"There is not a freakin' thing anywhere about magical… freaky… sex-change crap," Dean angrily says to Sam as they continue to sit at same library table. Her slender hand snaps the book in front of her shut with force. "Four hours and fucking nothing. This blows my dick."

Sam bows his head and bites the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. Again with the dick references.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dean starts angrily when she spies Sam's, as she'd call it, inappropriate reaction. "Is my misery that funny to you?"

"A little," Sam smiles and laughs quietly, his dimples even deeper than usual with the cheek breaking grin. "I mean, come on." He gestures to Dean with his hands.

"Come on what!?"

"It's just… you know… funny hearing you say those kinds of things as a chick," Sam admits, trying his best not to fall into a gut-busting laugh fit. "You're still grumpy and pissy and say everything like you always would but your voice is all girly."

"Ok, enough."

"And you always called me the girl…"

"Sam!" she punches out sharply in a shout-whisper as they're still at a library. "This fucking sucks. Have a little sympathy here, man." Dean clenches her jaw when Sam just continues to smile. "How would you feel if you woke up like this?"

"You mean if I woke up looking like a beauty queen?"

"No…"

"A cheerleader then?"

"Damn it Sam…"

"You prefer porn star? I mean, you're rack is big enough…"

"Sam!" Dean shouts out her severe anger, getting dirty looks from students studying around her. She grips tight to the edge of the table and blows out a huge breath to try and calm herself.

"Take it down, man," Sam tells her calmly. "I'm just fucking with you."

Shaking off the moment, her anger lingers as well as the sudden feeling of self-consciousness. She looks down at herself, judging her own body with Sam's comparisons. "You think they're porn star big?" She pulls at her shirt while contemplating.

"Yeah," Sam huffs with amusement while watching Dean evaluate herself. "They're a little much."

"That's kinda bitchin' though, right?" she asks with a smirk. "I mean if I'm gonna be a chick might as well be a hot one."

"Whatever you say," Sam nods. He goes back to his work, head down and reading when he can still feel Dean's eyes on him. He looks up and sees he's right. "What?"

"How you been doing lately?" Dean starts while looking back to her brother.

"Excuse me?" he asks right back with disbelief at the question and lack of transition it came with.

"You know, are you like… ok and shit?" Dean tries again. "With everything that's happened?"

"Where the hell is this coming from?" Sam has to know as he drops his pen and looks at his once-brother with a wrinkled and bewildered expression.

"Just been wondering lately," Dean shrugs her shoulders and pulls a blank piece of paper in front of her. "I mean, you don't really talk much…"

"And normally neither do you," Sam rebuts immediately.

Dean pauses to recognize how true that is while grabbing a pen. "Yeah, but I'm asking now."

"Great," Sam says with a bitch face and plenty of sarcasm.

Dean ignores his reaction. "You still carrying that guilt around like a one ton weight on your Sasquatch shoulders?"

Thinking for a second, Sam answers truthfully. "Yeah. I am."

"Well lessen it, would you?" Dean tells him as she starts writing something down. "I've seen what it's doing to you and it sucks ass. Plus it took two dumbasses to pop Satan out of the can so hand over about five-hundred pounds of that shit to me to carry around."

Taken aback, Sam just sits and doesn't speak. Who the fuck is this person sitting across from him. He knows it's really Dean, female look and all, but Dean doesn't talk… ever. Especially not like this.

"A thousand pounds," Sam corrects after a moment.

"What!?" she questions him.

"A ton is two thousand pounds," Sam explains. "So if we're sharing the weight I'd be giving you a thousand pounds."

Dean give him a wrinkled, annoyed look with the correction just like Dean always has done. "Fucking braniac."

"Moron," Sam name calls right back. They fall into a brief, comfortable silence until Dean kills it with her further questioning.

"You still craving any of the demon sauce?"

"What the hell is going on here?" Sam stops her as he drops his pen and looks up at her, clearly annoyed.

"What do you mean?" she continues to write and converse at the same time.

"You're talking."

"And?"

"You don't talk, Dean!" Sam says in a small disbelieving laugh.

"Now I do. Deal with it."

Sam narrows his eyes suspiciously. "This is a chick thing, isn't it?" Dean snaps her focus up and stares at him wide eyed. Sam get the answer he was looking for. "It is! You're all emotional now… like Lizzy."

"Fuck you," Dean complains, not wanting to be compared to the emotional ball of mess that is Lizzy.

"It's true. This is exactly why women are more open people, and why they talk so damn much. That's why Lizzy is the way she is. She's a fucking woman."

"Oh great," Dean bitches instantly. "I try and be all nice and shit, try and check on my own brother for once, and this is what I get!? Fucking forget it."

Dean ducks her head once more and continues writing something down on the lined page in front of her. Now Sam just feels bad for shutting her out. It was just her new set of instincts kicking in. Not her fault.

"No," Sam tells her.

"No what?" Dean asks, still not looking up.

"No, I'm not having… cravings." Sam waits until Dean peeks up at him. "I don't want that anymore. God cleaned me up and I'm good."

"Good to know," Dean says back while nodding.

There's a short, slightly uncomfortable silence between the two of them.

"You want talk about clothes now?" Sam suggests with as straight a face he can manage. Dean scowls at him and he continues. "Lipstick then?"

"I hate you, you know that?" Dean, instantly angry again, points at him accusingly.

Lizzy plops down a large stack of papers with a thump onto the table Dean and Sam are sharing in the library, officially ending their conversation. "So I looked up a bunch of old ass witches."

"Ok…" Dean starts, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I just have a feeling that if this thing is so strong, strong enough to do something that has never been done in all recorded supernatural history, that maybe this bitch has been around for a while."

"It's a good thought," Sam nods. "Granted, asafetida wasn't used until more recent times in witchcraft, but I think a witch would have to figure out how to change with the times just to survive."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Lizzy concurs. "What do you two have?"

"Well, there's nothing in any of these books about a hex bag like the one we found, so that's comforting," Dean answers with a bite while frustratingly dropping a fist onto the closed book.

"So we still have no idea what those pebbles are in the hex bag," Sam adds in, still being irked by not being able to identify the items. "And no idea where they came from, and no idea where to look for the witch who made it."

"Ok, so… wasted day?" Lizzy asks.

"Totally." Dean yawns and stretches her arms over her head.

"So what now?"

"I'm gonna stay here for a bit," Sam tells them. "There's a couple more books I wanted to check out and if Rina's gonna drive all this way to help us I feel like the least I can do is be as prepared as possible."

"Well she must be turned on by brain power if she slept with you in the first place so research will probably make her drop those panties the second she gets here," Dean nods while once more ribbing his brother.

"Dean, shut up," Lizzy says annoyed. She's starting to feel bad for Sam. Clearly she just missed the fun Sam just had at Dean's expense.

"Don't tell me what to do, woman," Dean tells her.

"Don't be a jerk and I won't, woman."

"I'm starting to think you're enjoying all this way too much."

"You know," she leans down with a hand on Dean's shoulder and smiles to her face. "I totally am."

Dean shrugs out of Lizzy's hold and Lizzy just grins.

"Alright, you mind if we head out Sam?" Lizzy asks. "We can come pick you up in a bit."

"Where you off to?" he questions with a confused look.

"If Dean is gonna be Deena for a little while longer, she's gonna need clothes that fit."

"No," Dean very darkly warns while looking up at Lizzy with a scared and mad face.

"Yes," Lizzy smiles wide right back.

"No fucking way, L!"

"What do you expect me to do here, Hot Shot? We live out of a car. I only have so much clothes and you can't keep wearing shit that doesn't fit you," Lizzy informs her, looking at her shirt. "I mean, those boobs look ready to pop. You can't be comfortable stuffed into a bra too small for you like that."

"God! Shit I don't wanna talk about!" Dean gets full blown angry and stands up quickly.

"But you have to. Just trust me, I can get you in and out of a mall in no time flat," Lizzy assures.

"Mall!?" Dean whines instantly. This may be the worst thing anyone could ever say to Dean Winchester.

"Yes. Everything in one place. It's easy and we can get what we need. St. Louis isn't that far and they've got a few."

"Fuck me," Dean complains as she reaches to the table to crumple up the paper she's been writing on. As heads for the door in utter defeat, huffing and puffing the whole way, she stops short to turn and face Sam. Angrily she winds up and pegs him in the face with the now balled up paper.

"What the hell, dude?" Sam asks with surprise.

Dean just huffs disgustedly and turn back around, leaving without Lizzy.

Lizzy blows out a breath with wide eyes while looking at Sam. He holds up his hands to ask what she should do.

"Your idea, not mine," he tells her, glad to be stuck at the library for longer. "Keep me out of this one."

"He's gonna be a nightmare, isn't he?"

"Absolutely."

"Call when you're ready to go?"

"Sure."

Lizzy heads to the parking lot, all the while praying to herself that this doesn't backfire on her like she knows it certainly could.

Once they're gone, Sam picks up the paper projectile Dean threw at him. He places it on the table next to him to ensure that he doesn't forget to toss it out before leaving. He wasn't a litterer. But before going back to work he gets curious. Dean had been writing on it and he had assumed it was notes for the case but if that were true she wouldn't just throw it away like she did.

Opening and flattening the crinkled page, Sam begins to read the still very masculine looking, all capital letter handwriting he's seen millions of times.

Being a chick sucks because now I want to tell you shit. It's like an urge or something and I hate it. You make fun of me for this and I'll still kick your ass just like I could before. Understand?

It's not all your fault, Sammy. It's not. I had my hand in this whole thing too. I think it's just been easier to blame you but we both became monsters at certain points, we both fucked up. It's just that you're my brother, you know? I've been

And that's as far as Dean got before Lizzy came back and took her away. Sam probably could have finished that letter himself with how well he knows his brother and he's sure what it would say.

It's almost too shocking to believe at first. Closed off, pissed off, holding off… that was Dean's norm. This note was never something Sam ever thought he'd get from Dean. As he folds up the note and pockets it before getting back to work he starts to see an upside to this whole mess. If it weren't for this transformation he'd never know that Dean did in fact feel this way. Sam had been resigned to always having his older brother, the one person he cared about more than anyone else, forever look at him with guilt and failure and blame. Dean hadn't been doing that after all.

Now he has to wonder if he likes having a sister better than a brother…