WOW: Line. A hunt for the spirit of an old drag-queen requires one of the brothers to 'take one for the team'. He's really not happy about it.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I've come to the conclusion that wishing does no flippin' good at all.


Sam had to admit.

The sight of Dean sporting an ass-skimming mini-skirt, false eyelashes and strawberry-blonde wig traced the line between gut-bustingly hilarious and frankly disturbing.

"Don' see why I've gotta be bait," Dean moaned.

"'Cause you're the pretty one;" Sam spluttered, "and the short one."

Tottering past him on four-inch stilettoes, Dean gave 'the finger' and dropped heavily into a chair.

"Uh, knees together dude," Sam grimaced at the gaping vista that confronted him.

"Kiss my ass," Dean grunted.

"No thanks, Priscilla, I'll leave that to the spirit."

Sam ducked as a 'cherry kiss' lipgloss bounced off his head.