Disclaimer: I don't own "Supernatural" or its characters.

Chapter 3: Plan C Stands for Cas

"Sorry, Sam. I'm not waiting any longer," Dean said, pacing the inside of their small cell.

After spending the rest of Phil's night shift caged in the security room, they had been moved into the office by the day staff to continue the close monitoring of the clever kittens. Fender was napping his own night shift off in the corner adjacent to them. The animal shelter wasn't opened to the public yet but would be soon. Cas should be there to begin their escape plan in less than an hour. Sam looked up at the clock and then back at his anxious brother.

"Dean, don't" the youngest begged, wishing his brother would just wait for the angel to arrive.

"I don't have much of a choice here," the tense kitten informed, still edgily walking around the cage.

"Cas will be here soon," the Maine Coon reasoned, uncomfortably watching the other pace.

"Then what?" he asked, sitting down. "You expect me to wait until we get out of here and drive all the way back to the Bunker?" he questioned, quickly standing up and moving around again.

"It can't be that bad, can it?" he asked, shifting a bit in his spot.

"Trust me. It is," the Siamese stated, stopping to give his sibling a serious look and then continuing his walking.

"It's just so awkward, Dean. I mean, I'm right here to witness it all. And do you really want to use that?" his little brother stated, eyeing the plastic box behind him in the back of the cell.

"I really don't care right now," the desperate kitten answered, giving Sam a pained look. The long-hair gave him an uncomfortable one in return. "Dang it, Sam! Just let me pee!" he snapped, standing still to glare at the kitten blocking the litterbox. "Is not like you haven't seen me do it before. Why's it such a big deal just 'cause I have to use that?' he asked, pointing to the cat box behind his brother.

"It's just, this cage isn't that big. And it's unsanitary. You can't even flush it or anything," he argued, squirming in his seat.

"You're so finicky, just like a cat you are. Now, move!" he ordered, almost losing more than his patience. This tiny body didn't hold its water well.

The Maine Coon reluctantly stepped aside before Dean barreled through him. The youngest walked to the front of the cage and kept his ears down and eyes locked on the chair legs in of front him. No one besides the three animals were in the office at the moment, at least. Meanwhile, the Siamese finally climbed into the cat litter and awkwardly squatted. The desperate kitten skipped the formalities his instincts told him to follow and just let loose without bothering to dig. Sam tried to ignore the loud splattering as he glanced at the clock again. The flowing continued, releasing all the water and beer from the day before. After an eternity, the noise finally ended with a content sigh.

"Definitely should have listened to my inner cat that time," the relieved kitten said to himself, feeling wetness against his paws. The Siamese stepped out of the box, wet litter clumped all in between his paw pads. "Okay, this is gross," he admitted, taking caution, mushy steps.

"Told you," the taller said, turning around. Seeing the gray mush stuck under the black paws, he agreed, "That is disgusting."

As the filthy footed feline took another step, his back foot suddenly kicked back. Wet litter slung backwards and hit the wall. The gray mess stuck, dirtying the clean white bricks.

"Oops," the Siamese said, ears down, "Didn't mean to do that. Stupid kitten body." Carefully, he made his way away from the box and headed for the set of plastic bowls. "You want any more water?" he asked, sitting in front of the bowls.

"No," Sam quickly answered, looking at the used box, wet clump uncovered.

"Good," the older said, sticking his dirty front paws into the water bowl. The liquid overflowed and spilled onto the plastic floor. He rubbed his paws together, trying to remove the litter and splashing more water out. "This isn't helping much," he said, pulling his cleaner paws out. He put his back paw into the water, moved it around, and then stepped back out.

As he repeated the process with his last paw, Sam watched the scene with his ears down and his tail curled tight around his tense sitting body. He observed the water sloshing around and then dripping off the paw as it moved through the water and then came back out. The soggy feet walked over to him, squishing wetly on the floor and stopped at the blanket. The soaked paws wiped against an edge of the cover, leaving wet, gray streaks on the yellow fabric.

