Vampire Pixies

"And just what comes with this so called 'hungry man's breakfast,' beautiful?" Dean asks the waitress as she pours them coffee.

"Thank you, ma'am," Sam mutters at her, before draining his cup and holding it out for more, with a smile. "Delicious."

She pops her gum and pours Sam more coffee, giving him a wink and smile, before looking at Dean. "Well, now, you get four rashers o' bacon, two links o' sausage, a slab of ham, four eggs, any way you want 'em, some home fries, and four slices of toast, my very own bread, even." She pops her gum again. "It's a good sized meal, fella." She gives Dean a quick once over. "You sure you can handle all that?"

Her look says she doubts he can.

Challenged, Dean sits up straight in the booth and takes a gulp of coffee. He chokes, puts down the cup and quickly adds in some cream and sugar. "Sure I can, sweetheart, only why don't you double that up for me?" He smiles at her, stirring his coffee and then takes another sip. "Mmm, perfect. Can you give me those eggs sunny side up?"

She shakes her head and Dean gets the feeling it means more than just 'no'.

"No, sir, that's against health department rules, these days."

"Well then, how 'bout over *real* nice 'n' easy and don't let my bacon get *too* crisp," he grins at her and then looks to his brother. "Sammy?"

"You have any bran flakes?" Sam asks, ignoring Dean's groan.

"Sure, sweetie. Got some nice wheat bread I can toast up for you, too. Whole grain," She nods at him, smiling, and pours him more coffee. "I made that, too. Good for you." She winks again.

Sam grins. "That sounds great. Got any fresh fruit to top the flakes?"

Her smile gets bigger, "I sure do. Got some great strawberries, just in fresh, be right back with your orders." She winks at Sam, nods at Dean, her mouth a tight line and leaves.

Dean grunts. "Suck up."

"What are you talking about?"

"You got any bran flakes?" Dean mimics in a high-pitched voice. "Would you pat me on the head and tell me I'm a good boy, too, please, lady I don't even know?"

Sam rolls his eyes and goes back to the paper he's been reading. "You're really weird, Dean, and your issues are even weirder."

"Shut up, lady-you-don't-even-know's boy," Dean tells Sam as he takes another sip of his coffee. He grimaces and pours in more sugar and cream.

Sam doesn't comment, staying behind the newspaper. Dean begins to drum with the silverware on the table, until Sam lowers the paper. Dean grins at him, looking surprised to have his attention as he puts down his butter-knife drumsticks. "Anything new?"

"Another body completely drained of blood, same as the others."

"And no mention of neck wounds, huh?"

Sam just shakes his head.

"You thinking nest?"

Sam shakes his head. "Not really. Not enough deaths to account for an entire nest of vampires."

"Maybe it's a rogue vampire from a nest feeding on cattle or willing sickos?"

"Could be, but there haven't been any reports of cattle killings or mutilations in the area, either."

"Well, that's easy; I mean, if I was a farmer and my cattle started turning up bloodless, I wouldn't say anything."

Sam looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, folk's start thinking I'm nuts, right? I mean, my farm is doing well, what's a cow or two against my sterling reputation in the community? I mean, I don't wanna end up like Farmer Jenkins down the road from me, do I?"

"Of course, not. Um, what happened to Farmer Jenkins down the road from you?"

"Well, *he* started missing cattle or found his cattle all dead and bloodless and called in the local cops and they didn't find squat and didn't *do* squat, so he starts to stake out his fields, right? And he sees 'em, see, sees the vamps, watches 'em *eat* his cows, calls the cops and next thing you know he's locked up in the loony-bin and his poor wife and kids can't handle the farm alone, *or* the ridicule, so they sell up and move away and never call, write, or visit, …and dude, it's just all too awful to even talk about!" Dean takes a drink of coffee, shaking his head. "Poor Farmer Jenkins. No *way* am I going out like that, man. No way." He shakes his head some more and adds more sugar to his coffee, tastes it and then adds more cream.

Sam just stares at him. "Right." He goes back to his paper and lets Dean drum until the waitress brings them their respective breakfasts and asks Dean, politely, to please stop with the table-drumming. She pats Sam on the head after she refills the coffee mugs. After breakfast, Dean tries to short-tip, but Sam snatches away the ticket and makes sure she gets a thirty percent tip on Jack O'Day's Visa.

