WOW: Shelter. Bright ideas; Sam's full of them. Unfortunately these bright ideas don't always take account of unpredictable factors like pain-in-the-ass big brothers …

Rated T for saucy themes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except a perverted mind.


The brothers sheltered unseen beneath an ancient oak, watching the coven of young women head toward the moonlit hilltop for their solstice celebrations.

They watched as the group scattered rosebuds around them and traced a pentacle on the turf.

Dean gaped, his attention suddenly stolen as the nubile young figures began to disrobe.

"While they're all together," Sam began, "and busy oiling their naked bodies for the fertility rite, we can ... Dean, you're drooling ... get the job done."


Sam watched helplessly as Dean charged eagerly up the hill tossing his clothes in every direction with carefree abandon.

He sighed; "I hate witches."