"You doing okay there, Sammy?" Dean asked, looking at his zoned-out sibling staring at his paws as he wiped them as clean and as dry as he could. No matter what his inner kitten said now, he was not licking them clean. The Maine Coon shook his head negatively and glared up at his brother.

"You just had to pee and play in the water, didn't you?" Sam said irritated, standing up.

"What do ya' mean?" he asked, confused. His brother walked toward the back of the cage with a sigh. The older laughed in amusement as the unhappy kitten climbed into the plastic box. That's why he wanted him to wait, Dean realized. "Word of advice, dig a hole. Sometimes these tiny bodies know what they're doing," he advised.

"Just turn around," the Maine Coon huffed.

Smirking, the Siamese obeyed. Sam quickly dug a hole, not wanting to have a matching set of sticky paws with his brother. Then he swung around, squatted, and released all the water he had drunk, including the whole bottle he guzzled down for Dean yesterday at the old house. The older chuckled at how long his brother was taking after all the crap he had given him for wanting to use the litterbox. Finally, the kitten finished and buried both wet clumps to cover their sight and smell. Then he stepped out clean pawed with just a bit a dry litter falling from his feet.

"Now, was that so bad?" Dean asked as if his brother were still five.

"Shut up," he remarked, but feeling much better. "I'm just glad Cas will be here soon," he added, observing the wet clay litter paw prints, dirty gray water, and wet streaked blanket. "It's a mess in here, and it stinks," he commented looking at Dean and then the plastic box.

It had only been a few minutes of idly sitting and frequently checking the time, before voices from outside the door broke the silence. Ears perked up towards the exit, the pair could hear the staff talking about preparing to open the shelter. As the voices quieted, the door opened and a young lady stepped inside the small room. The woman dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with the shelter's logo closed the door and walked over to their cage. Bending down with a smile, she looked into their cell to check on their special guests.

"Oh my! Look at the mess you two made," she gently scolded, grin fading as she examined the mess. The Maine Coon's accusing eyes looked sideways at his brother, while the Siamese's wondered up to the beautiful body. She spotted the grayish tinted black paws. "I think I know who's responsible," she cheered, booping the beige little nose with her slim pointer through the bars. Dean's eyes crossed as he tried to follow the finger, making her laugh. "Let's get you two cleaned up," she said, standing to get the keys from the desk.

"This wasn't a part of the plan," Dean said, glancing at his brother.

"Let's just go along with it, so we can hurry and get back before Cas gets here," Sam instructed, watching the woman. The short-hair agreed with a silent nod.

The shelter worker unlocked and unlatched the cage; then she carefully opened the gate, having been warned about the troublesome two. Surprisingly, the pair just sat still and watched her. She frowned confused, then just shrugged it off. Maybe they were just scared before with it being their first night at the shelter. Cautiously, she reached her hands out towards the Siamese. Then she quickly scooped him up under his arms. Getting no real reaction, she pulled him into her chest and adjusted him to support him with one arm. Then she grabbed the other kitten, who was patiently waiting in the threshold of the open cell. With one feline in each arm, she stood up and headed for the door.

"Maybe being a kitten isn't all bad. It does have its perks," Dean said, rubbing his head against her chest. His brother just shook his head.

"Aww. You're not a mean little kitty, are you?" she cooed, getting the door opened. As they stepped outside, another girl was approaching. "Hay, Karen!" their ride called to the other woman. "Could you clean out their cage while I give them a bath?"

"Bath?" the Siamese asked, pulling away from her chest to look at Sam, who just shrugged.

"You always gotta play with the kittens, don't you?" the red-head responded, looking at the little pair of baby cats in her arms.

"They're just so cute!" she said, squeezing them with a smile and eliciting a little squeak from each of them.

"Yeah, I got it, Pearl," the second girl said, going into the office. "They won't be so cute when you start their bath!" she yelled from the room as the trio headed down the hall.

"She's giving us a bath?" Dean said, sounding a bit uneasy as he tightened his hold on the large arm.

