Beginning Note: I apologize in advance that there's no Sam in this chap, but he was sleeping so peacefully I couldn't bring myself to wake him up, especially since this one's shorter than usual. But hey, I actually updated a week later, which is practically a miracle for me of late. Your reviews have encouraged and inspired! Beware the insanity to ensue... evil grin Ye have been warned.
Chapter Three
When Two Girls Collide
Then: Dean's a girl. Sam's depressed. Ruby's an evil demon. Trey's a bumbling idiot. 'Nuff said.
Now:
Trey stared at Dean incredulously. "What do you mean you're not going to tell him?"
"I'm just not."
Since the man had obviously not thought this through, Trey was left with the task of pointing out the very visible flaws with his decision, "I hate to break it to you, but Sam would have to be blind to not notice that you're a woman when he sees you."
"Then I guess he can't see me," The hunter calmly said.
"And how, pray tell, do you plan to accomplish that?"
Dean dismissed the question with the flick of the hand, "I'll think of something."
"You're an idiot," Trey told him with weary sincerity. Winchester just shrugged and leaned againstthe Chevy Impala that he assumed belonged the hunter.
Ahrg! The man was impossibly stubborn. Trey reached a hand up to tug on his hair a little, a nervous habit he'd only just managed to kick a decade ago. It looked like he was falling off the band wagon again. "You do realize that this was supposed to bring you two together, help you work out your problems. Not drive you and Sam further apart."
"Let me ask you something Trey, if you suddenly changed gender would you immediately go and tell your nearest relative all about it, or run like hell and do everything you can to make sure they don't find out?"
There was silence as Trey tried to decide whether to lie to support his own case, or honestly admit what he'd do.
"Well?"
"Fine, I'd probably be more inclined to running. But it wouldn't be the right thing to do."
Dean wrinkled his nose at the self-righteous statement, "Save it. I gave up on doing 'the right thing' a long time ago. All it does is bring pain...and in this case humiliation."
He laughed in disbelief, "That's what is stopping you? You're too embarrassed to tell Sam that you made a mistake, said something you shouldn't have and explain how you were turned into a girl version of you," Dean's face darkened, but Trey pushed further, "What, not man enough anymore to own up to your own mess." Please don't kill me for that, he thought fervently.
"This wasn't my fault and you damn well know it," Dean snarled, stung by the accusation.
It was true, but so not the point. Trey's mind scrambled for something, anything to help his argument. If Dean really decided to run, then instead of helping the brothers reconcile whatever differences they had, he'd have only succeeded into pulling them further apart.
Another tug of the hair, harder this time. And then inspiration struck!
While Trey would never assume he was an expert on all things Winchester, he'd heard enough to know that the surest way to get to Dean was through Sam. The older brother was fiercely protective of his younger sibling, had apparently made it his life purpose to make sure the kid stayed safe. There was no denying that Dean had a bit of a savior complex, even a casual observer like Trey could see that. Hello, the guy sold his soul to bring Sam back to life.
Winchester was a natural protector. The fact he had spent twenty some years, almost his entire life, saving people from the darker side of the supernatural was a testament to that. Trey'd heard him described as the 'guardian angel of the innocents'. Though it might be normally said by a resentful shape-shifter, trickster, or demon with heavy sarcasm, the sentiment was actually true.
All he'd need now is wings and a halo, he thought, scrutinizing the blonde in front of him. Dean had also been labeled a 'pretty boy', and now that his delicate features were even more delicate... he did look pretty damn angelic. Aside from the angry frown that was currently residing on said angel's face, of course...
Shaking off the direction his mind had taken, Trey blew out a heavy sigh before implementing his newest argument, "Listen, I know that you're a macho tough guy, who doesn't like to admit when he's wrong, but think about this: if you run away, you won't be able to protect Sam anymore."
Dean's head snapped toward him, and by the deepening frown Trey knew he'd finally scored a point in his favor. Not that he was keeping score...
- - supernatural - -
The guy had a point. Damn him!
Shit, how do I always manage to get myself into trouble? You'd think one day I'd figure out what I'm doing wrong and save myself the pain...and humiliation.
