It was on his way back to their room, water bottle in hand and brain clear of the fog that consisted of stupid… frickin' incapable angels, that he heard a clanging. Instinct overtook him as he quickly pressed himself up against the wall between the door and the window, gun already in hand and prepared at his shoulder. "Guys?" he uttered close to the space in the door.
Carefully, after a few moments of complete silence, he lowered his free hand to the knob, twisting it and allowing the door to swing inward before he entered.
He sidestepped into the room, eyes scanning the corners and the space in front of him – all in swift, learned motions. "Guys?" he questioned the emptiness again, sensing no other presence in the room. No sulfur, no flickering, no tracks, no signs of struggle, no scent of any kind of monster or trickery. What the hell?
Now he deliberated the idea that Castiel had zapped somewhere with Sam, but why the hell would they leave him behind? And when did they ever work on things together – when did Cas ever choose Sam over him for help? He skirted to the side, deciding the bathroom was the next best bet – why the hell they'd both be in there, he didn't wanna know – and stopped as soon as he caught sight of what looked to be… a hairy.. something? It looked to be the legs of an animal, splayed out on the floor. He pointed his gun forward as he approached the doorframe.
"What the hell?" he murmured, entirely to himself. His eyebrows had dived into an expression of complete bewilderment.
Lying in the bathroom were two of the largest dogs he'd ever fucking seen. Not werewolves, not hellhounds – that was obvious – but what he gathered to be plain everyday crap and fetch canines. There was nothing evil about them, nothing malicious about the way they lay there, seemingly out cold, one halfway collapsed on the other, one of their ears flopped into the toilet bowl. There was barely enough room for Dean to step inside due to the sheer size of them, especially with one stomach-first against the tile, its four legs sticking out in each direction. In fact, he had to fight to not laugh at the absurdity of the entire thing.
Was this Sam's idea of a joke? Throw a few of the hugest dogs he could find into a motel bathroom and wait until Dean flipped the fuck out because he knew he hated the smell of dog.
But where would Sam find the time? Find the place to come by these things? And where the hell were they? Did he seriously get Cas in on it? He could imagine it now. 'Sam, I don't understand how putting canines inside of this bathroom serves a beneficial cause.' 'You don't get it, Cas, Dean does not like dogs. He'll come unglued. Now put this one in here and I'll work on getting one in the Impala.'
"Joke's over, where are you guys?" Dean called out, making sure he sounded unimpressed. A trace of uncertainty slithered its way into him, but he swallowed it down. "I don't know how you managed this, but if you think two comatose flea-hoarders are hilarious, it's not. Cas, you especially, get your feathery ass out here and zap these things back to the pound."
Seconds. Half a minute. Nothing.
Dean stole another glance into the bathroom. Alright, so this was getting a little weird. He didn't want to be going batshit insane, but these dogs – something a little too human about them. It felt wrong. And it wasn't something he'd admit to anyone, but they sort of… kind of… looked like Sam and Cas. If they were dogs.
"Oh god, please," he groaned, finally shoving his gun back into his jeans. He stepped precariously over the white beast's black-tipped limbs, taking the small space he found to quietly and carefully kneel down.
"Cas?" he whispered, now feeling deeply ridiculous. He slid one foot out to poke its front leg. Nothing but a faint huff could be heard, since its head was buried beneath the large mass of shaggy red-brown fur that belonged to the second.
Dean had to stretch himself so that his arm could reach over to where its black face rested against the toilet – and gingerly he lifted its ear. "Sammy?" Brief twitch, but no further movement. He dropped the ear and lifted himself into a stand. "Okay," he said to the air, confounded, "Okay. Great. Have I missed something?"
He moved himself back to the door, unsure on what to do or even what to think right now. Why the hell couldn't he go out for one damn second and come back to what he left? Why this?
"Last chance," he proposed to what now appeared to be no one. "Please let this be a dream and I'll wake up with Sam and Cas laughin' it up. I'll take it, okay? Because come on, something did not just turn my brother and a full-blown angel into these things." His tone was full of unguarded protest.
As if anticipating some godly force to shine down into the room and grant him answers or relief, he waited. Waited for maybe – uh – one minute, and when nothing at all happened, when no obnoxious laughter burst out of the motel's curtains, when the dogs didn't magically disappear – well, he did the first thing that came to mind.
A steady stream of water poured down from the water bottle still in his hand to the exposed face of the shaggy Sam dog – and the startled reaction he got was way greater than he thought. It took a moment or two, but then its head jerked up and so did the rest of its body.
