A/N: It is with deep regret that I return after so long. Life practically has had its ups and downs this past year, mainly downs. But I'm happy to report that I am back and ready for action. The story is complete, so enjoy.



…..And moving on:

Madebyme:"Awesome chapter! You totally capture Dean's voice and I loved all the snarky humour and sarcasm.

Neat job too drawing in all the little bits of information we've leant about demons over the last 6 seasons. I don't know how you do it without giving yourself a headache!

And finally a little message for Dean...

Thanks for the shout out and as a thank you I'll let you into a secret. While that smile of yours works like a charm on most girls, really all we want is much simpler; just show the real guy behind the grin and the mask you hind behind. Just some food for thought...

Looking forward to the next instalment.

Dean's Response: Sorry Abby, it's been awhile. Turns out that dear ole Sammy boy has had a few issues – which I prefer not to get into at the present time- and dealing with icky, goopy monsters as of late. They're a hot new item on the monster-r-us menu. You'll get the real guy in this chapter. Believe me! He's too stupid to make up!

Spoilers: All Seasons!

Lo Siento Mis Amigos, Sam and I have had a particularly awful year. We've been getting our asses kicked since the theorized apocalyptic year of 2012 began. Our buddies Jim and Jose's influence has lost its sway and my baby's on lockdown. No, seriously, I'm driving a Buick as we speak! A freaking Buick! I would love to say our extended absence has been due to a long overdue vacay action with some Casa Erotica, Cervesas, and…and…dammit! What's Spanish for "Donkey Show" again?

Anyways, none of the aforementioned occurred. Instead we've been up to our eyeballs with a literally sticky situation. It's even a job that Mr. Clean can't handle…

…but I don't care to indulge in that gooey, doppelganger fun….not yet!

Okay, where were we? Basics, Vamps, Demons, Angels, so that leaves….oh yeah! Everything else!

But I don't have that kind of time. Remember, I'm only naming off a few of the basic common ones, because, you see, we're still learning too. Let's start off with the more notable one: Shape-shifters.

Get ready boys and girls, grab a bucket, and some Dramamine if you got it! These bad guys put the gr in gross. They can't really help it since most shape-shifters are born that way. But others like werewolves, they're turned.

Shape-shifters, as you've guessed it, are monsters that can change its shape to match another living thing, ergo a human. Or in a werewolf's case: only a vicious wolf that'll eat your heart out. Most of the time, a shape-shifter will morph into another human being, sometimes kill the original host, or frame them, as they go on a self-indulged killing and robbing-bank and liquor-store spree.

The first time Sam and I have encountered a shape-shifter was during the year we went searching for dear ole dad. One of Sam's friends from Stanford had called telling us that her brother was framed for killing his girlfriend. Problem was the time the neighborhood video has him leaving the house after offing said GF, the brother was with said sister at the exact same time. So of course, what do we do? We investigate….

Why oh why, did we have to investigate this case?

The aftermath of this very case had the cops riding my and Sam's ass for years.

We watched the tape seeing up close that it was indeed the chick's brother who left the house…but we also caught a very interesting aspect. His eyes lit up like moonbeams. Freaky spectral imaging, maybe? Nope, we knew right then we were dealing with something. But we weren't quite sure what yet.

Until we did a little digging, and found out we were dealing with a shape-shifter. Trust me, these guys aren't as sexy as Mystique. These dudes, all they have to do to be your doppelganger is touch you, and then – careful, watch your shoes ladies – the skin literally falls off and refigures itself until you're looking directly at yourself.

If you're ready to upchuck, here's where you'll need that bucket!

Soon eventually when we had figured out what it was, the damn thing copied ME! ME! And as ME, it beat up Sam's friend, beat up Sam, tied me to a pole, and who knows what else it had in mind. These freaks, since they're born this way, have had severe insecurity issues – "I'm a monster, blah blah" – so they take out all their pent up frustration and anger by robbing banks, going on random killing sprees, oh, and re-create monster movies. That I have to say was pretty fun…except when the damn thing drugged me and dressed me in a lederhosen.

Oh you betcha, Sam still has mileage on that one!

