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Lavender, Baby.

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"She's lavender, Sam. Lavender. Baby, I'm so sorry," Dean crooned to the Impala, which boasted a vanity license plate reading "LEX 666" as well as the aforementioned pale purple, extremely shiny paint job.

"Dean. Dean. Dean," Sam snapped. "Focus. I think we have bigger problems."

"I'm gonna fucking kill that Trickster, if it's the last thing I do," Dean growled, rubbing at his bald head self-consciously. "I'm wearing purple. And slacks," he added indignantly. "Why do you still get to dress normal?"

"We need to figure out which season this is." Sam glanced nervously at the cafe they stood next to -- the Talon. Crap, he hadn't watched this show in years. What if they ran into Lana? Well, he'd blush and act awkward, that should cover most Clark/Lana interaction. Unless she was evil this season. Shit.

"Lex, daaaaaaaaahling," trilled a stunningly beautiful brunette woman in a barely-there dress. She seemed to have come from nowhere -- Sam could have sworn the sidewalk where she stood had been empty a moment before. "I've been trying your cell all morning. Are you dodging my phone calls? Don't you love me anymore?" she asked, leaning against Dean's chest and batting her heavily mascaraed eyes up at him.

Dean's expression seemed caught between deer-in-the-headlights and barely contained glee. "Dude, I'm still a chick magnet, even if I am a bald freak in sensible slacks," Dean hissed in Sam's direction. Sam rolled his eyes. More loudly, Dean said, "Of course not, baby. I mean, yeah, no, I just. Uh. Lost my cell phone."

She smiled like a playful shark and tapped claw-like, crimson fingernails on Dean's chest. "You'd better not be dodging my calls. You wouldn't want me to tell Daddy you're not playing nice, would you? I'll see you back at the castle, darling." And with that, she sashayed over to a bright red Porsche (that Sam could have sworn hadn't been there a moment ago) and peeled out with tires squealing in protest.

"Dude," Dean said, leering after her. "No points for the douchey import, but did you see that chick's--"

"Dean," Sam interrupted. "Don't even think about it. She's evil."

"She seemed nice. Friendly. She could be really friendly..."

"You're playing Lex Luthor. Not only is she evil, she's probably going to try to kill you tonight."

"How do you know?"

Sam sighed. "Because it's Smallville."