World of Winchester-Craft (continued)
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
A/N: Heya! This chapter is for Realhuntress, who prompted me way back in April for some Evil Mother Goose. Hon, I have not forgotten that, but it did take me a while to do your awesome prompt justice. I combined it with johnboy91719's brilliant suggestion for what Castiel could be like in Fantasia, and fweeshpow! The weirdest, crackiest thing I've ever thought up poofed into my mind. In fact, it's so cracky that I'm going to make this chapter into a two-parter, just to make sure we get every ounce of cracky goodness out of it!
Oh and a mild warning: normally my fics are rated T, or PG-13. This chapter could maybe be an R, for some crass situations. Just putting it out there to be safe. Off we go! And for all of you who have taken the time to review, THANK YOU. I truly appreciate you letting me know that my story does not, in fact, suck. ::HUGS::
Chapter Seven: Rhymes of the Times
Dean has never understood why anyone would ever kiss the ground until right now, when his car-turned-dragon finally touches down after an hour of horrible swoops and loops. Dean jumps off her long neck and kisses the ground with all he's got—even slips it some tongue.
"Want me to leave you two alone for a while?" Sam teases from next to Dean's ear. Dean swats him away with one hand and brushes grass off his mouth with the other. Then he drops onto his back, still breathing hard from abject terror. Sam's grin falls as he lands on Dean's chest and feels that big heart pounding away. The Impala dips her head down as well, chirruping softly in concern.
"Dean, hey…" Sam soothes. "Take some deep breaths before you black out, all right?"
"Hate…flying," Dean pants.
"I know, Dean, but—"
Dean grabs him and holds the fairy right up in front of his face. "HATE IT!" Dean snarls. "And don't tell me to get over it. You can't just get over something you've had your whole life, okay?"
He releases Sam, and his eyes go to his baby. Her head is drooped low, and her pale yellow eyes are sad. "C'mere," he waves, sitting up as she leans her snout into him. "It's not your fault, babe. I've been afraid of flying since before Sammy was born."
"Really?" Sam interrupts. Dean glances at him and nods. "I didn't know that. What happened?"
"Long story for another time—or better yet, never," Dean grunts. Then he looks back at his dragon and rubs along her jaw line. "Doesn't matter if I hate it, cos I know you love it. I could feel it in here," he pats over his heart. "So you can keep the wings. Just, PLEASE, only use them when we absolutely have to, all right? That's all I'm askin'."
She covers him in silken kisses, and Dean laughs as he stands up. His toes wriggle in the grass, and he realizes he never grabbed his boots. "I got 'em," Sam informs him, and he pulls something out of his pink jacket's pocket and holds it out for Dean to see. They're his boots, only really teeny tiny—even too small for Sam to wear. "Remembered them while we were escaping, so I made them travel-sized." He flutters to the ground and sets them down. A few beats of his wings later and the mukluks are back to normal and ready for Dean's feet.
"Good, my tootsies were getting cold," he smiles as he steps into them.
"Tootsies?" Sam grins.
"Shaddup," Dean grunts. "I've been through a lot today."
"So? We both go through a lot every day."
"Did I nearly die on you this morning? No, but you nearly died on ME. Did you find out what it's like to have gills? NO, but I did, and then I almost drowned! Did YOU have to face your worst fear for a freaking hour while your brother and your sweetheart screamed for more? NO, but—"
"All right, all right, I get it. Enough with the Blame Game." Sam turns away from his brother's smug, argument-winning grin and has a look around. "So where are we, anyway?"
Dean spies wildflowers and grassy hillsides around them and replies, "I don't know, but ten bucks Laura Ingalls is gonna frolic down that hill any second." He points to the hill in front of them, and Sam smirks.
"That village at the top has more of a Brothers Grimm vibe. Maybe it'll be the Big Bad Wolf?"
"We already fought him, remember? Coma patient ghost that made all the fairytale stories come true?"
"We fought OUR Big Bad Wolf," Sam clarifies, "but not Fantasia's version."
"You and your damn logic," Dean complains, looking around at the rest of the scenery. "Oh great, there's a big spooky forest behind us, too." He looks over at his baby, who is lying down in the soft grass. "You couldn't have landed us on a nice sunny beach somewhere?"
"Dean, I think the map is flashing again." Sam points to Dean's leather pouch, where a red, blinking light is radiating through the cover flap. Dean takes Mississippi's map out and the blinking stops as he unravels it. The old map to Candyland erases and changes. Soon, small pictures of the forest, glade, and hill-top village etch into the surface. Then the dotted line forms, pointing first to the forest, and then up to the village.
"A two-fer," Dean groans. "Great. Wonder what we've got to face this time?"
A little squeal hits their ears, and something red and furry attaches itself to Dean's calf. "What the…" Dean shakes his leg, but the critter clings tight. Dean grabs it by the scruff of fur behind its neck and holds it up. Furry goat legs and a tail hang down.
