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Chapter The Last

It had been nice to have a bit of a vacation, she thought; the opportunity for a break had arisen suddenly, without notice, and she had enjoyed the time off, but now she knew that it was time to get back to work.

She didn't really mind, of course – she'd been on the job for more than twenty years, and although the work was taxing, she found it challenging, gratifying, engaging, and all the other words that anybody could possibly want in a career. The demanding nature of her position had seen her gain enormous expertise, and she was recognised as an expert in her field by her peers. She was, if she thought about it, on the whole satisfied with her lot in life.

So, with that happy thought, Twinklepout, Senior Principal Fanservice Fairy (FF PhD), took wing.

...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo...

She found the Winchesters' room with an unerring instinct that made the globe-circling Wandering Albatross look like a clueless tourist with a faulty satnav, and alighted gently on the salted window sill. The dog Jimi, dozing on his blanket, gave her a doggy grin and a brief wag of his tail – he'd known Twinklepout the Fanservice Fairy for his whole life, and recognised her as a fellow creature not entirely of this world who was on his Alpha's side, even if Dean would never know it.

As she descended, she saw her colleague waiting for her on the table. He gave her a big smile, and greeted her with a complicated flourish of his little baseball cap. "So, there you are, you dirty stop-out," he tutted in mock disdain, "Where you been, then?"

"As it happens, I spent some time at a dermatologist's practice," she told him. "Gave some acne patients a bit of a help-along."

"I thought you was supposed to be on 'oliday," her companion noted, picking up a small teapot. "Tea up. You look a bit tired, love."

"Oh, lovely, thanks, no sugar for me," Twinklepout replied. "So, been keeping busy?"

"As always," he replied. "Although there are days when I wonder why I bother, I mean, I have to agree wif 'is brother on this one, the boy needs to go out and get a bit of rumpy-pumpy..."

Twinklepout slapped him on the arm. "Flexo Abtastic, you are quite possibly the most lecherous Buff Gnome I have ever met," she chided him fondly.

"Well, goes with the territory, dunnit?" Flexo shrugged philosophically. "He's got me here, makin' sure he looks like that at all times, despite 'is fondness for rabbit food, and not 'avin' time to set foot in a gym, and what does the boy do? Watch Davy bloody Attenborough gettin' all excited about bloody ants! Bury 'is nose in a bleeding book! Visit the historic quarter of a city, and walk straight past the red light district so he can go and admire the bleeding architecture! You got no idea how 'ard it is to keep those pecs in shape, and I speak as someone who's damned good at pecs, did post-grad in pecs, I did, got a Distinction for 'em, too, youngsters today are all wound up about abs and arses, but I tell you, anybody can do abs, it's all in the body composition, innit, a bloody third year undergrad can do abs, but pecs, they take serious professional mojo..."

Twinklepout smiled to herself: Flexo Abtastic the Buff Gnome was at his happiest when he was grumbling good-naturedly about his client. The time he'd had twelve months off on sabbatical after that unfortunate business with Sam's soullessness (during which he'd held a visiting professorship that mostly seemed to consist of berating undergraduate Buff Gnomes with lectures that began with the sentence 'When I was your age'), while Sam's body had gone about maintaining its own physique, he'd been thoroughly miserable. Like Twinklepout, he wouldn't give up his job for the world.

"I did actually take some time off," she assured her colleague. "Did a bit of sight-seeing. Went to Hawaii, since I'm never going to be able to go on work time, not until Dean gets over his morbid fear of flying. Spectacular geography, those islands. Saw the lava fountains. Pele and Poliahu are having one of their sisterly spats again." She sipped at her tea, and sighed in satisfaction. "You do make a good cup of tea, Flexo."

"All part of the service. Biscuit?" He proffered a small plate of cookies.

"Oh, yes, please," Twinklepout took one. "So, the curse has been dispelled?"

"Yep," Flexo replied. "Case solved, curse lifted, back to work for you, slave." He grinned. "I heard something on the grape vine you won't believe, though."

Twinklepout cocked an eyebrow eloquently.

"You know Baldie McPlukkit?"

"Of course I do," she replied, "What about him?"

"Well, he's takin' on an apprentice!" declared Flexo.

"Really?" Twinklepout's eyes widened. "Oh, that's wonderful! The Faculty have only been asking him for, what, a couple of decades now..."

"Well, he's finally agreed," Flexo grinned again, "Although traditionally it's not usual for a bauchan to take on an offsider, well, these days, it's about succession planning, innit? We don't want that much corporate knowledge to go missing when he retires."

"I sometimes wonder if he'll ever retire," Twinklepout chuckled, "He has such fun with Crowley's hairline."