Oh don't worry, we caught the bastard as he was tearing into my brother and put two bullets in him. I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty weird killing myself, but hey, how many people can say they've actually attended their own funeral! Granted, I missed mine, but whatever. I'm over it!

Except when my mug showed up on the evening news in a bank one night, also in the midst of another shape-shifter case, therefore having the Feds on my ass…..still have the feds on my ass! Dammit!

The weapon of choice, if any of you know your Lycanthrope lore: anything with Silver. Silver bullets; Silver knife; Silverware. Whatever that has actual silver in it, and none of that fake shit, that'll kill em'. One straight hit to the heart, and you're good to go. Though it would be easier if you had a gun. With a knife, it would mean you'd have to get up close and personal with the bastards. Don't take this for granted, some of these guys have been hunting and killing a long time. They're not easy to take down. To avoid them, however, try to dress dirt poor. They like shiny things. So if you dress to impress and have the gold to pull it off, watch out!

Remember, dress as a bum, carry silver bullets on you (especially during a full moon), and/or a silver knife, and don't go marching in to save the day during a bank robbery. They will frame you without a second's pause. Kay?

Next up: Witches!

First off, I have to get this off my chest….YUCK! Witches are so…so…skeevy!

Nasty, all the way around, with their body fluids, hex bags, killing rabbits, chuckin' curses at people they don't like….or if they're taking revenge out on a loved one. I mean, the list goes on. These broads usually aren't the prettiest either.

The first one we ever set eyes on was when Sammy was six years old, and this evil thing in a homeless-styled black cloak came in and began sucking the life out of him. A "Shtriga" my dad called it: a type of witch that sneaks into kid's bedrooms and suck out their life-force. Unfortunately it got away, but eighteen years later it came back. It typically sucked the energy from kids, and they would go into a severe comatose state. Only when the bastard was shot dead –which is really tricky, by the way, since it's only vulnerable when it's feeding off something – were the kid's brought back to life, so to speak. Poor Sam. If it wasn't for him being tossed around like a ragdoll, held down helplessly while this thing seemingly did CPR on him, and was actually sucking him dry, I wouldn't have had a clean shot to the frontal lobe. And then voila! The heroes saved the day!

I only wish that was the only kind of witch there was.

You see, anyone can open a book of black magic and start speaking a language they don't know, or start off a chain of events they don't mean. But it's the ones that do collect an assortment of black magic books and practice it on a daily basis who you gotta watch out for. Like the Desperate Housewife Bimbos we met a few years ago.

These gals obviously were not true-to-the-core witches. But when a demon came to town, possessed one of them, and began the Murder Magic Book Club, things began to spin out of control. At first, it was all innocent, with the wives club winning all these extra fortunes like cruises, the lottery, a good business, etc. – it usually starts out that way – and then it led to certain people killed, and us being called in to check it out. We didn't know it was a demon behind the whole charade until Sammy barged in on the troupe as I was literally hacking up a lung on the carpet floor. Sam couldn't find the hex bag that laid out the curse.

Oh yeah! I forgot to mention that's how they getcha! By confiscating something off your person, and it could be anything, like lint for example, they put together a number of goodies, like charred bones, medallions, cooked garden roots, you name it, and tie em' up in a leather bag, set it in someplace near you, and then bam! You're cursed!

Curses can go a long way. I heard a guy choked on razorblades as he was eating candy. In my case, yes, I was coughing up my lungs, while others are boiled alive while dunking for apples. A number of things can happen. Hell, we came upon a very powerful witch just recently who fried a woman's head while she was at the hair salon. All because she was pissed off at her husband, who also happened to be a witch. It was a Dr. Phil battle like no other. Short story, we counseled em' as best we could and got the hell out of dodge.

Sometimes you have to pick your battles. And that one, we knew we weren't going to win.

Anyway, getting off topic here….if you think somehow you're being cursed, like say something inanimate is trying to kill you, then you need to seek out said hex bag and burn it; only way to stop the curse coming your way. And then you need to seek out the witch. Cuz once you're on their shit-list, you'll stay on it until you're six feet under. Comprende amigo?

