A/N I already did the good version of this episode, so now I'll do the silly one. Still hopefully better than canon.

"What a mess."

"Are we a good team or what?"

"What was I saying?"

"What are you going to do to him?"

In the Buy More men's room where they'd been hiding since they discovered Hannah feeding on their manager, pretty sure she wouldn't come after them in there, because, you know, men's room…

Lester paced as much as the length of the room would allow. "All has become clear," he said with his characteristic melodrama, trying to inject some amount of meaning into his life. "Our fearless leader is bewitched."

"I thought you said she was a vampire," said Jeff, with his characteristic…Jeff. He sat on the floor in stall one, shaking the boob-cam, annoyed that it wasn't showing him any of those things. "She just looks like a girl."

"You say that so casually," said Lester, flinging his arms about. "'Just a girl.' Do girls glare at us like that?"

"Yes." Jeff reached into the toilet for one of his remaining beers, popping it open against the porcelain.

Lester threw his arms in the air. "Do girls have lips like that? Make those sounds?"

Those details Jeff was less sure about, so he cast about for a better, stronger truth. "She's a delicate feminine flower," he said, beginning to sweat. "She said so herself."

"I don't know, Jeffery," said Lester suspiciously, pointing at him. "I could almost swear it sounds like you're in her thrall too."

Jeff looked at the extended finger, trying to focus. "What's her thrall, and how do I get in it?"

"You're disgusting," snapped Lester. "It would serve you right if I left you under that wench's spell." He stared at himself in the mirror, and drew himself up proudly. "But such is my greatness of spirit that I will go into the lioness' den myself, to save you all. You will say the name Lester Patel with reverence." Just like he did.

"Who's Lester Patel?" asked Jeff.

"I am." He got a used coffee cup and turned on the sink. As it filled he made a lot of weird hand gestures over it.

"Right, you are," said Jeff. He belched. "The 'Patel' part threw me off, but I'm better now."

"I go," said Lester, taking the cup. "Pray for me, Jeffery."

Jeffery was having trouble deciding which of the after-images was talking to him. "Good luck."

Hours later…

The door to the Casa de Grimes y Bartowski creaked open, and Lester took a quick peek at the room on the other side before he dared venture in, his substantially reduced cup of water at the ready. "Morgan?"

He heard the sound of someone taking a shower. Running water and daylight, two things he usually tried to stay away from, but today they were beacons of hope. He minced across the floor to the bathroom door. "Morgan," he whispered hoarsely. "I know we've had our differences in the past, but today I'm here for you. I'm here to save you. Stay where you are, until I've destroyed the hellspawn."

The water stopped, and somebody moved about in the room, clearly not waiting until he'd destroyed anybody. Lester stepped away from the door. "Stay back, Morgan," he said, still trying to keep his voice down. "You may be just a thrall, but I won't hesitate to take you down if I have to."

"Is someone out there?" said Morgan through the door. He flung it open, revealing himself wrapped in a multitude of towels, scrubbing at the last vestiges of Hannah's blood-red lipstick.

Lester threw the contents of his cup upon the witch's zombie slave.

Morgan was completely unfazed by the sight of Lester standing in his living room. "Dude, I just took a shower," he complained, wiping himself with one of the towels. He raised it to his nose. "Is that stale coffee?"

"From the cup," said Lester, relieved that Morgan appeared to be normal now. "The water was holy, purified by the sacred rites of my people." He looked into the cup. "There was more of it, though. Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk here from the Buy More without spilling?"

If it had been beer the cup would have been full. Morgan took what small blessings he could get. "What did you need holy water for?"

"To deal with the hellspawn," said Lester, as if it was obvious, or should have been. "To free you from her curse."

"Hannah?" said Morgan, boggle-eyed. "She's the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful woman that I've ever–"

"Aaah!" shrieked Lester, his arm spasming, tossing cupfuls of stale-coffee-scented air Morgan's way. "The taint remains!" He looked at his twitching hand, the empty cup. "Can you move, please? I need more water."

"Go back to the Buy More," said Morgan, not moving. "I'd give you a lift, but Hannah's already called shotgun."

The front door rattled and Lester hissed desperately, "Resist!" before running into Chuck's room.

Hannah came in the front door with a pink box that smelled like sugar. Chuck came out of his room, looking moderately scruffy. They both said, "What the hell was that?" at the same time, in just the same way.

"What was what?" said Morgan, trying to project an air of innocence and failing.

"Why did Lester just run through my room and out the Morgan-door?" asked Chuck, looking annoyingly awake and aware, all things considered.

"He ran through the fountain like he was on fire," added Hannah. "And then he came back to grab a cup of water."

"Oh, uh, just…Lester being Lester," said Morgan, with a bright smile. He looked down. "Oh, look at me. I have to go get dressed for work. Be out in a minute." He escaped into his room and slammed the door.

Chuck and Hannah just stood there, staring at each other. "Good morning," said Chuck.

"Doughnut?" asked Hannah, opening the box.

"Part of a good breakfast," said Chuck, helping himself to one.

"Speaking of breakfast," said Morgan, opening the door now that it was safe, "I'll be making a nice dinner tonight, I hope you'll all be here. I want everybody to meet Hannah."

Hannah looked a little stressed at the news. "Everybody?"

"My sister," whispered Chuck. "And Devon, but mostly Ellie. Morgan likes to show off."

Her voice deepened ominously. "Me?"

