But He Had Your Eyes!

By Criminally Charmed

Never owned them, never will.

"Ohhh," Sam moaned, gripping his head as he tried to sit up. The Winchesters had been visiting Bobby for a little down time after a run-in with a demented hunter who had shaken Dean from his uber-hunter mode. Gordon Walker couldn't see anything supernatural as being anything but evil. It had taken some time – and a sore jaw for Sam, courtesy of his big brother – but the younger Winchester had managed to sway Dean to his side of the argument and they were able to save Lenore, the leader of a clan of peaceful (i.e. non human-blood-suckers) vampires from Gordon's trap. Knowing they had made an enemy of the man, the brothers decided to head back to the salvage yard to regroup and refocus on their search for the yellow-eyed demon.

It was that ongoing hunt that had lead them to the hunt they were on now. While researching supernatural activity, they had found indicators of something happening in a small town a few miles from Bobby's. What they had thought was a ghost ended up being a living woman. Or, more precisely, a very nasty, very pissed off, very powerful witch, by the name of Camilla LaRoy. Before they could reassess the situation, Camilla raised her hands and began an incantation (or at least they assumed it was) in a language the brothers had never heard. The deafening roar that filled their ears was the last thing they heard and their world went dark.

"D-Dean?" Sam called weakly, still trying to get his bearings. Shaking his head, he guessed that the witch had caused some kind of explosion, knocking them back into the wall. The moments just before he had lost consciousness was a blur. Feeling the goose egg on the back of his head, Sam sighed. Life was just too damn crazy, as Dean was fond of saying. As no voice called back, Sam began to panic. "Dean!" he shouted, even as he winced from the pain it caused him.

"Meow."

Blinking, his vision still slightly fuzzy from his injury, Sam stared at the sight in front of him. A small cat – too big to be a kitten but still on the smaller side – sat on it's haunches, eyes focused on Sam with an intensity he had rarely seen before. Usually the only person to watch him so carefully was…"Dean?" Sam whispered, praying that an explosion was all that the witch had done.

"Meow."

Now that Sam looked at the cat more closely, he could see it's eyes…the same vivid green with the same force and strength that Sam had always associated with his big brother. "Nah," he muttered, "can't be. Must have hit my head worse than I thought. Dean?" he called out once more.

"Meow." Clink.

It was the sound of metal striking would that drew Sam's attention faster than the latest plaintive howl from the bundle of fur at his feet. Leaning down, Sam's eyes went wide as he felt himself grow dizzy – not from the head injury but from the lack of oxygen getting to his lungs. "Breathe, Sam, breathe. Breathing is considered to be a good thing." Dangling from the cat's neck was the amulet Sam had given his brother for Christmas 1991. "Oh, Dean…" he whispered. "Oh, man, we are so screwed."

Bobby Singer closed the hood of the 1957 Ford Thunderbird he had been working on and stretched his back. It was a lot harder to spend an afternoon bent over a car engine than it had been when he had first started this job all those years ago. Picking up his tools and heading back into the house, he couldn't help but smile.

It still felt good.

Looking over the salvage yard, Bobby released another small smile. When he had first bought out the business from Old Man Ericson when he had come home from the service, Bobby had pictured it as being a business he would build up and pass on to his son. Well, he had managed to maintain and even show some small profit from the business over the years, but being a hunter had taken the time that would have been required to really build it up. And any chance of a son had died when his wife had. Possessed by a demon, Bobby had been forced to kill his bride before she could hurt anyone else. When he buried his wife, he had been sure he had buried any chance of a family. No one would take the place in his heart that had been reserved for those babies who would never be born.

Then one day a man pulled up in front of his house in a 1967 Chevy Impala. Bobby saw in the man's eyes the same grief and pain he had seen in his own. He knew from Pastor Jim that the man, John Winchester, had just lost his own wife to the supernatural. And then the man had reached into the car, helping out a five year old boy and grasping a baby, one that couldn't even be a year old yet, in his arms, as if he could protect them from all the evils of the world. Bobby knew how he felt, or at least he would in the time to come.

