All the spit had dried up in Dean's mouth as his eyes roved over the thing that had once been the lower half of his little brother's body. Sam's lower half-a half that Dean was quickly realizing exactly what that was-was curled on the motel floor while his upper body was poised in the air. Sam's face was twisted in anguish. Soft sunlight streamed through the motel bay windows and somehow the morning made everything more real.

Dean rubbed his eyes, willing the image to go away. He'd seen plenty of unnatural, twisted shit in his forty years in Hell, and although the sight in front of him wasn't exactly grotesque, this could certainly be categorized as unnatural.

"Oh my God." Dean breathed, his heart pounding frantically in his chest.

"Yeah." Sam's voice cracked.

Below Sam's waist was all snake. Sam's serpentine body was thick and long, curled into a ball like a Ball Python. The scales were exceedingly hard and glossy, hundreds of small forest green diamonds laid flat on the powerful, extended muscle. Near Sam's thick waist, the scales were slightly bigger, broad and brutal, shiny and diamond shaped. The scales transitioned seamlessly into Sam's bare human body, cutting off where it met the start of his stomach muscles.

Sam tried to uncurl himself and walk-slither, whatever-and froze, afraid to move. The tip of the tail twitched, and Dean wondered if Sam was unconsciously doing it.

The scales shimmered with Sam's clumsy movement, shifting into an iridescent burst of color, abruptly turning from green to turquoise. Just as quickly, the scales melted back into green.

"Don't move. You'll hurt yourself." Dean ordered.

"I think it's okay," Sam managed looking down at his huge serpentine body. With the tail, Sam was poised at least five feet higher than he normally would be. His head brushed the ceiling and he ducked sharply, glancing up.

"So, the guy said, 'you will slink and slither.' Dean waved his hand sluggishly towards Sam's lower half. "I think that's what he meant."

"Yeah," he mustered. Sam glanced behind him. Dean watched as Sam slowly uncoiled his lower body. It was a lot longer than he'd first realized. Sam rotated his hips and dipped closer to the ground until he was still taller than his normal six and a half feet, but further away from the ceiling.

"Well, shit." Dean said. "I don't," Dean paused. "I don't think we've seen anything like this before."

Sam glanced at him, a pained expression marring his features. "You think?"

"Does it hurt?" Although his legs had gone as soft as jelly, Dean managed to rise from the bed. Sam had gone still. Dean walked around, or at least the space provided that wasn't taken up by his serpentine body. Sam had no ass anymore. That part was covered by tail, too. Although Dean knew he shouldn't find this funny, he choked back laughter. It would be easy to ignore the hysterical edge.

"No," Sam said after a second. "I think I'm in shock."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, his voice breaking. "I think so. What does it feel like?"

"I don't know. Weird. I miss my legs." Sam stated dumbly.

"Hell, I miss your legs." Dean said.

Sam moved suddenly, coiling the tail closer to Dean. Dean flinched back. Sam gave him an apologetic look. "I'm trying to control it."

"It's okay," Dean said. He was standing right next to the part of the tail closest to Sam's waist. That five or so feet was the thickest-the base, Dean realized-and he reached out a hand to touch it. Sam watched him over his shoulder. Dean pressed his palm against the scales. Sam shivered. The serpentine half of his body must have had nerve endings, too, because Sam felt every gentle stroke of Dean's fingers as he ran his hand across his body. Wherever Dean touched him left a line of heat, as if he was being branded. It was different than the feeling of the rough flooring on his scales, which felt like bare feet against carpet.

In fact, Sam realized Dean himself felt warm. Dean's warmth was a physical thing, something Sam couldn't see, but he could certainly feel. Sam felt an almost visceral urge to curl his tail around Dean and pull him in closer. Just then, Sam remembered just what the purpose was of a snake's powerful abdominal muscles, and he felt a wave of panic fall over him. Had the he-witch's curse affected his brain, too? Could he be a danger to Dean?

