9.
"Why'd I let you talk me into this," Dean hissed at the squirming bag on his back. Sam was a warm weight that shifted occasionally against Dean's shoulders. He'd ordered Dean to dump everything out of his junked up backpack then jumped in and curled up. Of course, Dean had protested for half an hour. Then he realized he was arguing with his brother and a cat; Dean was so not gonna win that fight.
So that's how he ended up wandering around Smith College's campus, waiting for a clue to just jump into his lap. That was another thing that wasn't gonna happen 'cause cases were never that easy. But at least Dean had something to look at while he waited for the impossible. Sammy had been right; Smith College was a women's college, which meant girls as far as the eye could see.
So Dean strolled and chatted, looked and flat out leered. Sam grew increasingly restless in his hiding spot. He wanted to do something. Dean's every step jolted him, making it impossible to sleep, even when the cat wanted to.
Sam found it much easier to sleep since he'd switched bodies. Nightmares weren't a problem so much, or at least, he didn't wake up sweating and terrified. But he was sleeping a lot, and that in itself was worrying. Deciding to take his mind off it, Sam squirmed until he could just peek out of the backpack.
He was facing backwards but he could still tell Dean was chatting someone up. The flirtatious angle of Dean's hips was obvious, and Sam could hear the charm being laid on thick.
That brought up another worry. Sometimes when Dean was talking, it was just noise, sometimes soothing, sometimes angry like before. It was just noise that didn't make a bit of sense.
With an agile twist, Sam popped out of the sack and perched on Dean's shoulder, holding himself in place with his claws. Dean's voice got angry, and he whirled around, trying to dislodge Sam. The cat hung grimly on.
Soft, high voices cooed, and he looked up to see two different people. They smelled female and funny, not like familiar male Dean. Sam blinked and mentally shook himself. He really shouldn't think like that. It was bad to loose himself.
Sam blinked again, twitched an ear, and looked solemnly at the newcomers. They cooed some more, saying things like "Aww" and "Hi, handsome." Sam could scent a subtle shift in Dean's smell, something harsher, sharper, but he ignored it when a small hand reached out and scratched his face.
"Oh, look at you, sweetheart," the girl with her hands all over him said.
Sam automatically bristled at the words, and Dean choked back a laugh right beside him. He really wanted to scratch her, but her hands felt good where they rubbed his whiskers, and he really didn't have a spare paw to swipe at her with.
Then the small hands moved back and grasped Sam around his middle. There was a heart pounding moment of vertigo as Sam was picked up for the first time in his new shape. His back bent uncomfortably, and he realized he was no longer in control of his new body.
He landed with all claws out in the girl's arms. She winced but held on bravely. Sam struggled, but the petting resumed and Dean shot him a look that clearly said "Play along!" So he settled back and told himself, very firmly, that he would not purr.
"I love cats," his captor was saying. "I grew up with a whole house full of them at my aunts."
"Really?' Dean drawled, putting on his interested face. This chick was cute, and she'd gotten Sam off him, but he wasn't really that interested.
"Yep." The girl nodded and pet some more. "My aunt's kind of crazy about cats — well, animals in general, really. She sort of runs an unofficial sanctuary."
The other girl snorted and muttered, "She's just a crazy old lady who's lonely."
The brothers' ears perked up at that, Sam's literally. "Your aunt likes animals. She keep a lot of 'em around," Dean asked casually, reaching out to tug Sam's ear in warning and not to get his hands closer to those tantalizing C-cups.
"Oh, yeah. She's had just about everything over the years," The girl said dismissively. "She doesn't like snakes or lizards that much, but she'll keep them until she finds a home for them. Right now she just has four cats and a dog, but she's also feeding some local wildlife, too."
"Y'know," Dean began, in what Sam called his 'leading question voice,' "I have a brother almost like that. You might say he's almost like an animal himself."
Sam shot Dean a very clear death glare and settled deeper into the girl's arms to plan his revenge.
"Sometimes, I swear it's almost like he can talk to the animals. Like, the dog whisperer or something."
10.
The girl not holding Sam laughed, a mean note to her voice. "Oh, she talks to her 'babies' all right. Maybe she thinks they can talk back or something."
"Hey!" Sam's girl spat. "I told you to leave her alone."
"Whatever. I have to get to class. Have fun, Sue," the mean girl called over her shoulder.
Everything about the next silent minute screamed awkward, and Sam was treated to the unusual pleasure of having a face buried in his fur. After a moment of nuzzling, the girl - Sue - got herself back together. Sam twitched irritably to resettle his ruffled fur.
"Sorry. Noel isn't exactly a fan of my aunt's. She doesn't even really like animals either," Sue apologized.