"Whoa," Dean exclaimed as he half-leaned-half-dodged the scene and stole the space in the doorframe, watching as the shaggy one accidentally send a clean kick to the white one's head – causing a sharp whimper and a rude awakening. The ear had been pulled from the toilet and the dog was shaking his head of the water – from bottle and toilet – into flying little droplets around the room. The white one was scrabbling, looking like it had woken from a deep sleep barely knowing how to keep upright. Nothing but a continuous scraping of dog nails against the hard floor, and the brown one, once suitably dry – Dean guessed – was now staring with panic at the white dog struggling in front of him, which hit its head on the sink (another whimper). Shaggy barked, then jerked backward into the bathtub in what looked like alarm, one of its legs folding on contact and causing its whole hefty form to fall, it's head nearly colliding with the bowl again. Instead it dodge-fell onto its side, legs tangling with the white one's legs, which was a bummer because it really seemed to be getting a hang on how to stand.
They continued to scuffle like this for probably the next minute and a half before Dean couldn't hold it in any longer. "So it's really you guys, huh? I thought it was just me and my head, and then… this." He gestured toward them.
Both heads perked up at the sound of his voice. The white one had noticed him first, but was still attempting to disengage. "Urrrf," it barked, its bark – at this point in Dean's living nightmare – unsurprisingly deep. Rough. Dean sighed. "I'm gonna be in the other room."
He tugged off his jacket, threw it on the floor, then fell onto his laptop-lacking bed face first, arms reaching up to hug the pillow over his head. He honestly had no idea how to grasp this situation – and so he'd damn well sleep it off. He deserved that, because he damn well didn't deserve this.
But the fates would not have it. They were exiting the bathroom. Dean could sense it even with eyelids closed. He opened them just as Cas – okay, weird - bumped Sam – still weird - out of the way so he could squeeze through first, his head tilted upward in what looked like a show of what was left of his dignity.
Sam had his own head lowered, looking defeated. He didn't do anything but climb onto his bed and settle beside his laptop, his head turned opposite Dean.
"Buck up, Shaggy. We'll figure this out once I get my four hours," Dean gruffly encouraged, voice half muffled against his pillow. What he got for that was an annoyed dog glare. Again, way too human. Frickin' creepy. Even his eyes were Sam's – that hazely..greenish..brownish hue. Hell if Dean paid that close of attention, but he at least knew they were Sammy's.
Dean reached up to turn off the lamp sitting there on the bedside table he would blame as the thing that doomed him to all of this in the first place. And as he did he noticed Cas sitting right next to his bed, the thick white fur with some goldish undertone bristling with what, wait - could fur do that? Maybe it was just the hard blue stare he was receiving. Damn it – just the same as in angel form, huh? Good going, whoever-the-hell-did-this. Way to make this even more unnerving and like he'd been warped into a bizarro episode of the Twilight Zone.
"What do you want, Snowball?" Dean clicked off the light. "I'm hitting the sack. I already told Sam we'd take care of this later. I don't see you guys trying to do anything about it right now." He turned his head away from Cas, closing his eyes.
Dean swore he could hear a soft, low rumbling of a growl in the dark, but he ignored it until he finally fell asleep.
He could feel warm puffs of air hitting him square in the face. Bothered, he turned onto his back, one arm resting on his forehead. The bed shifted and he felt it again. "What—" Dean's eyes snapped open, the rest of the expletive stuck in his throat at the sight of a huge, white head of fur looming over him. The strikingly light blue burned right into him.
"Seriously?" Dean exclaimed, swiftly rolling himself off of the bed.
Cas huffed indignantly from where Dean had previously been laying, an action escaping his stupid dog snout that Dean now knew was deliberately used to wake him up.
"Personal space! I swear, dude! We only had a detailed conversation yesterday! Just because you're Lassie now doesn't change the rules!"
Cas barked at him. A strangely soft sound for a dog that looked like he stood three whole feet from the ground.
"Sorry, don't speak it," Dean countered with raised hands. Cas jumped down from the bed and advanced before Dean could get another word out. All of a sudden he found himself stumbling back with the weight of a one-hundred-fifty pound dog's paws pressing into his shoulders. His back hit a wall.
"What the hell, Cas?!" He gripped the snowy legs and shoved him away, Cas' only option being to drop back down to the floor. "More like frickin' Cujo! What was that for?!"
Another bark from Cas, this time louder, but at least he wasn't moving.
Dean saw that Sam was sitting on his bed, watching the ordeal. Dean swore that fur-face was smiling in there. "Not funny!" Dean accusingly pointed in Sam's direction. His other anxiously rubbed at the back of his neck. "How am I supposed to talk to you guys if you can't say anything back? I'm gonna go nuts here. What the hell happened last night?!"
Sam hunched over in his best attempt at a shrug.
