AN: First of all, how AWESOME was MetaMadness? Whoohooo! Our Show is soooo AMAZING! There was so much in it, I just can't even comprehend it all right now. On to fic related stuff: Reminder, this is set in Season Three. There's no such thing as canon faeries yet and other things that come up.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but after tonight, it seems like every nut job with an idea can do this. I love Ben Edlund! You nutty, nutty man, you!

Surprisingly, Dean was not only dressed when Sam walked back into the room, he was also pulling the sheets from his bed and he had the decency to flush with embarrassment upon seeing Sam.

"You're up," Sam remarked, nonchalantly, trying his best and failing miserably to appear like nothing had happened. His eyes bounced, looking everywhere in the room except directly at Dean. He finally settled on casting his eyes down to the wooden floor boards.

Dean was staring down into his hands, also trying to avoid his brother. A moment later, reality set in and he realized that he was still holding the sheets that were dotted with his own semen. He quickly rolled them into a ball and tossed them into a corner of the room, subconsciously wiping his hands on the backside of his jeans.

Shuffling his feet, Sam rubbed absentmindedly up the back of his neck, making his hair wing up in back.

"So…" he started.

"So…" Dean repeated, taking a deep breath and then rushing on, "I'm sorry about earlier. 'Bout everything. The…uh…you know. The…um…bed…thing." He cleared his voice and scratched nervously at his scalp. "For runnin' off on you today and showin' back up naked." There was a moment of confusion that crossed Dean's face and then he continued with, "Don't really remember what happened to all my clothes."

"And my head?" Sam asked, trying not to sound too bitter.

"Your head? Oh," Dean sighed, suddenly looking more crestfallen than before. "I was kind of hoping that part was a hallucination. Are you…okay?"

"I'll live."

Simultaneously, each brother took a step. Dean toward his little brother and Sam away, keeping an equal distance between them and making Dean feel even worse for his earlier actions.

"Can I look?" he asked solemnly and when he didn't get an immediate answer, "Please?"

The kicked puppy look was usually reserved for Sam's use, but today, Dean managed it just fine, making Sam's stomach flip uneasily. He took a step in Dean's direction, lifting and parting his hair to reveal the split skin and goose egg hidden beneath.

Dean also stepped in, closing the space between them, his hands meeting Sam's and leaning his brother's head down so he could inspect the injury.

"S'it hurt?"

"Not so much," Sam responded, although he whimpered a moment later when Dean put the slightest pressure on the contusion. "Makes me dizzy if I turn too fast. You know, typical concussion stuff."

Dean leaned in further and before Sam realized what he was doing; Dean had placed a soft, chaste kiss to Sam's bruise.

"Dean?" It was both a question and a warning. Sam quickly pulled out of Dean's grasp, backing away cautiously.

"What? You don't want me to kiss it and make it better?" Dean frowned, looking disappointed. "You used to like it when I did that."

"When I was four, Dean." Sam stalked across the room, putting much needed space between them.

"Yea, well…whatever." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, a full on pout now present on his lips. "I'm still your big brother."

Sam spun back around, pressed a hand into his brow to stop the room from spinning and then leveled Dean with a serious look.

"How long is this gonna go on, Dean? Just when I think you're lucid, you pull a little more crazy out of your hat."

"So, taking care of you is crazy? Why?"

"No, you playing Mommy is crazy. Just stop it…okay? It's creepy, Dude."


Dean let his hands drop to his side with a slap of skin on denim and then he began a slow pace down the length of the room, instantly on edge again.

"Tell me what's going on, Dean. Tell me how I can help. What you're seeing, fighting, Hell, tell me about…the bed thing."

"Really?" Dean stopped his pacing to really study Sam's expression; to determine if Sam was being upfront in wanting to know or if he was just pacifying Dean by asking.

"I'm so gonna regret this," Sam mumbled under his breath, "but yea. I guess."

"Okay." Dean paused; wet his lips, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to chew on while mentally reviewing his long day and then released a long slow breath. "I know they're hallucinations. I'm not that far gone that I don't realize that."

"Really." Sam responded sarcastically, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I'm not an idiot, Sam, but these hallucinations are so real and vivid. I just can't help but react to them. You see a ten ton truck coming at you, even when you know it's not real, you're still gonna jump out of the way, just in case."