"I think it's a baby satyr," Sam guesses. Dean laughs, and Sam looks up. "What?"
"Satyr, yeah, but he's not a baby." Dean turns the little guy around, and Sam finds Castiel's face looking back at him. His skin may be brick red, but it's definitely him. Sam snerks at the sight.
"Cas? What the hell?"
The satyr shows no sign of knowing either of them. "He's probably like Fobby and Rufus the Pastry Chef," Dean says. "This is Fantasia's Cas, not ours." He sets the satyr down and ruffles the dark hair between two little, red horns. "Not a virgin here, are ya, Cas?"
Castiel the Satyr jumps Dean's calf again and starts dry humping it. "Hey!" Dean peels the body off, and Cas jumps to the other leg and grinds away. Sam smirks, and first Dean frowns, but then gets an idea and smirks back. "What about Sam, Cas? Don't leave him out!"
The satyr remains on Dean but grabs the fairy and starts rubbing Sam's crotch with a chubby red finger. Both Winchesters squirm, and Sam flaps his wings and blows Cas off. Er, not like THAT. Like a gust of wind blowing him away. Yeah. Anyway, the little satyr rights himself and pouts. His big eyes are full of need. They're amber instead of blue, but just as intense as their angelic counterparts.
"Hungry," he cries in Castiel's familiar monotone—though it sounds huskier in the satyr version.
"Well we can help you out there," Dean smiles. "Hang on little guy." The satyr claps his hands as Dean gets the magic plate out of the leather pouch. "Whatcha hungry for, Cas? Sandwich? Cookies? Pizza?"
The satyr sticks out his tongue and points to his furry nether region. "I think he's hungry for sex," Sam answers. From the way Castiel's tail swishes, it's clear the fairy is right.
"Well no deal," Dean retorts. "We don't swing that way. Sorry."
"But…hungry!" Cas pleads, folding his arms over his bare red chest.
"So? Go sex up someone else—maybe another satyr?"
"All hungry," he snaps. Then he pulls a pan flute out of…somewhere in his fur…and blows a flutey tune. Soon, dozens of satyrs emerge from the bushes. All are just as small and 'hungry' as Cas.
"You're all sex-starved?" Dean asks, and they all nod. "Maybe that's why they're so shrimpy," he says to Sam, and then turns back to the little red dudes. "You guys are usually a lot bigger, right?" More nodding. Sam flutters down to them.
"Why aren't you getting any action?"
The satyrs run off and beckon them to follow. Sam and Dean are led to a sign near the front of the woods. It is nailed to a tree, and for some reason, written in verse:
A proclamation, to keep the peace!
No swearing, lies, or lewdness, please
And to ensure this goodness throughout,
All forms of sex are hereby RULED OUT
It's icky and sticky and in no way good,
So no funny business—is that understood?
For I have been ordered to keep you in line
Do not disobey, and all will be fine
"Signed, Your Mayor Elect, Emily 'Mother' Goose," Sam reads aloud. "Seriously?"
"Mother Goose has banned sex." Dean rubs his forehead. "Now I've officially heard everything."
"How long?" Sam asks the satyrs.
"Sign up two weeks," Castiel replies sadly. Dean gives them all a look of sympathy.
"So you can't do anything? Not even, you know…honk your own horn?" The satyrs shake their heads no, and Dean shakes his in turn. "That sucks. I mean, really, REALLY sucks. What's her problem, anyway? Is she the world's biggest prude or what?"
They hear a screech, and Dean and Sam look over at the Impala. But she shakes her head to indicate it wasn't her. The screech comes again, and the satyrs go into a panic. Castiel grabs Sam and then takes Dean's hand and pulls him deeper into the forest. The Impala follows, and she hides them all under her wings. They peek out as something big lands in the glade. It's a huge bird—a goose, to be precise.
"Is that her?" Dean whispers to Cas.
"No, her pet," he answers. "Keeps eye on us. Make sure no fun-fun."
"This is beyond weird," Sam remarks. "Even our kind of weird. Why would she ban sex?"
"Maybe she needs to get laid, but no one's interested in knocking her knickers?" Dean suggests. Then he frowns and looks down. "You can stop humping my knee, Cas."
The satyr grumbles and steps away. "Hungry."
"Hungry," the other satyrs nod. Dean stands up, looking mad.
"C'mon, Sammy. Let's talk some sense into this chick before Cas and company all starve to death." Dean looks at Cas. "Does she live up in the village?" Castiel nods. "Okay. You wait here. We'll be back."