The minute Dean had decided that Sam couldn't find out, his mind had been working overtime to come up with a plan. Unfortunately the only coherent idea so far went along the lines of 'I hear Yemen is nice this time of year.'
Going into hiding wasn't much of a plan, although now that he didn't have the face of one of America's Most Wanted anymore he wouldn't have trouble trying to leave the country. Then he considered that he'd have to fly... and suddenly Yemen lost all appeal. Double damn!
Don't freak out, I'll think of something...hopefully sooner than I did while tied up in that freakin apple orchard. Sammy ended up having to save my ass and I don't want a repeat any time soon.
Dean had to admit though, that coming clean with Sam did have it's appeal. Sam wouldn't magically have the answer to solve his problem, but at least he would be there to help Dean figure out what the next step should be. Not to mention willingly volunteer for research duty.
There's where the positives ended and the negatives began, though. In the hypothetical event that Sam found out Dean knew what would happen next. Little brother would go into 'mother hen' mode, worrying even more than he was already. Endless nights spent tapping on the laptop. Kid would no doubt find a way to put all the blame on himself too. Sam was funny like that.
And worst of all, in Dean's mind, Sam would find this a new excuse to make Dean open up. 'And how do you feel about being in the body of a woman?'. No way was he going to put himself through that kind of torture. Kill me now...
But could he really leave Sam alone, unprotected? Dean knew that his brother attracted the things that lived in the shadows like a moth to the flame. Without him, Sam would be on his own, nobody to watch his back. The younger Winchester was a capable fighter and damn good hunter, but he wasn't invincible. It was something that haunted Dean every night.
Sam limped toward Dean, holding his shoulder. Relief at finding his brother rushed through him but then he saw the dark shadow rising from behind. Dean barely noticed his own voice yelling, trying to warn him of the danger. He was running forward, but it was too late. The man thrust the knife deep into Sammy's back. His baby brother legs gave out, and he was falling...
No, Dean realized, he couldn't. Sam died that night in Cold Oak because Dean hadn't been there, had lost him and didn't find his brother in time to save him. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Sam again. Dean had promised himself that this last year he had left would be spent killing as many demons he could and making sure Sam stayed alive and unharmed. No, running from Sam couldn't be an option.
He just wished there was a way that he could stay near Sam without him knowing. But it wasn't like he could just waltz in and declare himself to be a long-lost sister. No way Sam would buy that one, he decided with disappointment.
"Dean?" Trey tried to break through his thoughts, probably irritated that Dean still hadn't responded to the man's attempt to stop his former running plan.
Dean ignored him. Hello, intense thinking here. He felt a little like the yellow bear with a honey pot that sat around going 'think. think. think.' Or maybe he was more like the depressed donkey. Getting off track here, Dean, focus..
Okay, sister idea was completely stupid, not up to par with Dean's usual schemes. And that's when he realized that ridiculous as it was, he may have been on the right track. It sparked another one...a crazy idea. An 'I'm insane, but if I wasn't, this would probably never work' kind.
Dean broke into a grin. Holy shit, it actually could work.
"Dean?" Trey asked cautiously. It looked like he was a little unnerved by the hunters switch from brooding to the scheming and slightly smug look he now sported.
But Dean wasn't listening to the other man. He had finally figured it out, what he would need to do. It was ingenious, brilliant. And best of all, Sam would be both protected and completely unaware of Dean's presence.
All he needed to do now was to make a quick phone call.
- - supernatural - -
Bobby Singer nearly crashed his car when he felt something vibrating at his hip. It took him a second to realize it was his cellphone.
Cursing, he pulled it out and glanced at the caller id. It made him curse all the more. Phone calls from Dean Winchester were never good.
"This better be important." he barked.
There was silence on the other end, making Bobby forget his irritation for a moment, replacing it with concern. He forced himself to keep the anxiety out of his voice, "Hello?"
"Hey , Bobby. This is Dean." The older hunter frowned. Dean didn't sound so good, his voice was rough, like he had a bad cold.
"Dean? What the hell are calling this late for? And what's wrong with your voice." He wasn't one to beat around the bush. If Dean was calling and not Sam then chances were something was wrong. The last midnight call had been only a few months earlier with Dean frantic over Sam's disappearing act. That had ended in one brother dead and another rushing out to make deals with devils as soon as Bobby's back had been turned. Singer still hadn't forgiven Dean for that.