"I get that, Dean, but…"

"But, nothing. You and me, we fight monsters and ghosts and all manner of scary crap, all day long. I get whammied with a case of the nasties, it's only normal for me to see weird, like really weird stuff. And the hunter in me won't just lie down and enjoy the ride."

"So, these gnomes you've been chasing?"

"Sneaky little sons a'bitches. All claws and teeth and pointed little hats. They don't move very fast, but they're stealthy as Hell and you don't know they're even there until they're on you."

"They? How many do you see?"

"Dozens. They're biding their time right now, because of the rain, but they'll be back. I'm sure of it. They've got this leader; a king, I think. And they follow his command to the letter."

"And you know all this, how?"

"The butterflies told me," Dean answered matter-of-factly.

"Right. Look, Dean, break it down for me. What are they after? How do you kill them?"

"Iron seems to work. Burns their skin. Haven't had a chance to actually kill one yet, but I'm sure iron will do the trick. What are they after? Well besides making a meal out us, they're really into earwax."

"Earwax," Sam repeated flatly.

"I didn't say it made sense!" Dean threw his hands up in frustration and started back at the trek he was burning into the floor.

Sam lifted a placating hand to slow his brother's pace. Dean stopped and sank down on his bed, his head falling into his hands.

As Sam went to take a seat next to him, the very unwanted image of his brother in the throes of an orgasm on that very bed, stopped Sam in his tracks. Instead, he squatted down in front of Dean and cautiously laid a hand on Dean's arm.

"I'm not crazy, Sam." Dean's voice was so soft and on the verge of emotional, that it clamped down on Sam's heart. "Just, tell me you don't think I'm crazy."

Sam gave Dean a gentle squeeze and tried his best to give his brother a genuine smile.

"I don't think you're crazy, Dean. You can't control what you're seeing right now, but it'll get better. I promise."

"What if what I'm seeing is real?"


"No wait, hear me out. What if these gnomes or whatever they are…what if they're real and I can see them because of this trip? Maybe the hallucinogens are opening up some door that lets me see them? What if…"

"Dean, come on. I believe a lot of stuff, we kind of have to in this line of work, but gnomes? That's like saying faeries and elves exist."

"Yea, I know. It's just…so real."

The brothers sat in companionable silence for a moment. Dean's head back in his hands. Sam's hand gripped around his brother's forearm, lending Dean strength. After what seemed like an hour, Dean took a deep breath and straightened up.

"So, Bobby wants to tie me up?"

Not able to meet Dean's eyes, Sam lowered his head and nodded.

"S'okay, Sammy. Probably for the best, anyway. I can't really promise that I'm not gonna go wandering off to follow some insane illusion."

"If there was another way…"

"It's not like Bobby's got some padded room for me to hole up in until this is over. No. This is better."

"Hmmm," Sam thought out loud.

Dean tilted his head, his mouth curling up in amusement as he watched the wheels spin in Sam's head. The younger Winchester zoned out completely until Dean waved a hand in his face.

"What?" Sam asked seeing the look on his brother's face. "No. Nothing," he answered his own question, his mind spinning too fast. "It's just…a padded room. Not really such a bad idea. Maybe Bobby should consider it."

"Or, maybe a padded helmet for your head," Dean offered with a slight smile. Dean stood up from the bed, pulling Sam up with him and grabbed the younger man at the elbow when Sam swayed. "You're sure you're alright?"

Sam wrinkled his nose, his lip curling. "You're one to talk. I'm just seeing stars. You're seeing butterflies and gnomes and what?...invisible girls?"

A broad smile eased over Dean's face, climbing all the way up to his eyes, crinkling the delicate skin there.

"Sammy, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Good thing you're not a gentleman," Sam shot back, stepping on Dean's heels on the way out of the bedroom. Both men pulled up short at the top of the staircase.

"Oh no," Sam said shaking his head. "Not again. You ride those stairs down on your ass. I'm not carrying you a second time."

A look of mock-hurt flashed across Dean's face for just a second, but then he shrugged it off. He took a seat on the top step and began the bump-slide-bump-slide all the way down the wooden staircase.

Sam closed his eyes and let a laugh bubble out, but when he opened his eyes again, the stairs moved and twisted in his sight. Sam gave up pretending that he was alright and joined his brother in the child-like descent.