To this day, Bobby still loved Dean and Sam Winchester as if they were his own sons. Smiling at the thought of the boys, who had headed out for a simple hunt, the older man decided to start a simple stew. If the brothers made it home tonight, they would have dinner and if not, the good thing about stew was with a bit of water and some heat it was just as good the next day as it was when you made it. His culinary musings were interrupted by the sound of a familiar muscle car roaring up to his front door. Bobby's eyes almost popped out of his head at the sight of Sam climbing out of the driver's side. He hurried forward, sure that something bad had happened to the older Winchester.

It was the only way Dean ever let his brother drive his beloved car.

Bobby caught Sam's eye, watching as the younger man shrugged and sighed, the infamous Sam-Winchester-patented-puppy-dog-eyes almost making Bobby laugh at the memories they brought up. Then, Sam sighed and reached into the Impala, pulling out a golden brown and white cat that curled into the younger Winchester's arms with a loud purr that could be heard where Bobby stood. Shaking off his shock, Bobby approached the pair as Sam, looking as he had when he was confused as a little kid, sighed again.

"Bobby," he sighed, "we got a problem."

As Bobby looked more closely at the feline lounging in Sam's arms, he saw the amulet that Dean Winchester had worn for nearly fifteen years, dangling from the neck of the cat. Now it was Bobby who sighed, and headed towards the house, knowing that the younger man – with cat in hand (in arm?) – was following him. "Johnny," he moaned in his head, "why can't your boys ever do things the easy way?" Somewhere, he knew, John Winchester was laughing his ass off.

The next day found Bobby and Sam heading back to the same town, the same old house on the edge of said town. An exhaustive night of research had confirmed Bobby's worst fears. Only by killing the witch could they break the curse and return Dean to human form.

"Now, you're sure this will work?" Sam asked for what had to be the tenth time since they had left the salvage yard.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Bobby nodded as they bumped along the supposed highway (it had enough bumps to be a dirt road). "Seems as if there are only two ways to reverse a curse of this kind, Sam; either the witch reverses it voluntarily or she dies. You think she'd change Dean back if you ask her nicely?" Looking at the cat, curled up on Sam's lap, he raised his eyebrows as he noticed Sam petting the cat. Sam caught the look and groaned.

"I have to, Bobby! He howls if I don't pet him in the car. The drive to your place was a nightmare. He kept howling the whole way." Sam rolled his eyes, muttering, "Probably was complaining about my driving."

"Well, you ain't driving now. Hell, we aren't even in the Impala or couldn't you boys tell?" Bobby gestured at his truck while remaining focused on the road, looking for the turn-off to the actual dirt road leading to the witch's lair.

"Which just gives Dean something else to howl about," Sam groaned.

Bobby gave a small chuckle while scratching Dean between his ears, snatching his hand back when he realized what he was doing. Spotting the road they needed, Bobby turned the truck onto the dirt road, slowing so that they would give less notice – both in dust and noise. The hunters would actually park almost half a mile away from the old house, but there was no sense in announcing their arrival.

Creeping into the house, Sam and Bobby used hand signals, both wishing Dean were there for a variety of reasons. But they had left him sleeping on the bench seat of Bobby's truck, dozing in the sun. Hopefully, they would return to the vehicle and find the older Winchester brother asleep in the same position. Of course, if they did, Sam was planning on getting a picture to post on the web. Maybe even a clip for You Tube.

The attack, when it came, was sudden and intense. This time, the hunters didn't even hear an incantation to warn them of the witch's intent. Another blast, not as powerful as the first one, threw the men into yet another wall and the world faded to black…

"Sam!"

The urgent whisper finally woke Sam. Groaning, he tried to move but this time he found he couldn't move anything but his head. Turning that, he saw Bobby chained to a post in the center of the large room. "Bobby?" he whispered, "what happened?"

"I happened," Camilla the bitch, uh, witch stood imperiously over Sam. Looking around as best he could, Sam's heart stopped when he realized he was tied to a black altar. His shirt had been removed and markings had been made on his chest. Sam had the terrifying feeling that they were not wishes for a long and healthy life.