"Inhaled a little too much smoke, you know how salt ' burns go." Dean rasped. Bobby eyebrows raised, but it wasn't worth arguing over. He listened as the other hunter got back to business, "I'm sorry to keep bothering you all the time like this, Bobby. You've done more than enough to help me and Sam before..."
"It's no bother Dean, you know that. What kind of trouble did you boys get in this time?"
"We're not in trouble per se, just ran into some unexpected complications on our last hunt."
"Complications?" Bobby didn't bother hiding his skepticism. 'Complications' in a Winchester's book ranged all the way from 'easily fixed problem' to 'I might be dying any second now'. They also all ended with a 'don't worry, I'll think of something' attitude that was going to get them all killed one of these days, Bobby just knew it.
Dean huffed a little at the disbelieving tone, but continued on, "Yeah...nothing much but we kinda need a place to lay low for a while."
"Well I'm driving down in Florida to visit my sister right now, Dean. I won't be back for a week," Bobby stopped for moment, weighing his potential offer carefully.
It wasn't that he didn't want to help Dean and Sam, but the Winchester brothers got into more trouble in a week than most hunters did over months, even years. A man had to think twice before inviting that kind of trouble magnets into his home. But didn't take Bobby long to make a decision. Despite all the problems they'd brought to his doorstep over the years, they were good boys.
"You and your brother are welcome to stay at my house for as long as you need."
"Thanks Bobby." he heard Dean's barely repressed sigh of relief and knew he'd made the right call.
"It's no problem. Just try not to destroy my home like the last couple times." Bobby had spent weeks repairing the cracked ceiling from the demon Meg's second visit to his humble abode. Bitch.
"I'll do my best to keep Sam in line. But you know how much the guy loves to go wild and party."
Bobby snorted and continued, "There's enough salt and holy water in my house to last a year, so make good use of it. Ain't no demon trashing the place this time or you'll never step foot near my place again. And stay away from my liquor, boy. I'm gonna need it after this visit. One week living with my sister and her husband in their white picket fenced house is one week too long."
From Dean's snicker it was obvious that while he might understand Bobby's pain, he still found humor in it. 'Better you than me' was a motto the younger hunter lived by.
"And Dean?" He still had to give one last warning, even if it fell on deaf years like most oft times it did.
"Yeah?"
"Try and stay out of any more trouble for a while, okay?" Not that Bobby truly believed it was possible. This was a Winchester he was talking to...
- - supernatural - -
Dean slumped even further against his impala, but kept a grip on the cellphone, "Believe me, I'm going to be staying under the radar for a while." He barely managed to keep from flinching when his voice pitched a little too high at the end.
He'd realized as soon as Bobby'd answered his call that his voice, just like his body, had been distorted into a feminine version. Dean quickly tried to deepen his voice as best he could, but even to his own ear it sounded off.
From the way Trey was working to keep a smirk off his face it was obvious the man found his suffering amusing. Dean pushed down the impulse to kick the guy in the knee and settled for a death glare. He finished off his conversation with Bobby, promising to give the older hunter a call later if for no other reason than to save Singer from the horrible bane of existence that was the suburban life. Dean had to grin at the image of the grizzled hunter forced to walk in the middle of a bunch Stepford Wives look-a-likes. But when he realized that one of the mental Wives looked too much like the image he'd seen of himself in the mirror, Dean lost his sense of humor. There was no way in hell he'd ever wear a dress or high-heels.
But it did bring up a problem that Dean needed to solve. "I need some clothes."
"No store's going to be open this time of night," Trey pointed out. This town, like most towns that Sam and Dean visited, was too small to have 24/7 stores.
"You know, this habit you have of pointing out all the flaws to my plans is not helpful." The hunter sighed, "Especially if you don't have any other ideas."
"Actually, I do have a suggestion."
"Go on." Dean said suspiciously. But who could blame him? Trey wasn't exactly a shining example of trust-worthiness.
"My place isn't far from here..."