"Your tail…it's…what's that called, man?" Dean scrunched his nose.

Sam glanced at him, then down at his new body. "What do you mean?"

"That thing." Dean waved his hand in Sam's general direction. Sam raised an eyebrow. "You know, when the colors change in, like, the sunlight."

"Iridescent."

"Yeah, that."

Dean was right, his scales were iridescent. Sam reached down and felt the scales just below his stomach.

"Your fingernails." Dean said, just noticing them. Sam glanced down at them in confusion. His fingernails, usually a fleshy pink and bitten down to the quick, were lengthened and black, the tips sharpened into points.

Dean grabbed his hand and inspected his nails. "Reminds me of a girl I dated once. She had nails like these," he said dryly. "Don't know how she wiped her butt."

Sam couldn't help but scoff. Even in the midst of a shit show, Dean could always find a way to make a joke.

He let go of his hand. Sam missed the contact. He glanced down at his hand and tried to ball it into a fist. The nails threatened to pierce his palm, so he unclenched his fist. He instantly decided he hated them.

Dean peered up at his face. "Move down."

"What?"

"I said, 'move down.' I want to look into your mouth." Dean said.

Sam glanced behind him and shimmied his hips. His serpentine half cooperated, although he banged the lower half against the wall. He flinched. That had actually hurt. It felt like being punched in the leg.

Dean grabbed his face. "Say aw."

Sam rolled his eyes and suppressed crossing his arms. He opened his mouth. Dean's eyes widened comically.

"Waf?" Sam asked.

"Uh, nothing."

"Waf if et?" Sam said.

"Your tongue." Dean said. Sam pulled his face away from his brother's hands. "What?"

Sam flicked his tongue up against the roof of his mouth and to his shock, realized it was forked.

"Wait." Dean ordered. "I'll be right back."

Dean walked into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and glanced at the mirror plastered to the wall. He wedged his fingers between the frame and the wall until he found a weak spot. He yanked it. Although it ripped the nails out and caused several little holes in the plaster, Dean decided that if your brother was cursed to be half man, half snake that that was any excuse to damage motel property.

Dean flipped the mirror until it was facing Sam. Sam peered into his mouth. Sure enough, his tongue was cut right down the middle. The transformation reminded Sam of those extreme body modifiers he'd seen on television. That wasn't the only change that had occurred to his mouth. Sam quickly snapped his mouth shut with a frown.

Dean stared at Sam's closely clenched teeth. He sat the mirror on the floor.

"Lemme see."

"Why?" Sam said, his shoulders slumping. The motion reminded Dean of when he'd first sought out Sam at Sanford, how Sam would slouch almost comically, hiding the pride in his eyes.

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I'm older and that makes me right."

Sam huffed, giving his classic that-is-completely-ridiculous face. "No, it doesn't."

"I just wanna see them. What, you afraid I'll make fun of you or something?" Dean smirked. "Come on, Sammy. Show me those pearly whites."

"No." Sam crossed his arms and, yeah, it made him look all but sixteen again, moody and uncooperative, but oh, well.

Dean glowered at him. Sam rapidly felt his stubbornness be stripped away by old habit. He hated making his big brother angry. Sam sighed and leaned forward. Dean smiled triumphantly and grabbed his face. Sam opened his mouth.

Dean's green eyes flickered. "Your canines are sharper."

Sam knew as much. He'd felt the pointed tip with his tongue, not to mention had seen them in the mirror. Dean tried to stick his thumb into his mouth to feel the tip.

"Don't," Sam hissed. Literally hissed. Sam jerked away from Dean's embrace shockingly fast, leaving Dean's hands outstretched in the air.

"Do you think you're venomous?" Dean said, lowering his arms.

"I don't want to find out." Sam huffed, running the back of his hand across his eyes.