Cas was restlessly circling a spot of the floor, head down. Dean was already done with whatever his idiotic doggy behavior was about.
"So I have to retrace all of our steps or what?" Dean griped. "This really puts a hold on the case we're already working on. You were supposed to have the name and gravesite down."
Sam tilted his head, a self-justifying bark leaving him. Good enough for Dean. He just wanted to get this thing reversed a.s.a.p. – no time to waste. His eyes dropped to where he swore he'd tossed his jacket before, and then –
"Really?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised to express the you've got to be kidding me. Cas had the jacket hanging in his mouth, eyes staring up at him. "Could've found it myself, dude. Now it has dog mouth all over it."
But he took the thing from Cas anyway, his dog-self carefully letting it go when Dean cast out his hand.
"No no no, no dogs in my car!" Dean asserted when he saw that both Sam and Cas had taken places beside their usual used doors. "You guys just stay here. I'm not carting around a bunch of giants."
He could hear Sam let out a faint whine from the other side, and suddenly he was standing on two paws, his other fluffy two resting on the hood of the car. There was no joke about how damn Bigfoot he still was. "Hey, Sammy! Off, man!"
Sam rested his head on the hood and was soon giving a whole new meaning to those stupid puppy dog eyes.
"You're gonna give me that? Your own brother?"
He suddenly saw Cas appear at the hood, too, as if there was some bandwagon train tearing through the parking lot, but his stare was more questioning than going for guilt trip. All Dean could see was a 'why haven't we started driving yet?'
"You're going to ruin my car," he stated with cast-iron certainty.
The puppy eyes would not cease. Then Castiel took those words and decided to defy what that meant. Dean didn't know what was coming until he suddenly saw the back door on the opposite side spring open and Castiel hopping inside. The door swung shut, with what Dean saw happened after a brief tilt of Cas' head.
"Cas! That's just sick! I told you –" He was interrupted by a loud bark from Sam, who pushed off the car and gazed into the vehicle at Cas. "Don't you dare!" Dean threatened.
A moment later Sam was in the passenger's seat, slightly hunched over because his head was too high for the roof. Apparently Cas' was too, because his head was soon resting between the tops of the front two seats.
With nothing short of irritation, Dean swung open the driver's door and joined them. "This is really not right. You're going to stench up my poor Baby."
Dean, in habit, turned his head to look to the back seat, only to realize Cas' dog-face was inches away from his. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before Dean uneasily turned away again. "Just peachy."
The entire day turned up nothing. A whole basket of fucking nothing. Dean had gone back to the diner they hit as soon as they entered town. He literally drove under thirty miles an hour down the streets he took to get from point diner to point crime scene. He got out of the car – telling them they better damn well get out of that car so it could air out – to inspect the scene again.
The body was of course gone by now, but there had been nothing off about it when him and Sam gave it the routine rundown. Well, nothing other than that they were sure this was another vengeful ghost gig. Nothing that would turn two fully grown men, well, and one grown angel into two hulking mongrels.
Yes, he felt mongrels was warranted. Because Dean thought that he might go crazy when only half of the day had gone by.
Firstly it had been Cas barking right in his damn ear. It started out soft, but then grew louder the longer than Dean ignored it. All he wanted was to get to the next house they'd interrogated, but gradually he was forced to pull over when Sam started barking too, presumably to get Dean to pay attention to Cas.
"Dude! Okay! What is the deal?" Dean cried, hands lifting from the wheel after he'd parked curbside.
Of course he wouldn't get an answer. But Cas did it for him, quickly nudging his nose against the door, opening it with the mojo he apparently still wielded even as a canine, and darted out into some random person's yard, squeezing through two neighboring fences to what Dean assumed was for some private space.
"He's going to the bathroom, isn't he?" Dean questioned flatly. "He can go to the bathroom now."
Sam had to have been laughing, because when Dean turned to him, his mouth was open and his tongue was hanging out, panting happily like stupid dogs did.
"This is so gross. And hey, you go too if you have to. Because it's not happening in my car."
Sam pulled back his tongue and closed his mouth to stare at Dean without humor. A couple minutes later and Cas was finally seen running back to the car. He had his mouth open too, and seriously, it took all of Dean to not visualize Cas himself, back in human-angel form, running from between two strangers' yards because he couldn't stand one car ride of holding it in.
At least he had the brain to know what was going on and to not do it in his Impala. Thank God for that.
"Feel better?" Dean joked as Cas jumped back in. He made no effort to look Dean in the face. "Well okay, grumpy. I didn't know you had to go. Don't blame me."
And that was just the first thing.
Second time had been Cas darting into a house as soon as the man at the door answered Dean's knock.
