Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, nor does any other fangirl. Still doesn't help much for the Cast's sanity.
Idea source/prompt/summary: Supernatural has it all. Ghosts, vampires, magic, angels, demons, fairies, heaven & hell, death, life, family, love, fan-service, Ho-Yay, Foe-Yay, TV parodies, time travel, porn, protagonists possessed by evil or antagonists trying to be good, turning into kids, old men, cars, and there's even God. I swear the only thing missing is Gender Bender.
Warnings: Crack. Half-assed Gender bender and sexual allusions...male-to-male wise but come on, you must be used to it by now, no? xD
At first, he just stared, going blank, expressionless, staring. It was the same reaction when he first heard the word Destiel at that Play. Dean was repulsed, and kinda disturbed. He liked Cas, sure, but not like that, and refused to hear any word about it. Sam, on the other hand, found it all oh-so-amusing, even tried to come up with more name combinations. Not just for Dean and Cas, but himself as well.
Sammy wants to be open-minded? Fine. But this? No. Dean officially and unceremoniously has had enough.
"Uh...Alright. Okay." he paused, licking his lips, looking up, down, left, right, everywhere around but at Sammy. "You know what?" He smiled and finally looked straight at him, "That's it. I'm not doing this."
"Dean—"
"No, Sammy! I'm done! You can —you can turn me old, make me a brat, make me a-a coward, a Demon, Death for a day, make up absurd things about my sexuality that're not true, laugh about it all you want, kill me, torture me, kill you, turn both of us into bloodsucking Vamps, turn Cas into a laughing maniac or turn you into my freaking car but this? No." he stated firmly. "Just... no, Sam." he stuttered, switching between a forced humorless smile that more resembled a cringe and a deadpanned expression, jaw tight. "Hell no." he slammed the door to his room shut in his younger brother's face.
Sam flinched back at the slam, arms spread wide to his sides, eyes open in shock. "D-dude! Dean! The hell? Come on, open up!" he called, banging on the door in disbelief. "You think I did this?!"
It took a few seconds before the bedroom door opened again.
He was telling himself it was dream, and that he must still be dreaming.
But he wasn't.
Dean swallowed, tasting the lump in his throat, jumping eyes from his brother's face to his... well...
Bosom. Very full, feminine, at least Double D cup-size breasts, and Sammy —obviously— didn't have a bra. Dean would have been impressed if he wasn't freaking the shit out.
Well, Sammy was always a big guy.
. . .
"Wanna feel them up?"
The glare Dean cast him could have scared Lucifer back into the Cage. Sam rolled his eyes. "You were staring."
Dean turned around furiously and refused to look at him again.
"Come on, I'm joking! They're not even mine!"
"Oh s-so what? They have a will of their own, is that what you're saying? They're not c-connected to your body, is that it? So if I touch them you —w-won't—f-feel—I can't do this!" he cried and turned away angrily, desperate.
"Dean! Where are you going?"
"To summon a Douchebag, Goddamnit! There's only one Ass we know who can pull this crap off and if he doesn't reverse this shit back I'm ganking his ass in all the holy oil we've got!"
. . .
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself? You think this is funny, you twisted 'sycho?" Good ol' Dean, always the welcoming committee.
But he was met with silence.
Complete and utter silence. Awkward, for few good seconds. They could even hear the birds of morning chirp happily on the tree branches above their heads.
But no, Gabe really did plan to say something at first. I mean, it's not every day that the Winchesters pray to you (unless you're Castiel), but why would they call Gabriel? Gabriel was curious, so he came. Had all sorts of witty replies, like 'what, it's your boytoy's day off?' or 'Well well well, look who's crawling for who for help' (whatever help they need), 'Plan on ruining another cover for me this lovely day?' or the simple, effective 'Hello, boys. And what can your friendly Uncle trickster do for you today?'
But then he saw Dean, looking grave as if the Devil just killed his soul and Sam standing beside him— Sam standing beside him.
He didn't even care for the holy fire suddenly circling him.
Giant (and ironically the younger of the two), ridiculously handsome Sam with his girly hair framing his face and a buttoned shirt open at the top and quite the big cleavage because apparently his shirt wasn't big enough to, huh, button it all up and apparently Sam's a chick now! So yeeeah, for maybe the first time in centuries, Gabriel was kinda speechless?
Oh no, he had things to say; Lots and lots of things(!), but the opening line? It was the punchline, and you get only one chance at that. It has to be perfect. Like the one in the Sampala.
Sam-slash-Impala. The Winchester Gospel fans used that word. God bless the soul of the genius who invented it.
Yeah, the Sampala. The Sampala was good. He could use it. Add another line to it, something easy on the tongue and catchy...yup, that will do.
"Sam! Get the load of the boobies on you! Really putting it out for the fans now, are we?" he was still staring at Sam's load — ah, newly acquired assets. Somehow his tone changed from impressed to stunned mid-sentence, eyes openly staring. That was freaky, even for him. Sam had boobs, but his face and manly features hadn't changed one bit, including the shaving marks of his daily morning stubble. Now that was just creepy. Makes you wonder what's going on down there.
Sam grimaced a forced a snarky smile. "And as I said before: Eat me."