"You do know that he once went and tried to yank a handful out of Bobby Singer's head?" confided Flexo.

Twinklepout looked astonished. "He didn't!"

"Stupid old bugger did it on a dare," Flexo rolled his eyes. "Spent a week hidin' inside a hat, finally got put onto the head, and the next thing, he finds himself in a jam jar, bein' called an idiot, or somesuch."

"I never knew that!" gasped Twinklepout. "What happened?"

"Well, it's something that the Faculty want to keep quiet, innit?" Flexo pointed out. "A senior employee gettin' himself spotted by a human? Spotted and caught? His clan would never live it down. Anyway, as it turned out, Baldie just said 'It's a fair cop', and 'fessed up to the old man. Told 'im 'is day job was Senior Hair Thinning Peck, and 'is client was the King of Hell, and Old Man Singer laughed, and let 'im go."

Twinklepout giggled, and sipped at her tea, helping herself to another cookie. "The thought of the next Baldie being let loose on the world will keep me warm at night." She ran an expert eye over Dean. "Good heavens, what has the boy been eating? Or not eating? His aorta is practically purring!"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Flexo rolled his eyes. "But don't worry, now his curse is broken, he's back to his usual ways, defendin' humanity, one cheeseburger at a time. You'll 'aver yer hands full again in no time." He smiled fondly at Dean, who mumbled in his sleep and turned over. "Nope, if it weren't for you, young Master Winchester the Elder there would look a lot more like 'is cursed self than 'e would care to think. A lot more spherical, for a start."

"It's all in the hepatics," Twinklepout told him, "Mostly, when Fanservice Fairies sign on, they think it's all about keeping the outside looking good, and that's important, but you have to keep the whole system tweaked, not just the externals – if the internal systems aren't in top shape, you'll never get the outside looking fanserviceable, because there's no support system to keep it that way. Like trying to put up a building without foundations."

Flexo nodded in agreement: Twinklepout had published several papers on occult hepatocyte enhancement and functional engineering in prestigious paranormal journals, and was recognised as an expert in the field. "Definitely. Try tellin' that to students though, it's only the ones who make it past third year who figure that out. Saints preserve us from Freshmen, they're all fixated on biceps, and arses. Seriously, a man is not his arse."

"You did quite well with that one, though," Twinklepout nodded at Sam, who was snoring gently. "Very good workmanship. Very buff."

"It's the dimples that I think finish the whole package," Flexo hummed thoughtfully. "Attention to detail, that's what kids need to learn."

"The ones in the ass?"

"Well, I meant the ones in his face cheeks," Flexo told her, "But the ones above his arse do also seem to be very well received. When he can be bothered flashin' it in front of a lady friend."

"He's just not wired the same way as his brother, that's all," Twinklepout opined. "There's nothing anybody can do about that."

"Yeah, but, yeah, but, the point is, the boy don't know what he's got," complained Flexo. "I mean, if I looked like that, I'd be chasin' around after every piece of tail within a mile radius..."

Dean snuffled into his pillow, and Twinklepout frowned, casting a professional eye over her client. "Oh dear," she sighed, "He decided to celebrate the breaking of the curse with alcohol, didn't he?"

"They both did," explained Flexo, "And as for what he ate just before bedtime, well, he don't know how lucky he is to have the best in the business as his case worker."

"That goes for both of them," she smiled fondly at Flexo.

"Finish your tea," he told her, lifting his own mug, "They aint goin' anywhere. 'Ere, 'ave another biscuit. You're gunna need it, tonight."

The most highly qualified Fanservice Fairy and Buff Gnome in the Jimiverse finished their tea and cookies, then set about their nightly duties, spinning their small but potent spells to keep Dean and Sam Winchester looking like Dean and Sam Winchester.

Jimi the half-Hellhound watched the proceedings for a few minutes, then went back to sleep, confident that his Alpha and his Second were in safe hands.

THE END. REALLY.

Wait for it... wait for it... wait for it... aaaaaaand...

SQUELCH

And so we squelch another plot bunny and say goodbye to little Beauregard Pontificus, aka Beau-Ponty. He did a marvellous job of finishing this story on an empty stomach, but he has not gone to A Better Place, where there are nice juicy reviews for him to nibble on for the rest of eternity. That's it for now, though, I'm afraid - the plot bunny pen is empty. I might backtrack a bit and see if I can wring any missing deleted scenes out of plot bunnies past, or there may be some material in a series of one-shots from HELL-TV's depiction of alternative histories. Until then, send reviews - I'll make them into a nice bouquet to leave on little Beau-Ponty's commemorative plaque.