Chapter 2 – the devil wears Calvin Klein

There's a huge plasma flat screen tv mounted on the living room wall that wasn't there when they first walked into the place. Old Man wasn't kidding about upgrades.

"We got cable huh?" Dean drawls as he sprawls out on the couch. He smirks a little as Sam is forced to take the loveseat. Damn thing looks almost too small and dainty for Sasquatch; his knees are almost up to his chin.

"Better," Coyote smirks. "Anything you wanna watch, we got it. And I mean anything."

Dean settles back with a huge purple bowl of buttered popcorn on his lap. Sam gets one too, but he sniffs at the butter flavor and turns his nose up.

"What?" Dean smirks. Sam glares at him."Oh all right." The butter flavor vanishes from Sam's bowl. "You are such a girl, Sammy."

Bolt is up first. Coyote sniffs noisily at the end as Bolt and Mittens and Rhino snuggle on the couch with Penny and her mom.

"What?" Coyote says. "You can't tell me you didn't mist up a little at the end. Poor little guy."

Dean's eye roll is classic. He enjoyed the hell out of the movie but he's not gonna admit it.

Next up is Appaloosa, with Ed Harris and Vigo Mortensen.

Dean stares. "What? No 3:10 to Yuma? Bale and Crowe?"

It's Coyote's turn to smirk. "It's on the playlist, niño."

The Old Man's eyes widen just as Jeremy Irons kills the sheriff and his deputies.

"Gotta go."

Dean's eyes widen at the same time. "Don't you do it, Old Man," he sputters as he struggles to sit upright. "Don't—

Coyote disappears in a quick fade out.

"Crap!" Dean snarls. Andy reappears in Dean's lap. Dean balances the baby and the huge bowl of popcorn gracefully. The baby laughs, and Dean frowns. "Oh, crap."

Sam's jaws are full of popcorn and he freezes in mid-chew. "What?"

"Just what I said." Dean eyes Andy doubtfully. "Crap."

Dean wrinkles his nose as he carefully gets to his feet with both hands underneath the baby's armpits. Dean puts Andy nose to nose with Sam.

Sam gets a whiff. "What? Dean, no…"

"No? Your turn, Sammy. So who do you think changed your diapers when you were his age, Sasquatch? Dad?"

"I can't, um, change his diaper. Uh, I'll miss the movie?" Sam says hopefully as he pulls out the big guns. Puppy dog eyes.

Dean growls at him. "Uh uh. Not letting you off that easy. We got our own personal TiVo here." His eyes spark gold and the sound and picture freeze.

Sam huffs. "Dean--- "

"You need to clean him up, and I mean really clean him up, and then check to see if he's got diaper rash. If he does, then you gotta put ointment on him, and then powder his little butt up before you put the clean diaper on him."

"Deaann…" Sam whines.

"We salt and burn corpses every day, and you're getting all dainty all on me all of a sudden because of a little baby shit? Come on, Sam! I'm giving you the benefit of my expertise. I don't need any more hands on experience with this. You do."

Sam grumbles. Andy laughs.

Andy sprays Sam in the face moments later as soon as Sam opens up his diaper.

"Dude," Dean yells through the bathroom door to Sam minutes later. "At least you got to use the steam shower first!"

Forty five minutes later Dean's sitting in the easy chair feeding Andy a bottle of formula. Sam stalks in still damp from the shower. He stares at Andy and shakes his head. "His waste is a biohazard, he's hung like a fire hose, and you're feeding him? Not a good idea, Dean. Not at all."

Dean shrugs. "Geez, Samantha, you're such a wuss," Dean grumbles. "Tell you what. You can pick the next two movies."

Big mistake.

"Killer pollen?" Sam whispers roughly in disbelief nearly two hours later as the end credits for The Happening roll. "What the hell was that?"

"Oh, I don't know. A bad movie?" Dean cradles Andy in one arm. He tosses a popcorn kernel towards his mouth and misses. "We wanted to watch 'American Psycho' or 'Max Payne' but no, that was too much like right, wasn't it, dude?" Dean says to Andy.

Andy coos softly in agreement.

Sam ignores both their sorry asses.

Coyote blinks back in ten minutes later. He carefully sniffs the air, relaxes and sprawls out onto the couch.

"Punk," Dean mutters. The Old Man pretends not to hear.

Next up is ET The Extraterrestrial. Some time later ET's skin turns grey and his eyes close. Sam sniffs rather loudly. Dean pretends there's something in his eyes. Dust. Yeah, that's it.

"Get up, you little bastard. You're not dead," Coyote rumbles.

Sam and Dean stare at him, frowning. Coyote shrugs. "What?"