"His cooking," said Chuck. "My sister's the best cook we know. Introducing you is both a goal and an opportunity."

"Oh," said Hannah. "Sure."

"I'll make sure they know," said Chuck to the open door.

"Great," said Morgan, coming out all neat and tidy, but not so tidy that Hannah didn't take a moment to hand him the box and straighten his tie. "Okay, Chuck, we're heading in, I guess. See you at the Buy More later?"

Chuck gave him a thumbs-up, his mouth full of doughnut.

Later, at the Buy More…

Lester staggered in, his shoes making little squelching noises. He plopped himself down on the toilet in stall one and stretched out his long legs, sighing in relief. "Did I miss the uprising?"

Jeff shook his head. "Customers are coming in, and the greenshirts are helping them. Morgan's in and out of his office all the time, making sure things run smoothly. Hannah's busy fixing stuff."

Lester cocked an ear, but the room was still. "It's quiet," he said at last. "Eerily, unnaturally quiet."

"Yeah."

"Her influence is spreading. I can smell it."

"That's my smoothie," said Jeff, taking a slurp.

"Any left?" asked Lester hopefully.

"I don't know," said Jeff. "Let me go check around behind the Orange-Orange." He stood up. "Be right back."

Lester kept himself hidden in Jeff's usual place, monitoring the comings and goings of the Buymorians, scrutinizing their behavior for any strangeness. Skip brushing his hair the wrong way, to make it bushier. Fernando and his make-up kit. Lester began to relax, reassured by the normalcy of it all.

Chuck walked in, positioning himself in front of the mirror. In a series of small movements, his hair became mussed, his tie slightly undone, his perfect posture became a slight slouch, and oh, the amount of practice that showed. Finally, he smiled. It looked like his normal smile.

Lester wasn't fooled. He was an artist, even if he was sadly unappreciated in his time, and he could recognize another. Which is how he knew Chuck was no artist, but whatever was in Chuck's body now was. When the thing wearing his friend's body like a suit left the room, he followed, reaching the bathroom door in time to see the Bartowski-bot slip into the HT room.

Lester followed, walking with exaggerated care, both to baby his sore feet, keep his cup of newly-blessed water from spilling, and to keep the squelching noises down. He checked the state of the curtains, glad to see them closed. No hint of the evil inside would leak out. Cup at the ready, he pushed the door open and slid inside.

No one was there. Had it gone out the other side? Did it suspect it was being followed? Lester turned and went back to the door. No army of zombies awaited him when he opened it, and he slipped back into the hallway, to go back to the safety of stall one.

Then he saw a most wondrous sight, smelled a most heavenly smell. On a table by the Employee of the Month poster sat a pink box, lid open, reeking of sugar and other sweet things. He went to the box, empty of course, and lifted it, putting his cup down to scoop up some left-over powdered sugar on his finger. Then he came to his senses. The devil-woman! He threw the box away, grabbed his cup and spilled water over his hand. He raced back to the bathroom to wash off whatever lingering traces of cursed powdered sugar remained.

Jeff came into the room, shutting the door and killing the lights. Lester heard the sound of someone waloking into a wall, and the lights came back on. "You were right, Lester," said Jeff as he hobbled across the room. "You were right. I was behind the Orange Orange and I saw them."

"Them who?"

"Zombies," said Jeff. "She's turning the greenshirts into her zombie slaves."

"Which ones?"

"Casey."

Lester frowned. "How can you tell?"

"He didn't grunt," said Jeff, and Lester nodded. "He and this other guy carried some body into the Orange Orange. That new girl held the door for them."

"Somebody? You don't know who?"

"Not somebody, some body," said Jeff. "He looked dead. So did the other guy. The lights were on, but clearly no one was at home."

Lester grunted. "She's casting a wider net…"

"They talked about assuming his identity," said Jeff. "Casey wanted to, but the dead-faced guy said someone named Carmichael should do it."

"Carmichael, Carmichael," said Lester, tasting the word. "Nope, doesn't ring any bells for me." He reached up to scratch his head.

Jeff grabbed his hand, sniffing it. "Your hand. It doesn't smell like anything."

Lester pulled his hand back. "I had to wash it. I was following Chuck and–Chuck! He was acting strangely too. What do you want to bet he ate one of those cursed doughnuts?"

"I would."

"Chuck has qualities you lack, my friend," Lester patted Jeff's shoulder patronizingly, "But even so the witch was too subtle for him."

From the hall they heard the sound of a door opening. They pushed open the door just enough to peek out, toward the HT room as Chuck and Casey came out of it.

"Remember, said Casey. "You're Rafe Gruber now. You kill first…"

"And ask questions later," finished Chuck in a low growl. He kicked the doughnut box. Looking down, he lifted a foot and crushed the box flat. "Come on, let's go get some cupcakes."

"Will you forget the cupcakes, Bartowski?"

Chuck, that is, Rafe Gruber, gave Casey a dark and dirty look. "Who's Bartowski?"

"Better," said Casey.

"Let's just do the job," said Gruber-Chuck, and the two men walked toward the loading dock.

Jeff and Lester came out of the bathroom, looking after their two possessed friends. "Get Loretta," said Lester. "The Buy More will contain the infection for now, but we have to stop those two if we are to save the world."

A/N2 Hopefully I'm capturing the gist of the canon plot without using any of the actual details. I hope you'll drop me a line and tell me what you think of this rewrite so far.