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"C.D.C? Really? Is there something we should be worried about? I mean, Doc Jenkins didn't say anything about a disease."

Sam and Dean simultaneously flip their fake badges closed and smile at the night-clerk. Both bite their lips to keep from laughing at the name, Jenkins. Dean clears his throat and steps forward with a smile. "We don't think so, really, but it doesn't hurt to make sure, does it? We got a hit about an Ebola-like virus a few towns over and we're just checking everything out, you understand, your victims being bloodless and all."

The clerk's eyes go big and his hand starts to reach for the phone. Sam discretely kicks Dean's ankle and he reaches for the clerk's hand. "Of course there's nothing here to indicate the same type of virus, nothing at all. We just want to make sure the deceased are virus free, for your protection." Sam smiles. "It's all part of the new Homeland Security precautions."

Dean nods. "Yep, just your tax dollars at work, my friend. And your discretion in this matter is appreciated, as well as demanded, by your country. I'd hate for you to have to visit one of America's finest holding facilities. So? Where are the bodies, now?"
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"*Ebola*? Nice, Dean, real nice. Real low-key and undercover,” Sam mutters.

Dean looks up, the slim-light in his mouth not stopping his grin. He shrugs his shoulders as he pulls back the sheet covering the most recent victim of the four unknown exsanguinations. "What?" he mumbles. "That was all I could think of. Well, fuck me."

Sam leans over Dean's shoulder to take a look. "What the hell?"

They look at each other. "What the fuck did *this*?" They both ask.

"Mutant mosquitoes?" Dean pulls on latex gloves and picks up an arm. "Midget vampires?" He leans in closer. "There all vein hits, but tiny." He drops the arm and moves to a leg, while Sam looks at the neck. "Hell, Sammy, they look like needle marks." He shakes his head.

"Mine too. Artery hits, but lots of them and very, very small—hell, almost *microscopic*. If it weren't for the post-mortem bruising, you wouldn't even see most of them."

"So, what the hell, Sam? No regular vampires did this. Unless we got some new breed: micro-vampires. Maybe it *is* just some nut-job human. What do we do?"

"We can call Ash, I guess. See if he's ever heard of anything like this or can get a lead. I mean, really, how long would it take to drain all the blood from a body with hypos and not leave any blood, or any other kind of evidence at the scene? I say we put in a call to Ash and check out the locals, see what we can find out while we wait. What else can we do?"

"Well, first you can tell *me* what you boys are doing fondling corpses in a morgue after closing time."

Sam drops his mag-light, the unexpected voice so startles him. Dean, however, stands up straight and grins at their guest.

"Hey," Dean drawls with a smile. "And just what are *you* doing in here while we’re fondling corpses?" He wiggles his eyebrows. "You got a thing for corpses? 'Cause I can play dead like no one's business, miss. Or are you still a bit thirsty?"

"Look, we're not doing anything bad. We're from the Center's for the Control of Disease and we-” Sam begins, ignoring Dean.

"And my left tit can speak seven languages, kid. Who, or *what* are you, really?" She holds up her flashlight, shining it directly into their eyes. "You guys here to help solve a mystery or are you just freaks wanting a story to tell the other frat boys? This some kind of dare?"

"Your left tit can do what, now?" Dean asks.

"Please ignore him, miss," Sam implores, "We're here about the, um, unusual, aspects of this murder, as, I expect you are, too. Am I right?"

"Back to the tit thing. I mean, a tit that can speak, could also, technically speaking, suck, too, right, and that would-"

"Who are you?" Sam asks, pretending Dean doesn't exist.

"Name's Faith. And no, you aren't looking for regular vampires."

"We're not?"

"What are we looking for?"

"Pixie vampires."

Dean laughs. Sam blinks. Faith jumps down from her perch in the open window.

She’s before them so fast neither brother registers her movements.