"Well, I know one thing. I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

Dean sat on Sam's bed, his eyes still hovering over his brother's cursed body. This was going to need some getting used to.

Sam looked back up at him. "I don't know if that would even cure it, Dean."

"Why?"

"Remember? He'd said, 'You will slink and slither, toil and wither, until you face your greatest fear'?"

"What's your greatest fear?" Dean asked blatantly. Sam found that he couldn't look Dean in the eyes.

"Do you have any idea?"

"No," Sam lied.

Dean sighed and got back up, moving over to his bed and yanking his shirt and pants off the floor. He yanked on his shirt and fumbled with his jean pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna call Castiel." Dean said, yanking out the cellphone and tossing it onto the bed. He pulled on his jeans and grabbed the phone again.

"How's that gonna help?" Sam asked absently as he stared back down at his form, testing the muscles in his serpentine body, curling his tail into a ball, becoming acclimated on how strong the muscles were.

Dean smirked. "If you have an angel on speed dial, that angel may just be able to mojo you back."

Dean flipped through his contacts as Sam ran an experimental tongue across his teeth. It was not only difficult to get used to the teeth, but his tongue too. It felt like he had a mouthful of gum. However, Sam was surprised how quickly he'd become acclimated to his lower half. Sam ached to stretch out his coil to its full length. He knew he could slither quite quickly if given the breathing room. He felt his eyes drift away from his body to the window. The sunlight poured in a lovely stream of honey gold. His eyes turned down to the square of warm sunlight on the carpet. Sam itched for the heat. Sure, the small patch wouldn't cover all of his gigantic body, but it was a start.

His thoughts began to wander. How nice it would be to coil around Dean and pull him into the sunlight. That way Dean could enjoy the sun too. Maybe then Sam could get to sleep on the floor, basking in that brilliant, warm patch of pure pleasure. Maybe he could pull the curtains right off to get even more of it.

Speaking of curtains…

Sam ducked onto the carpet, his arms outstretched to prevent from slamming his chest against the floor. Like throwing a pond into a pool of water, the motion caused his tail to whip out and the tip slammed against the lamp in between the beds. It crashed onto the carpet, splitting the ceramic bottom in half.

"What?" Dean said, alarmed. His eyes rolled over the room.

"Somebody walked by," Sam hissed against the carpet. "Close the curtains. Somebody's gonna see."

"Oh, you're right," Dean said and quickly made his way over to the bay windows, yanking the curtains closed and pulling the room into a subdued shade of yellow.

"That better?"

"Yeah," Sam panted, attempting to calm his pounding heart. He rose back up until he hovered a few feet below the ceiling. He glanced down at his tail and coiled into a ball, bringing his height down and relaxing the thick muscle right below his waist.

Dean watched him from across the room as he pressed his ear against his phone. A few seconds later, Dean said. "Yeah, Cas. It's Dean. We're at the Mayfield Motel in Mayfield, Oregon. We need your help." He turned back towards the window, peering outside through the slit. "Yeah, right now. It's important."

Sam watched Castiel pop right into existence behind Dean. The trench-coated angel had the phone pressed up to his ear, the same serious expression marking his features.

"I'm here." Castiel said into the phone. Dean turned around and jumped, finding the angel less than a foot away. Dean ripped his phone from his ear and shoved it into his pocket.

"I know. Hang up." He said and Castiel removed his own phone and shoved it into his trench coat pocket without bothering to turn it off.

"What do you need my help with, Dean?"

"First, a little bit of personal space would be nice." Dean said.

Castiel robotically stepped away, eyes not leaving Dean's face. Angels, man. Sometimes they were just unsettling.

"That is what I need help with," Dean looked at Sam over Castiel's shoulder and waved his hand to his brother's general direction.

Castiel turned around and his baby blue eyes flicked over Sam's form, his expression unchanging.

"Can't you mojo him?" Dean asked.

"Unfortunately, this cannot be reversed." Castiel said simply.