"Yeah, so? How else is she going to get that off?" his little brother asked, nodding at the other's dirty black paws.

"Yeah, but cats don't like water," he argued, looking down at the distant moving floor.

"You're not a real cat," he reminded him, relaxing in the gently bouncing ride. "Just cooperate, so we'll be ready for Cas," he told him, watching the pair of feet appear and disappear below them as the girl walked.

Dean nodded, still strangely tense at the idea of being soaked in water. As they made their way down the hall, the Siamese felt his anxiety rise. Water or baths never bothered him before, but now he wanted nothing more than to leap out of the arms and flee back down the hallway. On the other hand, the Maine Coon felt relaxed just lying in the warm embrace and watching the pink tennis shoes step in an even rhythm.

The trio halted at the door that read "Grooming Room," and the girl took them inside, making sure the door closed tight behind her. She stepped over to a pair of deep sinks and gently placed the two kittens inside. Dean's anxiety overcame him for a moment, and he attempted to escape the silver basin with a jump. He only managed to slide back down the slippery wall and bump into his brother, who gave him a questioning look.

"Just testing it," the nervous kitten offered.

"Wait," the fluffy feline said, grin creeping up his cheek, "Are you actually afraid to get a bath?"

"No, of course not," he hurriedly denied, "It's just…it's this stupid kitten brain; it's messing with my nerves." The water turned on in the adjacent sink, making the shorter kitten tense up more.

"It's just a little water, Dean. You'll be fine," he assured, teasing smile never leaving his face. Despite being a kitten as well, Sam felt no apprehension at the thought of a bath. The transformation must be affecting them differently, the younger reasoned. The poor shorthair's ears went down, his tail wrapped securely around him as his wide eyes never left the flowing water. The only comforting thought Dean had was that he took care of his business before they were taken here, otherwise he might already be wet before his bath even began. "Think of it this way," his little brother offered, "You'll get to be rubbed down by a pretty, young girl, like a nice wet massage."

"Hmm, that's sounds awesome," the slightly less tense kitten said. His black ears and tail didn't budge, however.

Too soon the sink was half-way full, and the girl turned off the water and reached for the Siamese. With a hiss, the frightened young cat dashed behind his calm, larger brother. Sam couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped.

"Aww, it's okay," Pearl told the pointed kitten, who just glared at her from behind his hiding spot. "I guess you'll go first," she cheered, gently lifting the longhair.

As Sam slowly sank into the warm water, he instantly felt his long fur uncomfortably flow outward on his body. The liquid just reached his chin. Scrunching his face, he put his front paws on the wall that connected the two sinks and stood. His soaked, heavy fur clung against him even more uncomfortably. He attempted to shake the water off, but the drenched fur refused to move. He tried shaking harder, only to lose his footing and fall down into the water with a splash. His head went under for a split second, before he stood back up on all fours with a gasp, dripping wet fur covering his eyes.

Hearing the commotion, Dean stopped hissing and clawing at the hand that was trying to stick him in the terrible water. He raced passed the hand and leapt onto the edge of the sink. He held on and pulled himself up, determined to check on his younger sibling. Worriedly, he peered down at his brother.

"Sammy, you okay?" the older asked. Spotting the drowned rat frowning miserably up at him, he burst into laughter, sliding back down into the empty basin.

"Shut up, jerk!" the disgruntled kitten grumbled, barely managing to glare through the dripping fur over his eyes.

"'It's just a little water, Sam.' Ha! Ha! 'You'll be fine'," he mocked, still chuckling. Distracted, he was caught by the sneaky hand and lifted out of the dry sink. His eyes widened as he descended towards the frightening fluid.

"At least I'm not afraid of it," Sam teased, trying to remove the fur from his eyes with his clumsy paw.

"Bit**!" he bit back as he was submerged into the water.