Now witches can be anybody. But start off with a list of people who don't like you. And if you're a corporate douchebag, well, then sorry bud, you're shit out of luck. This is why being nice can be a blessing!

And if you do know, a witch is human most of the time…even the ones who are hundreds of years old. Just shoot em' and call it a day!

Another thing to mention that'll make great target practice is….wait for it…Fairies!

Yep, that's exactly what I said. Fairies! Three words: Incandescent Grabby Douchebags. Kinda like the invisible dudes on St. Patty's Day that like to pinch. And they also like to make you think you've been abducted by aliens. Oh yes! I'm not joking.

Boy it kills me to say I'm drug free today, or that it actually is hoodoo magic from our feathery friends mentioned in chapter four…but it's not. Fairies have many names it turns out. Sprites. Spriggins. Bogarts. And Brownies. Oh, get this "My Little Pony" fans, they pay tribute to Oberon, King of the Fairies, who live in Avalon…..my god, I need a drink right now.

Our encounter with Oberon's servants happened around two years ago. There were a number of reports about possible 'abductions'. No, not the type you'd find in that Liam Neeson flick. But actual ALIEN abductions. So naturally, we check it out. The entire town had gone cuckoo for cocoa puffs for this alien biz, a little loco if you know what I'm saying. Sam and I weren't buying it. The last time we thought we stumbled upon an "alien abduction" it turned out to be a trickster/refugee archangel with a fetish for just desserts on guys who are dicks.

This time? Not. The. Freaking. Case!

I actually had wished it was that guy.

I went to the supposed "abduction" site…located – go figure – in a cornfield and stake out for a while. Soon my phone goes off the fritz and the next thing I know is there is a beam of bright light. Perfectly circular. Same as the light in the Encounter of 3rd Kind. A helicopter, maybe?


It starts to chase me down. So what do I do? Wait to see if it's a gimmick? Hell no! I've seen this movie. I take off. But that was pointless. It sucks me up the whole clichéd X-Files way. I don't remember much of what happened…no, there wasn't any probing going on – Sam already asked – … but thank Jehovah's Witnesses I had my gun. Those bug-eyed bastards didn't have a chance. I pulled the trigger and didn't let go. If I was going down, I was going down shooting. End of story.

End of the story, with the beginning of a new story, they let me go. Ha! No one can beat the KING! …..okay? That was a joke.

After my so-called abduction and blinding return, I knew something had happened, but I wasn't sure what. I didn't figure it out until it was Tinkerbell, and I do mean this literally, broke down our door and decide to give me an ass-kicking. I'll say this again, "it was a little…glowing…hot…naked lady with…nipples…and she hit me." She was tough, but our battle ended my having to pizza-roll her tiny topless ass in the microwave. Ding! Surprisingly though, Sam claimed he couldn't see the mess left behind, so that left me to assume what the creepy lady on the street said, 'since I was a first-born male, I was chosen to serve Oberon, therefore only I can see them'. I know, right? Sucks to be me! Damn those Fairies.

Yah! We sought out the creepy lady off Main and she broke it all down. Apparently if these guys are called, which they have to be read off from a manual, they come, collect the first-born kids of a litter to serve their mighty evil one, and in return they make clocks and get drunk off milk. Hymph, cheap little bastards!

So were we to believe this dished out tale? What do you think?

Luckily the old kook had mentioned 'cream' and that's how we found our tiny buddies. Oh! And a leprechaun too. Hahahahaha, I forgot to mention Sam got his ass beat by a midget. Though I got my ass chucked in jail for tackling one…that turned out to be the attorney general of the town.


Well, Sam ended up saving the day in this case as the creepy old lady let slip that no matter what, if you pour sugar, the leprechaun and fairy must count the crystals. So as the dwarf was busy counting, Sam read off the ritual manual and banished them back to their dimension. So if by chance you come across a little dude willing to make you an offer and all you have to do is read a script, here's a tip for ya: Drop it and run. Rumpelstiltskin is a mean old midget.

So long story short, if you think you have been abducted by E.T. and his homies, think again. Just be sure to keep a cup full of sugar nearby and some cream. It'll keep em' occupied. Trust me.

