A/N: This was a two week drabble of sorts. I really wasn't expecting to upload but I like this and I figure it might entertain someone. Important to note that while, yes, Dean is biologically a female, he does not suddenly identify as being a woman therefore I use his gender appropriate pronouns. If you are transgendered and anything said or done in this fic offended you, please let me know so that I may attempt to correct it.
WARNING: SLASH, DESTIEL, GENDER BENDING, FEM!DEAN, FEMALE MASTURBATION, SEASON 8 SPOILERS
Dean really hopes that he's dreaming. He really really hopes that he's dreaming because if he is then A) his panic level will drop and he can probably start breathing normally and B) the current situation would actually be kind of cool.
The Winchester closes his eyes and lets out held breath. Very slowly he brings his hands over his chest and then just hovers for a second. His back is to the bathroom mirror and it's still so early out that it's dark so he's got the lights flicked on, a sickly yellow casting its color over the small room. Dean chews his lip for a second and then very quickly he slams his hands down into a cupping grip. He immediately lets go and his eyes go wide. He starts stammering to himself, a mixture of breathing and cursing.
This all started when Dean roused from his sleep. For whatever reason, his four hours being up he presumes, he sleepily began to stir into consciousness and the first thing he felt was, oddly enough, thirst. So Dean dragged himself out from cheap motel sheets and padded his bare feet over to the mini fridge. He didn't have to be too careful about making noise or not. Sammy was snoring away being the heavy (for a hunter) sleeper that he was. There had to be a bottle of water or something in this place. Worse come to worse he knew there was always beer.
So Dean hunched over to the the fridge's height, and brought his free hand to scratch at the flat plane in between his muscled pecs. The scratch halted to a crawl though as he felt some protrusion in his chest, round and fleshy and soft. With confusion, he grasped the growth more definitively. His other hand went to investigate as well but it brushed into the addition's very apparent twin. He had both hands on his chest, fingers prodding at the warmth of round flesh under his shirt. Then next thing he knew he was sprinting into the bathroom. He flicked on the light and nearly punched out the mirror at the stranger that stood before him.
Because the reflection in the mirror was not Dean. That was a woman, fair faced and wide eyed and not Dean. But as Dean stared she stared back. With almost a comical sense he began to move his band back and forth, waving at the little woman in the silvery plane. She did as he did. This is just a motel mirror, not enchanted. Not special in any sort of way with the exception perhaps of the amount of grout and dirt hiding in the edges. With a spark of horror Dean realizes that while it may not be his face, he's certainly the person behind it.
So now we find him, standing in the bathroom, back to the mirror as his mouth makes noises similiar to panicked words and his terrified hands intermeaditaley feel up what appears to be his new breasts.
He sucks in one last deep breath and firmly plants his hands on them. He holds them, unsure of what to do at first. He gives a little squeeze and yes he feels it. So he moves them around and they are most definitely tits. Girl tits, all round and soft and fuck is it weird to feel them up and feel them being felt up.
Dean slowly releases his chest though as he examines his hands. They're smaller, his fingers more slender and his palms petite. He runs his fingers over each other and they feel so smooth. He examines the backs, putting his fingers out straight and he actually has dimples on his knuckles, soft indents like little tracks in light sand.
Girl boobs. Girl hands. Just like the girl face he'd seen in the mirror. The one he can't face now and with a deep sickness pitting into his stomach he brings his hand down towards his crotch. The sweat pants on him are baggy, barely staying up on him. He can feel the material of his boxer briefs against his thigh, the small pouch already signaling an emptiness and Dean can feel how pale he is. He grabs at his crotch, no protrusions, no length, nothing. Just a mound of flesh, smooth and curving over. Girl parts.
"SAM!" Dean screams, his voice high and making this horrible breaking sound.
Girl voice. Girl hands. Girl face. Girl parts.
God, did Dean wish this was a dream.
A few hours and a considerable amount of screaming later, Dean and Sam are sitting on their respective beds in relative silence. The older Winchester finishes his third beer quickly and in silence. He wishes that he'd gotten something harder but he was trying to lay off the sauce. Lord knows he's been drinking too much over the past few years and while he won't say it in so many words, the hunter realizes that being a steady alcoholic isn't going to do anything for anyone.
Dean regrets that now and really wants to tell Sammy to just drive the Impala to the nearest whatever and get him something strong enough to commit genocide on his brain cells but the damn kid won't stop staring at him.
"Would you stop that?" Dean snaps as his lips pop off the lid of the can. He crumples it and without any regard to tidiness throws it to the side in frustration, "You're freaking me out."
"Oh, I'm freaking you out?" Sam accuses as he gestures to his brother's new form.
"Well it's not like I'm celebrating Christmas over here, Sam!" Dean growls back.
Well, tries to growl back would be more accurate. His voice still sounds like him, like a bad Batman impression coming out a little slack jawed but now it's higher up. It's still not dainty by any means. He just sounds like a woman trying really hard to impersonate Dean Winchester, or just one trying to be butch. For a chick then, this probably is the female equivalent of a side mouthed dark knight.
"I know that!" Sam calms himself with a sigh, "I know that. Look, there has got to be an explanation for all this."
"Of course there is!" Dean shouts, "I mean you don't just wake up dickless and with tits!"
Sam doesn't seem to really be listening to Dean though. Instead, he's lost in thought. That brain of his is probably going a million miles a minute. The older Winchester reaches behind him for the remainder of the six pack and gropes his way to his fourth beer. Sometimes this job, no this lifestyle, really just drives you to drink.
"It's probably a- a spell! No, we haven't dealt with witches in months. Maybe you- uh- maybe you touched something charmed?"
"I certainly don't remember any weird objects, do you?" Dean says with some sass but that doesn't penetrate the collasal brainstorm Sam's having.
"No, no you're right. Maybe it's an old witch with a grudge? Someone we haven't seen in a while? We should look for hex bags!"
Dean chugs half the can and places it noisily on the night stand. He brings his arm across his mouth, wiping off his lips against his thin wrist. His brother is actually pacing, digging through things and starting to panic which doesn't help Dean in the slightest.
"I've gone full Ranma 1/2 here and the best you can come up with is let's look for hex bags?" Dean complains.
"Well, I don't see you coming up with any ideas."
Dean pouts at his brother. No, not pouts, he attempts to scrunch up his face in a manly display to convey his displeasure.
"Stop pouting," Sam retorts at the expression and Dean glares in exasperation.
He keeps pacing the floor, he flips over the mattress that Dean's not occupying and paws at his pocket, forgetting that he doesn't keep his switchblade in his sleeping pants.
"Sammy," Dean sighs, "There's no hex bag."
"How do you know?" Sam says, clearly panicking.
It seems strange that Sam is freaking out more than Dean at this point but Dean supposes that seeing your older brother turned she is probably pretty disconcerting. Besides, Dean had worked up a decent, calming buzz and- well, maybe he's accustomed to weird. For crying out loud, he's been in multiple alternate universes, been to the past on more than one occasion, he fights supernatural baddies for a living. There's been nothing not weird about his life since, morbid as it sounds, his mom died.
Granted though, random ass gender bending? Not even Dean was completely prepared for weirdness of that caliber. But, with a little time and alcohol, he's getting used to it. Sort of.
"Hexbags are usually the black spot of witch curses aren't they? And I'm not dead just- a chick. Not exactly their M.O., Sam."
Sam looks at his older brother carefully. He walks up closer and scrutinizes every part of Dean's face. Dean backs his head away a little and feels uncomfortable. There's a fleeting urge to blurt out the phrase, "personal space" but that immediately makes Dean think of Cas, who's sound asleep a room over and probably non the wiser to any of this. And fuck, if Sam's freaking out, how's Cas going to take it? Poor fallen angel has enough problems of his own right now to worry about Dean. Thank God he sleeps like a brick under water though because now is not the time to bring Cas into this.
"It's not just that," Sam says carefully, "you're younger too."
Dean's eyebrows make a reach for his hair line.
"I'm what?"
"Younger. You've got to be at least- mid twenties?"
Dean hadn't really examined his face. He did but he didn't. The whole, is-that-my-reflection-oh-no-it-does-what-I'm-doing mirror dance he did earlier on didn't really count. In fact, Dean hadn't really taken a good look at his new body very much. It still freaks him out. It's all foreign and weird, and again, while he can deal with weird he's not so sure he's ready to look it straight in the face yet.
"But still-" Sam says, his nose hovering way too close to Dean's for comfort.
"What?" Dean asks.
"-you still look like- well you," Sam tries to explain.
Sam sighs and goes about righting the other mattress. His oversized body takes a seat and his long legs stretch out across the distance between bed 1 and bed 2. Dean suddenly feels exponentially small by comparison especially since he's sitting Indian style. He looks down at his legs only to have waves of his ginger-blonde hair tumble into his line of version. With irritation he snaps his head up and blows the invading locks out of his sight. Did his impromtu makeover have to include the flowly mane or was that just thrown in for kicks?
"What do you mean I still look like me?" he argues.
"Well, Dean," Sam gets a look on his face, like he's about to say something a little gross and uncomfortable, "before this- it's not like you weren't- y'know- pretty?"
And now his face is two parts awkward and one part apologetic and Dean just glares at him.
"Ah, well, from one girl to another that's very sweet," the older hunter growls, "maybe we could trade conditioners sometime- I'm a freaking chick, Sam! Now isn't the time to talk about how pretty a dude I was!"
"I think now is a perfect time," Sam sasses back, crossing his arms and then gets back to his point, "Look, I'm just saying, your eyes are the same and you still have your freckles. It's not like I absolutely can't see any trace of you in there. Maybe if- wait... do you still have your anti-possession tattoo?"
The elder Winchester pulls down the collar of his shirt slightly and attempts to look at his own chest. Sam nods and mutters the word 'good' so Dean takes his brother's word for it that the inked symbol is still there.
"So I guess we can rule out a body swap then," Dean notes, "not that we could have made sense of it if it had been."
He looks up but Sam's not looking at him anymore. Instead he's looking at the wall, his head tilted a little up and his face in full flush.
"Something wrong there, Sam?" Dean asks trying to pull his brother's attention away from the plaster.
"Nope, it's a- it's fine."
Dean gets a smirk and realizes how uncomfortable his brother is. It makes something giddy light up in him. Again, it's got to be strange to see your brother turned girl but into an apparently pretty girl? Dean's not going to lie, he remembers his new face. It is pretty. And the boobs he was grabbing at? D's a least. Not sure how the rest of it worked out but Dean's positive that if he's good looking as a guy that it's only natural he's a hot chick too.
"What? Are you embarrassed of your hot brother?" Dean prods.
"Hot sister," Sam breaks from the wall and then puts on a smirk of his own, "and younger sister at that, Dean. Or should I say, Deanna?"
"You son of a bitch!" Dean growls and launches himself at his too tall brother.
The two struggle across the bed but Sam has an easy handle on Dean's now feminine body. He makes a grab and uses his weight and force with ease. So Dean, a panicked scowl on his face starts flailing and trying to manuever more. They scream and grunt at each other.
"OW! SAM, THAT WAS MY HAIR!"
"YOU PULLED MINE FIRST!"
"YOU FIGHT LIKE A BITCH!"
"WELL YOU WOULD KNOW!"
