat lip and blood at the corner of his mouth, and the men had matching black eyes. Sam didn't seem to be able to bend one leg and had a line of blood from one ear. In fact, there seemed to be a lot of tiny open spots on that side of his face, as if a shotgun had gone off right next to him.

Both men were filthy, their clothes stiff as if they'd been wet but dried while still on their bodies. They smelled like a sewer, and faintly like vomit and had streaks of blood on their forearms, some of which seemed to have glass in them.

Closer inspection revealed even more concerning details. Their knuckles were split and bloody. Their eyes were slightly too dilated and Dean wasn't just protecting his arm, but his ribs too. Sam's shoelaces hung open and a couple of the fingers on his left hand were grossly swollen.

"Cas, how'd you find us?" as Dean, his voice rougher than usual.

"Rowena called. She told me you had taken the wrong potion and were in danger. The duende did all this?"

The ailing men shared a look, actually looking kind of amused. "Some of it," was all Sam said. Cas decided not to think about that too much. He stepped forward and healed them both.

"I cannot help with the aftereffects of the potion," he admitted apologetically. "Rowena said the dizziness, double vision, and nausea will pass in a few hours and you should sleep if you can."

"Yeah, no. Thanks," said Sam, looking much more comfortable but still squinting.

"Yeah. Let's blow this popsicle stand," added Dean, unwinding the now extraneous bandage from his bicep.

"You cannot drive." Rowena had been unequivocal about that point. "I will drive you back to the bunker and come back to kill the duende."

Dean closed his hand around the keys he'd just fished out. "The doody monsters are dead," he said as if it were no big deal that they'd killed a nest of invisible monsters while supernaturally high. "And I'm driving."

"You are in no shape to drive," Cas insisted again. Neither man seemed able to entirely focus their eyes despite his healing.

"Just give him the keys, Dean," Sam interjected before Dean could argue more. He and his brother were shivering heavily in the cool air.

Dean muttered some creative insults about angels and witches and finally handed over the keys, which was perhaps the most telling thing about just how terrible he felt.

Less than an hour into the drive, both men had fallen asleep, so Cas turned on the radio, which he often found soothing. When they were nearly back to the bunker, an announcer broke into the music.

"...were surprised to discover the buildings of the ghost town Patton were in flames. The only ones that didn't burn appeared to have destroyed in one or more explosions. Police say no bodies have been found at this time, but that they have a lot of investigation to undertake before they can comment on motive and suspects. If you know any --"

Cas tuned out the rest. Sam and Dean were really destructive, even for humans.

By the time they got back to the bunker, Sam and Dean were almost back to their normal selves. And there was a very fine, very expensive bottle of Glenlivet waiting for them.

* * *

AN: For Lena and her daughter. I don't feel like this one is very funny, but hopefully it's interesting!

Jenjoremy: Glad you liked drunk but still badass Winchesters! They were goofy but badass in this one. Always badass!

bagelcat1: That story made me laugh! Your poor dad. My only good out of it story is that coming out of anesthesia, I once tried to explain to a nurse that math is a religion because you can't prove that numbers really exist. My family still likes to give me a hard time over that one.

Lena: Here you go: accidental potion ingestion and the boys forgetting about what they're supposed to be hunting! I'm not sure if it's what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for your sweet and effusive encouragement. You are the bestest. I do think the moonshine chapter is my favorite, though I like the bubbles too. Anyway, these are all fun to write! I think I'll have to include Papa Winchester in the next, so no Charlie yet, but some day.

muffinroo: I've never tried moonshine myself! It sounds like trouble!

Kathy: Glad you found the moonshine chapter fun! I figured Sam would be worse off than Dean, so Dean would want to take care of him.

immertreu: I'm glad it worked for you! I'm a sucker for Winchester mother henning. I include it in most of the stuff I write.