AN: A bit of weirdness for your Monday! We've lost power so the whining will begin soon as the electronics all die...think of me. LOL

So, not only did I shamefully neglect to thank Janice for beta'ing this for me when I first posted it, I didn't even mention the whole vignette exists because of her! I asked which character should be "bewildered" next, and she suggested Jody. Sorry, Janice.

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"I love brownies!" Dean was saying into the phone as Sam walked into their motel room after a morning jog. Sam raised his eyebrows in question, but he was close enough to hear the response across the line.

"Not brownies the food, you idjit! Put it on speaker so your brother can hear this."

Sam grinned at the sound of Bobby's fond exasperation, well aware that Dean was provoking their adoptive uncle on purpose. "Hey, Bobby," he said as Dean obeyed.

"Listen you two, this is no laughing matter. I think we got a problem with brownies. Well, clurichauns, which were pretty close," Bobby explained.

"Brownies mostly are just a pain in the ass, not dangerous, right? And care corns? Never heard of 'em," Dean answered, making eye contact with Sam, who shrugged. They didn't sound familiar to him, either, though the name reminded him of "leprechauns."

"That's cuz they're extinct. And that's why I said brownies first. Now shut up and listen," Bobby snapped, making Sam smirk again. He had a feeling that if they'd been in the same room as their friend, he would have smacked Dean. "Jody called me cuz some stupid tourists disappeared west o' town. They were found a coupla days later dehydrated and totally addlepated."

Dean mouthed "addlepated" to Sam, who bit his tongue rather than snicker and draw Bobby's ire to himself.

"They were totally out of it for a few days, even though nothin' off showed up in their blood. I'm in the ass-end of Oklahoma, so I told Jody try to keep people outta the area and I'd check it out when I got back. Well, she called again when I was outta cell range and said she'd headed up there cuz someone else went missing. She found an old, abandoned moonshine shack. I hain't been able to reach her since." Bobby's worry wasn't hidden very well. "Even if I drive without stoppin', I'm a day out. I needja two to go check on her."

"Of course we will, Bobby," Sam said immediately. They weren't even on a hunt, just going through some esoterica that had been hidden in Pastor Jim's rectory and only recently discovered. Besides, he was incredibly impressed with the sheriff's resilience in the face of her horrific double tragedy and grateful for the many ways she now helped Bobby. "We're only about two hours away."

"Yeah. So, why do you think, uh, curlicues? And how do we waste 'em?" Dean chimed in. "Wait. Didn't you say they're all dead?"

"Yes," Bobby sounded exasperated, but then again, it was a common emotion for him. "But they left behind some shit that can screw with your head, makin' you so confused you don't remember to eat or anythin'. And they always made their lairs where there was alcohol."

Dean made a "Well, that makes sense" face. "These traps – what are they?"

"Lore's pretty scarce," Bobby admitted reluctantly. "But it agrees that you better not read any writing, even silently. And...to help someone who's caught up, you supposedly 'ply them with ardent spirits' – meaning booze – to get 'em back to themselves faster."

"The cure for magic brownies is to get shit-faced?" Dean asked, poorly concealing his amusement at the revelation. Sam knew his brother was worried about Jody too, but it didn't stop his admittedly juvenile sense of humor from being tickled.

Bobby sighed so hard the line crackled. "I guess. Maybe. Just watch each other's backs, okay. And…"

"We'll find her and get her back safe, Bobby," Dean said surprisingly kindly, then ruined it by adding, "And, if necessary, get her drunk for you."

Actually, Sam thought, his brother could be deceptively perceptive, and Bobby probably appreciated the reassurance and the attempt to lighten the mood equally.

Bobby called Dean a few creative names, then passed along what he knew about the location where the people had gone missing. He closed with, "Sam, keep your idjit brother outta trouble, will ya? And you two call me as soon as you know anythin', got it?"

"Hey!" Dean gave a token protest.

"I'll do my best," Sam said over him, not surprised that the Bobby hung up without acknowledging the words. Phone calls, especially ones asking for help, weren't the man's forte.