They fall off the bed with a hard thud, so loud that they don't hear the door to the room creak open. It takes them a few more minutes of slapping and hair pulling to realize that Cas is just standing there, eyes wide and posture awkward. The brothers look up at Cas, in mid fight, with Dean's foot against Sam's chest and a handful of the brunette's locks.
"I...I apologize. I did not realize you had company, Sam," Castiel says, straight faced as always. He starts to back up but Sam and Dean start to scramble from the floor.
"No, no, no! Cas it's not what it looks like!" Sam calls, making the ex angel pause in his retreat.
"Yeah, definitely not what it looks like. Gross," Dean says, looking at Sam and then back at Cas.
Cas stares very intensely back and Sam's stuttering his way through an explanation. The whole room goes quiet though as equally quiet as Cas. The blue eyed man with his bedhead and borrowed sweats tilts his head like a confused puppy and still staring asks;
"...Dean?"
It took about four days of research straight but no matter where Sam turned, nobody had any idea about what could possibly change a man to a woman over night. Not even the internet nor the local library had a word on the matter. Dean was half tempted to call up and do some research of his own but then he remembers one of their contacts just laughing for ten minutes straight from hearing Dean's new voice and Dean had no intention of repeating that with anyone else. So instead, he just sort of sulks on his bed.
He tried to figure out what to do with his wardrobe as a means to keep him busy. Any shirt he put on pretty much outlined his new breasts with uncomfortable perfection while simultaneously drowning the rest of his body. His jeans certainly didn't fit right. And when he dared to try his boots he felt like a kid trying to step into grown up's shoes. Frustrated, he retired to his drawstring sweats, tightened at his hips and one of Sam's shirts layered over his own tee.
It's not like Dean wants to go strutting around in his new image or anything but he can't stand just being cooped up in this room for much longer. He wants answers but as he waits for Sam to show up with food, he knows it's hopeless. The closest lead they had is that succubi and incubi are rumored to be one in the same but with magical gender swapping powers but Dean and Sam had nothing to do with demons as of late.
To be honest, the whole of hell's been relatively silent. Crowley, not having been fully healed still is a demon and for all intents and purposes, is still very much the king of hell. However, demon activity has been kept to a minimum since he disappeared and the last demon that Sam and Dean even got near simply surrendered to them without the slightest fight. Crowley's starting something big but what it is Dean's not sure. Regardless, the vacation from exorcism is sort of nice and returning to the old fashioned straight up monster hunting is pleasant.
Not that Dean's out fighting monsters right now. No, he's been tucked away tight into the hotel room. He's grounded, barefoot and dickless. Which, in retrospect feels really stupid. It's not like Dean's sick or something. He's totally adept to still hunt. There's plenty of female hunters kicking ass and taking names out there so why can't he do the same?
Right. Because Sam's a worry wort and treating him like he's some kind of fucking kid sister.
There's the sound of a key jangling and the door slowly opens. It's too shy to be Sam and Dean suddenly gathers the covers around him like he's embarrassed because, well he is. Cas pops his head into the room.
"Hello Dean," he says, "may I come in?"
The hunter sort of sighs gently. Castiel had been with them for around a week and a half by the time Dean had magically gone girl and he'd just been quiet all the time. The brothers had been on their way to the small town of Durango, Colorado to investigate a haunting and lo and behold, there was Cas padding his not so happy way down a roadside. This hadn't been the first time Dean had caught him in passing in their long history and he nearly gave Sam whiplash from how fast he pulled over.
Cas doesn't say much. Doesn't do much. He doesn't seem to argue with anything though. Dean paid for an extra room, a single a few doors down for the fallen angel. He loaned him some clothes and told him to clean up and get some sleep. Castiel had ended up sleeping on the floor on Sam and Dean's room that first night though, out heavier than a drunk man. Dean literally had to carry Castiel back to his own room, the angel snuggled up against his chest like a damn cat.
Now Dean probably can't even carry someone of his own petite stature let alone Cas and that bothers him something fierce to think about.
"It's called, knocking, Cas," Dean slightly groans, "but yeah, come in."
It sure as hell beats being bored to death. There's nothing to do in a hotel room. Dean's already cleaned and reloaded every gun he could get a hold of. And his whole fashion crisis was done and over with. He'd been texting Charlie a little, not entirely sure if he wants to let her in on the new...development. There's no 'magic fingers' in this place and porn is so totally out of the question that it's not even funny.
Castiel shuffles in and looks around a little. Dean drops his head in frustration, once again barraging his face with his hair. He's learned to just tuck it behind his ears but he let's it hang there, his head still down. He flips his hand out for a moment, still annoyed at Castiel's lack of humanity for a now human.
"Just sit somewhere, anywhere," Dean says before plopping his head into his hands.
The hunter's head snaps up incredibly fast when he feels the weight of the bed under him shift. He doesn't bother telling to Cas to relocate though. Dean just stars and stares in slight horror before resigning to it.
It's not like Castiel isn't around the Winchesters much. Hell, the first few days he had more questions than ever before and Sam and Dean took turns teaching Cas this and showing him that. Not that Castiel was enthused or anything, just quietly receptive in a way that put knots into Dean's stomach. The man now sitting on the other side of the bed brings his knees to his chest. He's looking a little scruffy again. Dean makes a mental note to tell Cas to shave a little more frequently. Not that it matters. If the guy wants peach fuzz or a full on beard let him and yet that seems entirely wrong to Dean so he'll just tell Cas to do it anyway.
"All right, Cas," Dean turns a little towards the ex angel and licks his lower in thought, "talk to me."
'Talk to me.' It feels like Dean says that more and more to Castiel the longer he knows him. Cas sort of shakes his head lets out a breath that's too heavy for him. Dean feels those knots in his stomach again and he has this urge to do something but what he doesn't know.
"C'mon Cas," Dean says almost sweetly, "you can talk to me about it. I already told you I'm not mad or anything."
"There's nothing to talk about Dean," Cas says curtly, rudely.
Dean blinks away how taken back he is by his friend's attitude. He puts a hand on Cas's shoulder and inadvertently pulls closer to him. His slender hands look small on his shoulder, his nails are just a little grown over the edge of his fingers. Dean doesn't like how soft he looks and feels himself internally bunker down to confront of Cas, as if his new body is somehow incapable of doing so on its own.
"I know you, okay?" Dean says, "I know that messed up head of yours and I know you're not okay. So talk."
It's a demand but everything in Dean's posture is soft and open and very willing to listen. That's when Castiel turns to look at him and he's just so broken looking that it physically hurts Dean. The way the man's eyebrows are knitted up, the frown in that pink mouth and the wide, watery blue eyes is enough to send a fit of all kinds of emotions into Dean.
Dean swallows hard and for a split second, he's at an absolute loss for what to do. So he does nothing, just keeps his hand in place and tries to remember how to breathe.
"I ruined everything... again, Dean," Castiel manages to choke out, "And I ruined it for good."
"Hey-" the hunter tries to interrupt but Castiel keeps going.
"And now all of what's left of my brothers and sisters are stranded here on Earth. All of us are stuck in bodies in a world that we don't understand and they don't have someone like you or Sam to help. And I am feeling things and experiencing things, Dean, things that I never knew existed like this."
Two perfect tears fall out from those watery blues.
"Like this!" Castiel sputters a little as he clumsily wipes a hand at his cheek and then holds out his tear stained fingers to the hunter, "Why does this keep happening, Dean? Every night this happens and I don't understand!"
Dean has this look on his face but he doesn't know he's wearing it. It's the one where he sort of locks his jaw tight and his eyebrows narrow just the slightest. It's the one that tries to coax out that one perfect tear of his. It's the look he gets when someone utterly breaks his fucking heart.
He grabs Castiel, holds him tight in his arms, as tight as his now lithe limbs can hold him. His fingers dig into the borrowed sweater and his head makes a temporary home in the crook of Cas's neck. Dean Winchester didn't use to be so physically affectionate but as of late he was giving hugs more often, because, well, life is short. And if anyone ever needed a hug it's now and it's Cas and Dean just keeps holding him like somehow that'll put the angel back together.
"Dean, what are you-" Castiel voice is still thin and cracking a little on the edge.
"It's a hug, Cas," Dean mutters in the ex angel's neck, his voice sounding suprisingly light, "It's a human custom. When you do what you're doing, someone is supposed to do what I'm doing. That's how it works."
Cas nods lightly and Dean hopes that this is helping. He hopes that Castiel, foreign as the gesture is, gets some kind of comfort out of this becase Dean doesn't know what else to do. He hadn't had physical contact like this with Cas since purgatory and back then it was just because he was so damn happy to have finally found him but now it has meaning and one that Dean hopes comes across right.
Castiel cries a little harder,still quietly but his body is shaking. He feels it in the man's shoulders, the little jitters of his bones hiking up and down. Dean let's a hand travel up to the back of Castiel's head and pets the mussed up curls softly. He gives it a few minutes, consoling Cas like a parent coddling a child. No, it's not the usual Dean Winchester style but it's only him and Cas here and- fuck, he looks so sad what the hell else is the hunter suppose to do?
Finally, Dean pulls away from Cas, a hand still lingering on his shoulder.
"I'll be honest, Cas," Dean says, "you should have thought things through more..."
Cas looks at him, blues rimmed red and cheeks stained with water. Castiel is wrecked, his breath hitching in his throat and that straight face still in place. It's so Cas and it's so not Cas and Dean has to bite his lip to keep from throwing his arms around him all over again.
"-but you weren't the one who made the decision to give thew angels the boot. That was all Metatron. He's the one responsible for this, Cas, not you. You hear me?"
Castiel doesn't respond. Instead he swipes at his face again.
"Dean, why do I feel so... heavy all of a sudden?" he asks.
The hunter smiles a little and gives Cas's shoulder a gentle slap. It's sad the way Cas is right now. He gets the basics of things. Humans need to eat and sleep, maintain hygiene and go to the bathroom. He was quickly trained in the base necessities. He doesn't understand his own emotions though. It's not like he's never felt feelings in any way but Dean assumes feelings exist in a different way for angels than in humans. It must be confusing as hell to be in a body with rules you've never lived by before.
Dean inwardly grunts a laugh as he glances down at the outline of his supple breasts and his sweet, thin legs buried in cotton material. While Cas is on a whole different level, Dean can't help but sympathize a little more with the idea of being stuck in a body that's not yours.
"That means you're tired, Cas," Dean says, "You should probably get some sleep after we eat."
"I suppose you'd know best, Dean," Castiel says solemnly.
It's not much but it's enough for now and Dean gives a soft nod. Sam walks in nonchalantly, a bag of fast food in his hand. As he walks in though, Dean suddenly feels a panic rise in his throat and he nearly jumps off the bed and stands at attention.
"Sam!" he feigns nervous excitement as his younger brother watches him suspciously.
"...yeah?"
"Damn does that smell good!" Dean says as he almost mechanically walks over and takes the bag. He opens it up and fishes out a burger, he smells it a little with an oversized grin before pulling out another, "Look, Cas! Burgers!"
He tosses one quickly to Castiel, who almost fumbles it but manages to get a hold of it. His stomach growls audibly in response but Sam keeps eyeing Dean like he's grown a horn out of his forehead.
"Dean?" he asks and then looks to Castiel and then back at the brother in question, "Are you- did something happen?"
"What?" Dean laughs a little and nervously glances at Castiel, sending out a mental message for the innocent man to say nothing, "Let's eat!"