"Oh, hello then, girly." Dean grins at her. Sam takes a step back. "You're a cute little thing, huh?" Dean reaches out to pat her head and finds himself face down on the examining table, legs spread, arm behind his back, feeling that 'just before your shoulder pops out of it's socket' pressure while Faith stands between his legs and breathes into his ear, "You gonna be a good boy or do I have to dislocate your shoulder?"

Dean wiggles his ass back against her front before promising to be a good boy.

"Okay, then. I'm gonna let you go and then you're gonna-"

Tubes of light begin to crisscross the room. "No, Sir, they said they were from--"

Sam mutters, "Shit," before moving towards the window Faith had come in. It’s eight feet from the ground. "Shit and fuck." He looks around for a boost as Faith jumps up and out. He’s still looking when she pops her head back in holding out a hand. "Come *on*," she demands. Sam stands still. No way she'd be able to lift him. Dean has no such qualms and takes a running start. She pulls him up and whips him out as if he were made of air. Not thinking about it, Sam runs for her too, holding out his arm; he feels her grip around his bicep and just lets himself go. She pulls him up, out, and he lands in the dirt outside of the window, staring at the window, several feet above him in disbelief.

"How'd you *do* that?" he asks, once he’s gotten his air back.

Dean smacks him across the back of the head. "Who cares right this very second, Sammy? She did it, so let's get the fuck outta here." Dean grabs Sam's jacket and pulls him into a run; they make their way to the Impala, all piling in for the quick escape.

It isn't until they’re almost at the motor lodge at the edge of town where they have a room, before Dean slows down and stops to turn and smile at his passenger. "So, what was your name, again, hon? And what were you doing there with all those nasty dead bodies?"

Faith laughs. "You're something, huh?"

Sam cocks a shotgun and puts it to the back of her head from the backseat. "What *is* she is the more pertinent question, I'm thinking, Dean."

"Hey, hey, Sammy, calm down! This is the person that just saved our asses that you're pointing a shotgun at, dude."

"Yeah, Sammy, why don't you listen to your boyfriend?" She's still smiling and as calm as can be and it makes Sam itchy and scared.

Sam nudges the shotgun against her skull. "He's my brother, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" Faith narrows her eyes. "Why you little-"

The shotgun’s in two pieces and in the foot well at Sam's feet while Faith straddles his knees and squeezes his throat, a gun pointing at the back of Dean's head before Sam can blink. "You take that back, punk."

"What? Take back what?" Sam gasps, not just scared, but honestly confused.

"The 'ma'am', you little shit. I'm *twenty*!" She squeezes harder, and Dean just laughs, while Sam coughs under the pressure of her hand.

"S-sorry. You, uh, seemed, um, older. You don't look it!"

"No, no, not at all, miss. You look too young for my current thoughts, to be blunt. I feel like someone should lock me up,” Dean tells her, grinning at her via the rear-view mirror. "But, really, you need to let my baby brother go." He grins at her. "You know, before I get pissed."

Faith takes a deep breath and un-cocks the gun at Dean's head while letting go of Sam's windpipe. "No, no. *I'm* sorry. My bad. It's just, that, well, age is a big deal in my job. Or it used to be, anyway. It doesn't even matter any more, I guess. Or I don't know. It, well, used to be that at a, um, a certain age, it turned into this big, be all, do or die kinda thing, and now that doesn't even matter, but still, all the ones under me are like, eighteen, or sixteen or twelve or fuck, six, and shit, and maybe it's like this racial-inbred kind of thing," She shakes her head and comes up off Sam, slouching in the seat next to him. "Really. Sorry for freaking out on you. It's my issue, and I shouldn't be making my issues into other peoples' issues, I know. I, yeah, my therapist even cleared me of that problem; said I was over it. Only, well, sometimes…It's just been okay, because, hell, I haven't run into it in a while and, well...shit. um. What are you guys, anyway? Hunters?"

Sam and Dean both freeze and Faith laughs at them. "Oh, really, I'm sorry. It's a secret that you can't tell the girl that met you in a morgue with a body or four drained of blood by pin-pricks and pulled you out of a twelve-foot high window with no help."

Dean shifts in his seat. "It was maybe six feet high, closer to five. Right, Sammy?"

"I broke your shotgun in half."

"Made in Korea. Cheap bastards; I've been meaning to write letters. Get a campaign going, even."