Both Sam and Bobby's eyes were drawn not just to Camilla but the long, ceremonial dagger that she clasped in her be-ringed hands. As she began to chant an incantation in the same unknown language that she had used when Sam had last seen her both men struggled – Sam to escape and live, Bobby to get free and save Sam. The incantation ended and she leaned over Sam, running her dagger suggestively over the younger man, whispering, "Oh, if only this spell did not require spilling the blood of a hunter who is beloved of hunters. Not an easy thing to find. But you, young Samuel Winchester…a hunter who is loved by several other hunters, living and dead. Join them Samuel…well, not Daddy, hmm? I am sure you are not yet destined for the pit. Are you…Sammy, isn't it? Pity…But with your sacrifice, I will be more powerful than most demons in Hell." Raising her dagger once more, she smirked as Bobby and Sam stared at each other, a thousand emotions running through their eyes…

"My dark masters, I give you this sacrifice freely – a hunter, beloved of hunters, a good soul, a precious heart…I give you Sammy Winchester!" Camilla began an evil cackle that died abruptly even as she began her downward arc with the dagger. As the gurgled sound echoed in the room, Sam and Bobby turned shocked eyes to the witch, not comprehending the blood pouring from the wound in her throat and out of her mouth, or the hunting knife being pulled back from her neck, even as a hand reached out to grab the dagger before it could harm the unwilling sacrifice.

"It's Sam, you bitch," Dean snapped, pushing the witch's body away from his brother's. Dropping the dagger, he he wiped his knife on the witch's robe and began to cut away at the ropes that secured Sam to the black altar.

As he freed his brother and then they worked together to pick the locks securing the chains which had bound Bobby to the post, Dean listened in dismay as they explained what…well, what they thought had happened to him. "A cat? Seriously? You guys thought Camilla the Cow had turned me into a cat? Sam I can see buying that, but Bobby, I am so disappointed in you. The bitch blows up…well, I still haven't figured out what she blew up…and knocks us into – or in my case, through, a wall. I wake up later…no brother, no car, no cell phone…" At Sam's confused look, he shrugged, "I forgot to charge it so I tossed it in the glove box, remember?" Sam nodded as they walked out to Bobby's truck. "So where's my baby and more importantly, how did you get it out of here? It was you, right? Because I still have the keys."

Sam nodded again, saying, "I couldn't find the keys so I hotwired the Impala."

Dean froze next to the truck. "You defiled my baby? I thought the witch had taken you and hoped she had the good taste to steal the car as well. But now I find out you abandoned me and stole my car?"

Bobby stood between the brothers. "Now Dean, Sam thought he did have you." Opening the truck door, he pulled out the cat who blinked at the hunters, annoyed to be pulled from the sunny seat.

"What can I say Dean? The cat had your amulet around his neck, he answered to your name, he…"

Dean interrupted his brother's explanation, as he picked up the cat, looking at the feline with growing disdain. Pushing the cat into his brother's arm, Dean snapped, "Sam, little Dean is actually little Dena. The cat is a girl." Looking at the abashed hunters, he shook his head. "Didn't either of you check?" Tossing his hands up in frustration, he climbed into the truck, glaring at Sam and Bobby all the while.

Bobby said nothing, just tossing the weapons into the back while Sam climbed into the truck cab, still holding the cat. Pulling off the amulet which Dean snatched back the moment it had been removed, Sam protested once more.

"But Dean, he had your eyes!" As the glare grew in intensity, Sam tried to make himself smaller – an impossible task.

"Sam, it's a girl. Now if it were you, I can see it happening…"

Bobby tuned out the bickering for the rest of the drive back, smiling when the cat climbed over both brothers and settled on his lap. "Yeah, Winnie, they are always like that." His comment to the cat stopped the brothers in mid-sentence and they turned to stare at the older man. He shrugged. "Well, I figure "The cat who really wasn't Dean Winchester" is a bit too wordy. Winnie will do. And from what I saw last night, she'll be a hell of a mouser, won't ya, Winnie?"

As they drove down the road, each man found himself smiling. As hunts went, it had ended relatively well. And Dean would laugh about the whole thing...

Eventually.

Thanks for reading. Hope you liked. Oh, and my cat stole a bracelet that I was wearing and managed to get it around her neck like it was a collar (it stretched). I was asleep so not sure exactly how Hermoine did it, but...So Dean/Winnie must have done something like that. And this whole story was inspired by a page a day calender, where it is a kitten that I swear is Dean as a cat...

That's my story and I'm sticking to it. And if you think it is a tad bizarre...You now know the real me! - CC