Sam’s Wonderful Confusing Gender Change Adventure [Girl!Sam/Dean NC-17] Part 1
Title: Sam’s Wonderful Confusing Gender Change Adventure
Author: vampire_heart/insomniacs_home
Pairing: Sam/Dean, girl!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11,584
Warnings: gender swap, slash, incest, porn.
Dedicated: To Diana. Who made a bet with me and I lost. Moral of the story, I shouldn’t make bets cause I lose.
And to riorhapsody, happy birthday.
Summary: Sam wakes up with a bit of a shocker. The boys need to find out how, why and who before they can turn Sam back. Only it’s a little more complicated than that.
I’ve taken some liberties. Since there is no actual destination given for Harvelle’s Roadhouse, I’ve given it a location. Fremont, Nebraska. It’s speculated that the Roadhouse is around the Nebraska borders, and I chose Fremont. It’s also not that far away from Sioux County, South Dakota, which is where we think Singer’s Salvage Yard is.
You Really Got Me Now
Sam had never really felt less than adequate. Least of all when it came to logic and learning. He could confidently state that he was a fairly intelligent person, but right then he really could get his brain to function at all.
They were in Davenport, Iowa. Not highly populated, but not deserted either. It wasn’t exactly an abnormal job they were on either. A simple haunting really, so Sam had no real theory to go on here. He couldn’t even find something to blame.
Dean was in the other room, spread out over one of the beds, snoring soundly. Sam, however, had spent the last half hour standing in the small bathroom, before the ass crack of dawn, staring at his reflection, wondering how the hell this could’ve happened and if he’d really fallen into the twilight zone at last.
He still recognised his own features, his eyes were definitely still his own, just framed with thicker lashes. The freckles, they were new, although similar to the dusting of freckles over Dean’s face. They were dotted over his nose and just under his eyes, and he was sure that his lips were just the same. Although he was having some serious trouble with his pronouns, since technically, those were breasts under his shirt. And other girl parts under his boxers.
Waking up to find you’ve become a girl is probably equally every male’s worst nightmare and wildest fantasy rolled into one. But Sam had already verified that this was reality and the nightmare part was currently all he could focus on. Pushing the brown bangs out of his eyes, mildly peeved that his hair was suddenly at least four inches longer overnight, Sam peered at his female self, as if willing it to return to male.
Figuring this out was going to cause a serious migraine, Sam was certain he, she…he’d never come across anything like this before. What would prove more difficult, would be figuring out how to change it all back. And then there was Dean. How do you explain to your older brother that overnight, his younger brother turned into his younger sister? Just the mechanics of it were too difficult for Sam to comprehend.
All in all he could come up with a few theories. A trickster, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d come across one who just liked messing with people for no reason. Possibly a voodoo hex gone wrong, that wasn’t just as uncommon as one would hope for. The only issue with that would be finding out just which voodoo hex had gone wrong since those were the worst kind to fix. Similarly it could’ve just been a witch messing with the wrong magic. And Sam hated to count the number of books he’d need to find just to locate those spells and curses.
“Sam?” Movement indicated that Dean was up, heading towards the bathroom if the sound of the banging as Dean hit everything between him and said room. He really was rather uncoordinated in the morning. Sam took a deep breath and braced herself, himself, damnit! “Sam what’s…” Dean stood in the doorway, just staring, mouth slightly open and Sam started to get self-conscious.
“You gonna say something or just stare at me?” Sam asked, his voice soundly rather silky with a slight southern twang. Must be the Kansas girl in me, he thought with amusement. Dean just let his eyes roll over the scene and Sam fought the urge to wrap his arms around his body. He knew he must look ridiculous. His shirt was too loose in places it used to fight just right, hanging across his shoulders and over his waist, and far too tight in places it used to be loose, thanks largely to his new breasts. His boxers were only just hanging on, hips slim and pronounced with sharp hip bones peeking out from the waistband.
Funny how he felt so stupid when he could remember Jess looking damn near irresistible in the exact same get up.
“Dude, is that you?” Dean asked, clearly still checking him out, and Sam gave in to the urge and just hugged his chest to hide the assets.
“Yes. Now can you start thinking with your upstairs brain, please?” Was the whine in his voice? Oh, this couldn’t go well.
