WOW: Slip. That Trickster's been at work again. Only this time, Dean doesn't seem to mind terribly …

Disclaimer: don't own, wish I did, world's not fair, yada yada …


It had happened in the briefest of moments, but the result was undeniable.

The Impala had simply vanished.

In her place stood a gloriously mature, sassy and extremely beautiful woman. Her long raven-black hair curled loosely over elegant tawny shoulders, and a very little black dress clung wickedly to her slender curves, slipping like liquid silk around the slim contours of her shapely thighs.

Steely grey eyes tilted toward Dean, turning his knees to water. He gaped, wide-eyed and helpless, a bead of drool glistening on his bottom lip.

"Sam," he croaked; "would it be wrong if … ?"

Sam grimaced; "dude, don't even go there."