Later he had to apologize profusely for the fact that Cas had come back out with steak miraculously in his mouth, and Dean could only guess where it'd come from considering it looked fully cooked and spiced over. "I apologize for that. He's new to the unit… they haven't fully completed his obedience training. You know, normally I keep him in the car—"
"No disrespect to the FBI, but I'm done talking." A glare and the door slammed in his face.
"That a good steak, buddy?" he somberly asked. "You better finish it before you think about getting in."
So he was forced to sit in the car and wait, watching as Cas tried his best at being a dog, turning his head to try and tear pieces of the meat off one by one. Why he didn't just swallow the entire thing, Dean didn't know. In fact, he was getting a little weirded out when Cas shared the rest with Sam, who had been staring at the steak longingly ever since he saw it leave the house. Cas nudged it in Sam's direction when maybe half of it was left, and with no fucking hesitation Sam took it. With a grumble Dean sunk lower in his seat, thinking about the dirt of the ground and germs and how they were sharing food and saliva and being dogs together and seemingly oblivious to Dean over a damn slab of meat.
But the real kicker was the third instance before they hit half-day, and that was Sam darting down the street with no warning.
"Guys, I am tired of you running off! Stay the hell here! I'm doing all of this for you, you know!" Well, partially for them. A lot of it had turned into for himself. Seriously, who would want to deal with this? He wanted Cas and Sam back as themselves - geekery, awkwardness and all.
He felt a softness brush against his hand and glanced down to see Cas nuzzling his head against the back of his hand. For a second he found himself not caring, but them he remembered this wasn't just some dog – it was Cas. And here Cas was, imitating a typical gesture of affection for dogs. His body decided to freeze up, only a single finger twitching. Uh – what did he say to this? He didn't fucking know. "..Uh, Cas? What is it?"
It was the sound of his name that seemed to get Cas' attention. He looked up from where his head had been and seemed to become aware of what he'd been doing. Quickly he moved further away, sitting down quietly and rigidly, laughably like he often did as an angel. Dean didn't dare say anything else about it.
Which was a lot easier than expected because suddenly he was sprinting after Sam, who had evidently run off toward the scent of a female. It was a young woman jogging down the sidewalk ahead, and Sam was excitedly bouncing around her, his tongue happily hanging out, his stupid furry dog ears flopping, and to Dean's absolute horror and amusement, sniffed her where the sun don't shine. "Oh my god," Dean choked, finally catching up. "Sammy!"
By the time he got there, the lady seemed obligated to stop, patting Sam's contented head. He nuzzled and licked at her hand, giving one playful bark.
"I gotta apologize for this," Dean said, hand unconsciously at his neck. He pat the side of Sam's own neck with his other hand, trying to lead him back in his general direction. "I'm still trying to get a handle on him. He can get out of hand."
She smiled, probably being polite. "It's okay. I have one of my own at home. Getting excitable is pretty natural for them."
"Yeah…" he let out a sorry laugh, "I guess so."
"That one seems to like and listen to you though. She's beautiful," she commented, her gaze turning to Cas, who Dean hadn't even noticed had followed him.
Cas was observing Sam and the girl, and at Dean's notice of him, he licked his hand a few times, doing the nuzzling thing again, which Dean would've jerked away from if not for the cute girl standing there being nice and admiring and normal. Sam cocked his head at Cas.
"Oh.. yeah, this is Cas," Dean replied despite the distraction, thinking he was keeping together damn well considering all the odd shit they were putting him through. No need to mention Cas wasn't female. Specifics would make this whole thing a lot more awkward – maybe not for the girl, but for him.
"Well, good to meet you Cas and… you called this one Sammy?"
"Yeah."
"And to you, Sammy. My name's Lily." She extended her hand and Dean took it.
"Dean."
"Well, I better get home before they start worrying," she said, still smiling.
"Have a good one," Dean halfheartedly waved.
And as she turned to jog off, Dean made sure to keep Sam's attention, his hand at the scruff of his neck. For a moment, he surreptitiously admired Lily's backside. Until he felt a rough nip at his arm, even through his jacket. He jerked his head around at the white, staring dog. "Dammit, Cas! What was that for?"
Cas appeared to fret about, yapping as he jumped backward.
"Whatever, dude. I don't get you." He turned back to Sammy. "Come on, big boy. Can't have you running to whatever female you think is in heat."
Sam barked at him, but seemed calmed down after getting a reminder of the reality that Dean was human, that Dean was his brother, and that he was human too. Dean probably wouldn't let Sam live this down for a while.
After the half-point, it had mostly gone downhill. He couldn't keep their attention for very long, and at one point they needed to stop for food, since Dean hadn't eaten anything all damn day.