The crowd of assholes show up early the next morning.


"Aw, come on, darling," Coyote drawls softly. "I'm Batman. Wanna see my Batmobile?" Lassie blinks coquettishly, then disappears in the blink of an eye as Coyote wakes up in the headspace.


"Dean Michael Winchester," Jessica Alba purrs. The ribbon wrapped around her body is wide and purple, tied in a big perfect bow at her right hip.

Dean's always loved the color purple.

"Come on over here and unwrap your present, big boy."


Dean wakes up.

Son of a bitch!


"Open up! We know you're in there."

"What the hell?" Sam wakes up just as the trees in Bobby Singer's yard uproot themselves and start singing "Thank You For Lettin' Me Be Myself Again" while dancing in a chorus line.


"Hear what I say! Give up the Spawn of Satan, that we may purify him! I speak Salvation! I speak Redemption!"

Andy starts crying.

"I got this," Dean mutters. He jumps out of bed wearing only a grey t-shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs. He stalks over to the crib, picks Andy up and hands him off to Sam. Then Dean goes to the door and yanks it open.

Jessica Alba, damn it.

Somebody's gonna pay for waking him up at five freakin' thirty in the morning.

The crowd jerks back when they see the look of fury on Dean's face. "Something I can help you sonsabitches with?" Dean snarls. He puts all the force he has into his voice, which is considerable. Coyote's up and pacing around in the headspace now, wide awake and thoroughly pissed off.

The crowd lowers their pitchforks. Dude in the lead's a mousy looking type wearing a preacher's collar. He tries to peer around Dean's shoulder into the apartment. Dean snarls at him and preacher man draws back.

"Huh…is Guy or Rosemary here?" the priest stammers.


"Well, uh, is the spawn of Satan here?"

Dean smiles wolfishly. "Right here, pal. Who's asking?"

The older man steps back, looks Dean up and down in total confusion. "You''re not Satan's seedling."

Dean's smirk is wicked sharp, but "Reverend Flavel and his Righteous Flock" are too damn stupid to be scared. "Dude couldn't make it today, padre. I'm filling in for him."

"Well, humph, this is highly irregular, but we are the righteous followers of the Lord." The crowd roars its support and approval. "I am the Right Reverend Theodore Campbell, and this is my flock. We are here to smite you and all who dwell in this den of iniquity."

"Oh yeah? Smite this." Dean's eyes blaze golden.

The first cop on the scene calls in five minutes later.

"We need Animal Control out here. We got lemurs."

"You -- what?"

"Yep. Ring-tailed lemurs."

Everything gets so big. Too big. Reverend Campbell and his flock can't understand it. Their bodies shrink, and they sprout fur in all the long places.

Nice tails, though. Nice and long, with those black and white rings.

Campbell loves his tail.

He misses the sun and the grass, and he and some of the other males don't like the way the big females look at them. They're bossy. Mrs. Indira Ramsey chases Campbell around the hallway and snaps at him. She tries to grab his tail.

It gets worse when the humans show up.

Campbell tries talking to them. "Now see here, we're doing the Lord's work."

He's not used to being ignored. They don't understand a word he says; it's grunts and groans and chirps instead of words. He can't breathe and he can't move when the humans slip that rope on a stick around his neck.

Sometime later Reverend Campbell comes back to himself sitting stark naked in a cage in New York City's Animal Control Center. He's grooming his second in command, the choir director, Harvey Moss.

Harvey doesn't mind.

Reverend Campbell keeps right on grooming him. Employee Jerry Callahan walks through the cage area. Callahan stops in front of the enclosure and takes a picture of the two men with his cell phone.

Five minutes after that Claire Nichols, a reporter at the NY Post, gets a call.

Sometimes being the human half of the trickster god Coyote sucks. Dean admits it, knows there's no getting around it. Like it or not, and sometimes he doesn't, there are limits to what he can do.

But there are some days when this life --- his life -- surely does have its perks.

A day later, when the story hits the stands (Religious Leader Gets His Freak On) Campbell alleges that a golden eyed fallen angel wearing black boxer briefs made him do it.

So naturally, the follow up article was headlined The Devil Wears Calvin Klein. The sub-headline was: And He Made Me Do It.


Six hours later Dean, Sam, Coyote and Andy go for a walk. "Do us good to get out, get some sun and fresh air, Sammy," Dean says.

He's way too cheerful. Sam knows something's up.

He scowls when they walk into the nanny park. "Dean!"

Dean blinks innocently. "What?"

Sam's bitchface is in full bloom.

"Chicks go for the car, and babies, and dogs."

Coyote grins to himself.

It's wall to wall women, and they're all Coyote's/Dean's type, namely alive and breathing. Andy actually looks normal now, all cute and google-eyed. He giggles as the women swarm around his stroller.

"Oh, he's so precious!"

"What a beautiful baby!"


"Well," Dean says grandly as he holds court on that park bench. "I don't see why any real man would object to babysitting." He smirks at Sam and winks while Sam does a slow burn.

Coyote preens under all the attention. He doesn't mind being on a leash. He looks different, big and blonde and all puppy dog handsome.

"Oh, what a beautiful dog! Can I pet him?"

"Such a good boy!"

"Oh, he's so sweet!"

Two hours later Dean's collected about twenty phone numbers, Coyote's all petted out and Sam's extremely annoyed.

It's win-win, people.

The angels of the Lord show up on the sixth day.

Dean wakes up first. He sits straight up in bed as that tingle inside his head flares up. It's familiar to him by now, the feeling he always gets whenever something supernatural and really bad ass is around. He stumbles out of bed, all sleep tousled, eyes gone to slits, wearing a fresh pair of black boxer briefs, and he lets that fizzy feeling in his head lead him towards the kitchen.

In the headspace they share Coyote yawns and rolls over on his back. Five more minutes, he mumbles.

Must… protect…coffee machine, Dean thinks muzzily to himself. Protecting Sam and Andy are a given, something he doesn't even think about.

Dean shuffles into the kitchen with his head down, and the three beings standing there blink at him in surprise. The only reason he doesn't unload on them quick fast and in a hurry is because one of them is a woman. She's cute.

And Dean knows they're harmless. For now, anyway.

She's attractive. Tall, slender, with high cheekbones and shoulder length red hair, flanked by a scowling black dude in a suit and another one with piercing blue eyes and a rumpled tan raincoat.

The black dude clears his throat. "We are ---"

"Mmph…" Dean shambles over, snags a clean black coffee mug out of the dishwasher Coyote magicked up.

"...friggin'…frackin'…angels of the lord," Dean mumbles. "Yadda yadda yadda." He punctuates each word with a handflap, stands there fidgeting and dull eyed as the HESACM Mach 4000 works its magic.

Uriel tries again. "We're ---"

Dean growls. Loud and long. Translation: Shut the hell UP.

Uriel shuts it.

When the mug is filled, Dean closes his eyes and drinks deep.

Anna, Castiel and Uriel are still standing there when he opens his eyes, and that pisses Dean off a little.

"Wha?" Dean barks, the sharp edge in his voice still dulled by sleep.

"We're here to observe the infant, Dean," Anna says softly.

"Neh. Nope. Nuh uh." Dean sways on his feet. "Sleep now."

"But---" Castiel says, and Dean glares at him.

"Nyet," Dean mutters roughly, and that glint in his eyes sparks a little more golden.

Castiel shuts the hell up.

Doesn't matter that Dean just drank a whole mug of exquisitely brewed coffee. It's three damn thirty in the morning, damn it, and he feels that irresistible pull of his bed again.

Dean Winchester is not a morning person. Never has been, never will be.

Besides, Jessica Alba's waiting on the other side of sleep. She's got that skin-tight Fantastic Four costume on, and she needs help taking it off.

Uriel and Castiel glance longingly at the HESACM Mach 4000. So does Anna.

"Help yourself," Dean mumbles as he stumbles past. He huffs to himself. Angels. Big deal. "Don't let the door hit ya on the way out."

They don't.

Rosemary and Guy Woodhouse, along with Minnie and Roman Castavet and the other cult members, come back two days later.

Sam loses the bet.

Dean magicks up a cute summer frock for Sam to wear. It's size 24, sleeveless, bright yellow with red and blue tulips. It's a little tight across the back, but Dean assures Sam he looks absolutely fetching in it.

John Winchester tries to keep his game face on. He really does. "Ah, Sam, it…it could have been worse."

"Worse?" Sam throws his arms out to his sides. "Dad, how could this get worse?"

John blinks. "I got nothing."

John's game face collapses when Dean presents Sam with a pair of bright red pumps.

Bobby Singer refuses to comment.

He giggles, though. A lot.

A/N: Well, that's it. Terry, m'dear, hope you're having a wonderful birthday weekend. You can blame Phoebe for this. She came up with the idea of the lemurs, the name for Dean's beloved HESACM Mach 4000, and Porky's II, which I modified a little (used some of the dialogue from the movie instead) the note on the fridge, and my fleshing out of exactly how Rosemary got her hands on the note (well, sorta).

Other pop culture references included Aldo the Inglourious Basterd, which is taken from Brad Pitt's next movie, Inglourious Basterds. I'm pretty sure you guys recognize the rest. Thanks for reading!