"Well, thank you, Cas. You're so much help." Dean bit out.

Castiel looked momentarily confused. "You're…welcome?"

"What is he?" Dean stepped away from the window and closer to Sam.

Castiel looked back at Sam. "Sam has been transformed into a Naga."

"A…Naga? What the hell's a Naga?" Dean scrunched up his nose.

"The Naga were an ancient race of people. They were half-serpent, half-human. Essentially, the best of both worlds. Their physical power and venom made them potentially dangerous to humans. They used to populate the world until God declared them abominations and wiped them from the face of the earth."

Sam flinched at the word abominations. Dean crossed his arms. Castiel continued.

"Today, the Naga is considered nothing more than a myth. However, they are celebrated in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism."

"Okay, so how do we cure him?"

Castiel blinked. "Who do you believe cursed him?"

"Some he-witch."

Castiel moved towards Sam and did not hesitate to press his hand against Sam's tail. Sam felt the sudden, blinding urge to hiss at Castiel, maybe even bite him if he refused to let go. He did not like the angel's hand on him, but he suppressed both strange new urges. Instead, he gave Dean a warning look.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Castiel let go and took a step back, addressing the brothers.

"You are not dealing with a witch. You are dealing with a goddess."

"What?" They said in unison.

"Yes."

"Like some forest tramp?" Dean said.

"This is not some forest deity, Dean. She is Veritas, the goddess of truth and justice."

"She? Cas, that was a dude." Dean scoffed.

"Unlike your binary of gender, Veritas can take many forms. Male, female, both, sometimes even an animal." Castiel explained.

"Wow." Sam breathed.

"Yes," Castiel nodded seriously. "Wow."

"So, the guy, I mean Veritas, gave Sam a riddle. What was it again, Sam?"

"He-or she, they, whatever-told me I will slink and slither, toil and wither, until I face my greatest fear. So, if Veritas is supposed to be the goddess of truth and justice, you're saying I won't change back until I acknowledge some hidden truth?"

"Yes."

Sam nodded.

"You know I was just thinking, Sammy," Dean pipped in. "Maybe it's clowns."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Yeah, clowns. Aren't those your greatest fear? Hell, you still cry when you see Ronald McDonald on the television." Dean smirked.

"Shut up, Dean. It's not clowns." Sam murmured.

"Prove it." Dean goaded. "Say it and see if you don't turn back."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. "My greatest fear are clowns." He mumbled.

"What was that? I can't hear you."

"My greatest fear are clowns!" Sam shouted, exasperated.

They waited. Nothing.

"Well, that didn't work."

"No shit, Dean."

"Do you have any idea what that truth may be?" Castiel cocked his head to the side, staring directly at him. Sam felt as though Castiel was looking into his very soul. He squirmed uncomfortably.

"No. I don't know." Sam said. Castiel continued to stare at him. Sam broke eye contact, feeling the layer of perspiration form at the back of his nape.

"Okay, so you can't turn him back. You're an angel, Cas. Can't you, like, capture Veritas and bring her here?"

Castiel broke his gaze away and looked at Dean. "She is a goddess, Dean."

"Yeah, so?"

"She is very powerful."

"Yeah, and you're an angel."

"That means I cannot capture her. If it is any consultation, I sense she is not in this town anymore."

"Well, thanks, Cas. Thanks a lot." Dean murmured.

Castiel blinked. "You are welcome."

"What would you suggest we do, then?" Sam asked.

The angel looked back up at Sam. "I would suggest admitting what frightens you the most, Sam Winchester."

Just like that, Cas was gone. Sam blinked at the empty space, a scowl forming between his brows.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, looking around. "Son of a bitch! I hate when he does that."

"Well," Sam said, "at least we know where to start."

Dean ran a hand down his face. "Yeah."