The warm liquid went up to his mouth. Aside from raising his chin out of the water, he stayed frozen as his heart raced from being surrounded by the terrifying liquid. Smug grin plastered on his face, the Maine Coon watched his brother for a moment. Blinking his wide eyes, Dean's right ear rose. He slowly allowed himself to relax, left ear rising as well.

"Hmm, it's not so bad," the Siamese finally spoke. His little brother's grinned dropped into a frown. Dean tested the water, carefully walking around, keeping his chin up. "It's actually kind of nice," he admitted. He kicked his black feet under him a few times, before successfully swimming around his unhappy sibling. "I haven't had a bath in a while, not one this big since I was like two, not even then. It's like a warm pool," he commented, actually enjoying the water.

"I guess you like the water now, huh?" the girl asked, smiling down at the cute kitten.

"Mew," the Siamese meowed, looking up at her with his big green eyes. Wet fur itching his face, Sam shook his head, accidently throwing water onto the swimming kitten's face. Retaliating, Dean splashed water with his front paws onto his brother at the expense of dunking his head into the water. He quickly popped his head back up and shook the water off. "Aww, you don't like the water?" she asked the fluffy kitten. Sam made a low, displeased sound between a growl and a meow as he halfheartedly splashed his sibling back. "Let's get this over with then," she said, grabbing a bottle of kitten shampoo.

"Time for the best part," Dean said with a grin, "Free, full body massage."

The shorthair looked up at her expectantly as he stood stationary in the high water. He frowned upon seeing the woman go for his brother instead. Soaked kitten in one hand and shampoo bottle in the other, Pearl squirted a generous amount onto the long, dripping fur. Then she set the bottle back down and thoroughly rubbed in the shampoo. As the soft, gentle hands massaged his entire body, Sam's eyes fluttered half-closed and he felt a rumbling trying to grow up this throat.

"Feel too good there, Sam?" the older teased.

"You could say that," the relaxed, but awkward kitten said. "Ahem," he cleared his throat, squirming in the large hand. He struggled to hold back the rumble building inside him.

"Sam?" Dean asked, raising an eye ridge. She moved to his brown belly, and he couldn't contain it anymore.

"Purrr. Purrr. Purrr," a low series of purrs erupted from the youngest feline.

"Are you purring?" he asked, sideways grin forming on his right cheek.

"Sh-shut up," he said, eyes fluttering and purrs still flowing from his grinning mouth. "J-just wait t-till she…g-gets to you."

"Can't wait," Dean said confidently.

Once the Maine Coon was thoroughly rubbed down and covered from head to tail in suds, she moved him over to the empty sink. Just as Sam opened his eyes and looked up, warm water poured down on top of his head. Just as carefully, but much less relaxing, she rinsed off all the shampoo until the furry kitten resembled a drowned rat again. Once he was clean, she grabbed a towel, wrapped him up tight, and sat him down in the empty sink again. She then picked up the awaiting kitten, squeezed on the shampoo, and rubbed him down.

"Oh, yeah, purr…" he shamelessly purred like his Baby. Sam idly watched, contently snuggled up in his soft towel. Pearl finished scrubbing the happy kitten down, paying extra attention to his clay-covered paws. Then she drained the water and rinsed off the relaxed kitten. Getting another towel, she swaddled the wet shorthair and placed him beside his brother.

"I don't know about you, but I feel awesome," Dean sighed, curled up in the towel.

"I'll feel better once I'm dry," Sam said, fur still clingy. He resisted the urge to lick himself dry.

Picking the Maine Coon back up and drying him off, the employee peeked up at the clock and said, "Better hurry. We just opened."

"Cas!" the younger exclaimed, looking worriedly at his brother as he was sat back down in the sink, his damp fur poofed out like a pom-pom.

"He can wait a little longer," the Siamese said, refraining from making fun of Sam's fur as he received his turn to be dried.

"I guess you're right," Sam agreed as his scruffy-haired sibling was placed beside him again.

"A quick brush and you'll be all done," Pearl cheered, pulling a brush from one of the sink drawers. Running the brush through the long fur, she was rewarded with more purrs.