Feeling the urgency of Bobby's worry, the brothers ate in the car and Sam did what little research he could on the way. He didn't find much more than the same kinds of stories you would for brownies and kobolds – little pranksters that loved to mess with humans. There was nothing about specific traps or anything.

Well, they'd gone into situations with less information (and if Bobby was "pretty sure" it was a clurichauns, then it was) and with a lot less potentially on the line.." Dean was pretty stoked though about the fact that they were on a hunt where stocking up on actual supplies for the job included a rather large purchase at a liquor store along the way. When Sam raised an eyebrow at the amount of various booze in Dean's cart when he came out of the store, Dean just shrugged with a grin. "We gotta be ready for anything, Sammy. Can never have too many supplies." Sam rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a small smile of his own.

The area Bobby had sent them to was remote, but Dean wasn't entirely unfamiliar with it and he was really good at finding things. Even in the twilight, he found a little-used turn off with fresh tire tracks fairly quickly. Only one false start later, the headlights lit up a familiar SUV. Dean pulled behind it with a significant look at Sam. They'd already loaded their guns with iron rounds, just in case the fae-type creatures weren't quite as extinct as they were supposed to be. He left the lights on.

In front of Jody's truck was a shabby little hut almost hidden in the shadow of a large rock formation. It looked like it wouldn't be standing at all if not for the support of the rock it slouched against. Behind it was an assortment of rusty junk, including a small stock tank and lots of sections of narrow pipe. It all screamed "abandoned still," just like Jody had surmised. Dean pointed at the ground and Sam nodded. He'd seen the several sets of recent footprints, including one set obviously newer than the others. It went directly to the crookedly hanging door.

"It isn't a rogue cow eating your cabbages, Mrs. Morin. It's a jack-o-lantern," slurred a voice they recognized from inside the shed. "I mean a jerk-a-lope. Jackalope. But I can't tell you that cuz Bobby said so. So forget all that, 'kay?"

Dean moved to open the door, Sam automatically covering his back. "Jody?" Dean called softly. "Can you come out here for me?"

"'S Sheriff Mills to you, Ms. Morin," she scolded from inside. There were sounds of movement but the woman didn't appear.

Sam didn't laugh, but only because they still weren't sure if Jody was still in danger.

"Can you come out?" Dean asked again.

"I shoot things sometimes," Jody confided from inside. "I like guns, but I don' like shootin' people. Monsters, though, tha's okay."

"I gotta go in and get her," Dean decided, sotto voce. "You stay out here in case, you know."

Sam wasn't thrilled, but not knowing exactly how Jody had been snared, it made sense for one of them to stay outside. He nodded.

"I'll show you, you flea-bitten varmint," Jody called, then laughed a little dazedly. "Wascally wabbit!" Sam sincerely hoped she hadn't actually drawn her weapon.

Dean hesitated, then offered his own gun to Sam. "Just in case," he said seriously.

Sam frowned and shook his head. "No way. You are not going in there unarmed, Dean! We don't really know what could be in there. Just...don't read anything. Get in, grab Jody, get out." Dean frowned right back, then caved.

"Like I could see to read anything," he muttered, then he was inside. Sam kept his eyes panning the area around the hut while straining his ears to figure out what was happening inside. The entire thing was maybe 12 feet square, so it wasn't like Dean would have to go far to get to Jody, but that didn't make Sam any less tense.

"Hey, Jody, it's Dean Winchester. Let's get outta here, huh?" Dean said from inside the decrepit building. He didn't sound alarmed, which helped Sam feel a little better.

"I don't like terra cotta," Jody answered, apropos of nothing. It almost sounded like she was pouting, something that Sam couldn't imagine. There was a shuffling sound, fabric moving.

"That's it. Can you just…?" Dean's voice faded a little. Sam leaned against the outside wall (as much as he dared, anyway) and slid one hand inside the door, keeping his face turned away. He had a bad feeling. "Where are the chickens?" Dean finished plaintively.

Sam flailed with a long arm, finding the back of Dean's jacket, and propelled him back through the door. As soon as Dean stumbled out, Sam turned him so he was no longer facing the door. "Dean? Are you okay?"