Dean isn't sure why he feels a bundle of energy bouncing around anxiously in his stomach. In fact, it's logically stupid for Sam to be so concerned to see Dean and Cas just sitting together on a bed. They're just sitting togehter, right? And, yeah, it's a bed, but it's not like it's like one of them's a woman or something...
Only yes.
One of them is a woman. And fuck. It's Dean. Dean's a woman now. And Castiel's a man. Not an angel but a man. The hunter quickly buries this thought as deep down as mentally possible and violently tears into his burger.
Dean Winchester is in a whole new breed of shit.
"What the hell is wrong with people?!" Dean shouted as he stormed into the motel room.
Sam trailed after and pinched the bridge of his nose, probably to avoid an oncoming headache. New state, new city, new motel room. Fourth city they've been since the change actually. This time it's a little place nestled in near the city, a small town in Michigan.
"Cas, look at me," Dean asks Cas, who's nestled into Dean's bed like he belongs there.
"I can't Dean," Castiel says, not looking up from the book in his hands, "Harry Potter is currently in a predicament with Professor Quirrel and his ability to summon ropes. Are you sure he does not need our help?"
"Positive," Dean answers quickly, cursing the fact that Charlie had hidden the book in the Impala a while ago and cursing the fact that Cas managed to discover it, "seriously though, look at me."
The fallen angel does as he's told and looks up. Dean holds his hands up and out as if to showcase himself. His hair's in a ponytail now which makes it a lot less frustrating but also gives him headaches if he leaves it up too long. Castiel is obviously unsure about what's going on but Dean's too angry to explain it.
"Does it look like I've got 'I'm weak and helpless, come hit on me' written on my freaking body?" Dean shouts, grinding his teeth a little on the end.
Truth be told, Dean probably isn't exactly the epitome of female intimidation. He's got on his baggy t-shirt, keeps borrowing Sam's oversized flannels and his too big pants are literaly tied around him at the hips by a drawstring he ripped out from his pajamas as well as rolled at the bottom. If anything, he looks like a little thing drowning in fabrics. At least his shoes fit, a pair of hiking boots that he made Sam go buy him at the local sporting goods store back when they were still in Durango.
"I don't think anything is written on you, Dean," Cas replies, oblivious and his eyes trying to scrutinize for some kind of hidden letters on the hunter's female body.
Sam sits down in the chair in the corner of the room and sighs. It's not even funny to Sam at this point, just frustrating which pisses of Dean because where the hell does he get off being annoyed at this when he's not the one stuck as a girl?
"You're a woman now, Dean," Sam states flatly, "and as unfair as it is for guys to treat you like that, not to mention awkward, punching them in the nose is not the answer!"
"Well it sure makes me feel better!" the older Winchester retorts, "And I am NOT a woman, Sam. I'm just stuck looking like one!"
Everytime Dean has to talk to a male witness or officer, he gets the same lines.
Oh don't worry about that, sweetheart. We've got it covered.
Not to worry miss, the department has this covered. Nothing to fear.
It was pretty terrifying but I'm all right. You should stay in at night though.
Make sure and stick by that brother of yours. He'll keep you safe.
I could- uh- show you the scene if you'd like. If you don't think it'd be too scary.
What's a pretty girl like you looking into this stuff anyway? Isn't that dangerous?
I'm a survivor, y'know, I could walk you home later if you like.
I'd love to talk about it with you over dinner.
Dean feels like punching a hole right in the wall. Not only is it bad enough that idiots are hitting on him left and right, case related and otherwise, but on top of it he's off his game. Dean's used to so much more force in his arms, used to being able to hold his ground better. Not to mention his whole balance feels like it's worlds off. His fighting is suffering for it and he knows it because Sam had to save him from a bar fight Dean started just a few minutes ago. Dean's never needed to be saved from a bar fight, not since he was sixteen and drunk for the first time.
"Fine, you just look like a woman," Sam says, "but this whole thing is really messing with you, Dean. You're being a lot more reckless and we've got jobs to do."
"Oh, so you're saying it's my fault that every guy within a ten mile radius of me is a total jackass?"
"No! But Dean, you can't just go around picking fights with people!"
"Because I'm a woman!?"
"Because you're a hunter!" Sam yells back forcefully, so forcefully that it makes Dean shut up a little. Castiel very uncomfortably tries to go back to his book. Dean knows the man knows to leave the brothers be in their argument but at the same time he can't blame him for not getting up and going into his own room.
Sam looks up and there's a different light to his face. He's angry but it's not directed at Dean exactly.
"Dean," Sam says too quietly, "you didn't see the way those two guys were looking at you. The way they had you pinned. That could have gotten ugly, Dean. Not that that's your fault- nobody ever deserves- and If they- I'm barely keeping myself from driving back there and beating them within an inch of their lives just for looking at you like that."
Dean feels a hard lump in his throat. He's a woman now. Bar fights aren't just about getting a little bruised and bloody in a parking lot. No, he has a very real statistic on his head and it hits him with the darkness that's painted on Sam's face. Sam lets out a shallow sigh. Dean looks a little over his shoulder and sees Castiel perked up and angry. He doesn't understand what they're talking about but it's obvious the former celestial being can sense that it's bad.
The way Cas is perched on the bed, Dean can imagine feathers rustled behind him. Not that he ever saw Cas's wings when he had them. It's just in the look of his eyes and the way his shoulders are poised. Dean holds up his hand and gives the former angel a look, telling Cas to dismiss Sam's concern. Those blye eyes linger on him though hesitant to let go but ultimately they begrudgingly return to his book.
"It's not just that, Dean," Sam says, choosing to change the subject, "This new body of yours, you're not used to it. You don't know how to use it yet and frankly I don't know how to teach you. I think you might be better off learning from someone who knows this stuff."
Dean takes a step towards Sam. He licks his lip and shakes his head a bit trying to wrap his mind around what he hopes Sam isn't saying.
"You picked the Bronson vamps case on purpose didn't you?" Dean accuses.
"Vamp, not vamps, Dean. It's a small case and I can handle it by myself."
"You're taking me to Charlie aren't you?" Dean fires right away.
Sam lets out a scoff but it's defeated. Dean is furious. He hadn't even told Charlie yet that he's gone chick, wasn't even sure he wanted to. And now Charlie already knows and now Sam's trying to send him off to a one man charm school for the newly female? It's bull shit. Absolute bull shit!
"Charlie?" Castiel interrupts, not seeing quite what's wrong with the situation and innocently butting his head in, "She is the one who gave you this book, right?"
"Using the word 'give' loosely, yes," Dean answers curtly and before he can chew out Sam, Castiel speaks up again.
"Then I would like to come with you," he closes the book and sets it in his lap, "according to my understanding, there is more of these books and I would like to read them, that is if you don't find it inconvenient for me to come with you."
Dean is at a loss for words. He really wants to argue against Castiel tagging along (and argue against himself going at all while he's at it) but Cas is so innocent. He just wants the other books is all and who is Dean to deny him a simple pleasure especially since they make depressed-I'm-banished-to-Earth-and-graceless Cas happy? Not that the guy has been completely moping around or anything. He helps with the hunts, though he's not allowed to talk. Sometimes him and Sam go it alone because damn does Dean's new body like to sleep and, call Dean crazy, but his tits kind of have been hurting. Not that he'll admit that.
"That's a good idea!" Sam says quickly, "Cas could use a little socialization outside of us."
"Sammy, you are not going it alone," Dean fights, "and I'm not going to Charlie!"
"Dean, you're no good if you can't use your own body. I'm not going to pretend that you haven't been bumping into things. Hell, you can't even walk in a straight line!"
"I've kind of got a lot more to balance, Sam! That ain't my fault!"
"You're right! It's not!" Sam says, "But it will be fault if you have the opportunity to retrain yourself and you don't take it."
Damn. The younger brother has a point.
"This is not about you having a girl body, Dean," Sam insists, "this is about you being in a body you're not used to and until we find out how to fix it, you've got to learn how to use it."
Dean sighs heavily and Sam gets up to his feet. Dean knows he's right but that doesn't mean he has to like it. Sam starts pulling his phone out of his pocket and heads outside, probably to call Charlie and let her know that shit has hit the fan. With a grunt Dean makes his way to the small colony of grocery bags by the door and grabs a beer.
"You want one?" he asks Castiel off handedly. He doesn't wait for a answer and just pushes one into the former angel's hand.
Dean sits on the edge of his bed while Castiel still stays swarmed in a pile of covers near the headboard. It's bottle beer this time and Dean deftly pops the cap open with his canine tooth.
"Dean..." Cas says quietly.
Dean looks back and with an eye roll he grabs the bottle from Cas's hand and does the same trick for his buddy's beer. He hands it back, the scent of it still snaking up his nose. The hunter takes a huge chug, letting the liquid ambush his throat and hears a singular, soft swallow from Cas. It's comforting to hear that for some reason. Good to know he's not drinking alone or so Dean supposes.
"Dean?" Cas says after a moment.
"Yeah, Cas?"
"If it helps any, I understand how frustrated you must be."
"I'm not so sure about that, buddy."
Yeah, Castiel had to figure out to be human but Dean had to figure out how to be a woman. Dean hadn't realized that the treatment was so different. He never once thought about how it felt to be on the other side of pick up lines and leery stares and the word bitch. And yeah, he saved plently of women in his line of work but he never realized how irritating it is to be written off as weak. No wonder Jo was ready to bite his head off that first time she went off on a hunt. If Dean had any idea that this is what was waiting for him, he'd be throwing punches left and right (and he is for that matter).
"You're in a form that is not native to you," Castiel interrupts Dean's brooding, "You do things or don't do things and then don't understand the reactions of the ones around you. Their customs and attitudes aren't innately logical and yet you are expected to already follow them. Am I missing anything?"
"Yeah, my body keeps doing weird shit that I don't get," Dean says, trying to subtly pat relief into his sore breasts.
"As does mine."
And Dean remembers Cas crying. The angel of the Lord, I will am not afraid to smite a bitch, Cas crying.
"I know, Cas," Dean takes another drink, "I know..."
The knots come back into Dean's stomach with a dull ache. Cas is depressed and he doesn't even understand it. Back on the night of their hug, Dean thought that acclimating to a chick body for a while wouldn't be so bad. In fact, he though that besides the new meat suit weirdness that it wouldn't be different at all. And now here is he trying to act like he's got it worse than Cas. Cas has to adapt to being a whole new species, an entire new way of thinking and feeling and, worse, there's no going back to his old form. At least Dean was still human and had some chance of going back to being a man.
The truth is, they summed up their options to either demons or that mystery God of theirs that's supposed to be missing and yet occasionally does things like bringing Cas back to life or moving the Winchester's out of the way of Lucy's rising. Dean settled himself with the idea that it was demons but then, why would they turn Dean into a woman? What purpose did that serve? And why were they still off the radar? The Winchesters are waiting to jump at even a single omen, half an omen, and there's nothing. It's all suspicious.
Still, Sam's right. Dean's not going to be much use if he can't learn how to properly move and fight with his new body and while Cas is learning fast, maybe some time off and doing semi-normal people things might be good for him. And, as much as he wants to fight it though, Dean knows that Sam can handle himself. He'd been better for a while, the demon trials having slowly eased away their freakish sickness. Dean has no place to doubt his brother and really, he's got to do what he's got to do for the greater good; namely getting his penis back.
