3.

"What are you doing back here?"

Korsak was gone, replaced by a younger dark-haired man in tight black pants and a vibrant shirt open to the waist. He had a Russian-sounding accent, looked a little familiar to Alex but... that's when she noticed what her own clothing had changed into.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me."

Every inch of her dress –and there wasn't a whole lot of it - was covered in sequins, sparkles and shimmery stuff. Thankfully there was some kind of skin-coloured material filling in the gaps, especially the plunging neckline, and there were tights of the same colour, though they were just as spangled. The heels were so high she didn't dare move in case she fell flat on her face, but the man didn't seem to care.

"You're telling me, sweetheart. No time! Come along, we're on!"

He grabbed Alex's hand and pulled her away through corridors filled with similarly bejewelled people, though she couldn't see her sister.

"Wait, what? Where are we going?"

The man threw her an impatient look over his shoulder.

"This is no time to develop amnesia, lovely! This is the dance-off!"

Alex's mouth dropped open in shock but her partner didn't even notice, hurrying her along through a set of double doors and Alex was instantly blinded by a dazzling spotlight directed right on her. There was the sound of thunderous applause, excited whooping from an unseen crowd and an amplified, disembodied voice announced;

"And here's our other couple; Alex and Dmitry!"

Alex's partner grabbed her round the waist, took one of her hands in his and, raising it above their heads, started to spin her round until she was dizzy.

The cheering from the audience reached a peak, then faded abruptly, replaced by a rhythmic clapping. Dmitry stopped spinning her and as Alex got her balance back, her vision cleared.

She was standing at the side of the dancefloor, lit up by a spotlight, and as she looked around, she saw where she was. The studio was constructed around the dancefloor, the audience on three sides and the musicians on the fourth. Three seated judges watched from behind a desk and the grinning, suited presenter strode out onto the middle of the floor.

"This is it, folks! The moment we've all been waiting for – the 'Dancing With The Stars' final! Are you ready for the dance-off between our lovely competing sisters?"

The audience whooped and hollered, whistling and stamping their feet.

Alex was frozen in horror.

"I have to dance – in front of all these people?"

Then the rest of his words caught up.

"Competing sisters?"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she saw Tara.

Her sister was almost unrecognisable – her dress wasn't some spangly monstrosity like Alex's, but a slinky ankle-length red number with a slit up to her thigh. Tara's dark hair was combed out, straightened and shiny with a matching red rose behind her ear. Alex couldn't remember ever having seen her sister in heels, but Tara seemed perfectly comfortable in them as she and her partner – a blond man in a red-and-black striped shirt and black pants – tangoed out onto the floor.

Clearly, Tara had found a silver lining to being trapped in 'TV Land.'

The ensuing dance routine was sultry, sexy and, to Alex, utterly unbelievable. Tara didn't dance, not like this. Head-banging and crowd-surfing, maybe, but high-kicks that didn't involve her foot making contact with something's head? For most of the dance, Tara's eyes didn't leave her partner's face and they seemed utterly wrapped up in each other – although if Alex had recognised her sister's partner correctly, she was barking up the wrong tree there...

As the routine snapped to a halt, with Tara bent backwards over her partner's arm dramatically, the rose from her hair now between her teeth, the audience burst into rapturous applause, screaming and yelling.

"We have to follow that?" Alex's partner muttered to her, tightening his grip on her arm, as if sensing Alex's desire to bolt from the room.

Even the judges were on their feet, applauding and cheering and Alex realised even spending your whole life fighting monsters didn't prepare you for this.

Thankfully, she was saved from making a gigantic ass of herself in front of everyone in the room by the sudden appearance of another figure at the top of the stairs.

The spotlight leapt onto her immediately and Alex had never been more pleased to see someone in her life.

"Castiel!"

The angel made her way down the stairs, looking around in confusion. She appeared rather out of place in her tan trench coat, black knee-length skirt and deep blue blouse, not to mention she was probably the only female in the room not wearing stupidly high heels. Castiel had mentioned that her vessel, Jenny, had been on the way to a job interview when the possession had taken place, hence the rather formal clothing. Thankfully, she hadn't been in her doctor's scrubs at that time, or that might have made her even more conspicuous.

Alex pulled away from Dmitry, stumbling over to Castiel. Tara, looking slightly embarrassed, brushed herself down, handed the rose to her dancing partner, and joined her sister.

"Are you real?" Alex asked. "Or is this another trick?"

"It's me." Cassie took another look around the studio, pushing dark ringlets behind her ears. "What are you two doing?"

"Well, Tara just discovered it's true that the rhythm is gonna get you," Alex snarked, which didn't exactly clear things up.

The audience, annoyed at this intrusion, had begin to boo.

"You've been missing for days," Castiel replied, brow furrowing.

"So get us the hell out of here!"

Alex had had more than enough of this set-up. Even operating on her sister – who seemed to have made a miraculous recovery – hadn't been as terrifying as this.

Cassie reached out, fingers outstretched to touch both Winchesters' foreheads, presumably intending to 'zap' them away to safety, but before she could make contact, the angel vanished in a burst of static.

"Cassie?"

The show's presenter strode back onto the dance floor as the boos from the audience intensified.

"Ah, ah, ah," he remonstrated, waggling a finger. "Bringing in your own pet angel to help is cheating, ladies. The judges don't like that."

He swung an arm around to cover the three judges, all sitting stony-faced, holding up score cards that said '0'.

"And neither does our patron."

Another spotlight appeared, illuminating an enormous blown-up photograph on the wall. Naturally, it was the Trickster, dressed and made-up in so over-dramatic a fashion as to make the dancers look positively dowdy.

"So while we think about what we've done."

The presenter was still talking.

"Here's a word from our sponsors."

It shouldn't have been a surprise when the studio vanished, leaving everything but the Winchesters behind, but it still caught them out, especially when the noise and glamour of "Dancing With The Stars" was replaced by a locker room.

"Oh God, what now?" Tara's eyes went wide.

"Is this the shower scene from 'Carrie'?"

Alex had to admit that was a possibility. Their dresses were now gym kit and there were other young women milling about, chatting as they changed their clothes.

One of them came up to Alex and Tara, holding a colourful cardboard box in her hands.

"Don't you just hate how boring the packaging is on regular boxes of tampons?" she asked them, her manner as if they were friends, seemingly unaware of how bizarre her statement was.

The sisters recoiled.

"I'm sorry, what?!"

The girl half-turned away from them, facing what they supposed would have been the camera if this was a real commercial.

"I'm tired of buying tampons in plain boxes, like I should be ashamed of what I'm buying! But now that's all changed. These are so pretty, I buy them no matter what time of the month it is, don't you?"

She turned back to Alex and Tara, who were staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

"What did I tell you? Shower scene from 'Carrie.' They'll be throwing these things any minute now," Tara muttered.

The girl was frowning at them, jerking her head towards the imaginary camera/audience in a way that implied she was expecting them to do something.

Alex sighed. Then she plastered a big fake smile on her face.

"Sure! I love... this brand of... whatever."

The girl scowled, shoving the box at Alex and stomping off.

"What the hell was that?" Tara demanded.

"I think this is what we're supposed to do."

"What, sell tampons? Do I look like Courtney Cox?"

"No, I mean play along. Improvise. Not just dancing with pretty men in tight pants, but whatever scene the Trickster puts us in."

Tara looked around the locker room, disgustedly.

"Play along, huh? How long for?"

"Knowing the Trickster? For ever, probably. Or at least until she gets bored."

"So I guess we'd better be entertaining?"

"Well, now we know you can tango, should the situation ever call for it again."

"Shut up, Lexie."