Chapter 11

Dean took off his clothes, keeping tabs on his brother out of the corner of his eye. He was feeling that excitement again -- knowing he would once more turn into something other than himself. But as before, he could see that Sam didn't share his feelings. Totally the opposite, as a matter of fact. And there was more to it now. Sam was uneasy. Dean didn't exactly understand why since this weird set up of his was supposed to make things easier. Shouldn't that have caused his brother to be more relaxed instead of the other way around? Was there something about this his brother wasn't telling him?

He opened his mouth to say he'd changed his mind, that they could take Bela like normal people, when he saw his brother's entire demeanor change. The hunched stressed shoulders straightened, his head went up strong and confident, his hands and arms splayed themselves wide to the side as if welcoming something. Then he started talking. Not at Dean but in the direction of the bowls, at the air around him. Hesitantly at first, as if the foreign words weren't quite made for his mouth, yet the more of them that came to echo in the air, the more confident and strong they became. The Words began to ring like music around them.

He felt the hairs stand up on his arms, goose bumps not far behind. He remembered another place, another instance where Sam had sounded like this. And even to his non-supernatural senses he'd been able to tell his brother was filled with power, that things unseen had flocked around him. And so it was again.

They were no longer alone. And Sam had become more than just the youngest Winchester.

Dean could feel his heartbeat racing inside him suddenly growing anxious about what he was seeing and feeling. Maybe, just maybe, Sam felt something similar whenever Dean changed. It was more than weird seeing someone you dealt with everyday doing something so far from the already not normal norm.

"Dean, will the change…now!"

Without thinking he did as he was told, responding to the tone of command. Unlike before, he felt power push into him in a rush, the previous lazy river replaced by a cataract. The change burned through him, driving him to his knees as he gasped for breath. The Words jumbled over each other in his head as if trying to race one another to the end. The carpet beneath him changed to dirt and back again as if he were being dipped into the other worlds and back, a tug of war with him in the middle.

"Dean?"

Flickering vision showed his brother looking his way, his face a worried mask. Behind it, through it, meshed in it, he could see hundreds if not thousands of other men. Men connected to one another by the memories of ritual, of Words and creation, past, present, and future. They and the other beings of half seen shapes floating, zooming, crawling around, were sending power into his brother who then redirected it at him. He was drowning in it. He could feel himself unraveling from it.

Dean tried to open his mouth to try to convey what was going on, but couldn't. His tongue was too large for the half formed mouth, lying useless like a lead weight inside it, the muscles no longer attached correctly. He couldn't get air into his quivering lungs as they tried to retain their function even as they were prompted to change to something else. Parts of him were hot, others freezing, then they would swap sides. It was all going fubar and fast and there didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do about it.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit!" The floor vibrated beneath him as Sam dropped beside him, his fear filling the air with scent and mixing with his own. "Just hang on. I'll fix this. Just hang on!"

Hands grabbed him and he could feel the flesh squish and squirm around them. The power driving into him slowed, then stopped, before some of it was actually siphoned back out of him. The Words stopped being jumbled, they moved into their proper order again. He could hear them inside himself and also coming from his brother as if being reinforced. The duet wove on and one by one things seemed to go to something like what they should be.

Eventually, all grew quiet. He wasn't entirely sure, but he might just have made it through this in one piece. But damn if he didn't feel like he'd been put through the wringer.

"Dean, are you okay?"

His brother's worried face intruded into his line of sight. He barely had the energy to nod.

"I'm so sorry. I guess I over did it a little…?"

No shit, Sherlock! Dean lifted a paw and smacked his brother on the arm then let it fall back limply to the floor, too exhausted to do anything else.

"Don't move, okay? I'll get you some food and water."

Dean snorted finding it ironic how the tables had turned from the last time they'd done this. If he didn't know better and the fear in his brother's eyes confirm it, he would have suspected Sam of doing it on purpose.

"Here." His brother joined him on the floor again, removing the tin foil over a wrapped plate. Three juicy steaks were nestled inside, the smell of them instantly making Dean's mouth water. A bowl filled with liquid got placed right beside them. He didn't hesitate and wolfed everything down.

His brother sat with him the whole time, eating a large sandwich. Dean felt his gaze on him throughout. Guess he'd given his brother quite a scare. Hah! As if it was his fault. He reached over and smacked Sam on the leg.

"I really am sorry, Dean. It's not like I'm an expert or anything. I guess there's such a thing as too much help?"

Dean totally ignored him not deigning to give the lame line an answer. Instead he found himself yawning wide, suddenly terribly sleepy. He tried to get to his feet, but his body wouldn't cooperate. After wobbling for a moment on unsteady legs, he was forced to sit back down.

"You want up on the bed?"

Not waiting for an answer, Sam reached forward and took hold of him. Strain showing on his face, he lifted Dean up off the floor and set him on the mattress. He was breathing heavy by the time he got him there. Guess the mess still took a bite out of his brother despite his call for help. Impulsively, Dean leaned forward and licked his brother lightly on the cheek.

Sam grimaced. "Thanks…I think. Get some rest, okay? I'll wake you up as soon as it gets dark."

Dean reached out and snagged Sam's shirt in his claw and pulled it back toward him.

"Dean, no. I'm okay. Honest."

He pulled more insistently.

With a huff of exasperation and an eye roll, his brother caved in and laid out on the bed next to him. "Fine, maybe I'll nap for a little while. Happy?"

Dean wrapped his two forelegs around his brother as if he were a tall teddy bear and licked at his hair. Sam tried to move away, but Dean flexed his claws into his t-shirt in warning. Sam stopped.

"Aw come on, dude. This is getting old, you know? Give me a break." He tried to move away again.

Dean didn't relent, instead lightly nipping his brother's ear.

"Ow! Bastard. All right already!" He felt Sam tense beside him then relax as a long sigh followed. "You so suck. Friggin' spoiled older brother…" He didn't try to leave anymore.

Dean was perfectly okay with that. He was a cat, so this wasn't a hug. Nothing emotional about this at all -- just a feline and his feeder taking a nice little nap together like millions of other cats and their slaves. He placed his warm nose against his brother's hair covered neck and went to sleep.