Title: A Woman's Best Friend

Rating: PG-13 (R for language in A/N)

Spoilers: 8x15

Pairings/Characters: Portia/James, Sam + Dean

Warnings: Interspecies relationship, strong language, nudity.

A/N: Holy Mother of God. Sooooo, "Man's Best Friend with Benefits" was somehow allowed to happen on Supernatural. Even if you put aside the idiotic plot of boys fighting over toys (Note: The toy was a woman named Portia who is not an object to be owned and the show didn't really convince us of that), there was almost nothing good about this episode. I found it to be disgustingly sexist and racist. I don't care if you agree or disagree, but it personally made me want to put my head in an oven and then promptly take a bath with a toaster.

We don't often get women of color on our show, so it is ridiculous and fucked up that we had to deal with this episode that has one of the only named black female characters EVER to appear on the show after, what, EIGHT YEARS? I'm tired of women and people of color being put in subservient positions to white men. It's so overdone. Boring. Boooooring. It especially sucks if you're a woman and/or of color while watching this shit.

This fic is my response to the travesty that was on my TV a few nights ago. Since I can't bleach my brain, I'm just re-writing the episode as a coping method. I admit, re-writing this episode is a bit like polishing a turd. It's almost impossible to write in a way that isn't offensive and stupid. I did my best. I took an idea I found on the internets suggesting that a lot of the bullshit would have been avoided if Portia and James had switched roles. This is a Cop!Portia and Familiar!James story.

Ok, I'm not saying it's cool to put anyone in the kind of situation familiar!Portia was in on the show, so I've also tried to scrap all the fuckery that made the familiar-witch relationship really seem like a master-slave one. No using the word "master" for starters. I even hated the way the brothers were written, 'kay, and it takes a lot for me to want to slap Sam and Dean in a way that isn't sexual. I didn't like the way they treated Portia or each other. I also don't like Dean to be written in a way that makes him look like his IQ barely matches that of Forrest Gump. "Der, what's a familiar, Sammy?" – Direct quote from "Man's Best Friend with Benefits."

Even if you didn't think "Man's Best Friend with Benefits" was extremely problematic, I think you can still enjoy this fic. Probably. Just think of it like the Hawkeye Initiative, but in prose. (If you don't know what the Hawkeye Initiative is, you need to Google that amazingness, NOW.) This fic is satire or meta, if you will. It's in good fun, but it's also written with a fair amount of rage. :D

Extra Note: I refuse to rewatch this episode to get all the details of the location, plot, and dialog to be similar. The dialog is only what I remember, when I choose to use what was originally in the episode. But, honestly, whatever. We knew Spencer and the cat were behind it all in the first place. Seriously, a villain with an evil cat? Never saw that one coming. Oh, Supernatural. Sometimes I just can't with you.

He Ain't No Magical Gigolo

"No, Sammy, Scary Spice was the sexiest. No contest," Dean stated firmly for the third or forth time. He shut the door of the Impala and reached in his pocket for their room key.

"No way, Dean. Posh Spice. She married David Beckham! David Beckham!"

"I don't care who she married! Scary Spice was fierce then and she's fierce now. Most underrated of all the Spice Girls," Dean complained as they walked to their motel room. Unlocking the door, Dean mumbled, "You would like Posh the best."

They entered and quickly arranged their things for the night. Dean took the bed nearest to the door and Sam set up his computer on the small motel room table. The Winchesters were in St. Louis because they had received a message of distress from an old friend that had once saved their lives. Instantly connecting to the motel's Wi-Fi to check his email, Sam addressed Dean, "Are you sure we have time for this job? We have to check in with Kevin soon."

Dean scoffed, "Of course we've got time for the job! C'mon, Sammy. Portia needs help. She needs us."

The way Dean was almost salivating at the thought of Portia made Sam groan, "This isn't because you still have a thing for Portia is it? Because she's hot?"

"What? No, no! Yes. She is hot. So very hot." Dean grinned, brimming with pleasure. "But that's not why we're helping. Portia saved our lives that one time. You're not forgetting that, are you?"

Dean wasn't convincing at all, but Sam played along and teased, "Okay, good, because she kinda thought you were a sexist jerk."

Wounded, Dean looked up at Sam. "She did?"

"You made at least a couple of inappropriate 'hot cop' jokes." Sam raised his eyebrows. "And you did stare at her handcuffs kinda obviously."