"This is death," Dean groans, "death is coming for me, Charlie."
The redhead throws a pad across the room and hits the hunter square in the face. Dean grabs it and sighs out of frustration.
"It's a period, Dean," Charlie corrects, "It's more like a mini death. Of your uterus. Shedding chunks of itself."
"Ugh!" Dean continues to groan, "Don't give me details!"
Charlie does that little smirk of hers and Dean is seriously debating throwing the pad back at her. It figures it's time to change this stupid thing.
"I hate these," Dean says, forcing himself out of bed and holding up the pastel colored package, "It feels like a flippin' diaper."
Charlie plants herself into the beanbag chair in the corner. It turns out that Charlie had managed to get herself a decent room mate and was living in a pretty spacious two bed, two bath apartment. Her roomie was a guy and one that was conveniently taking a three week trip to Europe. He's an athlete and closet gamer so he and Charlie get along fair enough. His room's fairly clean with just a few dorky things planted here and there on the walls. Some elf dude in all green some Star Wars and a little bit of Star Trek (which Dean can appreciate). There's a a whole corner dedicated to weights and such though and as soon as Dean's not suffering from that time he'll be happy to get at it and build some muscle on this body.
"I told you to use a tampon but you didn't want to listen," Charlie says.
"And I told you that there is no way in hell I'm shoving anything in there," Dean retorts.
Dean's whole body just felt like shit. The best way he could describe it is a mix of being punched in the stomach, having a hangover, and food poisoning all at once. And, he'd never admit, but holy hell did he scream when he first saw blood coming out of him. This is a man who'd been to hell and torn apart daily for decades but, fuck, never once has he ever had blood flooding out of his genitals. Poor Sam thought Dean was being attacked by something and imagine the horror and embarrassment of finding him with his pants down and seeing red in between his legs. That had pretty much cemented the trip to Charlie's. As Dean bitched and moaned about the new sickness, Sam promised him that he'd find out something, anything, about how to get him back and it must have been the PMS talking because Dean clearly remembers shouting 'YEAH YOU FUCKING BETTER.'
Charlie doesn't laugh but Dean can still feel her smirking as he waddles into Chad's bathroom. Chad. That still is a fucking stupid name.
"Don't forget to try and clean yourself up in between!" Charlie notes as Dean hears her leave the room entirely.
Without much grace, Dean pulls down his still loose boxer briefs and tears the old blood soaked pad off. He throws it into the trash unceremoniously. His nose flares a little at the smell. Believe it or not, period blood smells different than regular blood and Dean would most definitely know considering he's smelled all sorts of regular blood. This kind is still coppery but it's also...sweeter. Sort of musky in a way.
Then again, that might just be the smell of Dean's vagina.
The hunter shakes his head, trying to get the thought of the bouquet of his under carriage out of his head. He creates a wad of toilet paper his hand and sets about wiping up the remains of his body's mess. Sure enough, barely a touch and the tissue is soaked through with red. Grossed out Dean let's the soiled paper land in the trash with a hefty plop. He sets about getting his next batch of tissue and starts rubbing around the general area of his crotch.
And then he keeps rubbing.
And rubs a little harder.
He's trying to be thorough but it also maybe kind of feels nice. Especially just running along the lips. Hitting the top and bottom of the line. And it feels really good to feel something nice considering he's been sick as shit for the past couple of days. There's a heat to it and if he closes his eyes, then it just feels really wet and sticky. He lingers at the top, digging in just the slightest bit and- shit does that feel really good.
It's not like Dean doesn't know his way around a girl's- whatever- but being on the receiving end is so radically different. Not that he's playing with himself. He's just exploring a little is all, no big deal. He might be stuck like this for a while and might as well learn a thing or two. Really get his head around what a girl likes, right? Right. This isn't touching for fun, it's touching for the sake of male hetero science.
Dean's back arches a little and he rubs in little circles. His breath is doing this hitching thing and he gets this urge for something else to accompany the sensation but he doesn't know what. He keeps up the circles and gurgles back a soft moan in his throat. He feels himself clench, literally his anus and the inside of his parts seize up a little but it's a good clench. It feels good so he continues. He climbs that peak by abusing that one little spot, that soft button. Finally, his insides clench again and he hits his peak with a little squeak escaping his lips. He feels movements inside his body as he breathes in and out quickly.
It felt like normal cumming. Only not. It has the same sort of build, racing heart beat and stuff. And yet it's totally different. The way his body moves and it doesn't happen like a huge kick, it sort feels like letting go of something. There's something going on inside there and he knows what it feels like to have a girl orgasm on him but what does it feel like for her..?
Wait. Nope. Back up. Not going down that route. No way, Jose. Not an idea to mess with. Not even an idea. Totally thrown out of Dean's head. Yup. So not coming back to that.
Dean puts a clean pad in place and hikes up his underwear around his wide hips. He pats the lower part of his stomach. There's hair there but it's soft and blonde, invisible. It's downy really and it feels like touching something really soft. Dean looks in the mirror to see his stomach. It's got a cute little curve out, just the slightest bit to signify healthiness. He poses a little, admiring the soft lines of his form.
Then he blinks back and very quickly drags his shirt back into place.
Sam better be trying to get him out of this body. And it better be soon.
Dean's in heaven. A secret heaven but heaven. Because all around him are silky this and satin that. Charlie had just meant to drag Dean and Cas into the lingerie store for kicks but little did she know that this, all the negligee and stockings and, dear god, panties, are actually a kink for Dean.
The last time Dean put panties on his body was when he was nineteen and he never forgot it. There was something about the material, how simultaneously soft and slick it is. Dean could literally bust a load thinking about dragging that stuff all over his body. One day, he'll fuck on silk sheets, he swears it.
Now though, he's just holding a pair of pink, satin panties in his hands and he stares at them, has been staring at them, because he wants them. He wants them and the red ones next to them and hell why not every shade? He can just throw them out when he's a guy again...or maybe not throw them out.
"Hi there, mam," a happy, friendly voice says and Dean spins around so fast that his head spins a little.
He then notices that he's still holding up the panties and very quickly he throws them behind himself and back onto the table they'd been laid out on.
"H-hi," he manages to get out.
Dean's so red in the face and Cas is next to him, standing there quietly. He looks at the things around him only slightly nervously so there's no help to be found there. Dean's eyes make a dash to try and find Charlie but she's nowhere to be found.
She left him. Charlie fucking left Dean on his own.
"Can I help you find anything today?" the girl asks.
She's got this bright smile and her chocolate brown hair is swept up into a messy bun. She's got big eyes, full of genuine intent to help the customer. Her nametag says 'Jackie' on it in swirly calligraphy. It all makes Dean's stomach plummet to its deepest pit.
"Oh no- I- um," Dean looks nervously to Cas but Cas stares back with an only slightly quieter panic.
Then Jackie, the worker, gets a little confused and then she gets a very knowing look. She smiles softly and now Dean's tummy is doing all manners of nervous flips.
"First time buying this kind of stuff?" she asks quietly.
Dean nods and to his horror, Cas suddenly gets a voice.
"Yes actually," he replies, "how did you know?"
"Oh, just instinct I guess," she says sweetly and not calling out the two on their obvious awkwardness, "It must be a certain someone's birthday."
And then she winks at Cas, who's confused as hell and so is Dean at first and that's when Dean realizes the assumption that the girl's made. Color fills his face so fast that he feels like it bitch slapped itself there. The bright lights radiating against the white tile and the black table tops feel exceptionally hot and Dean wishes that he wasn't surrounded by lacy things in every print and color under the sun while stuck in a girl's body and standing next to Cas. Though it could be worse, he could be in his real body and mistaken for Cas's significant other in a lingerie store.
"Oh, God," Jackie says with slight horror as the silent couple stays silent, "I- I'm so sorry. I did not mean to embarrass you like that. I just- I just think it's really sweet when a girl wants to dress up for her guy and the guy comes with for support."
Dean blurts out nervous laughter and it's so painstakingly loud that it would have been funny in any other circumstance. He expected other customers to look at him but it's eleven in the morning at a mall on a Wednesday which means that the unlikely couple had Jackie's full attention.
"Yeah, Cas and I-" shit why didn't he make up a name, "- we just want to make things- uh- a little more special."
Jackie's whole face lights up and fuck she must love her job. Who the hell likes a job where they put people into underwear? Dean can see why he wouldn't mind the career of putting ladies into cute underthings but a straight lady like this? What kick does she get out of it?
"Oh! Well, let me just tell you. I will set you up," she winks again, "You know, there's nobody else in store, so why doesn't boyfriend here take a seat by the dressing room while you and I scramble up a few little surprises for him?"
"Uh- yeah- I guess," Dean says helplessly.
Cas is still confused though and Dean elbows him in the stomach softly.
"Didn't you hear her, boyfriend?" Dean eyes Castiel very strictly, "She said for you to take a seat by the dressing rooms."
"Oh...um, of course," Cas responds.
"They're just right down that way," Jackie says pointing.
Castiel floats off in the direction he was given, only lingering for a moment to give Dean a questioning gaze. Dean breathes in deeply and swears to himself that he's going to kill Charlie for this. She is grounded for the rest of forever.
Jackie leads Dean around, or more accurately, Deanna as he's now had to introduce himself. She picks up a frilly this and lacey that and Dean really wishes she'd just stop. She measures Dean for bra size and is a little surprised to notice that Dean goes au naturale on top. Turns out Dean was wrong, he's not a D but a DD and he's not sure if he should be proud or mortified.
Dean's then pushed into a room, right past a confused Castiel, with three bras, a teddy, a corset with garters, and some other things that Dean can't begin to remember. Dean hears her whisper something to Cas but she's too quiet for Dean to make out.
Dean sighs and drops the pile of underthings on to the built in bench. In defeat he kicks off his boots and starts pulling off his borrowed clothes. The pants are basically peeled off his butt but the Chewbacca tee more or less rolls off. Dean feels a little conflicted as he notices the obvious dent his breasts made in it but it's too late to fix it now.
He tries the bra first and nearly goes blue in the face trying to put the damn thing on. It's one thing to get one off, Dean's a fucking expert at that, but trying to put one on is like trying to string up a picky trap while wearing a blindfold. His arms go into weird angles and his biceps get sore fast but eventually he gets it on. It's a black one, pretty basic with push to it that makes Dean's tits rounder and...actually really nice looking. Well, extra nice looking. It's not like the hunter hadn't taken a peak at them before.
But that's good enough and Dean figures he only really needs one so he puts that in the okay pile. He really ought to just leave now, pull on his clothes, buy a handful of underwear and then get the hell outta Dodge.
But the teddy stares at him. It's red. And fuck. It's satin on the bust and see through the rest of the way down. It doesn't even have cups to it and it looks a little small to fit Dean's breasts. But wouldn't the satin feel good against him? It's not like he's some freak pervert doing this. He is in a girl's body so it wouldn't be weird right? Right.
So Dean untangles himself from the black bra and slips the red teddy on over himself and it's like it falls into place. It floats onto him and the soft fabric caresses his nipples a little as he tugs it slightly into place.