"I'll have one double cheeseburger with fries and, uh.. two…" From outside the store window, he saw Sam lift his head up, "…double.." Another lift, "..triple.." The lifting stopped and Sam resumed wagging his tail. "Yeah, uh, two extra triple hamburgers." He'd read somewhere that dogs got gassy on cheese. That or sick, and Dean was sure as hell not going to risk that. They'd go cheeseless.
The cashier gave him a strange look, but took his order and not a second was wasted when he left the shop than did Sam and Cas decide to hungrily jump on him. Both… at once. No more gravity and he hit the cement ass first, his hands shooting out behind him before his head hit it too The food undoubtedly dropped to the side, and he watched as Sam used his snout to frantically maneuver one of the burgers out of the bag.
"The one without cheese. Bitch," Dean fired at the shaggy beast.
"Rrrrurf," Sam barked back.
It was a fucking miracle for them that he didn't have drinks in his hands.
Cas made no move toward the food yet, instead stepping slowly to Dean's side as he picked himself off of the ground, brushing off his jeans. Looked like some of the skin of his hands had been victim, too.
Cas, seeming to finally realize that why yes, they were fucking heavy animals, lowered his head in apology. A low, soft bark left him before he pressed his wet nose into one of Dean's hands. Dean could feel a fleeting, warm breath in his palm. Cas did the same in his other hand before moving aside, a lot less aggressively burying his face into a bag to look for the remaining hamburger.
Dean lifted his hands, flexing his fingers, seeing the scraped skin had been healed. Nothing but his normal palms remained, unscuffed. Well, Cas redeemed himself partially. More than he could say for Sam, who was tearing into his triple-stacked burger without a care.
The rest of the day was full of restless dog energy. Cas kept pacing in the back, which was more like crouched down rotations because there was barely enough back to contain him. Sam kept pressing his paw at the window until Dean rolled it down for his goofy head to stick through. Dean kept clenching his hands tighter around the wheel, keeping a fierce STOP IT FUCKING STOP from bursting out of his pressed lips. All he could manage without breaking something in two was a "I can't see out the back with you doing that, Cas. Can you lay down?" And he swore Sam let one loose more than once.
It got to a point where he absolutely had to stop the car to let them out. It was ridiculous, but as soon as he spotted a park, he let them out. He figured it was the most inconspicuous place for a man to go with two overcharged dogs.
With absolute absurdity – this whole damn thing still was – they dashed out of the flown-open doors, careening toward the vast expanse of grass before them. Dean couldn't imagine what was going on in their now much tinier little brains to have them completely lose themselves like this. Did they even know they were embarrassing themselves? He hoped to hell they weren't deteriorating in there, becoming more canine and less human by the second.
Please, please let this be temporary.
Sighing, he leaned against the front of the car, arms crossed over his chest with chin tilted downoward. "Never going to get anything done," he grumbled to himself.
He could hear the two of them barking – one of them the standard woof, the other that rough rumble of a sound – and he finally bothered to look up at them.
They were running around like idiots, mouths open like oxygen and exercise were the best thing in the whole wide world and monsters and ghosts were suddenly a nonexistent part of it.
After a while it looked like Sam was getting bored of running in circles, instead diving toward Cas' adrenaline-full, entirely unsuspecting form. There was a staggered yelp before an onslaught of disorderly dog wrestling commenced. They pounced, snapped at each other, leapt back, even got to rolling and twisting around, biting playfully into each other's fur. Dean couldn't predict the twinge that suddenly shot through him – an almost painful pang of loneliness.
He knew it was messed up – but here he was, watching his brother, his two best friends, having an obliviously fun time. Sure, as dogs, but hell – it was almost something Dean now wished for.
It'd been forever since they took specific time off just to hang out. Dean couldn't remember the last time. Other than stopping at diners and long car rides listening to music, there was never… playtime. Just some… worry-free, legs-kicked-up, baseball-game kind of enjoyment.
Man, fuck this. Now was not the time to get touchy. But hell, he was starting to feel almost jealous. To top it off – something he'd admit to no one ever – he could not get over how weird it was to see Cas like this. Sam was easy. He was like some giant overgrown puppy already, but Cas wasn't. Cas was serious. He wasn't funny. He wasn't really all that fun, either. And he definitely didn't get a lot of what humans did, whether it be something basic or something a bit more complex. And yet here he was, letting loose as a damn dog of all things. He seemed to catch on just as quickly as Sam. With Sam. They shared the whole dog thing, so now they were bonding. Stupidly playing together. Sharing food together…wrestling each other…friends enough for that… sinking teeth into each other...