"Unuhh, no way.." He knew how this ended. Nice guy lures women to his home with his charm and then turns out to be a psycho who kills them and hides their bodies under the floorboards of his home. Yep, he'd seen the movies. He wasn't paranoid. Nope, not in the least...
"Let me finish! My apartment is just a couple blocks away. My wife is away visiting a friend that just had a baby and won't be back until Tuesday. I don't know what size you are, but she has more clothes than she could possibly need. I'm sure you could find something to borrow until you can get your own."
Dean blinked, "Wait, you have a wife?"
Trey looked irritated, "Yes. What, you think a guy like me couldn't get a girl?"
"Does she know what you are?"
"Again yes. What's with the inquisition?"
"Nothing, just never thought about you having wives or a family."
"By 'you' I assume you mean supernaturals." Trey didn't sound offended, just curious.
Dean shrugged, "I guess. No offense or anything, but most supernaturals I see are evil sonsofbitches. They're always alone, killing people, ruining lives."
"Most don't care about anything or anyone but themselves," Trey agreed, "But we aren't all evil."
"So you say..." Dean said, "But I'm not sure if I really believe it."
Another awkward silence was born before Dean moved back two paces and picked the conversation up, "So...you're offering me your wife's clothes?"
"Yes."
"Let's go then." Dean opened the Impala's door and sat in the drivers seat. Reaching to the back side door he pulled up the lock and motioned for Trey to get in.
"The back seat?" Trey asked.
"Sitting in the front's a privilege, and you pal haven't earned it yet. It's either the back or you walk."
Trey grimaced and obediently took his rightful place while Dean started the car up.
Relaxing into the seat at the familiar growl of his baby, Dean put the car into drive and pulled out of the bar parking lot. Then he cursed when he ended up sliding forward so that his foot could reach the pedal. Frickin short girl legs.
It only took five minutes to reach Trey's apartment complex. He pulled out his key and opened the door, letting Dean go in first before reaching over to turn on the lights.
"Nice place," Dean commented, looking around.
"Thanks. The bedroom's over here," he moved to the right and Dean followed. Inside the room Trey pointed to a tall mahogany dresser. "Her clothes are in the top five drawers and the right side of the closet."
His hands spread to encompass the areas he'd shown and said, "Have at it. Tell me if you need any...uh help."
"No worries, you've already done more than enough," Dean didn't bother to bite back the sarcasm. Faced with the task of finding acceptable women's clothes was putting him back in a dark mood.
"Fair enough." Trey said affably, "I'll just go get a start on some phone calls." The supernatural walked out and left the other man alone.
Dean stared after him, a little weirded out that Trey was actually letting him go through his wife's clothes. It didn't seem like a very husbandly thing to do, letting a stranger loose in the bedroom. Kinda creepy actually. But he was desperate for something to wear that didn't try to fall off his body. Beggars couldn't be choosers.
Resigned to his fate, Dean walked over to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer. He peeked inside and then slammed it back as if he'd seen a snake, a red stain in his cheeks.
Figured he'd pick the panty and bra drawer first.
A little more cautious this time he moved down and breathed a little easier when all he encountered were pants and shorts. Taking out the first pair of jeans he saw, Dean made easy work of replacing the old with the new. He ignored the loose boxers floating around his hips. One look at the lace and frills he'd seen in that top drawer told him that he was safer sticking with his own.
Already disliking the too-tight feel of the jeans, Dean glanced at the full-length mirror fixed on the wall beside the closet. It looked right. Apparently it was supposed to be cutting off his circulation. He glared at the jeans, as if it was their fault. Damn girl jeans.
He proceeded to the closet. Dresses and skirts and those funny looking ones that weren't skirts or shorts but somewhere in between were carefully ignored as he dived straight for the shirts. Finding a top proved harder than the jeans. He made his way through shirt after shirt, desperately looking for something that didn't have flowers, sequins, gaping necklines, or (worst of all) were in some awful girly shades of pink and purple. Dean had almost given up hope when he found the black t-shirt pushed way in the back.
He pulled it out triumphantly, but the grin morphed to resignation when he saw the front. Awww, hell no. The universe did have it out for him.
'100 All Natural' it proudly proclaimed in red swirly script across the top.