"I can do this." She was off Sam's lap and in the front seat, straddling Dean with a gun to his head before either could blink at her.

Dean grinds up against her, smiling. "Whatever makes you do that, I'm okay with it."

Faith gives a snort and moves to the passenger seat. "Drive, asshole."

It's quiet until they reach the Motel the boy's have booked. Sammy breaks the silence.

"What *are* you?" Sam demands.

She smiles at him over the seat. "I'm one of the good guys, baby; what are *you*?"

Dean coughs. "He's a good guy, too; don't worry, Xena."

"He doesn't smell 'good',” she tells Dean, her eyes still narrowed at Sam.

"Yeah, well, we've been tracking midget vampires for a while now; I don't imagine I smell all that great either. But you like that don't you, you naughty thing, you." Dean reaches over and runs his hand up and down Faith's thigh, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I don't think that's what she's talking about, Dean."

"Hum?"

All of a sudden, Faith is right in Dean's face, nose to nose when she tells him, with an engaging grin, that, "He smells like a demon."

Dean's knife is in his hand and at Faith's throat, just as her gun is cocked and pointed at Sam's head. Both are smiling.

"You are so fucking *cute*," Faith tells him, not flinching away from Dean's knife.

"You're even cuter and if you harm a hair on my brother's head I'll be cleaning your blood outta my car."

Sam opens the back door and steps out, slamming it closed behind him. He knocks on Dean's window.

"Okay if I get that?" Dean asks as Faith's gun finds its new target against his temple.

She smiles at him. "Sure, go ahead."

Dean rolls down the window. "Yeah, Sammy? Something to share with the group?"

"If you two are finished measuring dicks, I suggest we go to the room and work this thing out." His eyes go to Faith's. "I'm not a demon. Well, not a *dangerous* demon, anyway."

"He's not a demon at all!"

Faith ignores Dean and opens his door, popping out to stand before Sam, looking up at him with a calm smile. "Fine. Let's go to your room and I'll tell you all about what you're up against." She holds out her hand to Dean, without looking at him. "Need some help, cupcake?"

Dean takes her hand, pulling *hard* as he rises from the car. "Thanks, sugar-dumplin'." He stands close to her, looking down. "I appreciate the help."

Faith winks at him. "It's no problem. I'm a helpful sort of girl."

Sam snorts and leads the way to the room he and Dean had rented earlier. Dean mumbles something under his breath.

"What was that, baby?" Faith asks.

"I said, 'my dick is bigger'. Just saying."

Faith mumbles something under her breath.

"Huh? What was that?" Dean asks as Sam opens the door to the room.

"I said, only because I don't *have* a dick."

Sam and Dean both mumble something as they check the room.

"What was that, boys?" Faith asks as she bounces on one of the two queen beds.

Both stop to stare at her. "You sure?"

Faith grins and sticks her hand down her pants, thrusting lewdly against it. "Yep."

Dean grins and takes a seat next to her while Sam grimaces and takes a seat on the other bed. "So. Midget vamps?"

Faith laughs. "No. Pixies."

It's Dean's turn to laugh. "No. No way. Pixies don't do this kinda shit, honey. I've met up with some pixies in my time, let me tell you. In fact-"

"*Vampire* pixies?" Sam asks, cutting Dean off.

Faith scrubs her knuckles against Dean's head and then points at Sam. "Hey! Cute *and* smart, this one! Can I take him home with me?"

She reaches down and undoes the laces of her boots. "Well," she begins, toeing off her boots, once untied, and then flopping down against the bed, raising up on her elbows. "They were just a regular band of pixies up till about ten years ago. Then the queen attacked a vamp." She looks at Dean, busy trying to undo a knot in his laces. He looks up at her pause.

"Nothing to see here; continue." He goes back to his knots. Faith returns to telling her story to Sam.

"From what we can tell, the queen bit a vamp, we think, because he did something to piss her off, got infected-got-turned-and then proceeded to turn the rest of her clan. Next thing you know: Vampire Pixies."

Dean doesn’t look up from his knot, but asks, "We?"

"Me and *my* clan, pretty."

"And your clan would be?" Sam asks.