And not only does it feel good, it looks good too. Dean stares at the reflection of himself and slowly pulls off his much to big underwear to get a better picture. He sees his bare crotch and the tuft of hair hiding his goods. His legs don't look hairy at all and he even pats them to see. It just feels like soft, barely there downy like his stomach. The teddy doesn't hit his boobs quite right but he's still a vision.
Yeah, Dean would totally fuck himself.
Then there's a knock on the door that almost makes Dean jump out of his skin and to his horror the door that apparently wasn't locked starts to creak open. Dean throws his body against the opening door and hears a very familiar, very gravelly grunt.
"Cas!?" Dean whisper yells, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Jackie said you might be shy," Cas whispers back, "and that I should check on you if I feel it necessary. You were taking a long time and I got worried. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine!" Dean keeps screaming in the quietest voice, "Just go somewhere. Go find Charlie."
"...are you sure? Wouldn't it be better if i stayed with you?"
"No! Go find Charlie!"
"Dean, why are we talking like this?"
"GO!"
"Okay."
Dean can breathe again as he hears Cas's footstep slowly fading off. The idiot's probably going to get himself lost in this place but the hunter doesn't much care at the moment. He looks back at his reflection and feels supremely embarrassed at himself. With frustration he throws the teddy off his body and starts redressing. He grabs the black bra and heads back to the panty table where he grabs a fistful underwear in what he hopes is about the right size. He marches up to Jackie, right to the counter and pretty much plops his unwanted bounty there.
"Oh, you're all ready?" she asks.
"Yeah."
Jackie starts to scan some of the items, asks about some loyalty card or something but Dean just mutters no and Jackie continues.
"So, where'd boyfriend go?" she asks.
"He- uh- needed to make a call."
She scrunches up her nose and points behind Dean.
"Isn't that him right there?"
Dean spins around to find Cas. The dope would be hanging around here, too lost to find himself let alone Charlie. It wasn't really fair of Dean to ask that of him and yet he'd been so flustered that he spat out the first thing that came to mind. Cas just couldn't see Dean like that; all gussied up and in satin. If it had been Charlie or Sam- well that wouldn't exactly have been better. Dean's not exactly thrilled at the idea of emotionally scarring his pseudo sister and Sam would have eventually found a way to turn it back against Dean.
But Cas, Cas would have witnessed Dean in one of the most vulnerable positions; basically naked and with his fetish. Not that Cas would understand it and somehow that makes it worse. Like Dean's corrupted him further with this. Although, Dean's pretty sure that Cas remembers the 'den of iniquity' and damn it all if Dean hadn't looked like one of those girls. Would Cas have eyed him nervously like one? Would Dean have had to pull on his arm and lead him into the room and show him-
No. Not again. Bad thoughts. Backing up. Did not go there. Never going there.
However, contrary to Jackie, Cas is nowhere to be found. In fact, there's no one there at all. So Dean turns back, confused.
"You just missed him," Jackie says, "I think. I'm not sure maybe it wasn't him after all."
Dean lets out a little laugh that's more obligatory than anything. Jackie tells him the total which makes Dean's fingers hesitate for his wallet. He resigns to it though because, as Charlie's already expressly told him, girl clothes are more expensive than guy clothes. So with a large bag filled with satin panties, Dean Winchester begins his hunt for one Charlie Bradbury.
It isn't until later, when he unpacks the bag that he truly is done for the day because right on top of the pile is the red teddy, practically smiling at him.
Dean's been a chick for almost three weeks now. Or around three weeks. He's not sure to be honest. Charlie's lessons have been going relatively well but then it mostly started with teaching Dean how to walk and reminding him to mind his breasts when he turns. It turns out her LARPing helped out a bit too and Dean got a new lesson in how fight.
Being a girl didn't mean being weak like everybody seemed to assume about Dean. If anything it meant he moved faster and his now smaller body easily bended this way and that to avoid what was coming at him. Using Cas as a practice dummy, Dean really got down the whole 'use your opponent's weight against them' thing too which he'd never really used in the past. He could probably take on Sam again now (sans hair pulling).
It's all the other stuff that comes with being a girl that isn't so great. Like being hit on at every turn and corner. Charlie managed to make Dean keep his temper and told him to just turn them down in the worst possible way he could think of, something that would embarrass him if a girl had done it to him. So Dean simply looked the guy up and down, scoffed and turned back to whatever he was doing. Granted, that gets him called a bitch a lot but it's better than leaving a trail of teeth from the car to the door.
Now though, Dean's practicing with Cas. The ex angel goes for a hard sort of karate chop move and Dean ducks with ease. He makes use of the drop and hits Cas in the stomach which makes the hit man double over a little. Dean brings the base of his palm up and gets Cas in the nose...and a little too hard.
"Oh shit!" the hunter says, not meaning to have taken the sparring that far.
Silently Cas holds his nose. He pulls his fingers away to show blood. He dabs back at it and winces a little. Dean's already at his side and pulling his hand away to inspect the damage.
"Damn, did I break it?" he cautiously touches the spot but it doesn't earn more than another wince, "Okay, no. Shit, I'm sorry, Cas."
The hunter ought to just tell Castiel to walk it off but to be honest, Cas isn't complaining in any way so the Winchester disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a wet dish towel. He guides Cas over to sit down on the couch, which is still made up into a bed from Cas sleeping on it. He chuckles slightly as he presses the cloth against his friend's face.
"You have to admit though," he says before looking at his hands, "I'm getting pretty good at using this body, aren't I?"
Charlie's out for the night, doing some kind of D&D thing so it's just Cas and Dean tonight. That's why Dean was so anxious to spar but spilling a little blood's always a good time for a break. Cas let's the cloth on his nose soak up the red. He's obviously testing the feeling of it, pushing a little more and then a little less pressure against himself.
"Speaking of getting used to bodies," Dean sighs, "how have you been doing?"
There's a moment of silence and Cas pulls the cloth entirely from his face.
"Better," the former angel states.
Without thinking about it too much, Dean grabs Castiel by the chin and turns the man's face to look at him. He judges the nose in front of him, the bleeding having stopped. Yeah, definitely not broken. Good. Still a bit messy though. Dean takes the warm, wet towel out of Cas's hand and starts to dab at the man's face much in the manner that he'll sometimes fix his collar or right his tie.
"Well that's good," Dean says as he goes about his business, "there's nothing you've got questions on or anything?"
"Just one," Cas says, his blue eyes staring down Dean in that way that only Cas's eyes can do.
"Yeah, and what's that?" Dean says, his own greens quickly flickering back to the work of clean up.
"I read about anatomy," Cas explains, "so I know what it's called and what it's doing but I don't know how to get it to stop other than waiting it out but that takes time and seems rather inefficient."
Dean drops the towel onto the coffee table and his brow furrows in confusion. What the hell is Cas talking about? Like, sneezes or something? Or maybe he got a case of the hiccups? Fuck, that actually sounds like it'd be pretty hilarious. At any rate, Dean's not so sure he can help with this.
"Cas, plain English, please."
"Dean, how does one stop an erection?"
The Winchester's mouth falls opens, closes and then falls open again. At some point, Dean realizes that he needs to blink so he does. He licks his lip in preparation for whatever's about to come out of his mouth but it doesn't work.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, uh-" the hunter's brain tries to come up with something, "have you tried thinking about baseball?"
"Why would thinking about an American pastime assist me?"
"Right. No, you're right. Well, what have you tried?"
"When I asked Google, it told me to walk around or think of unattractive things but pacing is tiresome and I run out of unattractive things quickly."
He's so earnest about it that if it were any other topic Dean might have thought it endearing. It just causes the Winchester immense discomfort though. Awkwardly, Dean looks at the door as if to make sure Charlie isn't listening in or something. He glances at his watch; pseudo sister won't be home for another two hours. Dean looks back to Cas and let's out a hard breath.
"Look, you're just gonna have to- I mean you- damn it, Cas!"
It's the eyes. He swears it's those big, stupid blue eyes. So Dean gets up and grabs Cas by the hand. He leads him into Chad's room and practically pushes him on the bed. Castiel is trusting and quiet as usual and says nothing as Dean digs out a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues from Chad's desk drawer. He throws them over to the confused angel and then stands over him, red faced and face tight.
"Now I'm only going to say this once," his voice sounds angry as he points and avoids eye contact, "when you get hard over whatever it is that gets you hard, you're gonna pull down your pants, put some of that on your hand and do like- like this-"
Dean absolutely cannot look at Cas as he does two imaginary strokes against his own phantom penis. God, when did his life become this?
"do that until you- well until something happens. Then use the tissues to clean up whatever mess you make, got it?"
Cas scrutinizes the bottle of lotion carefully. He's reading part of the back but he looks up at Dean and nods.
"Yes, Dean," he says, "I think I can do that."
"Good," Dean lets out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, "good. So- uh- I guess have at it."
Castiel nods again and then his hands are undoing his jeans and Dean's throat goes dry and his eyes get huge.
"WOAH!" Dean shouts and throws his arm over his eyes, "THIS IS PRIVATE TIME ACTIVITY, CAS! WAIT UNTIL I'M GONE!"
"My apologies, Dean."
The red faced Winchester backs out of the room fast, his heart racing and his mouth muttering curse words. He closes the door behind him and is so exhausted from embarrassment that he drops his back against the door, trying to calm down.
Fucking Cas and his fucking angel self who's apparently never heard of masturbation before. And how the hell did Google not tell him how to do it? It's Google! Isn't the internet like 90% porn or something?
He guesses he should have seen this coming though. At some point or another, Cas was going to get boners. It's not like he hasn't had one before. Hell, Dean's pretty sure he witnessed the angel's first when he was watching the pizza man, babysitter porn so many years ago. But why did it have to be Dean who explained it? Why couldn't Sammy have been here? He probably would have been more collected, still embarrassed but definitely more collected.
Dean sort of chuckles after a second though, because if Cas thought reading Harry Potter made him happy, well the literary stylings of J.K Rowling ain't got shit on rubbing one out.
And that's when he hears it; Cas, making a soft grunt. Cas, who never makes a sound for anything, not even a nearly broken nose, giving a low pur of satisfaction on the other side of a thin door. Cas, vocally responding to touching himself.
And Dean feels warm. And he gets goosebumps. And his fucking insides clench. Because those sounds are- they're kind of...hot. And damn it, why are his hips swaying like that? And why won't he just leave from the fucking door. With a sense of foreboding, he sends his hand down past the waistband of borrowed basketball shorts. He barely even has to pass his clit to feel the wet heat of his own arousal. And this shit ain't instantaneous either. This has a build since Dean doesn't know when. Geez, how do girls even know if they're horny or not anyway?
But Dean now knows for a fact that he's horny. He's horny and wait, his fingers are already prodding at his lower lips, fondling around his hot button. Cas meanwhile in the other room lets out another groan and it's like a sweet, hot whisper right into Dean's womanhood.
This is wrong. This is absolutely wrong on so many levels. Dean swore to himself he wasn't going to have happy fun times with girl parts again but his fingers are already doing much too perfect circles against his most sensitive spot. And this is Cas, he's doing it to. Best friend, scruffy dude in the trench coat Cas.
Castiel let's out a soft, gravel racked moan so quiet that Dean almost misses it but he doesn't. It still hits his ears and fuck it all to hell he's doing this now. He builds quickly, abusing that hot spot and climbing that euphoric ladder like no one's business. He leans more against the door and spreads his legs a little, opening up more of himself to play with. He drags his fingers, up and down and up and down, something in his system telling him to do more.