"Yeah," Dean drawled and reached down to pet Sam, who looked like he was going to start fussing again. "So uh, could I maybe meet your aunt? I travel a lot, and I know Sam here gets kinda lonely while I'm gone. Maybe I could get him a little friend to play with."
Sue brightened immediately. "Sure, that'd be great! You'd like a brother or a sister, wouldn't you, Sam?" She turned Sam around in her arms so she could look at his face.
Dean could tell his brother was pissed, and he even heard Sam's voice in his head saying, "I have a brother, but not for long. I'm going to murder you, Dean." He held back a snicker as he pet Sam some more, casually brushing against Sue's hand.
"OK, so why don't you give me your number, and I'll give you a call later today? You doing anything tonight?"
Sue blushed and fumbled for her phone. "Sure, hang on."
Numbers and schedules were duly exchanged, and soon Sam was shoved unceremoniously back into the backpack. Dean wanted to stuff him all the way in again, but Sam struggled too much. Eventually, Sue caught on and skillfully trapped his paws in the bag then cinched the opening down around his neck.
He felt ridiculous, and Dean knew it, judging from his sparkling eyes. Sam was gonna have to do something to that jerk. This was really not fair.
Dean bought Sam a cup of fresh milk from the diner they stopped at for dinner as a peace offering, but he wisely waited to release his brother until they were safely back in the motel room. Dinner was eaten in silence except for Sam's grudging purrs into his cup of milk.
"So," Dean began, "we go with Sue to meet her aunt. The witch won't do anything while she's there, and then we can go back later and gank her."
Sam pawed idly at the Ouija board in between ritualistic bathing licks. "you think we found her"
"Well, yeah. Why not? How many reclusive, animal loving old women can there be around the campus?"
"she wasn't old"
"But she had grey hair," Dean protested. "She was old."
"didn't smell old."
Dean's frown warred between skeptical and troubled. "Something you wanna tell me, Sammy?"
"NO cat nose"
"Uh huh," Dean grunted doubtfully. He mulled the new bit of information over carefully then tried again. "Listen man, you've been acting weird since this all happened. I mean, I can get the purring and the tail twitching, but the cuddling? That's not you, Sam."
Sam's flat look could only be described as unimpressed, but Dean forged ahead, full steam.
"I think that witch did more than just switch your body on you. What if there's a side effect to the spell or something? Like, maybe it has a time limit or a point of no return?" Dean asked worriedly.
"stop worrying" Sam ordered with quick paw flicks. "be ok need to get normal"
Dean snorted and looked away. "Fine. Have it your way, dude. But I'm gonna find her as soon as possible and get you back."
"we going 2night"
"Naw, Sue has some evening classes, and she needs to call her aunt," Dean replied. "We'll just stay in tonight and rest up."
Sam moved his shoulders in a fair shrug and continued washing.
11.
They spent the night in their motel room again, watching whatever was on the pitiful cable package. Dean usually would have gone to a bar, hustled some pool and maybe picked up some company, but he didn't feel like it. There was so much work involved in finding and fooling a mark, and the whole circling dance of "Do you wanna hook up?" also took some doing. It was much easy to sprawl on the bed with Sam curled up on his belly.
About nine o'clock, Sam had to go outside again. Dean stood at the door, waiting for him. He tried to remember the last time they had spent a night like this, no grave digging, not driving to the next hunt, no argument, and no demon. It was a shock to realize that he couldn't even remember.
The shock lingered as Sam came back and hopped expectantly on the bed. Dean grumbled good-naturedly as he resumed his place. "Man Sammy, if I didn't know better, I'd say she put you in a girl cat's body."
Sam's eyes closed in what Dean was learning to read as "Cute, Dean. Real cute."
"Since when do you like to cuddle? I thought you outgrew all that when you turned four," Dean said, eyes fogging as he remembered four year old Sammy declaring that he was a big boy and Dean didn't need to tuck him in anymore.
The trip down memory lane was ended when Sam walked the length of Dean's body and sat heavily on Dean's chest, blocking his view of the basketball game they were watching.
"Ow!" Dean exclaimed, trying to move him. "God, you have sharp paws, man. Just like you elbows. Jeeze!"
Sam snorted — Dean figured that was a laugh — then got an intent look on his face. Dean tensed too, thinking his brother had heard something with his new hearing. Then Sam's front paws began to shift in an alternating rhythm. A purr started low in his chest and grew louder until it practically drowned out the excited commentary from the TV.
"Sam, what the hell?" Dean bent his neck at an awkward angle to see what Sam was doing. Sharp claws snagged in his t-shirt and dug through cloth to skin. "What're you doing?"