"Uh, Ew?" Gabriel grimaced, looking up to him with one eyebrow raised, but kept gesturing to the cleavae. "You sure? I mean, I don't mind exploring my borrowed sexuality occasionally but humans usually have their preferences, soo..."
Sam's smile dropped like a rock, regretting he said anything. Maybe it wasn't the best thing to say while in this body.
. . .
"So you sayin' you didn't do it?"
"Oh, it's a nice job alright, great even, very impressive! But it ain't me. Sorry bucko." He shrugged. "You have to be a real psycho to think up something like that. Fangirls maybe?"
"Okay then, moving to the next douchebag." Dean went for the spray can and Sam tipped over a water bucket to put out the holy flames.
. . .
"Moose, really putting out the double O in your name, are you?" Crowley looked him up and down from within a Devil's trap, visibly pausing on his chest, way too long for Sam's comfort. He tried to play it with ease and prevent himself from freaking out even more than he already was—he got a heart attack when he first woke up and saw himself in the mirror this morning... and felt himself. The panic was genuinely probably one of the strongest he has ever felt. Lucifer free? Dean dying over and over again in a loopholed day? These were nothing compared to this. Nothing. He was mortified. "Hey, eyes up here, dickbag!" Dean snapped, much to Sam's gratitude.
"Thanks," he sighed in relief.
"Don't thank me, he was staring." Dean scowled. "It was creepy."
"Please, like you didn't stare. If it's some twisted fantasy coming to life that would be straight out of Dean Winchester's head, Mr. I like my pornstars Asian and busty—Okay okay, shutting up! No need for violence, please." Crowley lifted his hands in resignation when Dean advanced on him with Ruby's knife. "But really, you can't blame me for staring! You should cover these things, Moose, or at least put on a bra. They really attract the eyes, these melons of yours. Don't you have at least a speck of dignity left?" Crowley objected critically, eyeing Sam up and down again.
"I—you—if you really have to know my all shirts were too tight—and I'm not hearing this from you!"
"Hey, I'm always covered."
"You're a Demon. What do you know about dignity?"
"More than I need to, apparently. How did this even happen?" He gestured with his head to Sam's figure, hands in pockets.
"You tell me. Last I checked you and Sammy weren't on the best of terms." Dean circled around Crowley's Devil's trap like a wolf. "Not that you and me are on good terms, but, huh—"
"You and I." Crowley corrected.
"Whatever. He tried to gank you several times. Even tried to shut Hell for good, took the trials on himself and all that? I won't be surprised if this is your idea of a—of some kind of a sick joke for revenge or—"
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Please, if I wanted Moose in my bad I wouldn't bother changing the one good thing between his legs—"
"D-Dude! Dean—"
"Yeah? So what was that about Sam in stilettos and leather something a while back ago?"
"Dean!" this was not how Sam imagined the interrogation going.
"Stilettos and leather. I like that. Very dark, gothic. Why didn't I try that with the loophole day I trapped you in? You could have whipped Dean to death. Well, you were always the Hell-related brother." Gabriel zapped beside him, sucking on a lollipop.
"I—y-you—What?"
"You know;" Gabe looked at Sam innocently, "banged a demon, got high on Demon blood, was Satan's vessel? Kinda ironic considering you're supposed to be the nicer of the two."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Hey, Dean's the Heaven-related brother: banged an angel, the righteous man, was supposed to be Michael's vessel, and he didn't even believe in God and angels at first. Now, first sign of trouble, calls his own privet wing-man. Speaking of which," he removed the candy from his mouth, "why don't you call him? See what Cassie has to say about these."
Sam's jaw tightened. Great, now was being objectified.
. . .
But Cas being Cas… was being Cas. There was really no other way to put it. It was Cas. The guy evolved, devolved and changed personlities like women changing shoes. He could be serious and useful one moment, then plain ridiculous the next. You didn't know what to expect from him anymore.
Cas tilted his head slightly, squinting. He seemed very interested in Sam's chest at first, like everyone else, until his eyes traveled down.
"Interesting."
"Interesting? That's all you have to say—interesting?"
"W-well, if someone was going to play Gender-Bender you'd expect them to go all the way, but it seems Sam's original male genitalia are still intact—" Dean got dangerously close in his face.
"Stop. Talking. Now."
"Oh oh, he went to places I wouldn't dare." Gabe hummed dramatically and poured himself a drink, a bottle and a glass appearing in his hands out of nowhere. Crowley inspected it with interest, also having appeared out of nowhere right beside him on the couch.
A sofa that wasn't there before either, in the Bunker's library. But Gabriel decided to make himself comfortable and clicking things in place out of thin air was his thing.
"Really? You've been here on Earth all this time and never tried to do it with a man? and people said you were an adventurer."
"I meant looking down Sam's pants. That's too creepy with these things juggling around. Some things you just can't erase from your own memory, ya know?" Gabe gestured with his head to Sam's bosom. "How'd you get in anyway?"
"I pretended to escape but lurked behind. Luckily for me Mr. Lady Bunny* and her fanboy left the door unlocked. So Moose still got his dangly bit? Didn't know angels have X-ray. What are you having?"