Dean digs deeper in, gliding up to the first bend in his finger. He prods toward the bottom and it feels good. He feels an odd tightness under him and his body whispers into itself to press so he does. It's resistant at first feeling a little uncomfortable.
Dean spreads his legs even more, his thighs starting to tingle. He puts his 'fuck you' finger back against his opening and pushes again. He feels tightness and the burn of a stretch as he pushes past muscle. Castiel groans outwardly in the room behind Dean and Dean hisses as he pushes the tip of his digit past the ring and into his body. He keeps pushing, feeling the finger inside him and the succession of the stretch around the base.
And then he lets it sit inside of him, an extension of his own hand on the inside of his body. He wiggles it a little and a sound escapes his throat. He's literally fucking himself and not pounding away into his fist but with something inside of him. He makes little circle motions and thrills at the awkward mix of discomfort and pleasure that it causes.
Dean turns his head to the side, some odd reflex and with his ear against the door he can actually here the quick slap slap slap of Cas. Cas, who's right now fucking himself for the first time too and making rhythmic uhn uhn uhn's. And Dean pulls his finger out and shoves it back in which makes him arc his back wildly, breasts and ass pushed out for show. He does the motion again and then again and he's actually matching Cas's rhythm. Uhn uhn uhn's in between his heavy panting and his own touching creates these gloriously wet noises.
And the urge to climax is there, like trying to balance and keep hold on a ball rolling across your arm. He dives after it, holds it, dives again and holds again. He's waiting for Castiel, waiting for the big one that signifies that Cas has hit a home run, is cumming all over himself and probably the bed, Dean's temporary bed. Hold and dive, dive and hold.
Castiel groan-moans deeply, like he's been hit in the stomach and Dean nearly jackhammers his middle finger into himself, all the while his thumb's wildly running over his clit and he drops that ball like a bomb, holding back a moan that could damn well rattle the windows. He thrills at his finger still inside of him, giving his body that much needed intrusion to tighten against. He bobs it in and out a little, riding his orgasm out as he hears Cas humming out the last of his own.
When all is said is done, Dean awkwardly pulls out, feeling a sudden aching emptiness. He looks at his finger to see it entirely coated with his wetness. There's sweat on his brow and he honestly feels like he can throw open this door and grab Cas and demand more because fuck did he want more. One finger just isn't enough. He wanted to be pulled, stretched to maximum capacity and hammered into and-
Dean sighs and makes his way to Charlie's bathroom. He needs a cold shower. And to think. Or maybe not think. But a cold shower; yes.
Just as he closes the door behind him though, his phone vibrates in his back pocket. Carefully, Dean uses his unsoiled hand to fetch it. He quickly answers the call.
"I'm a little busy Sam," he says, looking at his still wet covered finger with slight disdain, "this better be good."
"Dean!" Sam shouts, "Look, whatever happens don't-"
"Hello there, Dean," Crowley's voice coos into the phone.
"Are all of these guys demons?" Charlie asks quietly, her eyes perched over the top of a supersoaker, "It's practically a small battalion."
Dean still thinks she looks stupid with the damn thing. And the belt of holy water balloons is equally stupid. It's all ridiculously handy though and why hadn't Sam or Dean ever bothered with something like that before? Eh, call the Winchesters old fashion or so Dean guesses.
Cas on the other hand can be seen a little in the distance. Very quietly he sneaks up behind a demon on the outer front. It turns out that, even without his angel mojo, Cas is so sneaky silent that he's practically a ninja. So many odd centuries as one of God's warriors did little baby in a trench coat some serious good. He goes in swiftly for the kill, a hand over the demon's mouth, and he drags the blade across his neck.
"Oh, he's good," Charlie says and then gets a smirk on her face, "but I'm sure you're pretty aware of that already, huh?"
"What?" Dean asks and feels a redness threatening to creep across his face, "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just saying you'd know. What, you don't think he's any good?"
"No! Cas is really good."
"Is he?" and Charlie's got such a grin on her face that it's almost shit eating.
Dean looks back to the task at hand. Now is so not the time for this. He grumbles at her to shut it and keeps watching. Cas manages to take out another two and their cover's not blown yet. It's so weird that Crowley's picked this spot, of all spots. It's the same abandoned church and it's consecrated ground so being in there must not be easy on him. He must be pissed and vengeful because why else would he pick the same damn place? He's in it for some sick justice, Dean's sure of it.
"Look," Charlie says with a sigh, interupting Dean's thoughts, "I know you're not going to like this but I'm just going to throw it out there so...you've totally got the hots for Cas."
Dean's jaw locks automatically and his eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. He doesn't turn toward her though. He just tries to ignore that asinine statement and focus on the situation. Cas just did another so that's four down. It looks like there's another two wandering and then a set right by the doors. Geez, why would she say something like that? Oh, God, did she hear Dean moan Cas's name? That was only once though! One time, that's it!
"Dean," she complains, "don't get all strong and silent on me. Aren't you at least going to argue?"
She'll shut up. She will. Dean just needs to keep from responding.
"Or are you already that far gone?" she says with some suprise.
"Stop!" Dean yells at an acceptable for their distance level, "Seriously, you got some kind of mission with this little theory?"
"Theory?" Charlie asks skeptically, "Dean, I know the signs. I know when a girl's in the mood and every time Cas is even in the same room with you, it's written all over your face."
She puts a consoling hand on Dean's shoulder and pats.
"You've got it baaaaad."
Dean throws her hand off of him.
"So?" Dean argues, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a chick, okay? And Cas is a guy. My body's just reacting. It's not me; it's nature!"
Charlie blinks back what looks like irritation. Dean figures he's got a pretty solid argument. He's a girl, Cas is a boy. Dean's body is simply doing what it's designed to do is all. It really isn't him at all. Not his brain. Just some procreative reaction stuff. Totally normal and nothing to worry about.
"Oh, so it comes natural to the female body to be aroused by the male?"
"Of course."
"So, what? Am I just some freak of nature then? Because I can tell you right now that I've never been attracted to the male body in my entire life."
And, yeah, there it is; Dean's sense of self stupidity. It settles into his skull like an old friend, grabs itself a beer and kicks its feet up as it makes itself home.
"That's not what I meant-"
"I'm pretty sure that's what you're saying. And it's going to stay that way if you keep writing off your super obvious tension to 'natural boy-girl'ness."
"Well what do you want me to say!?"
"I don't want you to say anything," Charlie says before getting distracted.
Cas takes out another, bringing the ranks down to three. It looks like the other heard him though and Dean gets up and really starts to hussle his way down from their vantage point. Thank God he bought a bra. Running's a lot less of a bitch when your tits are strapped down.
"But, from one gay to another Dean," Charlie calls as she runs right behind him, "you're a lot better off just dealing with it now than sitting in that closet of yours!"
A demon comes crawling out of nowhere and comes at Dean full force. The hunter drops and slides underneath the hit. Charlie's already stopping the damn thing, a possessed trucker who's at least 6 foot some and way too many pounds, with her holy water gun. It hisses in it's recoil and Dean drags the sleeve of his, borrowed and well fitting, plaid shirt to read off the Latin scrawled on his forearm. An exorcism cheat sheet. The Winchester has to admit, Charlie has some good ideas.
"I mean, I did read the books," she yells as Dean gets midway through the Latin, "and subtext is putting it generously."
The demon doesn't let Dean finish and instead makes a break for it entirely. Black smog spews from the trucker and his whole body goes limp as he passes out. Charlie gives a quick, light laugh.
"Well that was terrifying and awesome."
"Look," Dean says, trying to get back on track, "tell you what, when this is all over we can have nice, long talk about me and Cas but first, we got to save Sam so shut it and move it, Charlie."
The ginger shrugs and pouts a little. Her supersoaker swishes with the motion.
"You don't need to get so grouchy about it," she mumbles despondently.
Dean rolls his eyes but is tackled hard to the ground. Another demon, this one wearing what looks like a farmer, scrambles to pin Dean. The hunter hears a stream and a hiss and feels water trickle down his face. Those little fixes of Charlie's sure are effective and the demon rolls off of Dean. Dean starts to read off of his sleeve but is cut short by Cas. The former angel, seemingly having come out of nowhere, drives the knife deep into the demon's spine, causing an amber electricity to run through it's system. Cas then offers his hand out to Dean, who silently takes it and lets Cas help him up.
"Are you ready to confront Crowley now?" Cas asks, still holding onto Dean's hand.
"...yeah."
Charlie clears her throat loudly, and did she just cough the word 'gay' under her breath? Dean glares at her regardless and drops Cas's hand like a hot potato. He starts marching forward, leading the trio toward the old church.
The two demons standing outside, are actually wearing kids. Kids. It was disconcerting when Lilith did it but these were just low levels that crammed themselves into little bodies. Probably because Dean really doesn't want to kill kids, especially a pair of little girls.
"I've come for my brother," Dean says forcefully, "so you either get out of the way or you get the knife."
Without a word, the two girls, a blonde and a brunette, step far enough apart to allow them inside. Dean looks at them curiously. Charlie's still got her water gun up and at the ready and Cas tilts his head. Voicelessly, he and Dean have a conversation.
This is a trap, Dean.
I know it is. We already talked about that.
Dean, going further might get you hurt.
Stop worrying about me, Cas. I'll be fine. You worry about you.
I always worry about you, Dean.
I know...
"Come on," he instructs out loud, both ending his unspoken dialogue with Cas and hopefully putting Charlie at some ease.
The three walk in, with Dean on point and with Charlie and Cas flanking his sides. The building is still as decrepit as Dean remembers it being. Their entrance is cut short though because there's Crowley sitting there in a chair like he's royalty, drinking his signature Craig and not giving the slightest of fucks.
"Well call me Charlie," Crowley laughs, taking in his three visitors "oh wait- I forget. There are no angels anymore."
"Where's Sam?" Dean growls.
Crowley calmly drinks from his glass. The amber liquid escapes into his lips and he smirks a litte as he goes on.
"That depends, who's asking?"
And that's when Dean remembers that he's not a he anymore. That he's a she and Crowley probably doesn't recognize him.
"Where's Sam!?" he shouts.
Crowley quirks his head to the side, his brow narrows. It's obvious that his brain is trying to come put something together. He eyes Dean carefully, suspiciously.
"Dean?" he asks and as Dean holds his ground the demon laughs, "So this is why you didn't say anything over the phone! Oh I knew you weren't simply being cooperative but I had no idea that this-"
"Get it all out your system now, chuckles," Dean warns, "because by the time I'm through with you-"
"-you'll what? Take half of Hell in the divorce and demand alimony?"
There's a sudden bang from the confessional booth. A weak hit against it. Dean's eyes dart fast to it and he knows that it's Sam. Fuck, Crowley's holding a grudge over the whole 'curing' thing but then when is it not in the demon's nature to want revenge? Dean makes a break for the booth.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Crowley says.
Dean looks over just to see the two little girls from earlier each send a bullet into Cas and Charlie. They aimed for a leg each though, bringing them down to their knees. Charlie's water gun drops from her hands with a plastic clap against the floor and she cries out airily with the hit. Meanwhile, the former angel is managing to stow away his reaction into some sort of guttural groan. The blonde sticks the barrel of her weapon right against the back of Charlie's head while the brunette aims at a slight distance, knowing that Cas has the knife.