Why did Sam get to do that with Cas? Why couldn't the angel Cas do that with Dean? Why was he the one left out of that kind of unbridled warmth… energy… ferocity?
"Jesus," Dean murmured faintly, shocked to feel his cheeks hot. That thought process had spiraled straight down far too fast for comfort. It wasn't like that with Sam and Cas at all – well of course it fucking wasn't and Dean wouldn't want to think about it if it was. But wait—no, what?! It's not what Dean meant for himself and Cas either! Dammit, he really needed to stop thinking altogether. Because great… loneliness and now jealousy. Things were looking up.
"It's time to get outta here!" Dean shouted in their direction, where they were now resting, looking to be panting heavily. Good. They were done.
Downhill, remember? For Dean's mental state. The remainder of that day was finishing off the houses they'd visited, up to the very last one where Cas' terrible impersonation of Sam occurred. Nothing. And the entire time they were in the car? Dean swore he felt a nose poking into the back of his neck, and a couple times more against his ear.
Don't think about it.. don't think about it. He was going legimately insane, Dean knew it.
Imagine it's some random dumb dog and not Cas in there. Nerdy tax accountant angel Cas. Yeah, nerdy tax accountant angel Cas sniffing him while he was trying to frickin' drive. Affectionately nudging at him, maybe. What the hell did Dean know about the gestures? Did he like it? No he fucking didn't. If he imagined the scruffy, awkward man in the trenchchoat doing it instead of him under the guise of a dog? Better. But… NO, NO he damn well did NOT.
It was a good thing they were heading back to the motel, because right now all Dean cared about was getting the hell out of the car and washing everything that'd been in his brain today clean out of his hand. A nice, hot shower might do the trick.
That and hoping tomorrow one of those miracles Sam so strongly believed were possible would take place and he'd awaken to their entire problem solved.
Sam had to do his thing in the small patch of woods sitting behind the motel, so Dean and Cas headed inside the room first.
"Showering," Dean said shortly, throwing his jacket casually onto Sam's bed. Closest to the bathroom. Who cares.
He glanced back to make sure that Cas had at least acknowledged what he said, and Dean tried to forget the look of woe in those eyes, as if the dog was going to start whining any second. Okay…
Dean made sure to shut and lock the bathroom door behind him, even though one of them had the power to unlock and open doors.
Dean stepped out of the steaming bathroom half an hour later, not caring how long he'd decided to milk it out for. He just needed space from the two of 'em. He'd had to throw on the same pair of jeans and well, a clean shirt, at least. He didn't quite trust dog Cas to not be further strange and inexplicable, so this was his bed clothing for the night. With an unwound sigh, he walked around to seat himself on the side of his bed.
Sam didn't seem to trust trying to work his laptop – not with his humongous paws. So he merely laid there on his bed staring achingly at it, his big head resting on his legs. When Dean sat down, Sam's eyes turned his way.
"Sorry, Sammy. Tomorrow, okay?" He leaned over and gave him a reassuring pat, not sure what else to do. Truthfully, after today and having no leads on the cause of this, he had no clue what their next move should be. Rather, his next move. He wasn't sure if they could accomplish much of anything.
Dean noticed Cas had retreated to a corner of the room. The one furthest away from the bathroom, actually. He sat there motionlessly, staring at Dean.
Dean looked back at Sam. Sam let out a huff like he was saying beats me. Things seemed relatively back to human now, at least as far as that could go. Sam was calm and himself. Cas definitely looked more like himself. It was like the entire day of their dog-frenzy-deeds had never even happened.
"You okay over there?" Dean casually asked.
Cas cocked his head at him.
"I know… asking you anything is a waste of time. Oh, but try this," Dean repositioned himself on the bed, "If you're good, or if you wanna say yes, just nod. When you're not, or to say no, shake your head. Easy. I can try and go by yes and no questions while you guys are like this."
Slowly, Cas shook his head.
"Ok. So is that a not okay over there or…"
Cas nodded.
"Why – I mean, uh, is it because you're a dog?"
He shook his head. But changed it a second later with a nod. On the downward tilt, Dean heard him growling, as if frustrated. Then, all at once, a series of barks exploded from him. Even Sam jumped at the suddenness.
Dean had to say – it was kind of scary, a huge-ass dog barking so deep and loud, like he was ready to rip a face off. Cas had gotten to his feet and moved forward between the beds, causing Dean to scoot backward without thinking. As the seconds went by, with Sam and Dean both unsure how to stop the fit, Cas appeared to get increasingly frustrated. It seriously seemed as though he was yelling at Dean – for what he couldn't fathom – but all of a sudden both paws were on either side of where Dean was sitting, and Dean scooted yet again, feeling himself reach the middle of the bed.