Last and certainly not least in numbers: Ghosts!

Take notes Ed and Harry. I'm sure 95 percent of us know what a ghost is. For those of you who don't, watch the movie Ghost. Swayze is the man! He basically breaks it down for ya. Most of the time when someone kicks the bucket, a reaper shows up. What you say? The grim reaper? He exists. Well yeah. But he's not the dude who picks your ass up. It's just one of his cronies with a pale, gaunt face and is wearing a Barney Stinson suit. Unless Tessa shows up. She's a chick in some very see-all leather. Careful, she's wicked with the tongue….

She's got attitude…sheesh!

Though I do have to give the reapers some credit; they do give you a choice. I was Death for a day (I'll explain another time), and so I can vouch for this. You can choose to stay or move on. And that, my friends, is how you get a ghost: those poor guys who decide to stay.

Don't give me the line. I can't tell ya why these kooks would want to stay, but they do. And since the only way for them to move about anywhere in this world is a piece of their body, and I do mean like hair, fingernail, blood, skeleton, you name it, moves anywhere. So if the only way for them to exist in this world is their lock of hair sitting on a mantel in an old condemned shack, then voila, they're stuck in said shack…unless you burn their remains and send them on their merry way into the next world. Yep, here's where it gets juicy.

Weapon of choice: fire.

It's the basic salt and burn in this situation. If said ghost becomes emo and starts taking their rage and frustration out on any newcomer, then it's time to say 'adios'. Start by first figuring out who said ghost is. Then find out if they were buried or were cremated. If cremated, the mission will be just a tad bit harder as you need to figure out what other remains of their body could be. Then when you do, pour salt over it and burn the remains. Got it?

If however the ghost has caught on what you're up to, don't freak out. Yes, you're in deep shit, but that's where salt comes into play. Yes, the condiment particle mentioned in chapter one. Salt, and lots of it. Or if you have anything iron, like an old pan or an andiron by the fireplace, that'll repel the angry spirit for a moment. Watch out cuz they will rematerialize back and plow over you like a bulldozer like in Maximum Overdrive. Don't wait. Salt will repel it, but burning the remains will banish it. Kay? That's not hard.

However, it does mean you would have to get down and dirty. And what I mean is, if all that is left of the evil spirit is its body, then buy yourself a shovel. Hey, you wanted to know. Hope you don't mind a little illegal work, cuz I'm positively sure digging up graves is illegal in all fifty states. So pray you can dig fast.

It's not all that bad once you get used to it. All you gotta do is dig down to the gravebox, pry open the casket, and…..

"Dude, are you talking to yourself?" echoed Sam's voice, whose giant silhouette could be seen amidst the washroom's door.

Dean, sitting comfortably in the motel's squeaky chair, stuttered an inaudible reply, "Ergh…um, I'm writing a memoir."

"Huh? You wanna be a masseuse?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, a masseuse! I'm practicing my mojo right now," he called back cupping his hands in mid-air and wriggling his fingers in a provocative manner. He laughed. "No, ya douche! I'm writing a memoir about…about…" he scratched his head, "you know? And I tell ya, it's gonna be a hit."

Sam then protruded from the washroom, toothbrush in mouth, with a ring of foamy fluoride encompassing his lips. "About you know?"

The wiggle of the eyebrows was prominent. "Oh yeah, you know!"

"It's actually about you know?" There was definitely a hint of disbelief in that tone.

"Uh huh, it's all about you know!"

His brother gave a guttural laugh, followed by a zealous snort. "Right! We'll see how far that will go."

"Ye of little faith Sammy. We'll see who has the last laugh?"

"Uh huh, we'll see." And he disappeared back into the room.

Much to Sam's chagrin, the memoir actually became a smashing hit off the New York's bestselling fiction unit for three weeks straight. With its popularity, Dean was able to publish three more self-hunt manuals. And nobody ever had a problem in defending themselves against the Supernatural, so the Winchester's retired….briefly.


Haha, I hope you had fun reading. To all of my other readers, whom I'm sure want to kill me right about now, I have started the sequel to "Home is where the Heart is" and will have the first part of it up shortly. Thanks so much for waiting.

Till next time,