Dean's eyes were glassy and his mouth slightly open. "Don't park in front of the fire hydrant, Sammy," he said, effectively answering the question.

"Snap out of it," Sam said, giving his brother's arm a slight shake. "Is Jody okay, other than confused? What happened?"

Dean didn't fight, but he didn't react either, staring at something Sam couldn't see. "Fizzy," he commented absently.

With a frown, Sam pulled out his flask, which for once was full of vodka rather than holy water. It wasn't good vodka, but it should be the same in burning off the curse of a long-extinct race as it would be for cleaning an open wound – not fun, but hopefully effective. Sam let go of Dean's arm to tip his head back and poured a good mouthful of the liquor down his throat.

Dean immediately choked and sputtered, but Sam held onto his jaw for a few more seconds, trying to minimize how much liquid spilled out. He kept an eye on things, but honestly more of an eye on Dean, with Jody singing as a backdrop. (It was warbley and off-key, but Sam was pretty sure it was the theme song from The Letter People.)

Dean hacked a few times, gripping Sam's shoulder to keep himself upright as he bent forward.

"Come and meet the letter peeeeeeeeeeople!"

"Holy crap, man, I got more of that in my lungs than in my stomach," Dean wheezed.

"Come and visit the familyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Sam asked, covering his relief that Dean was back to himself so quickly. "Jody?"

"Words are made of letter peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeople!"

"She seems alright, just lying on the floor like she's stoned," Dean coughed once more and shook his head sharply.

"A, B...um. A, B...B...B…"

"There are words and symbols all over the walls and floor, and they, I don't know, jump into your brain all of a sudden and…" Dean shook his head hard. He looked mildly ill. "I closed my eyes and could still see them. I'm gonna get her out of there, then we gotta burn the whole thing down."

"B, B, B, B, follow meeeeeeeeeeeeee! Yeehaw!"

Sam put a hand on Dean's arm. "You already got whammied," he argued. He didn't add 'and look like crap' because that wouldn't help him convince Dean. "You're probably more susceptible now. I'll go and keep my eyes closed the whole time."

Dean grit his teeth, clearly hating it and just as clearly knowing that Sam was right. "Fine. But I'm tying a rope around you so I can haul you out if you go goofy. Though I don't know how I'll be able to tell with all the weird shit you say."

"Hey you GU-UYS!" Jody trilled, apparently moving on to The Electric Company.

"Yeah, okay, whatever, but let's get this done," Sam agreed. It wasn't a bad idea, but he also was eager to get Jody out of there. Dean, still looking a touch off balance, fetched the rope and insisted on tying it himself, anchoring Sam as if he were about to wade into deep water instead of just stepping into a one-room hut.

Jody, luckily, had tapered off with her singing. She was now muttering something about a daddy long-legs, then, creepily, she mused, "Hmm, I could lick it."

"Don't open your eyes," Dean warned completely unnecessarily. Louder, he called, "Do not lick the spider, Jody! You hear me?"

Sam bit his cheek, pictured a bloody corpse, and reminded himself that Jody might be in danger just to keep from smiling at the paternal tone of Dean's voice. Not surprisingly, Dean saw it anyway. He backhanded Sam's arm. "Shut up."

"Don't worry," Sam said, knowing the dictum was impossible for Dean to follow.

Dean wrapped the free end of the rope firmly around his forearm. "I always told Dad you'd be easier to handle on a leash."

Sam ignored the comment, took a deep breath, closed his eyes tightly and turned around. He'd already tucked his gun into his waistband.

"North wall, halfway across the room," Dean directed. "Don't step on her. I'm not explaining to Bobby that we had to peel his friend off the bottom of one of your giant shoes."

Sam kept his right hand on the wall and shuffled along, following the sound of Jody blowing raspberries and snort-laughing about it. He could feel the lines and symbols scratched into the surface under his fingertips. "I'm coming, Jody," he said, then his toes touched something solid. He crouched carefully and found her arm with his questing hand. He found he was grateful to have his hand off the wall. It had started to seem like he could almost picture the symbols there and it was making him slightly dizzy. "Jody? Do you think you can get up if I help you?"