At his turn, Dean enjoyed the bristles running down his back and said, "Yeah. Purr. What's gonna happen if we're like two minutes late?"

"I'm Agent Perry, and I'm here to take in the two kittens that are currently in your custody as of last night," a dark-haired man dressed in a suit, blue tie, and trench coat said, holding up his badge to the woman at the front desk of the shelter. Right on time and according to the plan, Cas had arrived at the Forever Home Animal Shelter disguised as an FBI agent precisely at opening.

"Oh, FBI? I thought the police were handling this," the receptionist said, confusion written on her face.

"There has been a break in the case. The rest is classified," the fake agent spoke, tucking his badge back into his coat pocket. "I need to take the two felines in as evidence immediately," he persisted.

"Right away, agent. I'll be right back," she said, before going through the door behind her. She only found a sleeping Doberman and an employee cleaning out an empty cage. "Where're the kittens?" she asked.

"Getting a bath. Those two sure made a mess for being so tiny," Karen griped, scrubbing away the last of the wet litter stain.

"An FBI agent is here for them. He seems really serious about getting them A-SAP," she nervously told her.

"Relax. Pearl will bring them back as soon as she's done bathing and cuddling them," she told her with a roll of her eyes. Looking up from the clean cage floor, she huffed as she noticed the splattered wet litter on the wall behind the cage. The woman hesitated to leave as Karen pulled her head out of the small cage. "Well, go on. Tell him he'll just have to wait like five minutes for them," she said impatiently.

"Okay. Okay," she said, scurrying out the door. "Sorry, sir. They're getting a bath now. They'll be out as soon as they're done," she said with a friendly smile.

"The FBI needs them now!" the angel insisted, slamming his fist down on the desk, over-playing bad cop.

"I-It'll only be like f-five more minutes," the anxious girl said. "I can give you a tour of the shelter and let you see our adorable adoptable animals while you wait," she offered cheerfully. Cas considered the offer for a moment, until he heard the door open with a ring of the little bell. Looking over his shoulder, he frowned seeing two local cops strolling in.

"No, thank you. I'll just wait over here," he said, lowering his head and walking over to the large windows.

"Okay, I'll get you when they're ready," the receptionist said, curious at the change of behavior. She immediately forgot it as soon as she saw two police officers approaching her desk. "How can I help you?" she politely asked the men.

"Yes. We are here about the two kittens that have been placed in your custody," the taller officer spoke.

"Oh, okay," the confused woman said, glancing at the man by the window.

"We have found no evidence that the two felines are involved in the case. We've decided that it's in the kittens' best interest to be fully released into your shelter's custody and be put up for adoption," the other officer explained with a smile.

"We hope you find a good home for the two of them," the first cop said, turning to leave.

"Um, excuse me officers," she said, gaining their attention again, "Maybe there's been some mistake, but agent Perry from the FBI is here to take them. He said there was a break in the case, and they need them A-SAP."

She gestured to the man attempting to hide by the window. The two officers exchanged looks before nodding a thanks to the woman and stepping over to the dark-haired man.

"Excuse us, agent Perry," the taller cop said.

With no other choice, Cas turned and calmly asked, "Yes, officers. Is there a problem?"

"Yes. There seems to be a misunderstanding. The two felines are meant to be released to the shelter and be put up for adoption. Who authorized them to be put in the FBI's custody?" the second policeman asked.

"The FBI has higher authority than the local police," he said forcefully. The angel's blue eyes caught sight of a small carrier being placed on top of the front desk. "It's classified. Excuse me," he said, quickly pushing passed the cops.

"Here they are, agent Perry, all fresh and clean and ready to go," the receptionist said cheerily, handing him the carrier.

"Thank you," he rushed, grasping next to her hand on the cage handle.

"You two be good," she said to her departing visitors. "You'll take good care of them, won't you?" she asked with concern, hand still holding the crate.

"Of course," he assured, pulling on the carrier while glancing back at the approaching police.