"Yeah…" Dean's grin widened. Before things had gotten ugly, Dean had imagined at least half a dozen fantasies involving the dark-skinned, voluptuous female police officer. It had been impossible for him not to. Dean remembered something about Portia mentioning how she had mace and a gun, but, to her vexation, her comments had only increased her sex appeal to Dean. Even now, he was thinking about Portia's angry face with fondness. "I was younger then. But this is serious. She wouldn't call us if she didn't really need help."

"You're right about that," Sam said. He had decided to Google their friend and together they marveled at how she had risen in rank over the years they had been apart. She was something of a head honcho at the station and a local hero now. "Good for you, Portia."

"How'd she climb up so fast?" Dean knit his brows together.

"Hard work and determination?" Sam answered, but they both had suspicions. Portia hadn't given any details on the nature of her distress, and the Winchesters had worked on many cases of people making raw deals and abusing supernatural goods for personal gain. Those cases almost never turned out well and they hoped this wasn't going to be one of them.

After they were settled in for a while, Dean's mind became occupied with the nagging feeling of wrongness that had entered his consciousness the night Sam had killed the hellhound and recited the accompanying spell as a part of the trials to close the gates of Hell. Dean didn't know how to tell Sam everything he was thinking and feeling or even how to begin such a discussion. "Hey, I'm going for a supply run. You need anything?"

"Nope," Sam said, "I'm good." Yet, Dean didn't move any closer to the door. Sensing something was up, Sam lifted his gaze to Dean. "What?"

"Nothing! Just…you okay?" Dean replied laboriously.

"Yes?" Sam responded, thinking Dean was acting very peculiar.

"No, but, I mean really okay?" Dean clenched the keys of the Impala in his hands. He was always anxious with these kinds of conversations.

"Is this about the trials?" Sam asked. "Dean, I'm fine! I told you I could handle it."

"You would tell me if you couldn't, right?" Dean questioned, but he was certain Sam wouldn't. "We can always find another hellhound. We have time. I could gank it this time and then – "

"No, Dean! We had enough trouble with the first one." Agitation boiled up within Sam. "You don't always have to take care of me. Damn it, Dean. I'm not a baby. I'm not helpless. I know I can do this and I can do it right."

"I didn't say you were a baby," Dean returned. He knew he had a habit of being overprotective of Sam, but that was only because he loved him. He would rather die than allow any harm to come to Sam.

"But you always treat me like one. Or is this – is this because you don't trust me?" Sam spat, letting all of his insecurities show. Dean had had good reasons not to trust his brother ever since Sam had begun drinking demon blood and had lost his soul, but that wasn't why Dean was trying to talk Sam out of the trials. He couldn't tell Sam the real reason because he wasn't sure how to put it into words.

"No, Sammy. That's not why."

"Then we don't have a problem."

You little bitch. Dean seethed and exited the room full of frustration, slamming the door behind him. Not long after being left alone to stew, Sam heard a scratch at the door. He hurried to open it, imagining that Dean had forgotten something. "Dean?"

Dean wasn't there. Instead, a beautiful black and white border collie was sitting on the other side of the door, with a smiling expression that was almost human. Sam broke into an instant smile and greeted the brown-eyed animal. "Hello!"

The dog invited himself in.

"Oh, no!" Sam cried as the dog jumped up on the bed Dean had selected for himself. "No! You can't be in here. Oh, shit. Not on Dean's bed."

Sam shut the door and rushed over to the dog. He didn't have the heart to kick him out onto the darkened streets, but he knew his brother would never allow an animal to stay with them. The dog reminded Sam so much of his most recent pet, Dog, that his spirits rallied at the chance to pet the animal and he momentarily put his worries aside.

"Hey, buddy! Aw, you're so handsome. You're a good boy," Sam beamed as he affectionately caressed the friendly animal on his brother's bed. The dog, pleased by the welcome and sensing Sam's kindness, rolled over happily. "You want a belly rub?"

"You're so cute." Sam scratched the dog's belly with one hand and checked for ID with the other. "Crap. No collar?"

Sam sighed, horrified with the knowledge of what happened to most strays. He wanted to adopt the dog just like he wanted to adopt every lost animal he saw. "You don't belong to anybody do you, dog? What are we gonna do?"