"Chitty Chitty Bang Bang bit the big black car," Jody said solemnly. "The lobsters were unhappy."

As gently as he could, Sam pulled Jody to her feet. "Lobsters?" he asked. He could almost see them. They were like an afterimage on his retinas, fading when he tried to look closer.

"Sam? Get out here now!" Dean called.

Sam realized he was starting to see weird and wonderful shapes against his closed eyelids. They moved hypnotically. Trying to buy himself a little time through distraction, Sam worked to calculate the largest square number under a thousand. At the same time, he put a loop of rope around Jody and wrapped her in his arms, all but picking her up. "Pull us out," he called back to Dean. Then, softer, said, "961." The number seemed to dance among the symbols, making Escher-inspired shapes that his gaze couldn't help but follow. "I shouldn't go down the staircase," he thought, clinging to the knowledge that he was somewhere he didn't want to be. Luckily, a beautiful white tiger appeared and leaped right off the Mobius strip he was trapped on, showing him an exit.

And there was something being held to his lips.

Sam grabbed it himself and took as big a drink as he could stand of the caustic beverage. Whiskey. Cheap and potent, Dean's two favorite attributes in hard liquor. Sam took a second, smaller drink, feeling the cobwebs abate, which was actually the opposite of how whiskey normally worked.

"More," Dean demanded and Sam finally looked at him. Dean was holding onto Jody, who still had a loop of rope around her waist. She was trying to whistle and looked more unkempt than he'd ever seen her, but there weren't any obvious signs of injury other than the drunken way she leaned against Dean and an uncharacteristic looseness in her posture.

"I'm okay now," Sam responded, putting the top back on Dean's flask. His voice was hoarse like he'd been screaming and there was a sharp pain behind his right eye. The ache increased if he even thought about the symbols that had wormed their way into his brain. He started in on the knot on the rope around his waist, feeling slightly abraded skin everywhere beneath it, not surprising given the way Dean must have gotten him out of the room.

"You sure?" Dean asked skeptically, ignoring Jody rhapsodizing about a cactus that looked just like Paul Newman. "No more talking about Sigmund Freud and Roy and their magic flying tiger?"

"You mean Sigfried and Roy?" Sam asked, trying not to wince at the thought of giving his brother ammunition for teasing.

"That's not what you said." Dean smiled, just a little.

"You were talking about chickens and fire hydrants," Sam answered a bit sulkily, finally getting the knot open. "You take Jody a safe distance away and see if you can get her drinking. Give her something decent from that haul you have in the trunk. Not that rock gut. I'm gonna burn this place down."

"Nope." Dean waited until Sam was free of the rope and handed over both Jody and the flask. "I know how you're feeling right now. I'm doing better, so you're on baby-sitting duty and I'm burning this cursed shithole."

Sam sighed and didn't argue. But Dean couldn't get to his work right away, since Jody's legs gave out on her about then and Sam only just managed to keep them both from toppling over. Grumbling, Dean swung Jody into his arms bridal style and carried her to her truck, Sam following and re-coiling the rope.

"Sorry, handsome," Jody drawled, sweet as syrup. "You're cute, but I'm married." She patted his cheek. "Too bad I didn't meet you when I was single. I even have handcuffs!"

He couldn't help it – Sam snorted so hard his head throbbed. Better yet, he could see in the light of the Impala's headlights that Dean was actually blushing. Apparently, all it took to toss his cockiness out the window was a come-on from a mother figure. It was fabulous.

Dean sat Jody on the passenger's seat up her truck and she nearly fell out on her face kicking her legs and grinning at Sam like they shared some big secret. Dean gave Sam a look that dared him to say anything. He took the rope and carried it to the Impala's trunk, fishing out the supplies he'd need to light the fire and a slightly higher caliber of booze that he had indulged in under the pretense of "hunting supplies." Sam, meanwhile, tried to keep Jody from face-planting and convince her to drink some whiskey. He quickly checked his phone and scrolled to Bobby's number despite the poor reception, putting it on speaker and setting it on the seat next to Jody.