"We've got trouble," Dean said, peeking through the bars.

"What are the police doing here?" Sam worriedly asked.

"Agent," the shorter cop said, placing a hand on Cas's shoulder, "Before you take them, we would like to speak with your director." Releasing the carrier and leaving in on the desk top, the fake agent gave them a questioning look as he turned around.

"Just to make sure everything is in order. We don't want to put these animals under any unnecessary stress," the second man assured.

"My director?" he asked, wishing they still had Bobby to verbally play as their FBI director and anything else they needed him to be.

"Yes, just give us the number, we'll make a quick call, straighten this all out, and then we'll be on our way," the taller cop explained.

The angel gave the tiny pair a nervous glance, unsure what to do now. He wasn't used to doing the hunter-fake-agent thing solo, and with his fading grace, he didn't have much angel mojo.

"Come on, Cas!" Dean yelled through the carrier bars, "Do something!" There was a short, tense moment of silence.

"Of course," Cas calmly said to the cops and gave them a random number.

"Thank you. This should just take a moment," the smaller officer said, dialing the number on his cell phone and taking a few steps away from the desk.

"So, you really think this is the best place for these animals, after what they've been through?" Cas casually asked, leaning on the desk beside him.

"Yes. This is an excellent place for them to find a home," the cop said with a friendly smile.

"Yes, it does seem to be a good shelter," he said, moving his hand to the flyers and applications on the desk.

As predicted, the cop's watchful eyes followed the fake agent's hand as it fiddled with the papers. Cas's eyes moved from his own hand to the cop's eyes that still observed his hand to the cop on the phone to the two kittens to the door and then back to the kittens. Dean nodded, understanding the gist of the angel's plan. The Siamese glanced at his brother, who also knew it was time to be ready.

With a quick flick of the angel's wrist, all the paper scattered into the air. The instant the office instinctively attempted to contain the mess, Cas grabbed the carrier and raced for the door. The receptionist gasped from behind the desk, catching both cops' attention. As the furthest cop dropped his phone to grab his gun, the other abandoned the papers to also retrieve his weapon.

"Freeze!" both officers yelled, as the fake agent reached the door. Everyone froze, save for the papers that landed haphazardly around the tallest cop's feet. Desperate to save his friends, Cas hurriedly grabbed the door handle. "Freeze!" they repeated as the trench-coated man pulled on the door.

"Cas, stop!" Dean shouted, black paws clutching the carrier bars.

"We'll figure out another way!" Sam yelled, rushing beside his brother.

"One that doesn't end with you full of holes," the older added.

Hearing but not understanding the distressed mews, Cas stopped and allowed the cracked door to close, but didn't remove his hand from the door handle. The officers slowly approached the fake agent with their guns still aimed. As the shorter cop put his gun away to reach for the carrier, the angel rapidly turned, releasing the door handle, and knocked the gun out of the taller agent's hand. This sent the weapon sliding a few feet away and the unarmed cop quickly after it. As the shorter officer redirected his reach from the carrier back to his holstered gun, Cas placed his palm of the man's forehead in an attempt to knock him unconscious. Weak from his draining grace, his angel powers failed him, and the cop knocked the hand away and successfully retrieved his gun. Having recovered their weapons, both policemen pointed their guns at Cas. Defeated, he raised his free hand above his head and continued to hold onto the carrier with the other.

"We got to help Cas!" Dean said, working on the carrier latches.

Keeping his gun ready in his hand, the shorter cop reached for the carrier again. As soon as he confiscated the cage, the raging Siamese leapt out and latched onto his leg. The surprised man hollered out, dropping the carrier. As it hit the floor, the Maine Coon raced out and jumped onto the other officer's leg, digging in his sharp claws. He cursed out, trying to shake the mad feline off his pants.

"I heard the commotion, and Fender seems anxious. Is everything okay out here?" Pearl asked, peeking out the office door. "What's going on?" she asked the trembling woman hiding under the desk.