"Don't move," the blonde, who's slightly taller than her darker haired counterpart, says, "either of you."
"Let them go, you son of a bitch" Dean demands as he hears another thud in the confession box.
"I'd love to but I can't," Crowley sets his glass on the floor and then walks right up to Dean, "they're my insurance, Dean. You see I can't hurt you. You're Moose's favorite, his squirrel, and I don't think he'll much agree to my demands if I kill you."
"What do you want?"
The demon snakes a hand up to Dean's face, grabbing him hard by the chin. He looks over Dean, like a judge checking over a dog in a show. He comes in close, his breath lapping up against Dean's nose, all sulfur and alcohol.
"This look isn't bad on you," he says, "but let's just say my preference indicates I liked you better before. I commend the handiwork though, whoever did it."
He then drops Dean's face and if it wasn't for the fact that The Shining twins have Cas and Charlie hostage, Dean would punch the damn demon.
"It's cute," Crowley notes, circling around Dean, "Sammy said you had a little problem. That's why he went looking for me, thought I'd done it or at least knew something about it. I have to admit, him finding me sort of power housed me through some decisions but now we're all here and this party can finally get started."
Dean's confused. Decisions? What decisions? And exactly what kind of party does this son of a bitch have in mind?
"Crowley!" Sam calls from inside the booth and with hard force the door comes down, Sam barreling after it.
His arms and legs are bound and he got bits of dried blood on his face. Dean stares, wanting to run to him but still keeping in mind the hostage situation.
"Moose," Crowley says with a warm smile, "have you confessed all your sins?"
"Sam?" Dean asks, "Sammy, you okay?"
"I'm fine, Dean."
"Good," the hunter then turns his attention back to Crowley,"Now listen, you bastard, you better explain what this is about right now-"
"This!" The demon walks up and pulls Sam off the floor. He holds him by the tight, thick rope forcing his wrists together. He makes Sam bend over and very carefully he brushes some of the hunter's hair out of his face, "-this is about finishing what he started, isn't that right... my Marnie?"
Sam coughs and Dean is taken back. There's something different in Crowley, something that isn't Crowley anymore. There's a softness to his voice, a quiet desperation in the way his fingers caress Sam's face.
"I told you," Sam says with a rasp, "I won't do it."
He practically throws Sam back onto the floor and the tall hunter hits it with a groan. Dean's still confused. He can't quite piece this together yet, doesn't understand.
"Well I won't live like this!" Crowley shouts, "There's too much of your bloody, holy, clean blood in my veins! I'll leave you Dean if you want, Sam! I won't even harm a hair on that pretty new little head of his! I might even throw in the ginger and the pet angel with their lives intact but you finish what you started!"
"You want him to cure you," Dean says quietly, "you want him to finish curing you."
The suited demon claps his hands and there's something too frantic in his eyes. There's an anger there and a desperation in those round orbs of his. He's looks a bit like a scared animal, all backed into a corner.
"Din ding ding!" Crowley yells, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Everyone cease the jokes! The blonde's at long last clued in on game!"
Dean's about to say something but Sam grunts a little as he pulls his body inward. He brings his knees in and arches his back, trying to get up and there's a wild look to Crowley, who rushes in and kicks him hard in the side.
"Sam!" Dean calls out.
"Stay down!" Crowley screams before turning toward Dean, "And don't you even think about it!"
The King of Hell paces a little, he runs his hand over his brow. He's not himself, not in any way. This isn't the Crowley Dean knows. It's just some broken fool, confused and filled with too much anxiety. It spurts out of him, waves of it in his shined shoes, his shaking fingers, and his wide eyes. He bites his fist and then stares at Sam, who's bloody and pretty beaten and on the floor.
"I'm sorry," Crowley says quickly and softly, "I don't want it like this, Moose. I really don't. You know I don't want to hurt you. But I need you to fix me. Sam..."
He gets down on one knee and pets the back of Sam's head. He's crying. The King of Hell is crying.
"...I'm begging you to fix me..."
He's human. That's what it is. Or more accurate to say, he's close to human. He's lost somewhere in himself, in who he once one and who he now is. The violent outbursts and the panic. He's trapped between man and demon, bordering an edge but unable to pass it.
But how tenderly he touches Sam now, how sweetly he does it. It's more than wanting to be a man again. He's bonded to Sam. And Dean can see that bond clear as day.
"You said you don't want to hurt Sam," Dean says, interrupting Crowley's whispered pleas.
The conflicted demon looks up, his fingers still buried in Sam's hair and on either side of his face. Crowley's cheeks are tear streaked and red. He's miserable beyond misery. Dean may not like him, but even he has to admit that it's hard to see him like this.
"If Sam finishes curing you," Dean says, "then that means he'll complete the demon trials."
"Dean, no," Sam grunts.
"Which means" Dean ignores his brother, "if you get cured, Sammy dies."
It won't ease Crowley's pain any but it'll make him stop. It'll give him means to let Sam go or so Dean hopes. It's the best bet he can make right now, not just for Sam but for Cas and Charlie too.
"Moose," Crowley's voice is barely a whisper, "...is it true?"
Sam nods slowly his face moving in Crowley's hands. The demon's finger curl around the hunter's locks gently. They play with that mane of Sam's sweetly and Crowley chuckles a little.
"You know," he says, "it kills me to see how much you Winchester's love each other. You'd die for him, wouldn't you? For Dean? But not for me. No, not someone like me and what's worse- I can't make you and even worse- I can't want to make you."
Crowley fingers slip slowly away from Sam. He stands up and turns his back to everyone in the room. He tries to put pride back into his shoulders but it comes off tense.
"Take him, Dean."
Dean pauses, not sure he's heard right but then very hesitantly moves to Sam. He brings a switchblade out from his pocket and cuts Sam's legs loose first and then his arms. He helps him up and gives him a quick hug, his small arms barely wrapping around his large brother.
"Take him and go," Crowley says before screaming, "TAKE YOUR WHOLE FILTHY PACK AND LEAVE BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND."
The two demon girls lower their guns and look patient. Sam immediately goes for Charlie, helps her up quickly. He barely holds her up though being pretty beaten himself. Dean does the same with Cas, pulling his arm around his shoulder and together the four shuffle out as fast as possible.
"Y'know," Dean says, pausing from his beer and looking at Sammy, "if you want to talk about it, I'll listen."
They're back at the bunker. Castiel's laid up in a room, his legs healing and Charlie's assured the boys that Chad can watch over her fine back home. She says she'll write it off as a hunting accident which really wasn't a lie. It's just the two brothers, sitting at the table and sharing a beer.
"I'd rather not," Sam says, taking a sip from his can.
"Okay," Dean says before talking anyway,"but there's one thing that still bugs me."
"And what's that?"
Dean turns his body to face Sam. The older Winchester has to admit, there's drawbacks to being a girl. Periods for one thing, people treating him different for another. And never knowing that he's horny, now that's annoying. But there are good things too. A whole new way of movement, of fighting. Being able to move with less effort. And not to mention the fact that, yeah, Dean's pretty looking and he can appreciate that. There's small things too, like being able to sit on top of the kitchen table without worry meanwhile Sam is stuck just leaning against it.
"Why didn't you just tell Crowley from the start that it would've killed you?" Dean asks, "I mean, you probably would saved us a trip and yourself some blood if you just said so."
Sam stares down at his beer for a minute. He's collecting his thoughts, looking at that silvery can like it's an anchor.
"I know this sounds a little crazy," Sam says, "but when I was curing Crowley...he said things. Dean, I- I can't explain it but I felt sorry for him."
"Sorry?" Dean puts his beer down entirely, "you felt sorry for the demon King of Hell? That sneaky bastard-"
"I said I can't explain it, all right?" Sam snaps, "And I didn't want him to know that it would kill me. I thought that if he thought I was choosing not to, that he'd learn to hate me for it and he could just go back to being himself."
"As oppose to?"
"As oppose to being stuck at a stalemate where he wants to be human but can't because it means me dying. He doesn't want to see me die. Hell, Dean, he'd burst into a fit of apologies whenever he'd so much as nick me no matter how angry he was."
"So what, you're saying that you care about Crowley?"
Sam glowers at Dean. This is nuts. This is crazy talk is what it is. Sam and Crowley are in some kind of weird, we're enemies but please don't get hurt relationship? Sam's even gone as so far as to concern himself with the demon's feelings.
"That trial, you may not have finished but it sure changed you," Dean scoffs.
"And so what? So maybe Crowley and I have an understanding-"
"More like a soft spot if you ask me."
"I didn't." Sam chugs the last of his beer, "It's not important. He'll stay out of our way, that's what matters right?"
Dean supposes that's true. It may be weird as hell and a little gross but at least their weird bond thing means less problems. For now anyway. Dean's still wary though. It's not like Dean's just forgotten about Ruby.
"I'm just sorry I couldn't find anything to get you back to normal," Sam sighs.
Dean slaps his petite hand against Sam's shoulder. It's friendly gesture and Dean picks up his beer again.
"I don't know, Sammy," Dean say in a carefree sort of way, "being a chick ain't so bad. People buy me drinks. I get see boobs whenever I want."
"You can't be seriously okay with this, Dean." Sam argues, "I mean doesn't it feel weird? To not have your own body? To be stuck inside something that's not you?"
Dean tried looking on the bright side, he really did. And if he had a choice to live his next life different, maybe he would ask to be born a girl. But he's not in a next life, he's in this one and he's in a body that's not his and it's foreign and alien and not right. It's like being trapped but Dean tells himself to make the best of it.
"As far as I can tell, Sam," Dean shakes his head, "I'm stuck like this. For whatever reason, I'm stuck. Maybe God's just playing a practical joke or something but this is how it's going to be for a while, maybe forever and I'm just going to have to deal."
And when Dean says forever, he feels sick. He doesn't want to be like this for forever. He can't be like this forever. This isn't him and it's wrong. There's got to be a way. Something to fix this. A spell or something. Anything. Dean doesn't mind for a while but forever? Not forever.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam responds and for once, Dean wishes he'd argue instead.
It's been over a month now. Dean's been trapped in a woman's body for over a full month. He's feeling hopeless at this point. At first it was panic, then anger, then excitement over all the newness and now it's just hopelessness.
Even hunts aren't making him happy anymore. No matter what he does, nobody looks at Deanna the way they looked at Dean and why would they? This isn't Dean's face or hands or voice or body. The whole of his outsides are wrong, not just because they're female but because they're not him.
Dean knocks on the door of Cas's room gently. He's got a tray in his free hand, a tray with chips and a homemade burger resting on it. He forgot the beer but he'll bring it back. Being shot in the leg sucks but it doesn't look like Cas is going to be immobile forever. He's healing up well, and a little faster than most would. He'll probably be fairly useless for a few months but he seems pretty happy with those Harry Potter books of his, not to mention whatever else he can get his hands on to read.
Cas calls Dean in and the hunter puts the food on the nightstand. He then sits on the bed, not thinking much of the action now. Sometimes Dean sits bedside with Cas for a while. He's taken to showing Cas music every now and then and Sam knows better than to say anything about the little powows they're having.
This time it's just a little food delivery but Cas actually makes with the motion of moving aside and let's Dean pull up closer. They sit with their backs against the headboard and for minute they don't do anything. They simply sit side by side and breathe in one another's company.
