Chapter 1

"So, Sam!" Dean called as he unloaded the food he'd gotten from its bag, "I thought today we'd go look at the bodies, you know? Scope out the territory, maybe see what we're dealing with."
"Sounds good," An unexpectedly annoyed, unfamiliar voice came from behind him. He turned around to find himself staring at a beautiful green-eyed girl that had apparently just walked out of the bedroom. He eyed her up and down appreciatively. Tall and leggy, she was currently dressed in one of Sam's plaid shirts, the too-long sleeves rolled up and the end just managing to come about halfway down her thigh. Long brown hair flowed all the way to her hip. Funny, he didn't remember Sam bringing anyone back to the motel last night and he was fairly sure he'd know if he brought something that pretty- "Dude, stop staring at my chest." He made some sort of noise that regestered- something.
"Huh? Oh right, sorry," He sauntered over, looked down at her, and gave her his most winning smile, "I'm Dean. I don't think we've met. So, uh, what's your name?" She gave him a look, "Dean, stop hitting on me. Seriously, dude, that's just creepy." What? The girl gave him an exasperated look, "Dean, its me. Sam. I just woke up like this. Stop laughing, this is a serious problem! I can't even get dressed! What am I supposed to... jerk." Dean couldn't help it, by this time he was doubled over with tears in his eyes, "Bitch. Hey, Samantha, how's my chin looking? I haven't been able to look down on you in years."
"Shut up."
"Nice hair."
"... I hate you."

Season 6 Supernatural Intro

Sam shoved past him and walked over to the bag of food. Looking through it, he spoke, "You didn't even get me anything to eat." Dean straghtened up, wiping tears from his eyes, "Eating one burger won't kill you, you know. Oh right, gotta look out for that nice figure of yours." Sam stood fuming as Dean broke down with laughter once more. Finally he stopped, "Whew! I needed that," He glanced at Sam, who still looked like he wanted to murder something. You're beautiful when you're angry. Here, I'll tell you what. I'll go back out and get you a salad and some clothes, all right? Then we can sit down and try to figure out your... problem. Maybe you could do some research while I'm gone... Okay?" "Yeah. I guess."
Dean picked up his keys and started toward the door, "All right then, I'll see you in a bit."

Sam poked his head around the bathroom door, "Dude, I am not wearing this." Dean sighed, "Why not?"
"'Cause the underwire hurts, and the lace itches and... you are aware girls don't actually wear these, right?" he ducked back in and turned the offending item around in his hands, "I'm not even sure it's my size," he muttered.
Dean called back, "Well, how am I supposed to know how bra sizes work? Having trouble? Come on out, I'll help you fasten it."
"No." Dean's eyebrows went up, "What? Now you're shy? Like I haven't seen you naked before. I mean, the number of your diapers I've changed alone-"
"Stop. Talking. Now." Dean threw up his hands in a conciliatory gesture and moved away from the table he had been leaning against, "Fine. Um, what about research? You find anything?" Sam came walking out of the bathroom wearing jeans, a tank top, and the plaid shirt from earlier, the bra having been abandoned on the bathroom floor, "No, not exactly. I couldn't find that anything like this has ever happened here, no missing persons, no mysterious daytime intruders." Dean picked up his burger, "So, what was the 'not exactly' for?
Sam sat down in front of his laptop and pushed a lock of hair out of his face, "Well, I was thinking about the deaths, you know, the ones that brought us out here in the first place, and I think I might have found something."
"Okay..."
"So you know the one guy, um, George Morgan?"
"Right. Cop, tasered to death with his own weapon-"
" -But they couldn't find anything wrong with it, yeah. Well, I was looking into his background, and get this, he had four different citations for excesive force. Guy was a real jerk; and guess what, his weapon of choice?" Dean looked up, "Taser?" Sam nodded, "Yep, taser." He shook his head in an attempt to get the hair out of his face before frustratedly shoving it back, "Dude, what am I supposed to do with all this hair? Its getting really annoying." Dean took another bite out of his burger, "I don't know. What do you usually do with all that hair?" Sam stared at him, his expression settling into bitchface #64, "Very funny. Anyway, here's another one. John Asher. Killed while on a walk in the woods, right next to a large pile of beer cans. He was apparently drinking one when he was shot."
"Yeah, that's weird."
"More than that. Asher was an avid hunter." Dean looked up, "You mean-"
"He shot Bambie, and he frequently put down corn to attract more deer to the area."
"So...A hunter got hunted?"
"And one more. I found it while you were out. A gym teacher, Michael Smith, used to push his students way too hard, you know, real 'The whistle makes me their god' type. He was found dead, from exhaustion. Apparently, he was run to death."
Dean paused mid-bite, "Really? Wow." Sam continued, "Right, well you put that together with what's happened to me and what does that sound like to you?"
Dean nodded, "So just desserts, huh? You thinking trickster? Because that's brutal. I mean, even for Gabriel that's brutal, and he's dead anyway, so he couldn't do it." Sam glanced back at his computer screen, "Yeah, well, he isn't the only trickster. I mean, he wasn't even a real one. There's no telling what they're really like, you know?" Dean put down his burger, "Yeah I guess. All right, well, we'd better go get a look at those bodies." The girl sitting across the table didn't budge, "Sam!" He looked up, "Yeah, well, I don't have a suit, or shoes, not to mention ID. You go check them out on your own."
"What? No! Come on, we'll make a couple of stops on the way," he started toward the door, "Well, you coming or what?" Sam sighed, "Yeah, I'm coming."