The Impala gives Dean a nudge and Sam a lick as the boys run and fly off, respectively. As they move out of the woods, the giant goose squawks at them and tries to bite. The Impala jumps out at once, landing in front of the foul fowl and screeching a warning into its face. "Thanks, baby!" Dean calls. "Keep Feathers busy while we're gone." The Impala chirrups that she will. The goose tries to step around the dragon, but a warning in the form of a fiery blast puts it in its place. Dean looks back and grins as he starts up the hill.
"She's so awesome," Sam says. Dean is so surprised that he stumbles. Sam frowns. "What? She is!"
"Yeah, I KNOW. It's about time you realized it!"
"So what do you think is going on? Is Mother Goose Fantasia's version of a PC Bitch?"
Dean gives him a sly grin. "Wow, Sammy. Never took you to be anti-PC."
"I'm not against it completely," Sam argues, "I just don't like that some people always take it too far, and it makes everyone else afraid to say ANYthing, y'know?"
"Hey, don't get your wings in a twist—I'm agreeing with you here!"
"So why are you so surprised about my opinion on this issue?"
Dean gives him a look, and Sam crosses his arms and waits for an answer. "Dude, I'm not…surprised. I just…"
"What?" Sam snits. Dean gives half a chuckle, sees Sam's seriousness, and shrugs.
"You're always correcting me, y'know? Like that time I mentioned Siamese Twins—"
"CONJOINED Twins."
"See? Just like that!" Dean exclaims, holding his hands in gesture to Sam. "I just figured you'd be very pro-PC anything. And the fact that you aren't…" Sam raises both eyebrows, and Dean smiles. "I'm proud of you, okay?"
Sam gives a little smile now. "You are? Really?"
"Yeah. Really." Now it's Dean's turn to look a little pissy. "Why, is that stupid to you?"
"What? No!"
"Uh-huh."
"Dean…"
"Drop it, Sparkles. We're here."
They arrive at the top and behold a sign that welcomes them to Hickory Dickory Hill. The village itself looks straight out of a storybook: little homes with red, pointy roofs, cobbled streets, flowers, fountains, meandering alleyways that are safe instead of scary and hiding muggers…it's all-around charming. The only thing that threatens to ruin the view is the sight of nailed proclamations on nearly every wall of every building. They see the one from the woods that Cas showed them, but find several others as well. They step up to the long one nailed to the bakery and read on:
Sex and lies are vices true
And mustn't be sought out
You're better off abstaining—
Of this there is no doubt!
Our town is clean, our hearts are pure,
All inner demons purged
Since coming here, I've brought you peace—
Good will and order merged
And so to keep our village safe
I pray you, stay the course!
For lawbreakers will pay the price
Through torture and brute force
Dean whistles and shakes his head. "What crawled up her Puritanical ass?"
"Puritans still had sex for procreation," Sam points out. "What's going on here is just…stupid."
"Guess we should at least hear her out. Any ideas where she might be?" They look around, but all the buildings seem the same. Then Dean spots a door with a sign overhead that bears a beer mug. "Let's ask in there. We could use a drink anyway."
They duck inside and find a huge tavern. A huge, empty tavern, that is, devoid of life save for the bartender, who is reading a book. Dean sits down at the bar, and Sam perches on his shoulder. "Two beers," Dean orders.
The bartender looks up from his pages. "Two what?"
"Beers."
"We don't serve beer anymore."
Sam and Dean look at each other. "Okay," Dean says, "What DO you serve?"
"Water or goat's milk."
"You're kidding," Sam gapes.
"Nope. No alcohol, no caffeine, no crunkels."
Neither Winchester knows what crunkels are, but they get the gist. "Lemme guess," Dean says as he leans over the bar, "More Mother Goose rules?"
"Of course," a woman answers as she joins the bartender. She's wearing a blouse buttoned all the way up and a long, plain blue skirt. "Our Lady Mayor knows what's best."
Dean gives them his 'seriously?' eyebrows, but Sam keeps his sympathy on his face and says, "We're strangers here. Would you mind explaining to us why your village has so many rules?"
The man shrugs. "We were wicked. Now we're good."
"Since Mother Goose was elected, our streets have been peaceful."
"Uh-huh," Dean mutters. "And how's business been?"
"Lousy," the woman snaps—and quickly slaps a hand over her mouth, suddenly appearing terrified. The door pushes open, and two 12-year-old kids come in. They're dressed like the sternest cops on Earth: all black, solarized sunglasses, no smiles.
"Everything happy and well, Judy?" the girl asks in a monotone.
"Yes!" Judy swears. "Very happy, quite well, thank you!"
The bartender grabs a glass. "May we offer you a cold glass of goat's milk, officers?"
"We are fine, Punch," the girl replies, still all business and monotone-y. They pause to look at the strangers before making their exit. Then the two behind the bar breathe in relief.
"Watch your mouth," Punch snaps in a whisper.
"YOU shut up! It's your fault they check in on us all the time!"
"Only because you just bitch and bitch and BITCH instead of helping me!"