By the time the boys had finally made their way down the stairs, Bobby was waiting for them with a couple of sandwiches that he'd thrown together and Gert's famous cherry pie. After a quick mean, Dean submitted peacefully to Bobby and allowed himself to be tied down on to a chair in the library.

"Don't go getting any ideas about this, Bobby. I'll admit that I enjoy a little bondage as much as the next guy, but you're not exactly my type. I prefer my girls…prettier.

"I'm pretty," Bobby growled, pulling the knot tight before cuffing Dean affectionately on the back of the head.

Sam just smiled at the exchange, leaning against the desk, scraping the last bits of cherry off his plate and licking his folk clean.

Dean had devised a plan long before he had surrendered to Bobby's restraint. The plan? Diversion. So while Bobby was making his traditional rounds, locking the house down with salt and wards, Dean put his plan into action.

As embarrassing as it was, Dean purposely led the conversation back to what they were now calling 'the bed thing'. It started innocently enough, with the quiet mention of laundry and the linens he had tossed aside earlier.

"Hey, I don't mean to do this to you," he started, directing the question at his brother, "but I left those sheets upstairs. Don't s'pose you'd be willing to grab 'em for me, throw 'em in the wash?"

That was all it took. Bobby came around the corner just as Dean was mentioning 'the sheets'. He jumped on the subject like a dog on steak.

"Just out of curiosity…"

"Oh boy," Sam mumbled, sliding down further behind his laptop screen, not liking where this conversation was going.

"What exactly were you seeing up there?"

"You wantin' the play by play, here Bobby?" Dean asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief and while Bobby and Sam were distracted, he began slowly pulling the knots behind his back apart.

Dean went on to explain the sudden appearance of the pretty blonde with the glittery wings that spoke to him in the unified voice of a multitude. She'd stood in front of him, petting his face, looking on him with adoration, affirming their belief in him and his quest and offering herself to him. Her hand had grazed down his torso as she had lowered herself to the floor between his knees and with neither a yea nor a nay from Dean, had taken him wholly into her mouth.

"So!" Sam cleared his voice roughly, effectively cutting Dean off. "Tinkerbell, huh?" he asked.

"Not Tinkerbell," Dean frowned. "There's no such thing as faeries, Sam. Naw, she was a butterfly princess." Dean's voice dropped into a soft, dreamy state, his face easing with a satisfied smile.

Satisfied, because behind his back, the ropes fell completely loose and his arms were freed. Now he just had to wait.

It was well after midnight before the rain stopped and another half hour before Dean noticed that the atmosphere of the room was changing.

Bobby was seated behind the desk, reading through a new reference book he'd ordered online. His head was propped up in his hand, his eyes losing the fight to stay open while he read and re-read the same line over and over.

Across the room Sam was tucked in beside a bookcase, his elbow resting easily on top to hold him up. He was also engrossed in a book, stopping every minute or so, to fold a corner down to mark the page or jot something down in the margin. He glanced up from his book to check on his brother, who was cashed out; leaning back against the chair, his chin resting heavily on his chest.

Except that he wasn't. Dean's head was down, sure, but from beneath his long lashes, Dean was vigilantly guarding the room, watching for the little monsters that he knew were gearing up for their attack.

He didn't have long to wait. A few minutes after the hall clock struck three, they came; like roaches crawling out of the woodwork at night. Dean couldn't help but wonder how it was possible for Sam and Bobby to be completely oblivious to the little nasties creeping up on them. They were silent and cunning, sure, but the sheer number of them should have set off some alarm. The hunter's instinct should have been kicking in by now, but still, Bobby and Sam remained unawares.

Dean's plan was in place and all it required was perfect timing on his part. He'd been sure to scout the room for weapons before Bobby had sat him down and applied the bindings. There were still two fire irons beside the fireplace and a blade that Bobby kept inside the top drawer of his desk.

Dean took a moment to measure out the distance and timing. He had one chance to get this right and he couldn't afford to be off by even a second. The gnomes would file in, take their places and await the command of their King and Dean would wait too. One swing, hard and true, would be all Dean would need to end this nightmare. One swing aimed directly for the Gnome King.

It wasn't until Dean heard the tell-tale hiss of the King's laughter directly behind him, that he knew he was screwed and his plans went down the drain.