“I’m sorry, but…Damn Sammy.” Dean entered the room, moving to look around Sam, and then Sam realised that Dean was checking out his ass.
“DEAN!” Pressing his back to the wall, Sam glared at Dean, near to screaming and possibly hyperventilating. “Can you focus for one minute?”
“How do you expect me to focus when your legs go up to you neck! God Sam, you are hot!”
“Can we stick to the part where I’m a girl?” Sam asked, deciding to steer very clear of the fact that Dean thinking he was hot sent a little jolt through Sam’s gut that it really shouldn’t. “I want to be a boy again. Please.” Dean nodded, still not looking Sam in the face. Sam wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing.
“Well, I can’t think of anything that would do this.”
“I have. But I don’t know where to start.” Sam said, watching Dean intently as his older brothers eyes lingered around his waist, or lower. “Okay, what?”
“Do you um, have, y’know. Girl bits?”
“God!” Sam threw his arms in the air before storming out of the bathroom, heading straight for his bed and crawling under the covers. He didn’t need this, he really, really didn’t. It was hard enough to just keep calm. He was a freaking girl. And pronouns aside he was really confused. How would this get fixed? Could it even be fixed? Dad would know, Sam thought, barely able to stop the tears from coming.
“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was soft, a hand on his shoulder and a dip in the bed indicating that he’d just sat down. “Y’okay?”
“What do you think?” Sam managed to keep the sniffle out of his voice, only just keeping himself angry sounding and not scared shitless.
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to…upset you.” Dean started to rub circles on Sam’s shoulder, mildly comforting. “Now, from what I can figure, we can start work on your hunches, then see where it takes us, okay?” Sam pulled the covers down, looking at Dean from over his shoulder.
“Okay.” He said with a small smile, remotely glad that Dean wasn’t using his little breakdown for teasing purposes. Although a comforting Dean was mildly scary on its own.
“C’mon, bitch. Get dressed and lets get going.” The slap on his ass was sore, but the fact that Dean was treating him like nothing was different was enough that Sam really didn’t care about the sharp sting.
* * *
The local library really was little to no use for them. Their occult section was very limited and hardly covered any of the bases they needed. The librarian had merely stared at them when they’d asked about books on Demonology or the Occult. Although the news articles of the local area didn’t hint at any Trickster presence. Giving in on the research front, Sam allowed Dean to call Bobby and ask him what he thought.
When Bobby had demanded to speak to Sam, the younger Winchester had a stab of worry enter his mind. “Yeah?” He didn’t like the shake in his own voice, however feminine it was, and he didn’t enjoy the concerned look on Dean’s face either.
“Sammy, I need you to answer me truthfully.” Like Sam would even be able to lie to Bobby if he tried. That was Dean’s area of expertise. “Did it hurt when you were…transforming?”
“No. It just sorta happened overnight I guess. I went to sleep male and work up female.” Sam answered, and that’s honestly what happened. Waking up and needing to pee was the only reason that Sam was any the wiser to his sudden gender swap.
“Have you accepted any drinks from strangers?”
“No.”
“Slept with any strange girls?”
“No.”
“Pissed off any strange girls?”
“No!” Sam wasn’t enjoying the line of questioning at all. “Can you remember that this is me and not Dean?” Of the two of them Dean was probably the most likely candidate for angering any witches, or sirens, or priestesses, or just any general female. Not to mention the men in said female’s lives.
“Okay, I’m gonna do some digging. You just stick with whatever your doing. Maybe head over to the Roadhouse, see if Ellen can’t think of something.” Bobby suggested, probably just as lost as they were.
“Bobby, I don’t really want everyone to know that I’ve gone all girly, if you know what I mean.” Sam said, really not needing the stick that would come with this. Being John Winchester’s son had enough of a stigma attached. Being John Winchester’s son who got turned into a girl for no apparent reason was just a little bit worse.
“You’re right. The fewer people who know the better. How about we just keep this on the down low for now, if anyone asks, you can be some girl helping the boys. Don’t let anyone know that you’re really Sam Winchester. Make something up. You hear me?”
“Yes sir.” Sam answered, falling back into old ways from when Bobby used to watch over them. For all his leniency, Sam knew off the bat when Bobby was being serious, and this was one of those times.