She kicks him in the shin and grabs a glass, drying it like she's trying to rub it out of existence.
"Punch and Judy," Dean says at length, sharing a look of 'oookay' with his brother. "So who were those two?"
"Jack and Jill," Punch mutters. "Head of law and order around here."
"Emphasis on order," Judy grumbles, grabbing another glass.
"You mean the kids with the hill and the pail?" Sam asks, and Judy nods.
"They don't fetch water anymore, if that's what you're after. Not since Jack broke his crown and got…" she shivers, "serious."
"Now he an' his sister make sure no one breaks anything, especially the law," Punch finishes.
"But why?"
"We've answered enough of your questions," Judy barks. "Now please leave before you get the both of us locked up."
The brothers take their leave. The moment they step outside, they're greeted by a 30-something woman in a frilly purple dress, red sausage curls, and old granny boots.
"We DO have visitors, how wonderful!" the woman trills, and she holds her hand out with her fingers dipped down. "I'm Emily Goose, though most people call me "Mother" or "your Mayorship."
Sam flutters down and kisses the back of her hand. "I'm Sam, and this is my brother—"
"Turfner!" Dean gasps. Sam looks back and finds his brother's eyes full of surprise…and lust. He's staring at Mother Goose like she's sex personified.
"Is there something wrong with your brother?" Emily asks, eyeing the barbarian with a fair amount of revulsion.
"No, he's fine!" Sam elbows Dean in the shoulder as hard as he's able. "Right, Dean?"
"Turrrfnerrr," Dean purrs in reply, giving the woman the ol' elevator eyes, and a sly grin appears on his face. He steps forward and looms over her, eight-plus feet of obvious want. Emily looks down, makes a face, and jumps back, revolted.
"Fiend!" she shrieks, pointing a shaking finger at the sizeable tent in Dean's furry underoos. "Arrest him this instant!"
Sam flies down in front of the furry…pointy…yeah, in a feeble attempt to block it from view (which is stupid, since it's far bigger than he is, but he tries anyway, the doof). "Your Mayorship, please…Dean doesn't mean any harm. He just can't control himself sometimes!"
"Oh I've got control," Dean utters in his sexiest, lowest voice, still focused on Emily. "I've been waiting for you for 16 years. I was only a kid then, but now?" He pulls out the lady-killer grin and holds his arms out wide. "I am all grown-up." Dean moves up in front of the woman, trapping the poor fairy between her tight corset and his still furry-pointy-yeah. "Want to find out just how much I've grown?" Dean asks, making both Emily and Sam feel sick.
"Right, that's enough," Jill announces, and she pulls Emily away from the offending barbarian. "Jack? Neutralize him."
The silent 12-year-old boy turns to Dean, and Dean sniffs, "What're you gonna do, kid? Hit me with your pail?" Jack replies with a creepy smile, and his eyes glow blue. An invisible force sends Dean high into the air, his big body turning over and over as he rises up over the village. Then the same invisible force changes directions, and in a second, Dean is thrown into the cobbled streets in a huge SMASH, creating a crater right in the middle of the town square. Then it happens again. And a third time. But as Jack brings Dean up for another go, he's met with a fairy's fist, right in his nose. It takes them both by surprise—Sam at how powerful his small fist still is, and Jack at being struck. It sends the boy sprawling, and Dean lands on a cart of hay.
"Dean!" Sam flies over to the stricken barbarian, but Dean is out cold and badly bruised. Jack approaches, and Sam hovers in front of Dean, positively cracking with angry energy. "Try anything, and you'll regret it," Sam warns.
"Funny, Jack was just thinking the same thing," Jill provides, standing next to her brother as he gives Sam a creepy smile.
"CHIIIIRRRAAWAWWWW!" The Impala lands while her battle-cry is still ringing through everyone's ears, and she lands between the twins, glaring at both of them in turn. Emily shrieks, backing away from the huge dragon until her back hits the fountain's wall and she stumbles. The Impala's arrival attracted a crowd, and shy citizens are now coming out of the woodwork and circling the scene. Emily regains her composure and glares pure hatred at the dragon.
"What is that godforsaken BEAST doing in my town?"
"Who you callin' godforsaken beast, honey?" Dean drawls as he sits up. Sam looks over his shoulder to check on him, and Dean nods that he's fine, even though he holds a big hand to his aching head. He stands up and walks over to his girl. "My baby is beautiful. Sleek. Powerful. A true lady." The Impala dips her head down and purrs into Dean's chest, and he rubs her snout. "And godforsaken? More like God-SENT."
"She is evil and I want her gone this instant! JACK!"
The boy's eyes glow blue, but as he focuses on the growling dragon, his view is suddenly concealed by a wall of red: a small satyr has appeared out of nowhere and is suction-cupped to Jack's face—and is kissing him. Roughly.