"I can't go out. Not like this. I couldn't fit in the Impala. I can't even stretch out in this room." Sam stated, picking at his sharp nails. Dean nodded and walked up to him until he was right next to the long extension of Sam's serpentine lower half. Sam peered down at him, watching as Dean ran a hand down his scales again. He suppressed the shiver threatening to race down his back. Dean fingered one of the diamond scales-Sam turned his head away, a heated expression crossing his face-before Dean pulled away. Dean hadn't seemed to notice.

"Yeah, and you can't hunt." Dean sighed. "Hell, one look at you and people wouldn't call the cops, they'd call homeland security."

Sam frowned, although he couldn't argue. Hell, anyone with a gun would shoot him on the spot. Anyone with a phone would take pictures. He'd be locked up in some underground lab, subjected to a plethora of horrific scientific experiments. Sam shivered at the thought.

The eldest Winchester stepped away and turned towards his own bed. Sam leaned forward and ached to follow. Instead, he asked, "What are you doing?"

Dean pulled on his jacket, turning towards Sam. "Well, if this goddess really has booked it out of town, then that's a good thing. I don't think she'd change you back on her own. That's gonna be up to you, man. I'm hungry. I'm gonna get us breakfast and then we'll…wait…"

"What?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"What are you going to eat?" Dean said, glancing down at his body. "You…uh…don't have any urges, do you?"

Sam blinked. "Huh?"

"You know," Dean appeared embarrassed. "To swallow shit whole and stuff? I never really thought about it. Can you eat food now? Like, regular food?"

Sam placed a hand on his stomach. His stomach grumbled unhappily, just like it always did when he hadn't had breakfast yet. Sam glanced behind him at his lower half, and he concentrated on if his other half felt anything. Sam's eyes widened after a couple minutes.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"I think I might have two stomachs."

Dean blinked like he hadn't heard him correctly. "What?"

Sam's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Yeah, I've definitely got two stomachs." He twisted around and felt at the point closer to his waist, running his hand down until he reached three feet lower. He pressed on the scaled flesh gently and it felt like the echo of someone pressing against his human stomach.

Dean gawked at him. "That's just too weird, Sammy."

Sam pulled a face and glanced at him. "Well, it's not my fault."

"Okay, grumpy." Dean quipped. "No need to bite my head off."

Sam glared. Dean smirked.

"No pun intended."

"Not funny." Sam said, twisting back around.

"Okay, you've got two stomachs, great." Dean said dryly. "Do you think you can eat regular food?"

"Maybe." He said, running a hand through his overgrown hair.

Dean nodded in acceptance before another expression crossed his face. "Sam," Dean said hesitantly.

At the tone of his voice, Sam glanced up. "What?"

"Do you, uh, have an asshole?"

Sam flushed. Sam tried to remember everything he'd learned about snakes in high school biology. He thought he remembered where the anus was located. He unconsciously flicked the tip of his tail.

"I mean, you have no ass." Dean couldn't suppress his subdued snort.

Sam gave him his best are-you-serious-right-now face. "Thanks, I noticed." Sam turned back to glance at the tip of his tail and uncoiled a bit, trying to drag the tip closer. He managed to grab the end of it and glance underneath it.

"Is that your butthole?" Dean asked seriously.

Sam gently pressed against the bottom ridge and his face went beet red. Yes, this was certainly his new body's exit point. Dean laughed. Sam let go of the tip and repressed the urge to hit Dean upside the head with it.

Dean walked in between the two beds. He pulled open the bedside table's little drawer and yanked out a stationary and a pencil.

"You, little brother, are going to sit tight." Dean smiled wryly. "What I want you to do is write down everything that you're afraid of." Dean handed him the pencil and paper. Sam took it and glanced at his fingernails. This was going to be difficult to write. How did people with acrylic nails do it?

"While I'm gonna get us breakfast." Dean said before peering out between the curtains. "I'll be back soon. Don't answer the door for anybody. Obviously."

Dean locked the door securely behind him, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts.