Her name was Blue Mondae and she was an elf. Also? A stripper.

"We make excellent cookies," she informed Sam and Dean, for they were her heroes, and they beamed down at her with their abnormally handsome faces from their towering statures.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, intrigued, stumbling after her on big feet that felt unnaturally clumsy in this small world. He had a large axe swung over his shoulder, still dripping with warm blood. Elf blood. The blood of evil elves. "Always did like those Fudge... what's-its."

"Fudge Stripes," Sam supplied.

"Yeah, those," Dean said.

She was wearing very tiny black lingerie and there were tassels on her tits. Sam and Dean tried not to look, for she was small and things that are as small or smaller than children should never be so sexualized, but sometimes she made it hard to look away. In fact, as soon as they'd rescued her from her evil, conservative elven brethren, she'd flashed them good and proper. Faced with such tiny, but fully-grown womanly attributes, Sam had squawked in a most undignified manner and Dean had gone wide-eyed and stared before gaining his wits about him and looking away.

"So where're we going, Blue?" Dean asked, making his way through the magical thicket, attempting not to hurt any plant-life or wildlife for these were creatures of nature, these elves. And they took their habitat very seriously.

Sam, the gigantic scamp, was struggling in this department. Twigs were snapping left and right. Blue Mondae, for her part, was making a valiant attempt to ignore his mishaps.

"To my mama's, silly."

"Will she make us cookies?" Dean asked.

"She'll make you whatever you want. You've got my daddy's blood on your big, hunkin' axe after all."

Dean stopped. Sam stopped.

"Shit," Sam said. "That was your..."

"That was my daddy." Blue Mondae nodded. "Aw, now don't stop, you two. He was a waste of space. You did us a favor. Mama will just want you to come in so she can make you some delicious treats. She'll probably want to adopt you, too, though you're a little big."

Dean was up for being adopted by elves, as long as there were Fudge Stripes cookies involved. Blue Mondae's laughter tinkled throughout the forest when he informed her of this and they made their merry way to her elven abode, which was incredibly small.

"That is incredibly small," Sam said dubiously. "Blue, I don't think I can fit in there."

"Sure you can, sugar," Blue Mondae said.

But he couldn't. Sam couldn't fit at all. Dean just barely managed and Sam had to sit outside all by himself, the smell of delicious, fresh baked Fudge Stripes cookies wafting to his nose as Dean roared with laughter inside and stuffed his stupid face.

He came out bright-eyed and satisfied three hours later, a couple of cookies stuffed in a napkin, which he immediately shoved at Sam.

"Mama wants you to have these," he said.


"She told me to call her Mama. You, too."

Sam scrunched his face up into an adorable look of skepticism. "Dean...we killed her husband."

"It made her happy. She's keepin' the axe. She wants to be reminded that he's dead every day and that it was a bloody and gruesome death made by the two most beautiful boys in the world."


Dean shrugged. "She says we're far better than Ernest and Jacob."

"...Are those the other two we killed?"



Elves were weird.