Part 2 - Screaming

Sitting in his car outside their latest no-tell motel room, Dean took a moment to just be alone with his anger and guilt, his worry. Another morning of making phone calls and tracking leads about Gus had yielded a big steaming pile of nothing, and he was approaching the end of his rope.

How could she just disappear? Had she been hurt? Kidnapped? Killed? Where the fuck was she?!

How could he have let it happen?

Fuck, he was useless.

Dean sighed and tried to shake off the effects of yet another hangover. No use sulking. He'd get Sammy to run another check on the banking and credit card activity, hope for a miracle.

He marched into the motel room, finding it empty on first examination. "Sam?" he called, "You in the can?"

No answer. Dean shook his head and shed his jacket, flopping down on the bed and stretching out lazily, trying to relax. Trying not to think about his brother being out and about unsupervised, possibly (probably) going darkside at that very moment.

But then he turned his head and saw Sam passed out cold on the floor between the beds.

"Shit," Dean swore, immediately falling to his knees at his brother's side and checking for obvious injuries. Finding none, the oldest Winchester slapped the youngest lightly in an attempt to rouse him. "C'mon, Sammy," Dean ordered gruffly, "Up and at 'em! Open your damn eyes!"

The kid groaned, weakly, face screwing up and big hands clumsily trying to shove Dean away. "Fuck you," Sam grumbled, voice thick and hoarse.

"That how you greet all your rescuers?" Dean laughed, relieved but not entirely, not until he knew what the hell was going on.

Sam's whole giant body tensed in an instant, his breath sticking in his throat. The kid's eyes flew open and went silver-dollar huge.

And that's when he started screaming, shrieking hysterically and scrambling away like some demented crab. His big feet kept slipping on a map of the country, finally ripping it to shreds as he got upright and flattened himself against the wall.

He stared at Dean like... well, Dean had never seen his brother look so openly terrified: trembling and panting, horror-struck. Cornered.

Sam wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach, frowned down at his own bellybutton and, though it didn't actually seem possible, began screaming even louder, freaking out hundreds of times worse.

"Holy shit," Dean called, confused, holding his hands out defensively, "What the hell is going on? Calm down already!"

"Where's my baby?!" Sam shrieked, "What did you do with my baby, you fuckin fetus-stealer?!"

Of all the things Dean had expected his brother to say (ever), that was not one of them. "Uh..." the blonde gaped, searching futilely for a response. Seriously, how the fuck was he supposed to answer?

Sam used the momentary pause to bolt for the door, hurdling the bed with just one freakish leap and then promptly getting tangled in his own too-long legs and falling flat on his face. The kid curled up into a ball and burst into tears, wailing, "Just do it quick, you bastard!"

"Do what?" Dean demanded, approaching carefully, "Dammnit, Sam, relax! You are really freaking me out!"

Sam just kept wailing, sobbing convulsively. It was... disturbing. In many, many ways.

Dean's cell rang, and he answered reflexively, still unable to take his eyes off the blubbering mess of little brother on the floor (still struggling to comprehend the mess, let alone figure out how to handle it).

"Dean?"

Dean blinked. The day just kept getting weirder. "Gus?" he answered hesitantly, hopeful yet suddenly doubting his own sanity. Doubting whether or not he was even awake.

He heard the sound of a throat clearing on the other end of the line, then, again, Gus's high, thin voice: "No... not exactly... it's actually Sam."

Dean continued to stare down at his crying little brother and blankly answered, "Uh... no, I don't think so."

"Dean," Gus whined in a very Sam-like fashion, "Just listen, ok? I... I messed up. I was trying to find Gus-"

"You are Gus," Dean insisted.

"I'm not!" Gus insisted right back, "I'm Sam! I screwed up a scrying spell, and now I'm in Gus's body!"

"Oh," Dean said. He thought, for a moment, and then questioned, "Seriously?"

With an exasperated, again very Sam-like sigh of impatience, the voice on the other end of the line snapped, "Yes, seriously!"

"Oh," Dean said again. He thought for a few more moments and then questioned, "So... she's probably in your body, huh?"

"I would assume."

Watching as Sam- well, Gus, apparently, continued on with his... er, her (pronouns were going to be a problem) breakdown, Dean ventured, "Any reason she'd be screaming about me stealing her baby?"

"Um," Sam murmured, "Ya, dude. She's... she's pretty pregnant. Like, huge."

"Oh."

It was all very strange and surreal. Even by Winchester standards. And, to make sure he that was properly understanding it, Dean felt the need to sum up the situation: "So, you're trapped inside the body of a pregnant chick?"

Sam cleared his throat (Gus's throat, whatever), and meekly, guiltily answered, "Ya."

"Oh," Dean said... and then he started laughing, like he hadn't in what felt like years.

By the time he stopped, Gus had slipped away in her borrowed skin.

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