“You and Dean stay outta trouble.” With a parting promise to behave as much as possible Bobby and Sam disconnected, leaving them back at square one with nothing to go on.
“Well?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“He’s gonna check a few leads. Will you call Ellen? See if Ash can find something? Don’t let her know that I’m a girl though. Okay?” Sam asked, giving Dean the phone and heading into the bathroom.
Without another word he locked the door, moving to the floor beside the bathtub and curling up on himself. The near hopelessness of the situation was starting to sink in. What if he couldn’t get out of this body? What if he was a girl forever? Would he still be able to hunt? Would he still be able to help Dean? All that he could think about was how his life would ultimately be altered if they couldn’t find a way around this, if it couldn’t be changed.
Sam didn’t know how long he sat there, hugging his knees to his chest, but Dean knocked against the door softly, calling his name. “You okay in there?” Sam didn’t answer, instead trying to get himself under control. But Dean being Dean didn’t seem to like the lack of response and before Sam really knew what was going on Dean was sitting next to him against the tub, door handle in his hand.
“You’re gonna need to fix that before we leave.” Sam said, wiping the tears from his face. “Stupid girl hormones.” Dean chuckled slightly, moving to drape an arm across Sam’s shoulders. “Dean, what if we can’t fix this?”
“Hey, don’t think like that. We will, we’ll find out how it happened and change it back. I promise.” Dean answered, and Sam wanted to believe him, wanted that comforting and cock-sure tone to be all he thought about and believe that Dean would fix this. But there was still the underlying dread and uncertainty that accompanied the trust he had in his brother, the thought that this was his life now.
“I called Ellen, she’s gonna get Ash on it. Told her we were helping out a friend.” Dean said, and Sam just nodded, accepting that people would have to know something. “I said we’d make our way to the Roadhouse, so, lets finish up here and get on the road.” Dean gave his shoulders a squeeze before standing and leaving and Sam figured he should at least give his brother points for taking this as well as he was.
Sighing, Sam got to his feet, wiping his face with a warm cloth and peering back into the mirror. He should probably look into getting girl clothes, but that would just make him think about the permanency of his … condition? No, he’d stick it out in his own clothes. At least for now.
* * *
Finishing up the job would’ve been easy for Dean and Sam pre-gender change. Post-gender change was a little different. Sam discovered that his girl self was about three inches shorter than his normal self, climbing was a little bit different. The shotgun had a bigger kick to it than Sam remembered and he figured that there was going to be a nice sized bruise on his shoulder in the morning. Why they had to use that shotgun that time he’d never know, the only reason he could come up with was that the rock salt covered a wider diameter fired from that particular gun.
All in all they got the job done, poltergeist gone, mansion no longer haunted. But Sam had a sneaky suspicion that Dean was far more frustrated and worried than he’d let on during the hunt. When they got back to the motel Dean went straight to the bathroom and hit the shower, classic Dean for ‘leave me alone, I’m mad at you’. Although Sam rationalised that there was no way that Dean could’ve be mad at him for the situation, but Dean didn’t rationalise like that, he just felt things and then moved on. Sam knew that things would be fine in a matter of hours, it didn’t stop Sam from sitting on his bed, bathroom door handle in hand.
His head hurt from where he’d hit it on the window ledge. His ankles were sore from the running, not having a pair of sneakers that actually fit him might’ve been the reason for that, and he was cold. Layers didn’t work so well when they didn’t fit either.
When Dean emerged from the bathroom, steam filtering through the open door and engulfing half of the bedroom, Sam couldn’t help but notice all the wet, toned skin. Sure, Dean was an attractive person, but Dean was still his brother, and noticing how toned and attractive Dean was hadn’t really crossed Sam’s mind in all the years they’d been hunting. Sam turned away from Dean, hiding the blush he knew had spread across his cheeks, grabbing a change of clothes and heading for the bathroom himself.
By the time Sam decided to come out, Dean was already in bed, propped up against the pillows and watching TV.
* * *
All I Want Is Something Special
The next day they were on the road, heading straight for the Roadhouse. Both agreeing that they needed to settle this as soon as possible and not take any jobs in between.