Unfortunately, this was his best option, and how truly pathetically sad was that? Damn girl shirts.
Cursing and fuming Dean reached down to pull off the oversized T he was wearing, then hesitated when he realized what he was a about to reveal. Dean Winchester was by no stretch of the imagination a modest man. But this was going places he was really uncomfortable going. So he did the only thing a person in his position could do.
He closed his eyes.
Dean kept them firmly closed until he'd safely finished taking off and putting on the new shirt. He sighed in relief to have survived the encounter with minimal mental scarring.
Then he remembered he was still missing one vital piece of clothing, at the same moment wishing he hadn't. Dean looked over to the dreaded top drawer of doom. He didn't really need it, did he? One glance in the mirror said he most definitely did, giving him two very good reasons why.
Pursing his lips, wanting to fight against the horror that was now being thrust upon him, after everything else that had happened to him today. But he already knew he'd lose.
Letting out a long suffering sigh, Dean walked over to the dresser like a man facing his impending demise and pulled open the first drawer. He used two fingers to gingerly pluck out the offending clothing item, and turned with it dangling from his hand.
In that same moment the door to the bedroom slammed open and a tall, dark-haired woman swept in. She was halfway in motion to throw a jacket on the bed when she spotted Dean. She halted in obvious shock at the sight of the other occupant.
Dean was in a little shock of his own as he stared at her. The white bra he'd been holding like a snake by it's tail was forgotten.Mouth dropped open. It couldn't possibly be...
"Angelina Jolie!?" He squeaked, faintly realizing that Trey was entering the room, but was too distracted by the sight of the movie star to move his attention. At first he tried to reason that it was just someone that vaguely resembled Angelina Jolie. However the woman that was staring at him couldn't be mistaken for anyone other than the actress that graced many a magazine cover. Ironically, Dean's first thought was that one of his top ten dying wishes had come true. It only occurred a moment later that he should be wondering what she was doing there, in Trey's apartment.
Angelina however was not star-struck and turned on Trey with a cold fury that should have frozen him solid, "Would you mind telling me, husband, what this woman is doing in our room?" Her eyes traveled over Dean and widened in further offense, "And in MY clothes!?"
The bra finally fell to the floor from Dean's limp hand but he barely blinked. This was making no sense to his slightly muddled mind. He distantly heard Trey talking, babbling on about something, but it wasn't registering.
That is until Angelina flew toward Dean with murder in her eyes.
SLAP! The sound resonated through the room.
Dean's hand reached up and felt his right cheek, "Did you just slap me?!"
Trey was in motion, "Wait, honey, it's not what it looks like!"
Angelina's lip curled, "Save it. I know exactly what was going on in here. And I'm not going to stand for some bimbo trying to get her hands on my man. Prepare to get your ass kicked to tomorrow, slut."
This day was just too unreal. Dean wanted to take a moment and proclaim to all just how truly insane it was, seeing as he was a woman and Angelina Jolie had just bitch slapped him. Maybe he had just fallen into some weird alternate universe because then all this would actually make sense. But that was most likely wishful thinking on his part.
And since insanity was apparently the new normal he figured that he might as well join in. Dean snapped under the pressure and gave way to impulse. Because those were fighting words!
He raised a hand and curled it inward, "Bring it on, bitch."
- - supernatural - -
A/N: I have a vague feeling that there may be some questions pertaining to this chapter, number one being: Angelina Jolie?
The second one being: Angelina Jolie?
And the third: Angelina Jolie?!
The fourth question might be something more along the lines of: Are you on drugs Kerri?
The answer: No. I'm not on drugs. And: Yes. Angie Jo. Crazy huh? Okay, okay you got me. I'll trust that you guys see something screwy is going on here and not all is as it seems. Also, I would like to quickly make note that before you decide that I've jumped off the deep end and this story with it, let me assure you that this will make way much more sense in next chapter.
Now assuming you people are still reading this story let alone the notes, let me say I'm sorry for the lack of update with 'Doppelganger'. The next chapter for that story isn't finished yet, but should be soon.
Remember: Reviews feed the muse. (They also inspire faster updates) No pressure though. . . lol
Your finger-crossed writer friend - Kerri