"Cas!" Dean laughs, highly amused at the satyr's antics, especially when he slips his ridiculously long tongue into Jack's ear. Dean moves over to Sam, who is also watching on, though he seems a bit more bemused than his brother.
"So they fight with sex too?" Sam wonders aloud.
"Must be all they know," Dean grins. "Jack better hope Cas stops with the make-out session."
Suddenly poor Castiel goes flying, courtesy of Jack's telekinesis, and his little furry butt smacks into the cobbled street, right next to where Emily is still cowering. He rolls over and looks up. She stares back, frozen in a cringe. His big amber eyes get really big and deep and cute. She un-cringes ever so slightly. He waves. She lifts her hand and waggles a fingertip. He smiles. She gives a weak one back. He makes kissy lips. She screams and runs across the street, and Castiel, dejected, plods back over to Dean and gives his boot a single, halfhearted grind.
"ENOUGH!" Emily hollers. "You are all hereby banished for life! WINKYYYYY! GET OUT HERE!"
"Winky?" Castiel repeats, sounding hopeful as his tail swishes rapidly. The townspeople have the opposite reaction: many have disappeared back into their homes and shops, leaving only a handful in the square, each of them rubber-necking at the curved street beyond the dragon. Jack and Jill are both smiling. Sam flutters over to the closest villager.
"What's a winky?" he asks—and ignores the snort he hears from Dean behind him.
"Wee Willie Winky," the villager replies—and also ignores the louder snort the barbarian lets loose. "He's the town's night guard. Makes sure everyone's in their beds after curfew."
"And if they're not?" Sam asks. The villager shivers and gives Sam a look of foreboding.
"You get relocated."
THUD
All in the square shake with the tremor, and they turn around to face the unseen threat. "I'm guessing Winky isn't all that wee," Dean comments, readying his sword.
THUD
"And I'm guessing the relocation isn't exactly a peaceful process," Sam adds, readying his…well, he has nothing to ready, really, so he gives his wings a few hard flaps just so he can do SOMEthing to prepare. They see a dark shadow creeping over the street, and they all look up. And up.
THUD-THUD THUD. A 20-foot brute of a man stands before them, dressed almost comically in a policeman's uniform that's about three sizes too small. The top is snug around his middle and resting above his bulging gut. The pants only reach to the fatty knees. The boots are ripped open at the toes, and long, yellowed toe nails scratch at the stone street. The only thing that doesn't look out of place is the huge night stick he wields. The brute looks at the dragon, the barbarian, the fairy, and the satyr in turn, and he grins. Two rotting teeth, one on top, one on the bottom, stick out and nearly stab into his cracked lips.
"Troublemakers, eh, m'lady?" he says in a thick Scottish brogue. "What would ye have me do wiv 'um?"
"Get them out of my sight and out of our town." Emily wipes her hands down her purple dress, still looking a bit rattled. "Now if you'll please excuse me, I have to perform three consecutive cleansing rites to feel like myself again after being around those two…things." She gives Dean and Castiel the stink eye before she turns and click-clacks away, heading for a big house at the end of the street. Jack and Jill follow her, leaving Winky alone to take care of things. He clomps forward, and the two remaining townspeople, a man and a woman, cower behind Dean.
"So, little man!" Winky taunts. "Will ye go willingly, or do ye need a bit of persuadin' now?"
"How about neither, and you fuck off right now?" Dean sasses back.
Winky laughs. "A right fire cracker you are! I'll have fun shuttin' yer mouth for good." He raises his huge fist, and in a flash, Dean has his sword embedded deep in the brute's foot. Winky lets out a roar and tries to grab Dean, but Dean dodges him and grabs the huge man by his belt, lifts him off the ground with ease, and hurls him at the thick stone wall that encircles the town. He grins with satisfaction as he dusts his hands clean, but the townspeople still look afraid.
"You shouldn't have done that," the woman whimpers.
"What? Why?"
"Because that's the theng abou' brutes…" Winky lands with a BANG, seeming to have dropped from the sky. "The more hits we take, the stronger we get!" And with that, he backhands Dean through the same city wall.
He doesn't get back up.
The Impala growls at the brute, and Winky laughs at her. "What're you gonna do, darlin'? Breathe fire on me? My skin's too thick—you won't leave a mark on me." The dragon keeps growling, though she does shut her mouth. Winky nods. "All right then! Who wants t'go first?" Everyone shrinks back against the dragon's side. "Ach, no volunteers?" Winky asks. "No matter. I can handle group oustings just fine." His big hands reach forward.
"NO!" Sam shouts, and he feels magic burst forth from every part of his being.
All falls quiet. Sam opens one eye…then the other. Winky is gone. So is the entire town. He feels a tap on his shoulder and whirls around to find Castiel there, too. The Impala is behind him, looking just as bewildered, and the two townspeople are clinging to each other.