Bad idea, he realized, when Cas used the exposed space to jump completely onto the bed, his huge canine form now quite literally hovering over him, if you didn't count the legs on either of his sides. Dean was flattened against the bed now, head turned in a wince as the surge of rough barking bombarded his ears.
"Dude, dude!" he shouted through it all, "Are you PMSing or something? Because I swear-!" He didn't mean to cower like this, but there was very little more terrifying than having a huge dog bear down barking at you as if it was going to tear your throat out. And this was his friend. This was Cas. He didn't want to go taking out his knife or gun to get him to back off. He only wanted to know what the hell was going on.
From behind Cas, Sam had jumped from his bed and was looking curiously up at them. He chanced a small bite at Cas' tail, thinking that maybe he should interject somehow. Amazingly that seemed to dull Cas' barking, or at least snap him out of it, and it'd now descended into an almost gentle-sounding growl that vibrated in his throat. Cas looked at Dean now, when before he looked to be lost in his own world. He looked down at Dean, who tried to redeem his cowering by relaxing his flinching demeanor. He let out a steadying breath of air. "Are we okay, man?" Dean couldn't help but ask. Gingerly Cas nodded.
"Are you going to give me some room?"
Hesitance, but Cas finally moved, stepping over Dean to allow him the room to sit up again. He heard long, steady breaths leaving Cas' nose, and he glanced back. Cas' head tilt toward Dean's pillow, the breathing continuing, this time with a shutting of his eyes. "What? Sleep? Yeah, I'm gonna do that. But do me a favor and move your scary ass elsewhere."
Dean wanted to shiver, but couldn't get himself to. Sam set his head on the edge of the bed, whining softly like he was sorry for everything. "Hey, no big deal, Sammy. We've handled things crazier than this. Cas may be going insane, but hell, aren't you?" He let out a laugh, hoping he didn't sound too uneasy.
Because, for a second there when Cas was over him in his frenzied-dog state, he worried where his own mind was turning. All he could see was Cas, the actual Cas, yelling at him in that gravelly tone they'd both become so accustomed to. His hands planted by both his shoulders, his eyes burning into his own – always a burning, like he could see right into him, and his trenchcoat hanging down, shielding the both of them as if they were suddenly swept into their own secure hideaway. And it scared the shit out of Dean.
So he clicked the light off just like last night, brought the pillow over his head just like last night, and he closed his eyes yearning for sleep just like last night.
"Hello, Dean," arose a voice from the dark. Jolting upright, Dean turned to see Cas – the real Cas – sitting on the opposite edge of the bed. It was still dark in the room, and across fromm him Sam, still a shaggy dog, lay fast asleep.
"Cas," Dean said. "Why is Sam still.."
"You're dreaming, Dean."
"Oh." Dean lifted himself into a more comfortable sitting position, his back against the headboard. "Of course I am."
"I remembered I could communicate this way. I should have the previous night, but by the time I considered it, you were no longer in a dreamlike state. I admit that since I have become one of the canine species, my mind has been muddled. Even visiting you now took far greater effort."
"So you were sitting there watching and waiting until I went to sleep?"
"I know you do not like me staring for extended periods of time while you sleep, so I tried to avert my stare every three minutes."
Dean wasn't sure if he should even bother with thanks, so he went with, "Awesome."
There was some silence after that, and Dean began to wonder if there was a point to this. "Were you going to tell me something that could help us?"
"My knowledge seems limited to your own at the present moment," Castiel replied, looking resigned. "Generally transfiguration into animal without harm is the work of the being you know as the Trickster. It could also be a form of witchcraft. I do not see why the Trickster would strike now, on a low profile case such as this."
Dean couldn't help it. Sitting here listening to Cas now, seeing him as him. It really comforted him. Dean experienced an worrying, unfamiliar urge to be nearer, what he'd say was to see if Cas was real enough.. to touch. Okay, he would never say that to anyone. He'd just sit still right here. That was absolute.
"I'd go with witchcraft too, but who the hell knows," Dean put in, "There's this whole thing going on with Michael and Lucifer and I can't see any of what I came onto last night as being tied to them. And why not turn me into a dog too, whatever it is? I don't get it."
"I am sorry I can't be of more help, Dean."
"What can you do?" Dean weakly threw up his arms, which rested on his legs. "And what the hell has been going on with you, dude?"
Silence. Too much silence.
"Cas?" Dean turned toward the man, trying to judge his expression with what light the streetlight through the curtains would allow. Was it… a troubled one?
"I don't know," the angel finally said, staring straight at Dean.