Faith just smiles. "The kind that don't ride around in souped up Chevys and are very organized."

"Ha!" Dean shouts in triumph as the knot gives way. He looks up. "Carry on, people. She's got network, right?" he asks, pointing at Faith.

"So you're a hunter, too?" Sam asks.

Faith grunts and flips to her side, resting her head on her hand, her elbow crooked against the bed. "No, I'm not some amateur in-over-my-head-hunter. I'm a Slayer." She narrows her eyes at Sam. "I was *born* to do this, *called* to do it." She runs her foot up and down her leg. "What were *you* born to do, boy?" she asks Sam.

Dean opens his mouth, but Sam holds up his hand, stopping him. "I'm not sure, but what I *do* do, is stop things like pixies."

"Slayer? Like a *Vampire Slayer?*" Dean asks, turning to face Faith on the bed, and ignoring Sam. "The super strength, super cool, super *bad* ass, *kick* ass kinda slayer?"

Faith smiles and just nods her head.

"Oh, man, cool."

Sam, not as impressed as Dean, asks, "So, how do we kill vampire pixies?"

"Dunno."

"Oh, great. Thought you were *born* to this stuff?" Sam sniffs.

"Well, yeah. I was. Am. Only thing, vampire pixies have never existed before. That we know of, anyway. So the intell is a bit on the non-existent side. We killed off the queen a few towns back, that usually wipes out the clan, slowly, yeah, but they all eventually die off within a year. These vamp-things just seem to lay low and then pop back up." Faith stretches and then shrugs.

Sam hunches forward, his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. "You sure it was the queen that was killed?"

"Sammy, I'm sure she knows what she's talking about--"

"What do you mean?" Faith sits up.

"Well, lots of hives have a clone queen, you know, some one or thing to mimic the queen, throw off the scent, so to speak, for protection. Maybe you and yours didn't really kill the queen; maybe it was just a decoy. They lay low, sure, but then move away to a new town, start up again."

"That could totally be it! Cute, smart, *and* part demon; man, if you like tiny, under-fed, goody-two-shoe-blondes, do I have a hook-up for you, Sammy, my boy!"

Sam isn't sure what his reaction to that should be, so he just smiles. "Um, okay. Do we know where the pixies' hive would be?"

"Oh, um, sure. Only I don't remember. Sorry, just let me go to my room and call someone." Faith rises, as if to leave. Dean grabs her hand. "Babe! You can't trust us? Of course you can. Just call. It's cool. We won't tattle."

Faith shrugs her shoulders. "I guess you won't." She reaches into her bra and pulls out a tiny earpiece, attaching it to her ear.

Dean looks at Sam and mouths: 'I AM IN LOVE.'

Sam just rolls his eyes and watches Faith as she touches a small button on the ear-piece. "Rogue one, in."

"Yes, third location, interlopers contained, need new intell." Sam and Dean watch, fascinated, as Faith's face lights up with a genuine smile, complete with dimples. "Got that, Mr. Bond. New info: What if the vanquished queen was not the queen? Repeat: Not the queen. Clone maybe, just a decoy? Zero in on my location and give me the specs." She mimes writing to Sam and he quickly produces a tablet and pen for her. "Go. Yes. How many miles? My ETA? Right. Carnivals. County fairs. Cotton-candy. Of course. Too slow with that, Mr. Bond. Whatever. I'm out." Faith pulls the ear piece free and tosses it on the bed next to Dean. "Bad news is: Two more bodies a few miles from here."

"And the good news?" Dean asks.

"We know where they are going to be next. Two counties over, at a carnival; that was the pattern we couldn't trace, before. County and state fairs, traveling carnivals and such, they like the cotton candy and the people. No one took into account that they were *still* pixies, and you know, still loved all that pixie shit.."

"And your 'people' told you how to kill them?" Sam asks.

"Nope. Well, hell, Raid'll kill 'em. The minions, anyway, or you can just bash 'em to death, like any 'ole bug." She shrugs. "The queen, though, I'm guessing we'll have to take off her head or stake her, like a regular vampire. That's what my people think, anyway, and I trust my people. Otherwise, she'll just flitter off and make a new batch of blood thirsty minions."

"Right," Dean says. "And how big is she, again?"

Faith holds out her hand, her fingers about five inches apart. "'Bout that big, I'd guess."

"Guess we'll need some toothpicks, huh?" Dean says. "'Cause, you know, I've got all kinds of killing-shit, but I don't have any toothpicks."

Faith smiles at him. "Come on, guys, lets get in that sexy-ass car of yours and head to Jenkinsville, Colorado."

Faith doesn't bother to ask why the name of the town causes both brothers to giggle like little girls.

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Faith does a full body stretch once out of the car. "What say boys? We got a few hours of day light to burn before we can hunt up our vampire pixies. From what I've been told, we won't be able to even get a bead on the hive with any sunlight out. Wanna get a room and fuck like horny bunnies?" She winks at them. "I'd suggest a nap, but I can never really sleep this close to a kill."

"Um," Dean begins.

"Um, uh," Sam stutters.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You guys gay? Hey, no problem, shoulda guessed, you two being so pretty and all. No big deal, just a suggestion. I can just take care of mys-"

"No!"

"Not gay. Not at all, no way, not even bi-cou-"

Faith grins, cutting Dean off. "Oh, well, then. Up for some time-killing-sexy fun?"

Sam and Dean freeze, looking at each other.

"Oh, it's the brother thing, is it? Never shared a woman? Tsk, tsk. What kind of under-world life have you two been leading? Come on. Really, come with me. I'll make sure none of your naughty bits touch nothing but *my* naughty bits." She grins at them. "Let's get us a room, one big ole bed, and I'll show ya'll such a good time, you'll be sharing women from here on out."

Sam clears his throat. "I'm pretty sure that's not a selling point."

"It's really not. Not at all." Dean tells her.

Faith shrugs her shoulders. "It's cool. I mean, I never do anything I don't really want to. I'd hate to force you guys into doing something you're not comfortable with. Of course, I also never do anything half-way, and I'd like to have you both, so, if I can't, well, I'll just make do with myself." She grins at them, wiggling her fingers. "I've got really good fingers, too, so it's okay." She raises her hands over her head, thrusting out her chest and raising her shirt, exposing a smooth expanse of skin, her fingers still wiggling.

"It's just that-" Sam begins.

"Shut up and go get us a room." Dean tells him, still watching Faith's fingers.

Sam does.
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"So, we're gonna get on the Ferris wheel and find the pixies? *That's* the plan?"

"Yeah. Come *on*, guys. Jeeze." Faith takes both their hands and skips towards the entrance to the county fair. She wiggles and giggles and the next thing they know, their hands are stamped without any money changing hands.

Dean rolls his eyes at Sam, who just shrugs his shoulders in response. He's positive Faith could get Crips and Bloods to have peaceful talks if they'd only just take the time to fuck her.

The brothers follow her to a concession stand, pay for her cotton-candy, and continue to follow her to the Ferris wheel. She slips the carney a twenty, whispers into his ear, and he promises to stop them at the top for ten minutes. Once above the cleared field, it's easy to spot the concentration of sparkling dust and residual glitter left by a group of pixies.

In a grove of trees about a mile away from the fair, they can see the spot of bright glitter, sparkling.

"That's gotta be her, don't you think, guys?" Faith asks.

"Yes."

"Yeah, probably."

"Jeeze, don't get so exited, after all, we're just going to kill a Vampire Pixie Queen that's eluded slayers and hunters alike for several years that we *know* of, and has probably been out killing for several more years that we didn't know of! What? Are you guys still squicked about your dicks touching? Dudes, really, just calm down. That stuff happens with threesomes. It’s all good. Really. It was *all* good. I'm not just saying that, believe me. I *don't* just say stuff like that. If it had been less than awesome, I'd tell you; I'm just that kind of girl." Faith slings her arms over Sam and Dean's shoulders, hugging them to her bosom. "Really guys, we had a *fantastic* time, didn't we? We did! So your dicks touched a time or two? No big deal! No worries. I mean, okay, if you want to start fucking each other on a regular basis from now on, *maybe* you should worry. Or not. Hell, if I had brothers as hot as ya'll, I'd totally fuck 'em all regular like. Get over it," Faith says with a grin and looks at them. She laughs. "Okay, yeah, I know, I'm an only child, so maybe I don't know where you're coming from with your squick-factor and all, but-- There! Look! She's signaling. Feeding time." Faith leans down and over the guard rail, causing an alarming dip in their cage. Sam and Dean clutch the guard rail. "Hey, sweetness, bring us on down. I spotted me a baby-daddy!"