"Everclear. Want some?"
Crowley stared at him. "Quite the heavy choice you've got here. Thanks, but pass. Glencraig is more my style. Everclear is overrated. I really drink more for the taste."
The quiet could have lasted longer, even with one man, one man-slash-woman-slash-in-question and one angel with their noses in books, and an archangel and demon relaxing on a sofa.
But no, not really.
"If it makes you feel any better, there was a chicken named Georgina in North Devon of the United Kingdom that underwent a rarely natural sex swap and is now a bossy cockerel named George*."
Dean and Sam slowly lifted their heads from the books and laptop (Dean had grudgingly switched to books after being exposed to some disturbing images online. Should have seen this coming, really —if he was going to search something like sex-swaps spells and gender-bender...) and exchanged looks, both inhaling deeply.
"Cas, how about you go snooping around the Bunker for a while?" Dean said very, very patiently. "Look for a hex bag in Sam's room or anything else in the house that could cause... this. Look everywhere. Just... take your time." he smiled.
Gabe watched Cas leave the room. "If I knew being around them was so entertaining I would have stuck longer."
"It's their Angel. He provides the gag relief, with these two being so stuck up and gloomy lately, and he doesn't even realize it."
"I know!" Gabe whined in high-pitch, "I mean, just try and kill one of them as a joke and the other gets all high on hormones. Once, I had Dean smashed to death by dropping a desk on him on the street, you'd think it was hilarious but Sam broke into tears. I mean, you should have seen the look on his face, no wonder he sprouted lady parts! If it was one of us saying something like this they would have kicked our asses already, but Cassie..."
"Cas always gets a free pass." Crowley agreed.
"If you two don't shut up now you'll get a free pass out the damn window."
Sam's brows furrowed. "...We've got a window?
. . .
"Nothing. Nada. Jack squat. Cas searched the entire house and we've got nothing. No hex bags, no hidden spells, no nothing."
"You don't think these Sex-change by magic sites are real, right?" Sam joked, but deep down, deep deep down... he was getting paranoid.
"No way man. It's all scams. If these things were real we would have heard about it by now."
"It's a spell. Gotta be. I mean, what about the Hansel and Gretel Witch that turned you into a kid? A Witch could do something like this."
They looked at each other, a sudden realization flickering in their eyes. "You don't think—"
"It's not her." Crowley called from the sofa. Trick or not, the thing was cozy. He and the archangel settled into reading magazines while the Winchesters did their whatever.
"How do you know?"
Crowley picked out behind his magazine. "As much I hate to provide mother an alibi, I know her: she wouldn't waste her powers on something so..." he eyed Sam again, much to his discomfort, "ridiculous. And trivial." he added.
"He's got a point." Cas murmured, though discontent, from the table and flipped a page in a book he was checking. He didn't like the evil woman, but it didn't fit Rowena to do something like this. "Do you know any other witch who could hold a grudge against you to—" he stopped mid-sentence, rethinking his words slowly, head tilted. "Although, is this considered a grudge? Maybe it's a he-witch that has taken a liking to you, Sam. Or homosexsual female witch—"
"Hey, yeah!" Dean beamed, glad to have a lead, any lead. "Maybe it's the Clap guy? You know, the he-witch who gambled on years? What's his name, Patrick?"
"A he-witch gave you the clap?" Crowley spoke at the same time as Gabe said: "Really? Wasn't the genital herpes enough?" both ears perked up with interest.
"Wha—No. You—shut up. Dean—" he flat out denied and turned to his brother, "we haven't run into him in years, he doesn't even know where I live and Cas, seriously, I know you're just trying to help, but please... don't say anything anymore. Please." little giant brother looked tired. He leaned back in his chair, arching his spine. "Awe. Man, my back hurts. How do women go around with these things? They're so heavy—"
"Ask your bro, he's the one with the thing for busty Asian beauties. He probably sees this all the time." Gabe hummed and flipped a page in his magazine, crossed-leg and all. Dean glared.
"Says the guy who stars La Casa Erotica!"
"Not all the time, and the real stars are the ladies, you know that. Also, they're not always busty. You really got a good taste here, Deano, but you should diminish your horizons sometimes. Small can be nice too. I mean, you're short, right? You should know! Oh, but about your little giant's brother little big issue, guess that only leaves the crazy fangirl theory, huh?" Gabe continued and between figuring out what the hell he just said and delaying the urge to punch him to a more suited time, Dean got a clear view at the cover of the magazine he was reading. It was a playboy or something, with old, dusty red cover and—
"Woah, hey, is that my Voluptuous Asian Lovelies you're holding with your filthy hands?!" Dean was about to really punch him when something clicked.
He halted.
"Dude," he turned to Sam and gestured meaningfully. "Fangirl?"
"...?"
"Crazy fangirl? Love potion? Crossroads deal and last-minute Vegas-style wedding? Rings any bells?"
"Huh... oh no, you don't think—" Sam groaned.
Please, no.
"Becky."
*Yup. That's a real thing. A transgender chicken. Lady Bunny is a drag queen and... there are actual sex-swap spell sites. I'v checked it all *hiss*.