Author's note: Thanks to Ghastly Eternity for putting up with my typos and all the missing commas, misplaces commas and commas that came completely out of the blue. Thanks a lot to every single person, who reviewed. It really means a lot to me to directly hear from you people. Also thanks to everyone who added this story to their favorites or story alerts.

5

The first thing Sam noticed about his new surroundings was that Dean had vanished once more, and by default that, that could never mean anything good!

Just a moment later he was distracted from his worries by realizing that for some reason he was just about to exit an airplane. Alright, he could go along with that he supposed.

He just hoped that this wasn't meant to be some sort of disaster-movie and that the very strong wind wasn't an indication for a hurricane or tornado about to come.

"Munich. 8:30 a.m.," the before unheard voiceover stated, damn near giving Sam a heart-attack in the process, "Extreme wind."

"You don't say," Sam muttered under his breath taking a step down the stairway. This was as far as he would get before a big piece of paper hit him right in the face and thus momentarily disoriented the younger Winchester and made him take a tumble down the rest of the stairs.

"The hairstyle keeps," the voiceover commented.

Before Sam could register any pain or search himself for injuries the scene shifted to a beach that might have been some place in Florida. Dean was still missing however.

"Miami. 2:15 p.m.," the increasingly annoying voice made itself heard again, "Extreme heat."

Again Sam couldn't argue with that. If he had felt the urge to argue about something it would have been the choice of outfit the Trickster had given him. He probably should have been grateful that even though the swimming trunks were too tight for his personal taste, they at least weren't too close to being speedos, but Sam refused to appreciate small mercies in this case. After all, the other shoe had yet to drop as he was sure.

It wasn't quite a shoe but a gigantic beach ball instead, and it didn't as much drop as it did strike Sam in the back that proved him right.

"The hairstyle keeps."

The younger Winchester might have felt the urge to yell at the voiceover to shut the hell up but before he could even finish the thought he realized three things.

First; He was dressed properly again, which was the good thing. Second; It was now night, which was just stating neutral facts. And third; A couple of what looked like vampires were chasing him, which was pretty damn awful.

"Jerkwater town, Midnight," the narration returned still using the very same rather monotone voice as before, "Running for your life."

Once more Sam just had to agree with the voiceover no matter how much he hated it. He didn't have much time to focus on that as he tried to keep ahead of the seemingly starved vampires, which was getting harder by the second.

"Okay, okay, we get it," he finally panted toward the skies, "The hairstyle keeps!"

"Sam," Dean yelled as soon as he noticed that his brother was nowhere in sight but of course the younger Winchester didn't reply. "Son of a bitch."

If that douchebag of a Trickster thought that they'd give in just because he separated them, he was wrong!

At least the bathroom he was in looked quite decent, he had to admit that much. The fact that he was in a bathroom to begin with was worrying however. This basically screamed horror-flick yet again!

Dean quickly scanned the room for any object he might be able to use the moment Norman Bates or any other killer walked into the room. There really wasn't much to choose from but he felt unexplainably drawn to a can sitting on the shelf by the basin.

"Better than nothing," he muttered picking it up and noticing that it was some kind of deodorant as he did so.

Once more Dean didn't quite know why he did it but he had the overwhelming urge to spray some into the room. He of course knew that this was most likely the Trickster influencing him, but in this case Dean didn't see the point in resisting. There were better things he should preserve his energies for.

"Okay… that's actually not half-bad," he nodded to himself slightly, beginning to wonder if he should just leave the room.

He didn't get the chance to move before something crashed through the roof and landed right in front of his feet. Only when the dust had settled a little could Dean see that it was indeed Castiel lying flat on his face. The angel groaned slightly and the Winchester just kept staring for another few moments – to be honest though he didn't think anyone could have managed not to stare dumbly considering that Castiel was wearing some kind of tunic and what probably even were his real wings were on display – before he moved to help his friend up.

"Damn, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, "What the hell was that anyway?"

Castiel looked quite determined to say something while he had the time but before he could do more than grab Dean's shoulder what the Winchester would only be able to describe as a voiceover interrupted them.

"The new Axe Excite – even angels will fall!"

Dean hit the table he was suddenly sitting at with his balled fist in frustration. Again Castiel had been taken away before he could have said anything!

At the other side of the table, Sam jumped slightly.

The Winchester brothers looked at each other and there was no use denying that they were quite glad to have been reunited at least.

Apparently they were sitting in a bar, not unlike most of the thousands they had been in over the years, and a cute red-haired waitress was coming their way with two beers. They both started searching for the catch immediately. There had to be one, this much was absolutely clear.

"Here you go," the waitress piped giving Dean a flirty look and a wink before setting the beverages on the table. If the brothers didn't have good reasons to believe that this might be another commercial for something to do with sexually transmitted diseases Dean would have flirted back. Instead he grabbed the beer and took a swig. He frowned even as his eyes lit up slightly.

"This is great," Dean commented before disbelievingly taking another drink.

Sam smirked slightly as he raised the bottle in front of him and pointed the label out for his brother. "Alcohol free," he read out loud to make completely sure that the older Winchester got the message.

"Son of a bitch had to ruin it!" Dean complained with a sour expression.

"Unwanted body hair, a problem most women know all too well," a cheerful female voice stated just a moment after the Winchester brothers found themselves in a quite bland looking setting this time. There was no color anywhere, white walls and a white floor and no furniture to be seen.

It took a few more moments before Sam realized that he was wearing shorts and there was a very suspicious looking something attached to his right leg. The younger Winchester gulped, his eyes turning even wider when he confirmed that he was the only one who had at some point been attacked with wax stripes.

It wasn't very reassuring that Dean had a certain expression on his face either.

"Don't you dare," Sam warned his brother moving away from him ever so slightly, "Seriously dude, this is where I draw the line!"

"Don't think that the Trickster will care for that," Dean replied not apologetic in the slightest as he tackled his brother to the floor and gripped the edge of the wax stripe, "Relax and think of England, Sammy."

"Our new formula allows for very smooth and gentle hair removal," the narration set in again, "Many women are too afraid to wax their legs afraid that it might hurt but..."

The rest of the statement was forever lost when Dean pulled the wax stripe off his brother's leg and Sam screamed bloody murder.

The spot on Sam's leg still hurt, so this time he had actually taken something from the one setting to the next. It seemed he hadn't taken his brother with him once more however. To be honest though after that last incident it was probably better that he didn't have the chance to get into an argument with Dean.

Before he could get into his musings even more a rather bland looking guy handed him a glass of Coca-Cola if the writing on his cap was any indication. All in all he looked normal enough, cropped hair, round face and a rather average built. All that and the encouraging smile the guy gave Sam still did nothing to make him feel better about drinking anything the Trickster clearly wanted him to drink though.

He had only just taken a sip as another man pushed a new glass into his free hand.

This one wore a cap and shirt saying Pepsi. The guy was quite short and not in the way most people looked short standing next to Sam, he quite clearly was objectively seen on the short side of the spectrum. Besides he physically resembled the Trickster in more ways than Sam was comfortable with. If he had had a stake at hand he might have used it just to be sure. Instead he took a sip of the new glass. There was nothing else he could do anyway.

"And?" the one guy prompted before the other one continued, "Which is better?"

Sam frowned slightly and shrugged, "Sorry, I can't tell a difference."

Before the younger Winchester knew what was happening, he was flying through a window.