"I coulda, coulda been a concert penis – pianis – piano player," Jody confided, and Sam took the opportunity to slip a sip of alcohol into her mouth. He wasn't willing to manhandle her the way he had Dean unless he absolutely had to.

"I didn't know you played the piano," Sam answered absently, listening to the phone give a crackly ring.

"Don't. But I coulda." Jody coughed explosively as Sam gave her another drink, liberally spraying his face and chest.

"Tell her to open up for the choo-choo," Dean advised from a distance.

"'Lo?"

"Bobby! We found Jody. She's okay. Not hurt, anyway, just confused."

"...hear you…her?"

"Yes!" Sam yelled into the phone. "We. Found. Jody!"

"...doing about...lair?"

"We're burning the whole damn thing down!" Dean shouted from where he was putting far more gasoline on the old wooden structure than necessary.

"What?"

"Burning it," Sam answered. "Crap!" As he'd poured a bigger drink of whiskey in Jody's mouth, she'd unexpectedly kicked out, catching him frighteningly close to the worst possible place. Only a quick flinch had saved him from serious pain. Dean snickered and threw a lit match at the base of the building.

"...later," Bobby said, almost entirely obscured by hissing over the line.

Sam decided to assume that Bobby was telling him to call back when he had better reception and tapped the phone to hang up. "How you doing, Jody?" he asked a little cautiously as she shakily helped him lift the bottle so she could drink more herself. She looked a little better, he thought. Or at least, now she looked just drunk, instead of completely stoned.

"Um…" Jody responded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Dunno." Sam found it encouraging. At least she was trying to answer him.

The fire had caught so quickly that Sam could already feel the heat from it. The ceiling collapsed in with a muted crash. Right, the wood had probably absorbed years' worth of alcohol fumes.

Dean appeared at Sam's elbow, took one look at his splattered face and burst out laughing. Then Jody leaned over and threw up on Dean's boots.

This time, Sam couldn't hold back. He laughed and laughed.

WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER

One day later

Jody's normal self-assurance seemed to have taken a bit of a dent, though Sam thought she'd recover it soon. After all, she'd been through a lot worse than an embarrassing hunt.

"You're not a full-time Hunter," Sam had comforted her. "And you haven't been doing it very long. And even the most experienced Hunters are caught by surprise sometimes."

"Sam and I would've been screwed too if there hadn't been two of us," Dean reassured her. "I'd never even heard of clear-cans or whatever."

"Some day I'll tell you 'bout the first time the Winchesters faced kappa mud guppies," was Bobby's contribution.

Sam and Dean immediately clamored their vetoes, which naturally made Jody curious. The recitation of the story had her almost in tears from laughter. In retaliation, Sam and Dean told her about the time pixies took up residence in Bobby's dryer.

The stories continued long into the night, with Jody even telling them about falling off a porch as an over-eager rookie police officer and nearly shooting off her own foot. By the end of the night, Sam was sure she felt better, and he felt like they had all bonded in a new way.

Dean, as he so often did, said it best. "Congrats, Jodes. Now you're really one of us."

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AN: Clurichaun (pronounced klʊər' ǐ kahn) is a creature from Irish mythology most known for its love of drinking and tendency to haunt anywhere that alcohol is stored or made. They are small and mischievous, and my favorite thing about them is that they sometimes ride dogs like horses. Most of the "lore" I included I simply made up.

The Letter People and The Electric Company were both kids' shows in the 1970's.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is a magical, intelligent car in a trio of children's books written by Ian Fleming (yes, the guy who invented James Bond). Growing up, we had one of the books, and the line Jody quoted was my favorite line in the whole book. At least one movie was made about it, but I've never seen it.

Escher refers to Maurits Cornelis Escher, a late, Dutch artist who is best known for the optical illusions he drew, such as a staircase that always goes up.

Kappas are mythological Japanese creatures that live in mud and swimming holes and love to eat children...and cucumbers. No kidding.