"You don't know why lately, ever since you turned into Fido—" Head tilt from Cas, "That you've full-on jumped on me, been…nuzzling me, licking my hands, bit my arm? Barking furiously into my face just before we all went to sleep?"
With each example, Cas seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable. He shifted where he sat, his stare dropping to his lap. "It is difficult to understand emotion as a canine."
"Well you're not a canine right now."
"This is just a dream, Dean. I am essentially still canine."
"But aren't you projecting your actual self into this dream, leaving that behind?"
Cas sighed. It was different listening to him sigh. "I simply can't understand. In a way it is like working to understand human emotion, but these I have been experiencing are more potently carnal."
"Carnal?" Dean's eyebrows shot upward. "Like what, jungle fever carnal?"
"No, perhaps that was not the right word. Primal. Simpler but… since I am unable to recognize many human emotions within myself, I can't relate the differences I experience now."
"Okay, this might be getting beyond my area of expertise," Dean admitted. He could feel the uncertainly prickling inside of him, not sure if he should aid his friend through this or run the hell away as fast as he could from the entire conversation. He sensed it getting a bit too close to the mental betrayals he'd been suffering all day.
"However, I do feel some things much more clearly than when in my human vessel. Certain senses were strong then, but now there are senses I rarely use being used as primary."
"Sight, touch, smell, taste – that type of thing?" Dean questioned.
"Yes. Smell is one of them. I do not find myself needing to rely on that very often in my regular vessel, but now I smell… many things, and it is sometimes overwhelming, even for an angel. We do not usually experience these aspects of mammalian biology."
"Yeah, so what, you can smell birds from a mile away? Maybe that woman Sam clearly took a whiff of earlier?" A smirk found its way to his face.
"It has been your scent, I have noticed," Cas took this moment to stare at him as he said this. The smirk slid off of his face. "It is very strong and agreeable."
"Dude," Dean cried, hands coming up to rub fists into his eyes. "I didn't need to know that."
"Why, Dean? Were you not really curious?"
"No, no, you just don't tell me I smell good."
"Why? Is this like 'personal space'?" Cas asked, icing the cake with some quotation fingers.
"Sure, Cas. It's like that. It invades my the personal mental space in my head."
"That makes no sense. There is very little space in the human brain, Dean."
"Ok then. Well why not Sam, huh? If anything he should smell more than I do."
"He does smell," Cas admitted, "But it's not a particularly agreeable scent. Nor was the woman Sam seemed to enjoy the scent of."
"Alright, enough with this scent business." Dean had heard way more than enough. He didn't need to add Cas smelling him to the list of images his mind was testing him with. "How about when you were barking at me earlier? You seemed pretty damn pissed."
"I was frustrated. Communicating as a canine is quite useless, and I can't say one word to you that you would understand. I was merely venting and it got out of control. I apologize."
"Angels need to vent? Shouldn't you go to a priest for that? Or God?"
Castiel glared. "No, Dean."
"Venting about what, then?" Dean asked with a low chuckle. He was steadily trying to ease the tension he felt in his muscles. He was too aware of Cas sitting there, not too close but not too far away either – these were damn small beds.
"I contribute the sensations to being canine, but there is a drawing to you that I…"
There was a pause, and then silence, as if Cas was reevaluating what to say. Whether he was avoiding something or finding the right way to do it, Dean had no frickin' clue and didn't want one.
"Well, everything is much stronger now. That is all I know. I think I must leave you to your dreaming now. I assure you that I will not intrude on them." He rose from the bed, decidedly ending it there. Fair enough. Dean had no idea how to respond to what he just said anyway.
Drawn to him? What, and it's much stronger now, which implies he is drawn to him even when not a dog? Hell, man. Drop that on a dude before he has to go to sleep? Drop it on a man who found his thoughts dangerously close to being drawn to a certain someone else too?
"You are also very confusing to interpret, Dean. I cannot properly… absorb your emotions toward me," Cas spoke from the side, clearly not gone yet.
"Emotions? What emotions?" He suddenly felt defensive. Castiel better not be able to read thoughts, too.
"Everyone is always undergoing emotion, even apathy is an emotion. But I meant, as an example, when you stood and stared back last night, when teaching me about your personal space. Were you trying to get inside my own head? It is curious that you would be curious over me," Cas explained with that stupid tilt of his head, unaware of how deeply he was getting to Dean.
"I'm not," Dean responded rather childishly, back on his side and turned away from Cas, his head pressed hard into his pillow.
Cas could now easily tell that Dean had taken on his defensive mode of acting. Which usually implied lying or a crossing of comfortable boundaries.
"You do not need to fear me, Dean. I will let you feel curious and emotional toward me. I have no desire to judge you."
The beds faded to black around him. The dream was over.