"Agents Stark and Romanov, FBI." Dean said as they held up their badges.
The coroner looked confused, "Stark and Romanov... aren't those two of the Avengers?" Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, "Well, I wouldn't know. I don't read comic books." The still-confused coroner turned away, shaking his head. Sam stumbled and grabbed hold of Dean's arm as they walked, "Seriously man? Heels?" Dean glanced at him, "Wanted you to look professional. Having trouble?" Sam gave him another bitchface, "I can't walk in these. You know they make girl's shoes that are, you know, normal, right?"
"Yeah, well this is more entertaining." Sam continued to stumble as they followed the coroner back, "You're a frigging jerk."
"Don't worry. Soon we'll find the trickster, kill it, and this will all be over." Sam glared at him, "Or you could've just gotten me some decent shoes."

The bodies were completely ordinary: no EMF, no sulfer, no other strange marks of any kind. The verdict of 'trickster' seemed more and more likely as they climbed back into the car. Sam couldn't help but notice how much easier it all was now that he didn't have to fold himself up to fit in the passenger seat. He got out his phone and dialed Bobby's number. Dean glanced at him, "What are you doing?"
"Calling Bobby. He might have some sort of additional information. Hey! Hey Bobby?" The familiar gruff voice crackled through the phone, "Yeah. Who is this?"
"Right. I guess I sound kind of different. Look Bobby, it's Sam. We-"
"My ass. Listen whoever you are, next time pick a role that's halfway believable. Don't call this phone again." He hung up and Sam was left with the sound of the dial tone. He redialed, "Hey, Bobby. Listen, don't hang up. It really is me, okay? We really could use your help." There was silence. Sam half-thought he had hung up when he heard a sigh, "Fine, prove it. Tell me something only Sam knows." He cast around for an answer, hoping desperately he could find one that would satisfy the old hunter, "Um, let's see. Dean and I have both been too hell... You're the closest thing we have to a father... Oh! Crowley made you kiss him for a demon deal! You've never told anybody about that, have you? It was for Death's location and... he took a picture." Another long silence came through the line. Finally Bobby spoke, "Well, I reckon that counts. What have you idjits gotten yourselves into this time? You sound like a damn girl." Oh this was going to be awkward, "I... I sort of am, Bobby."
"'Sort of am' what?"
"A... girl. We're on a hunt and I woke up this morning with... you know." Bobby sounded exasperated, "And how exactly did you do that to yourself, boy? I swear, you two are gonna be the death of me."
"We think we're after a trickster. You know, a real trickster, not some weird archangel-gone-rogue one. There are some bodies too. We just came from the morgue." Bobby paused, "You really think a pagan god has the juice for something like that?" Sam shrugged, "Honestly? We don't know. That's why we're calling you. I hoped you could help."
"How do you boys get into these messes? I mean, first you saddle me with a couple of idjit actors in your bodies for a week, and now this! When exactly are you two gonna wise up?..." Sam listened patiently as Bobby's rant continued. Finally it peetered out, "Well, anyway, you call me if you hear anything new. You know I'll do all I can to help." Sam spoke, "Will do. Thanks Bobby...Yeah, we'll be careful...Thanks, bye."
On the way to their next location they stopped at a Wal-mart and got Sam some flats and a sports bra, both of which he was at this point very thankful for. His chest hurt and the heels made his feet ache. He couldn't wait to get his proper body back.