"I must've brought us all back here," Sam realizes. Then his face falls. "Oh shit, DEAN!" Sam flies up high and looks around for his brother. He finds him on the far side of the dragon, thankfully beginning to stir. Sam breathes in relief and flutters toward him, just as the Impala notices Dean and leans in.
"Unnngh…" Groggy and sore, Dean puts a hand to his aching face and feels for missing teeth. To his relief, they're all still there.
"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Sam quips as he flies into view.
Dean groans at the joke. "Whatever, Rapunzel." Sitting up, Dean finds himself surrounded by soft scales and worried purrs. He smiles and pets his baby. "I'm fine, sweetheart," he assures her. She kisses his forehead—or at least, Dean thinks she does, until he remembers that dragons don't have lips. He looks up just as Cas starts kissing his freckles. "I'm FINE, Cas," he grunts, brushing the little satyr off. Castiel stays put, though he can't help but slide his hand through Dean's hair one last time. The dragon leans her head down, and Dean holds onto her as he slowly gets to his feet, and he takes in his surroundings. "How did we get back here?"
"I teleported us," Sam answers. Dean gives him a look of surprise. "I think."
Dean's surprise becomes joy. "That is so COOL!" He gives Sam as gentle a pat on the shoulder as he can manage, and the fairy still coughs from the huge hand pounding away at his back. Dean stops his 'assault' and brings his hand back to his pulsing migraine. He suddenly looks a little lost. "So, um…what happened before that?"
"Don't you remember? Wee Willy Winky? The fight?"
"Ohhh yeah, that asswipe." Dean cracks his knuckles, but the lost look swiftly returns, and his green eyes look up at his brother. "Why'd he attack us again? What did we do?"
"WE didn't do anything," Sam snits. "But YOU got turned on by Mother Goose of all people, and she freaked out when you tried to make a move on her!"
Dean gives a little smile. "Oh yeah…Turfner. Now I remember." His eyes go dreamy. "She still looks…SO good!"
"Who the hell is Turfner?" Sam yells, his little temper flaring with his nostrils.
"Ms. Turfner was my eighth-grade math teacher. First time I ever used "mizz," and first time I ever paid attention in math." The dreamy eyes fill with desire. "The thing that woman could do with circles…" Sam's eyebrows reach for the sky, and Dean smirks, "Let's just say she made my radius into a diameter."
Sam rolls his eyes. "And what's she got to do with Mother Goose?"
"She looks EXACTLY like Ms. Turfner. Well, not the granny boots or the froofy dress…Ms. Turfner always wore mini-skirts and see-through blouses…" Dean licks his lips and looks up at his fluttering, unamused brother. "She was a goddess, Sammy. A goddamn goddess, and I wanted her…SO bad. Even got detention on purpose one Friday just so we'd be alone."
Dean looks off into space, so Sam has to fly in front of him to get his attention back. "And? What happened?"
"She turned me down…told me I was sweet, but too young." Dean looks disappointed, but he takes in a deep breath and cheers up again as he adds, "She kissed my forehead and let me go home early. I never saw her again: Dad finished up his hunt and we moved two days later."
Sam rubs his forehead. "So you're saying that we got banished from the town because you're…hot for teacher?"
"I got it bad, sooooo bad," Dean sings and grins. "And I get a second chance. How fucking awesome is that?"
"Yeah, Dean," Sam deadpans. "Awesome. That's the word for it."
Dean ignores the sarcasm and looks at the two townsfolk. "So who are they?"
"I'm Simon," the man says, shaking Dean's offered hand, "and this is Muffy." Muffy doesn't shake hands—she's too busy giggling at all the attention she's getting from three little satyrs. One is even giving her under-the-skirt attention. Dean stares for a moment before Sam "ah-HEM!"s his attention away, and Dean looks back at Simon, only to find Simon watching Muffy as well and looking…wistful. He realizes he's being watched and clears his throat.
"Sorry, it's just been a really…" he fiddles his thumbs and licks his lips, "really long time."
"Same thing we hear from Cas and his friends," Dean tells him. The remaining satyrs have emerged from the woods, and they're all crowding around Muffy, like they're waiting their turns. Dean smirks when Muffy starts making happy, high-pitched noises, and Sam has to pull him by his ear to get him to turn away.
"OW! Okay, sheesh!" Dean swats his brother away and puts his back to the interesting action behind him. "So what the hell does Turf—er, Mother Goose have against sex anyway?"
"None of us really know," Simon admits. He gestures for them to sit down, and Sam lands on Dean's shoulder as his brother sets himself down by a tree and leans back against the bark. "A few years ago, our town was very different. There was money everywhere, and liquor, and orgies…" Dean sits forward at the word, and all the satyrs pause and look over at them. Castiel even emerges from his hiding place just behind Dean's tree and looks at Simon with those big amber eyes of his. Simon takes note and grins. "These little guys weren't so little then, and MAN do they know how to have fun. They started most of the orgies, in fact." Simon thumps his fist on the ground. "GOD, the ORGIES!" He and Dean both look to the skies as their respective memories and imagination take over. Sam rolls his eyes at both of them.
"THEN what happened?" he asks loudly. Simon blinks back to the here and now and heaves a sigh.
"Well, I guess you could say we got a little too fast and loose with our money and sex. The crime rate skyrocketed. The orgies stopped because everyone was too afraid to leave their homes. We needed help." He sighs again. "Instead, we got Mother Goose."
"She'd been away for years," Muffy continues as she joins them, face flushed from the apparent fun she just had. "We were in school together growing up, and she was always Miss Perfect, y'know? Never did anything wrong. Teacher's pet. It was so annoying. So when she was sent away to finishing school, we were all pretty relieved that we wouldn't have to put up with her anymore."
"And then she came back," Sam says, and Muffy groans.
"And she was worse than ever. Well, none of us knew that at first. That wasn't until after the campaign, and after she was elected Mayor."
Simon nods. "She promised to clean up the town, and with everyone still so scared of all the crime, she got voted in easily. And at first, things were great, y'know? She hired a new police force and they got rid of all the criminals in a matter of weeks. We all signed a new town charter, and she promised that she'd never let things get out of hand again."
"And then she went Napoleon on your asses," Dean says. Sam gives him a look, and Dean frowns. "What? I know some history!"
Simon and Muffy look confused, but eventually Muffy says, "Well, if by 'napoleon' you mean she went mad with power, then, yes. She made rules and regulations for everything, from what people could wear to what they could say or sell or do. People started getting arrested for the most minor offenses. I got thrown in jail one day simply because I baked Better Than Sex cake. Now I have to eat curds and whey for every meal."
"Wait," Sam says, eyeing her close. "You're…Little Miss Muffet?"
"I am now, thanks to Emily. She wrote a rhyme about me, decreeing my punishment. Have you ever tried curds and whey? It's disgusting! And I hate sitting on tuffets. And don't get me started on the stupid spider." She drops her face into her hands.
Sam glances at Dean, who looks just as baffled by this news, before he turns to the man. "Simon…like Simple Simon?"
Simon nods. "Actually my name is Simon Simple. The mayor's the one who decided it should be the other way. And one day, when I couldn't pay for my food, she threw me in jail and wrote a rhyme about it, just like with Muffy." He shakes his head. "The only reason I couldn't afford the pie was because there was a hole in my pocket and all my money fell out! Now everyone thinks that I'm some stupid cheapskate thanks to her stupid rhyme."
Dean's eyebrows are so high that they're hurting him, but he can't bring them down. Not with this latest batch of crazy. "So you're saying that Mother Goose nursery rhymes are actually…police records?" Muffy and Simon both nod. Dean still can't believe it. "So Jack be nimble…?"
"Poor kid is always so hyper," Simon tells them, "running and jumping all over the place. Now if he gets caught doing either, he has to jump over a big candle that's almost as tall as he is. Burns his butt every time."
"And Little Bo Peep?"
"Emily decided she had too many pets, so she took away her sheep and cut off all their tails as a warning."
Now Dean shakes his head. "What a bitch!"
"So what led her to ban sex?" Sam asks. "And how do the satyrs fit in to all this?"
"It was a snowball effect," Simon begins. "First she set up a ridiculously early curfew. Then she shut down crowd gatherings, like our annual harvest celebration."
"Pretty much anything that was fun in any way was taken away," Muffy sighs. "No more games, no more dances, no more contests. Then she took away beer and slug, plus anything sweet, so no candy, no cakes, no pies, no nothing."
"And last but definitely not least, she banned sex," Simon announces. "That was the last straw for most people, and they tried to leave town, but the police kept everyone in. The satyrs were among us and were trapped just like the rest of us, and as they starved, they got desperate."
"Hungry," Castiel says sadly, and all look down at him. His big eyes look up at Dean's. "Didn't want hurt them…just so hungry!"
Muffy pats his hair. "The mayor didn't like seeing people get jumped in the streets, so she banished them to these woods. Now they're starving, we're all so stressed out that we're ready to break, and Mother Goose makes up new rules daily."
"We don't know what to do," Simon sighs. Muffy sighs too, followed by every single satyr. Then Dean chuckles and they all look at him in confusion.
"You're kidding, right?" Dean looks from Simon to Muffy, but neither one understands what he means. "The solution is so obvious…you…really? You don't see it?" His eyes go to Castiel. "Not even you?"
"See WHAT, Dean?" Sam asks.
"That the whole town needs to get laid—BIG time. Especially Mother Goose."
Cas jumps up and runs off with a squeal, the other satyrs titter with excitement, Simon and Muffy seem intrigued, but Sam looks at Dean like his brother has two heads. "How is sex going to fix anything?" Sam asks.
"Sex is the BEST stress-reliever there is, Sammy! How do you not know that?" Dean waits for him to answer, but when Sam opens his mouth, Dean talks first. "Look, no one is as uptight as this bitch is—NO one. It's unreal. My guess is that it's a front. Something happened to her at some point to make her like that. Maybe she had strict parents. Maybe her finishing school did too much finishing, I don't know! But every single thing she's outlawed has something to do with making yourself happy. So maybe if she learns how to be happy, she'll lift the rules!"
"And you think sex is the best way to bring her happiness?" Sam asks. Dean gets that special grin on his face, and Sam adds, "Ohhh, sex with YOU will teach her happiness."
Dean wriggles his eyebrows. "I like happy endings, what can I say?"
"Okay, so then what?" Simon asks, "Back to the orgies and the gambling?"
"Not exactly." Dean claps his hand on Simon's shoulder when the man's face falls. "You don't want your town to get out of control again, right? But you also don't want the strict rules that Mother Goose has right now. So you need a compromise. You need to show her that you can control yourselves—maybe then she'll loosen up those rules."
"But how can we get the town sexed up again without breaking all the rules?" Muffy argues.
Dean turns to the satyrs. "That's where these guys come in. Satyrs are basically sex on legs, right? If we can teach them how to control themselves, we can show Mother Goose that they're not dangerous at all. Then people will be free to have sex, either with them or with each other." Everyone mulls it over, save for Sam, who still looks like this is the most ridiculous plan he's ever heard.
"This is the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard," he says a second after I typed out what he looked like. "Satyrs are lusty, wild animals by NATURE! You just expect us to teach them how to ask first? Just like that?"
Dean shrugs. "Yeah, why not?"
"And you just assume that Mother Goose will want to have sex with you?"
"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer," Dean sniffs, turning away. Sam flies after him and hovers in front of his face.
"What about Jack and Jill and Winky? What are we supposed to do if they attack us?"
"You could teleport them far, far away or something." Dean looks around. "Anyone see where Cas went? And hey, whatever happened to that giant goose from earlier?"
"Deaaaan!"
The barbarian whirls on the fairy. "What, Sam? You got a better plan? Let's hear it." He crosses his arms and waits.
"Well…" Sam begins, letting the 'l' trail out into a pause. Dean lifts an eyebrow, and Sam throws him the bitchface. "It's just…" He puts his hands out to either side to make a point…but the point never comes. Dean's other eyebrow rises up, and he taps his boot. Sam finally gives in, frowning as he crosses his own little arms. "Fine. But for the record? This is insane."
Dean snorts. "What isn't in our lives?" Sam smirks and nods. Dean turns away and gives out a sharp whistle. "Okay, listen up! Training begins first thing tomorrow, so everyone, get some sleep, cos it's gonna be a long day." The satyrs run off into the woods, and Sam poofs up some sleeping bags for everyone else. Dean frowns when he notices that Castiel is still missing.
"Cas? Where'd you go?"
"I am here, Dean." The familiar voice is behind him, and when Dean turns, he finds a nearly normal-sized Cas looking up at him. Unfortunately, Dean notices that Not-So-Little Cas is also looking—well, pointing—up at him. Dean immediately turns his eyes to the evening sky.
"Cas, you're, uh…looking…full. I mean…healthy…er."
"I am nourished again, thank you. I look forward to tomorrow's lessons." The human-sized satyr trots off into the woods, happy and…bouncy…and Dean scratches his head and looks to Sam, who is also looking at the sky.
"He's gone, Sam."
Sam looks back carefully, just in case Dean is lying to embarrass his little brother, and nods when he finds the coast clear. "Thanks."
They hear the satyrs cheer in approval from within the woods, and Dean smiles. "So Cas got some. Good for him. But who did the deed? Did any of the other satyrs look bigger to you?"
"No, they were all still shrimpy."
"Weird." Dean whistles again, this time for his dragon. "Come on, baby. Quick supper, then it's bed time."
The dragon saunters over, her yellow eyes glowing and happy. A little TOO happy, actually. She gives both of her boys a nudge and then settles down, purring low and long. Sam looks at Dean. Dean looks at his happy dragon. The pieces fall into place, and the ground trembles with the barbarian's outrage.
"CAS!"
A/N Additional: Teehee! Yes, I am a dork—what of it? So what do you think? Will the crazy plan work? Will Castiel survive the wrath of Dean after violating his baby? Will Dean finally get to bang his teenage crush? Will Sam ever get over the headache he's sure to get from all of this insanity? Tune in next time to find out! And please drop me a review, if you have time :) Thanks for reading!