The carney winks and smiles up at her with, showing off is less than the usual amount of teeth for the average adult and lets the wheel come down so they can get off.

Faith busses his cheek, before she grabs Sam and Dean's hands and pulls them towards the empty field. "Time to kill little bitty things, boys! It's gonna be great!"

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Sam can't believe he's killing murderous beings with a can of Raid, and Dean can't stop grinning about it. They've left the Queen to Faith, trusting that she'll be able to handle whatever a Pixie Vampire Queen would be able to pull off.

Dean has forgone his can of Raid and has moved on to swatting them between his two hands. Every time a cloud of pixie dust billows up from his closed hands, he laughs like a child.

"Oh, god, Sammy, we have *got* to stop off somewhere and get some pixie-stix. No joke. I've got a craving that will *not* quit."

"Sure, Dean. Ow!" Sam shakes a pixie from his finger, flinging it Dean's way, and sucking at the bite. Dean grins at him as he smushes it between his two hands, dancing beneath the shower of dust its death brings about.

"This is, like, the best job, *ever*, Sammy!"

Sam just glares at him, spraying Raid as vampire pixies continue to nip at him.

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Faith saunters back to them, her face and shirt speckled with blood. She grins and holds up a tiny, headless body by its wings. She raises her other hand and it holds a tiny little head by its sparkly-pony tail.

"That her?" Sam asks.

"Think so. We just need another ride on the Great and Mighty Ferris Wheel, to be sure. Any of her clan that we haven't killed will die out, now she's been beheaded. At least that's what the head office thinks," she tells them with a smile.

Sam and Dean are too tired to even question.

The carney doesn't even need flirting with, or more money, he just does as Faith asks him. They climb in and get to the top and stop.

The area that is alive with a glowing glitter slowly dies down as they watch. "Seems like I got the queen, huh, boys? Looks like that's what kills the clan." They stay quiet as they continue to watch the lights slowly die out. Faith places her hands on the brother's dicks. "Still a lot of lights. Gotta make sure they're all out. *What* will we do to kill the time?" She squeezes.

"Um, I guess you could keep doing that,” Dean declares.

"Oh, maybe you shouldn't-" Sam begins.

"Ya know something, guys? I love my job, mostly. But I *hate* the boring bits." Faith undoes their fly buttons and zippers, reaches inside. "And I'm all ambidextrous and shit, and bored, and we've gotta watch all those lights out there, make sure they all go out." Rubs and squeezes. "What *can* I do to entertain myself, hum?" She leans her head back. "How bout ya'll watch the lights, and I just sit here, rest, and play with your dicks? Yeah? No need to worry about crossing swords, what with me sitting here between ya'll. Just me having a bit of fun, killing the boredom."

"Um."

"Well."

"I'll take that as a mutual 'yes,' boys."

Faith lets them go, licks her palms, slowly, one and then the other, and takes them back in hand. "Now, stay alert boys, gotta make sure they all die out. No closing your eyes." Faith relaxes into her new task, just enjoying herself, leaving the boys to the job of watching.

The brothers will swear, upon pain of death, that they never, once, closed their eyes; that they watched each and every light, every sparkle, and every glimmer, die out.

When they came, and, unbeknown to them, they came together, their eyes stayed open, they were sure. And if bits of sparkle and glitter drifted away in different directions, it was nothing the boys saw or paid any attention to.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~ten years later~
"It was Agent Rogue1, I believe, that led us to declare the Vampire Pixies to be extinguished."

All eyes in the War Room turn to stare at Faith. She smiles, as she always does, whenever anyone brings up that mission.

"And I did. Whatever we're dealing with now? It's nothing to do with the clan I killed a decade ago along with the Winchester Brothers. I can, and will assure all, that we extinguished that group to the very last pixie."