Before Cas could take advantage of the distractions, a large Doberman charged out the office door, squeezed passed the startled women, and dove over the desk.

"Crap!" Dean groaned, still hanging onto the kicking leg.

"Fender, no!" Sam yelled. Trying to stop the guard dog, he let go of the cop and ran towards the charging canine.

Fender ignored the tiny kitten, racing right over top of him and directly at the trench-coated stranger. Leg freed, one officer once again readied his gun. Outnumbered, the angel fled out the door before the cop properly aimed his gun. The angry dog threw himself on the glass as the door closed. Giving the two kittens a quick apologetic glance, Cas ran, forced to abandon his friends. Seeing the fake agent fleeing out of range, the policeman lowered his gun and pried the distracted Siamese off his partner's leg. The second officer then snatched up the other kitten, and the Winchesters soon found themselves caged again.

"Umm…plan D?" Sam asked, eyeing their clean prison.

The cops had chased after the fleeing FBI agent impersonator once the shelter staff had restrained the Doberman, but the man had escaped before the officers saw where he was headed. With this new situation, the police suspected that the two kittens may be important after all. So, they had instructed the shelter staff to put them back and keep them safe and unadoptable until further notice while they looked further into the case. Now, the Kittenchesters were back in the small cage in the office room behind the front desk. Fender had been calmed and given a large rawhide bone as a reward. He was currently noisily enjoying it on his bed in the corner.

"Well, Cas can't show his face here again, and we can't even get outside with the alarm and Hooch over there," Dean bitterly responded, side eyeing the mutt.

"Maybe we can't at night, but the alarm isn't on now that the shelter is open," the longhair reasoned, walking to the end of the cage closest to the door.

"What about tall, dark, and drooly?" the shorter feline asked, glancing at the dog again.

"We can still try to convince him to help," he offered.

"I don't think the mutt'll go for it," he disagreed, walking over to his brother.

"Try me," Fender said, raising his head, bone left by his paws.

"You'll help?" Sam asked, fluffy tail swishing hopefully.

"I'll listen," he said, standing up to move to sit in front of the cage.

"Plan D for dog then, I guess," Dean said to himself, going along for his little brother's sake.

"What made you change your mind?" the Maine Coon asked, looking up at the tall dog.

"I already knew there was something different about you two: your smell, your deep voice, your impressive ability to escape any cage," he listed as he lied down to be eyelevel with the tiny pair. "But that man that tried to take you, there was something very off about him. His scent was like something I've never smelt before. I could sense something very different, odd about him, but I don't know what it was," he explained.

"He's an angel," Sam told him.

"A what?" the canine asked, tilting his head.

"A d*ck with wings," Dean replied, "Well, usually. Cas is the exception." The dog turned his head further and raised an eye ridge, finding the explanation no clearer.

"He's like a human, but with more power," Sam tried to simplify. Fender straightened his head, but still appeared a bit confused.

"It doesn't matter what he is; he's one of the good guys," the Siamese said, ready to move this conversation to the part where the dog is supposedly supposed to help.

"He's our friend. He was trying to get us back, so we can figure out a way to turn us human again," Sam added.

"So, you're really going to stick with this whole human thing?" the dog asked, raising his head.

"Yeah, because that's what we are," Dean defended, standing up with his front paws on the cell bars. Fender gave the kitten a look that said he didn't agree. "Look, all you need to know is the trench-coat-wearing man is our friend, and we have to get back to him," he said, black tail twitching.

The Doberman thought for a moment and then asked, "So, you say this…Cas…is like…your owner?"

Both kittens' eyes widened at the thought of Cas owning them. It often seemed as though they were the ones taking care of him: showing him the ways of the humans, explaining appropriate social interactions, and teaching him the subtle art of lying (for hunting purposes, of course).

"Uh…n-no," Sam said awkwardly. Dean cleared his throat and averted his eyes as he sat back down.