"So, how you feeling today, huh?" Dean asks.
And bless his fucking heart, Castiel actually smiles. It's small, barely there but absolutely genuine and damn it all if it doesn't force butterflies into Dean's gut.
"I'm feeling good, Dean," Castiel answers, "I finished the last of the books a few minutes ago."
"Oh yeah, that, Harry Potter stuff, right?"
Castiel narrows his eyes a little.
"It's not just stuff, Dean," the former angel warns and then goes soft, "I truly enoyed it."
"That's good, Cas," Dean saysoff handedly.
The hunter is a bit surprised when Castiel grabs him by the shoulders. Those palms of his eat at Dean's shoulders and turn him more toward him. He has a look in his eye, not crazy but very serious.
"You don't understand, Dean," he tells him, "I've never read anything like it before. Something that wasn't true like that. And the author, she made it all up? You're sure?"
Dean awkwardly pats one of the hands on his shoulder.
"Yeah she did. Pretty cool, huh?" Dean says.
Dean doesn't like books too much. Certainly not for pleasure anyway, unless it pleasure of the Playboy variety. If Dean remembers right, Charlie did say there were movies. Maybe he could manage to watch a few of them with Cas. Can't be too many of them right?
Castiel slides his hands off of Dean, making Dean's body thrum with excitement. Dean may not always know when something turns him on but this body sure lets him know it when the cause is Cas.
"The human mind is a beautiful thing, Dean," Castiel comments, "I'd like to learn how to do something like that."
"Write?"
"Perhaps. Or maybe some other form of art. I've never done art before. I think I'd like to try it now that I'm capable of learning the skill."
He doesn't sound excited. If anything, he sounds matter of fact but Dean knows that Castiel is looking forward to such a prospect. He should have guessed that little angel gone man would eventually discover some kind of creative streak or something. He wasn't going to be fascinated by free will for forever. With a smile and a soft chuckle, Dean points to the food but Castiel shakes his head and says he'll eat in a minute.
"You're really embracing the whole human thing now, aren't you?"
Castiel turns to face Dean better and actually leans into him. He smells sort of spicy, like some kind of soap or something but in a good way. He's got a little bit of stubble going on but it's nothing out of hand. But, Jesus, have his eyes gotten bluer? When did that happen?
"I know it may seem strange to think of it this way but-" Castiel looks almost nervous, "when God brought me back a second time, in my angel form, I noticed Jimmy Novak's absence. The vessel was free of anything, Jimmy had passed. And I've been wondering if maybe God had done that on purpose. If He knew that my grace would be taken. And if that is the case, then this body, I assume, is meant to be mine."
"Wait, so Jimmy's gone now?"
"As I said, Jimmy has been completely absent since my second resurrection."
This is big news. Big news. Dean tried not to think about Jimmy being inside there. It was, after all, depressing to think about; some poor guy who has a family forced to be dragged around and watch as war rages on. Or even if he wasn't completely awake, he still would have felt that exhaustion, the despondent tiredness of never resting. But Castiel needed a vessel and Dean needed Castiel in a vessel so Dean tried not to think of it too much. But now knowing that Jimmy was gone, off to the peace he'd been promise, well it just relieved Dean a little.
"I am now one of the thing that my Father loves most," Castiel said in less than a whisper before gaining back his voice, "and I'm not sure how it makes any logical sense but I have never felt closer to Him than I have in this form. I don't know if my prayers can reach Him, Dean, but I feel as if they do. I hope He understands that...despite circumstances...I am oddly grateful."
And Dean literally has to force himself not to cry. He's not good with the whole God thing and if given the chance he'd have a thing or two to shout at the All Mighty but the way Castiel looks and the things he's saying...he's so heartfelt. He's found peace in this and that's so much more than Dean could have hoped for.
The next thing Dean knows, Castiel's arms are around him, pulling him in tight and close. Dean's eyes barely peak over the man's shoulders and he feels like he can break there. It sort of hits him, overwhelming like a hurricane in his chest. Cas is so warm and smells nice and is just fucking Cas and he's okay.
After a minute, the former angel pulls back and looks at Dean carefully.
"What was that for?" Dean asks quietly.
Castiel reaches and swipes his index and middle finger across Dean's cheek. He holds up the tear smeared across them and Dean's heart freefalls.
"You told me it was customary," Castiel says, "did I do it right?"
Dean with his fingers still pressed against Cas, clutches a little into the navy colored, cotton material. He nods.
"Yeah, Cas, you did good. You did really good."
Dean really wants his penis back. Well more than that. His penis and his height and his broad shoulders and his knuckles. He even wants his bow legs back. Its been another week, and he's probably going to get his period again soon so there's that.
Dean drags a luffa over his breasts. There's nothing even enjoyable about this form anymore. Even masturbation has almost lost most of its charm. If it wasn't for that sick sense of enjoyment Dean gets out of having something inside him, he's pretty sure he wouldn't even bother. Besides, Dean's sure he can accomplish some kind of equivalent with his male body. That's how gay guys do it, right?
Granted though, Dean's already put a finger inside of that cute little caboose of his and it's not quite the same as the front entrance. It's more challenging, more painful but Dean sort of likes that. As he washes his behind, he thinks that maybe he should be concerned with the fact that he's tried and liked that but then, he keeps banging himself to thoughts of Cas and shouldn't that be more alarming?
What's even more concerning is the fact that when Dean closes his eyes and fantasizes, the him in his fantasies is still a dude. And Cas is a dude. And it's dude on dude. It's also really hot.
Charlie's right. Dean's in an oversized closet and he knows it. After having a long phone call with the ginger, she pointed out that sexual attraction is simply sexual attraction. She said that if for example she woke up one day and met a guy and was attracted to him, she wouldn't have a sudden sexual identity crisis. It happens, no not to everyone, but it does happen and it's not a big deal. Cas is just one such person for Dean who happens to be of the same gender.
But that's the thing. Same gender. And in his mind, Dean's still a guy. So the idea of being with Cas when he's a woman feels...wrong. Because that's not Dean. Not really. And, holy shit, does Dean want Cas inside him more and more with each passing day. Even as Cas hobbles to the kitchen table or tells Dean about the useless whatever he learned from Sam's computer. Even when they were watching those stupid British kid's movies. Dean just wants to crawl on top of Cas and drown in him, invite him in, let him sit inside of him. And it's fucking gay and weird and Cas probably has no idea.
Regardless. Dean's not making a move. Because he's not himself right now. And even if he is going to do the radical thing and attempt Castiel, he's not going to do it like this.
Dean thumps his head against the shower wall. He hates this. Hates all of it. When did life get so hard? Why couldn't Dean have just originally been a girl? Or why couldn't Cas have been guided to a female vessel? If God is involved in all this, then why the joke? Why make Dean Winchester want a guy and even with having the opportunity to technically be straight about it, still want it to be gay?
"You know, hitting your head on the wall like that might give you brain damage," a female voice says.
Dean nearly jumps out of his own skin but he turns toward the open section of the shower curtain. Sitting by the sink is none other than a brunette woman, chocolate hair up in a messy bun.
"...Jackie?" Dean asks.
The woman hops off the counter. She swirls the sucker in her mouth and pulls it out with an audible pop. She's in all black just like she was at the lady's underwear store. She's still got her nametag and everything.
"Oh come on," she says, "I know you're smarter than that...Dean-o."
Dean's eyebrows raise so fast that he's surprised that they're still on his head. He's got the curtain wrapped around him now. He's even hiding his breasts and everything from the intruder. His brain doesn't want him to say it but the name comes out of his mouth anyway.
"Gabriel?"
The former trickster does a bit of a bow and slowly his female form fades away revealing his usual beady eyed, slicked hair self. He smiles and puts the sucker back into his gob happily.
"You son of a bitch!" Dean growls as he hops out of the shower and goes to strangle him.
The angel poofs to the other side of the bathroom though, leaving Dean naked, sudsy and with nothing to squeeze the life out of.
"Woah, hey there hot stuff," Gabriel half mocks, half soothes, "It was only a little fun."
Dean throws his arms down to gesture at his body, his brow a sledgehammer of fury.
"You think this is fun!?" he shouts.
Gabriel quirks an eyebrow and smirks, the stick of his lollipop sticking out of the slant in his mouth.
"You look like a pretty good time to me, sugar."
Dean glares the most powerful glare he has and he knows he's probably rage pouting but he's too angry to care. It's cold outside the shower and he feels how erect his nipples get. He doesn't go to warm them or cover any part of himself. Let Gabriel stare at his trick right in the face, Dean doesn't care.
"I just thought it'd be an interesting little surprise," he continues, "my way of saying I'm back."
"Yeah and just how are you back anyway? And how come you have powers?"
Gabriel crunches his sucker, pulls the stick out of his mouth and vanishes it into thin air.
"Turns out, little Cas isn't God's only favorite," and he almost sounds fond, "big guy saw fit to bring me back. Brought me back mortal but, hey, he let me keep the powers as a bonus. Can't argue with Dad on that one."
It was Gabriel all along! Geez that made so much sense now. Granted, how was Dean suppose to know it was him when he thought the runaway angel was dead? Still, Dean can kick himself over it. The little dick with wings would try a stunt like this. And now the red teddy ending up in his shopping bag makes a lot more sense too.
"And this is how you chose to say hello?" Dean hollers.
Gabriel shrugs, swallows the remainder of his candy and strides back over to the sink.
"In all fairness," he says as he leans against the counter, "I never meant for it to last this long but then...developments happened."
"Developments?"
"You were learning a few lessons, opening up a little and I happened notice that you, Dean-o, have got a certain something for my little brother."
There it is again. Like Dean wasn't just thinking about the ex angel minutes ago in the shower. Honestly, Dean's a little surprised that Sammy hasn't been hounding him about it since pretty much everybody's decided to join in. All aboard the S.S Dean and Cas! Feel free to bug Dean about it and try to push him into some kind of commitment!
"Damn it!" Dean complains, "I am sick and tired of people saying I'm in love with Cas!"
"Love?" Gabriel purses his lips a little, "Hold on there, buddy. I didn't say you loved him."
And Dean goes red in the face. So red that he feels it. The heat snakes across one cheek, over the bridge of his nose to the other.
"Well I'll be damned," the trickster says with just a little too much satisfaction, "Didn't take you as one who'd want to make an honest man out of my brother. Makes me feel a little better about turning you back to normal."
"Are you serious?" Dean asks.
And it's in his voice. His proper I-am-the-God-damned-Batman voice, gravel and all. His hand flies up to his mouth and he feels the callouses on his finger tips and he sees the veins and knuckles and the chewed down nails.
"Tell Cas I said hi, will ya, Dean-O?" Gabriel asks.
Dean gives a nod but the joker's already vanishing, smoking his way out of existence. Dean rolls his shoulders, feels his masculine build shift with his muscles. He looks up, inwardly praising some higher power and then drops his gaze. Then, without even the slightest of common decency, Dean throws open the door of the bathroom and steps out butt ass nude.
"MY NAME'S DEAN WINCHESTER!" he bellows, "AND I HAVE MY PENIS BACK!"
A/N: Holy shit! I wrote literotica and it didn't have two penises involved! I actually centered it around a single vagina! TIS A SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE. If people demand a sequel on this. I will write it. I don't have a set number required or anything but if people want it, I will do the thing.