Sam's eyes closed in bliss, and he didn't hear Dean. This was right. He was comfortable-safe-warm-happy. Every muscle and bone in his body felt loose and relaxed, letting the purr well out of him. Good. So good. Warm. Safe.
"SAM!" The loud noise right in front of him made his eyes pop open to glare at the source. Wide green eyes looked back at him from mere inches away. His purr faltered and stopped as Sam stared. Someone important. Who?
Dean.
His fur bristled as he realized he was staring into Dean's scared eyes. What was wrong? There was no danger around. Dean shouldn't be worried, he should be happy. Just like Sam was happy. Well, not so happy because his mouth was really dry.
He tried to work up some moisture and realized there was something in his mouth, held between his teeth. Sam released it then blinked in shock as his fur bristled further in fear. He'd been holding a piece of Dean's shirt in his mouth. What was going on? Why?
He looked back up into Dean's scared eyes. Dean had gotten control of himself enough to hide behind a mask of anger and curiosity.
"You have a lot of explaining to do, dude," he rumbled ominously.
12.
It was very odd, being able to look down your chest and lock eyes with your brother. Who just happened to be a cat. Dean thought this might be the weirdest moment of his life, and he'd seen some doozies. But this was Sam, and that made it much worse.
Dean thought he'd locked down on the fear that had fluttered through him when Sam first started doing . . . that, but Sam was clearly freaking out now. His golden eyes were wide, mostly pupil-black. The fur along the ridge of his spine was raised, and his tail was just starting to bush out.
"Sammy," Dean began, blinked, and swore. Sam took off at the sound of his name, digging all claws in for traction, and he darted away. "Shit! Sam!"
Dean swore and rubbed his new injuries, looking around for Sam. The motel room was only so big, and Sam had to be around somewhere. He ruled out the bathroom - the door was closed. There were no hiding places in the tiny kitchenette. So that left the beds, TV, and ratty couch.
Dust bunnies were the only ones home behind the TV, and a mouse could barely fit under the couch. The beds it was then. Dean eyed the grimy carpet with pursed lips. That was so nasty, he didn't wanna think about touching it with more than his boots. With a sigh, he bent down and looked under Sam's bed.
Nothing.
He turned around and checked his bed, where they'd been sitting. Sam was crouched up near the wall, huddled into a ball of fur and big eyes. For such a large cat, he'd managed to make himself very small. Sam looked like he just wanted to disappear.
"Hey," Dean called softly, hoping not to startle him. He'd probably get Sam's claws in his face this time. "What was that?"
Sam turned frightened, glassy eyes on him that glinted eerily in the dark. Dean started back. There was nothing of Sam in those glassy eyes, just one hundred percent scared cat. Dean felt the panic well up again but forced it back.
"Come on, man. Come out and talk to me," Dean coaxed. He gentled his voice and tried to sound non-threatening. "I think there's still some milk left from dinner — din-din. Want some?"
Sam's ears barely twitched at din-din, and Dean could only hope that Sam wouldn't remember him using such a ridiculous word.
"Please come out? Pretty please?" Dean pleaded. Sam didn't move, just looked at him. Dean settled down on the floor with a sigh, sparing barely a wince for the filth he was probably lying in, and began a constant litany of pleas and promises.
"Fergus! Fergus, come down." She tilted her head back to glare up at her baby boy. He'd climbed all the way to the top of the tree, where the branches were barely strong enough to hold his weight. How he'd managed it without claws, she'd never know.
He gave her a flat stare that was so familiar. His new body was almost as cat-like as his old body was. Only the eyes were different, along with his lack of fur and size.
"You come down right now, you naughty boy, or you shan't have tuna for din-din," she called threateningly. Fergus blinked and shifted. Tuna would get him down any day. "I'm waiting, young man."
The stale mate continued a moment longer as Fergus dared her to come up and get him. Finally, after he realized she wouldn't play today, Fergus began picking his way down the tree. The boy's clothes, already ripped and stained from two days of wear, were abused further by grasping twigs. She sighed as she realized she'd have to bathe him soon.
Cats were so much easier. She really didn't know why she bothered with humans, or their bodies. Then Fergus settled at her feet, and she was too busy admiring his beautiful hazel eyes. Well, human eyes weren't all that bad, she decided.
"In you go, Fergus." She led the way up the porch and held the door for him. "And don't think that you'll be getting tuna just because you deigned to join the rest of us mortals on earth. It's canned food again tonight."
Fergus lowered his head, and she could imagine how his ears would flatten against his skull if they could and the constant swish-thump of his tail. A cat's company really was much more pleasant.