"If he were, then my job would be to reunite you with him," the canine added with a glint in his dark eyes, "My job is to do what's in the best interest of the animals here. In most cases, that is to keep them here where it's safe until the humans find them a forever home. But, when an animal already has a home and an owner, their best interest is to get back to them."

"So, if Cas was…" the Siamese paused, "…our owner…."

"You'd help us get back to him?" Sam finished hopefully. The dog nodded. The cats looked at each other. To Fender, he asked, "Could you give us a minute?"

"You know, I think I could us a little break outside," he said, stretching as he stood. He went to the door and gently scratched until it was opened.

As soon as the canine stepped out and the door closed, Dean turned his brother and said, "You know he knows Cas isn't our…owner."

"Obviously. I think he wants to help, but doesn't want to go against his job," Sam said, glancing back at the door.

"But why? You don't think he believes we're humans?" the older asked.

"I don't know," he said, looking back at Dean, "But he's offering to help."

"You want to let him?" he questioned, not trusting the dog, but trusting his brother with the decision.

"Well, we kind of need it. With the guard and the alarms at night and this place too crowed to escape during the day, we don't have much of a choice," he reasoned, "Besides, he can't make things worse." He looked at the metal bars around them.

"Plan D for dog it is then," he caved.

"D for Doberman," Sam corrected. The Siamese raised an eye ridge at him. "That's his breed. He's a Doberman Pinscher."

"Nerd," he said under his breath.

Hours passed slowly by as the two brothers waited around for night to come. That was when Fender would distract Phil, so they could contact Cas again to pick them up at the seafood restaurant behind the shelter. Then they would escape out the back door again and through the fence. Then they could get Dean's car, turn Sam human again, and go back to finding a cure for the Mark before returning Dean to normal.

At some point after Cas was forced to flee, the shelter employees decided to move the two kittens out of the office and behind the front desk, so they could provide some adorable entertainment to pass the time. In their new position, the kittens were able to catch glimpses of happy animals leaving for their new forever homes. Focused only on getting out, Sam paid little attention to the adoptions. Dean, however, passed the time by keenly watching (as best he could see over the desk) the joyfully interaction between the pets and their new owners.

Now the Siamese watched as a barking, happy puppy was lifted up over the desk, tail wagging, as a young woman held her with a big smile covering her face. The woman lowered the pup to her chest, thanked the receptionists, and left with her new pet. Dean looked between the woman and his brother, who was laid down on the blanket and staring ahead.

"Hay, Sammy?" Dean said, breaking his brother's focused thinking.

"Hmm," Sam replied, turning to look at him.

"I'm gonna tell you something, and you're not gonna to get mad, okay?" the older instructed. The Maine Coon sat up and looked at his brother with narrowed eyes. "Okay?" he repeated. Sam sighed, relaxed his face, and nodded.

"We've been looking for a cure for a while now," he said, turning his arm to show the Mark parting his fur, "And we aren't having any luck."

"Dean, we…"

"No, let me finish," he interrupted, staring. With a huff and a frowning face, Sam went quiet.

"And the chances of us finding one are very slim. It's not ideal…but…" he continued, gesturing to himself, "I'm not exactly a ruthless killer right now." He looked back at Sam, whose confused face quickly hardened.

"Dean, are you suggesting we leave you this way?" he asked with concealed anger.

"What's the alternative?" Dean asked angrily, "Me being a vicious murderer and a danger to everyone around me?" He threw his arm up, motioning to his little brother.

"You're not a…"

"Sam! You're not the one with stuck on your arm!" he yelled, harshly pointing at the Mark.

Silence fell upon the room, even the shelter workers quietly looked down after hearing the loud mewing. Both kittens stared at each other, Dean's chest heaving, Sam's angry expression giving way to desperate grief. With a long huff, Dean said calmly, "Just until we find a cure."

The anger faded and the grief was replaced by careful hope, as Sam asked, "How are we supposed to find a cure like this?"

"Not you, just me," he explained with a struggling grin, "We'll get you changed back, and then we can start looking for that cure."

Author's Note: Finally a new chapter! Feel free to comment!