The next disturbance near the door clearly came from Dean, who was cursing under his breath as he struggled to find his room key. Sam bolted to the door before Dean could enter and stood outside to conceal the animal in the room. Sam rambled words to his confused brother. "Okay, Dean. Before you go in, let me explain. He came up to the door and I let him in. Well, he came in and I didn't have the heart to kick him out. He just wants a belly scratch and maybe a place to stay for the night. I was thinking, just the one night, we could let him stay – "

The door swung open and the bag in Dean's hands crashed to the ground—contents exploding everywhere—as Dean went from confused to mortified. A lean-bodied, pale man with dashing good looks and thick, dark hair was spread out on his bed.

Naked.

"What!" Dean hollered as a bag of beef jerky whirled into the air. "What the hell is this?"

Sam turned abruptly. His astonishment matched Dean's and all the color drained from his face. "N-No! No! He was a dog! Just a second ago! He was a dog!"

"Why is he naked?" Dean sputtered and hastily closed the door behind him, lest strangers on the street see they had invited a nude man into their motel room. The naked man was perfectly relaxed, even smug. He watched the events transpire before him with some amusement.

"I'm not a shape shifter, I promise," The brunette, brown-eyed male answered in his defense, before they felt the need to get violent. Humans and their nudity. The Dog Man sighed in exasperation, wondering how his naked human form was any worse than his naked dog form. For their sake, he used his magic to clothe himself. Black slacks, black shiny dress shoes, and a tight black t-shirt materialized to cover his body. In his pristine clothing, the man slithered off the bed with a supernatural grace that was inherently seductive. The word 'gorgeous' wasn't one either Winchester typically used to describe other men, but it came to mind to both of them in that instant as the man that was previously a dog stepped near them to address them. "Is this better?"

"He looks like a gigolo!" Dean cried in terror with the instinct to run and hide. "Did you hire us a magical gigolo?"

"I don't – I didn't – I don't know!"

"Both of you, calm down," the stranger implored with a calm voice. "I am not a male prostitute. My name is James. I'm Portia's companion."

"Her what?" Dean sputtered, so shocked he was unable to think clearly. "Like her partner? H-Her boyfriend?"

"Her familiar," James corrected and the trembling Winchesters stilled. A quick, but heavy, moment passed.

"No, you're not," Dean huffed. Having put the pieces together, Dean became grave. "If you're her familiar, that would mean Portia's a witch."

"She is a witch," James replied and Dean raised his hand to his forehead, grieving as though he had just found out she'd been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

"Since when?" Sam frowned. He was displeased and surprised, but not as openly perturbed as Dean.

"She's been practicing for a while now, since before I met her a few years ago. But that's beside the point. I sent you that text message using her phone. Portia doesn't know I'm here. I'm very concerned about her."

"How could such a good woman have become a witch?" Dean lamented. There was nothing right in Dean's world. Pretty men were constantly giving him unwanted, bi-curious urgings and all the cool, attractive women he'd ever met either died or became evil. Why?

"She is still a good woman and she's a good witch." James was loosing patience. He had taken a great risk in calling the Winchesters and was starting to regret it. "Look, I'm here on her behalf to ask for help. Do you want to help or not?"

"Any trouble she's in, she brought on herself." Dean clenched his jaw. In his mind, no witch was a good witch, as much as it pained him to think that their one-time savior could be one.

"Could you drop your ignorant bigotry for just one second?" James snapped and encroached into Dean's space. James was more slender than Dean, but the power he exuded was immensely intimidating. "People are dying! Portia is in trouble and you might be the only people we can trust to help."

Dean swallowed hard and remained silent. He felt his body swelter with a mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and other unwelcome feelings. The brothers exchanged glances. Sam was the first to speak, "Okay, James, tell us the story."

"She's been having these horrible nightmares," James explained. "She wakes up in sweat. She only told me about the first dream she had and then she shut me out of her mind completely. It's just not like her. We share everything. We have no secrets."

"You can read her mind?" Sam asked.

"Until recently, yes."

"Just hers?" Dean didn't know where to look.

"No," James leveled with the oldest brother. The look he gave Dean spoke volumes.

After having been subdued by the other man, Dean was not comfortable looking him in the eyes. The mind reading didn't help and he tried to clear his mind of anything inappropriate, which was almost impossible. In a soft tone, Dean asked, "What does she dream about?"

"Of killing other people."

Yay or nay? How do you feel about Cop!Portia and Familiar!James?

Sorry I'm not sorry about my rant at the beginning. I hope it doesn't scare you out of commenting or enjoying this story. :)