“Bobby says that he’s spoke to anyone who’d know how to do this, he said it should’ve hurt more.” Sam said, reading a book he’d found on modern witchcraft for the scorned woman. “He figured it was a good sign since it didn’t hurt at all. So that rules out Latin gone wrong or witchcraft used wrong. These kinds of things don’t go wrong apparently, so something wanted this to happen.” Sam closed the book, sighing and brushing the hair from his eyes again. “I don’t know what makes me feel better, that this wasn’t an accident or that it could’ve been worse. I mean, being a girl kinda sucks, but having to go through a painful transformation to become a girl? That would suck more.” Dean seemed to shift in his seat, not averting his gaze from the road while Sam continued babbling.
This continued for nearly three hours, before Dean decided it was time for lunch. Pulling over in another burger diner, Sam fell into step behind Dean and ignored everything around him. Sliding into one of the booths, Sam stretched his legs out under the table, ankles knocking with Dean’s. They both ordered their usual - Sam found it mildly distressing that they had a usual - and waited for the waitress to return with their coffee’s.
It was when their food arrived and Sam sipped at his black coffee that he realised people were staring. Mainly the older, trucker type men. Glancing in the napkin dispenser clandestinely, Sam tried to check and see if he had something on his face or if his girl self suddenly ended up with some kind of break out. Finding nothing on his face Sam kicked Dean to get his attention.
“Dean,” Sam managed to ignore the glare Dean shot in his direction, which wasn’t very effective with the cheese and grease on Dean’s bottom lip. “People are staring.” Sam whispered, trying not to attract anymore attention.
Dean looked around at all the other customers, glaring slightly and Sam saw more than one person look away suddenly, finding their food very interesting. “Dude, they’re looking at you.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re hot.” Dean said, soundly a little irritated. Neither talked while they ate, Sam finishing up before Dean and finishing off his coffee while Dean sat there growling. “You finished?” Sam just nodded as Dean stood up, throwing some bills on the table. Sam noticed that not only were they real dollars, they also covered both the bill and a tip for the waitress. Sam slid out of the booth and was slightly shocked when Dean draped his leather jacket over Sam’s shoulders. Not saying a word, Sam slid his arms into the jacket, noticing that it practically drowned him but felt right. When Dean’s arm wrapped around Sam’s waist and pulled him close to Dean’s side Sam couldn’t just ignore it.
“What are you doing?” Sam practically hissed, not wanting to draw attention to them.
“You want these lowlifes to think you’re available?” Dean had a point, because Sam had noticed two men at the diner bar look as if they were likely to move towards them. Sam sighed before giving in, leaning into Dean and letting his arm drape around Dean’s waist, hanging on to his hip. It was weird how well they fitted together. How Sam’s hip came just above Dean’s hip and they were both able to meld their upper bodies to one another. Sam refused to let himself think about just how nice it was, about how comfortable Dean’s arm was around him and just what kind of reaction Dean’s presence was getting from his body.
Stupid girl hormones.
Sam spent the rest of the journey to the Roadhouse not thinking about Dean or how nice he smelt, or how strong he was. It was just because he was a girl. That was all.
If Sam told himself enough, maybe he’d believe it.
* * *
They arrived that the Roadhouse 300 miles later. And then spent ten minutes in the car while Sam worked up the courage to get out the car and into the bar. The only thing he could think about was messing up, about someone, anyone finding out that he wasn’t really him or her or whatever and the whole thing being blown. What if Ellen could see through it all completely? Bobby knowing was enough.
“Okay, so we don’t tell them you’re you. I’ll just say that you’re off following your own lead. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d split up.” Sam wasn’t sure if he should be comforted by Dean’s logic or scared by it.
They’d already agreed that Sam couldn’t be Sam and that a new name had to be decided on 250 miles earlier. They had argued the first 230 miles over what name to have since Sam refused to have anything stupid and Dean ended up vetoing most of the names by reasoning of having slept with girls by those names. Just 60 miles before Dean had decided on Amanda and Sam was too tired to argue anymore.
When Sam finally got out of the car, and Dean had walked with him into the Roadhouse, Dean’s arm around his shoulders, Sam was sure he now knew what it would be like to be a zoo exhibition. He was sure that everyone was staring at him. Shrugging further into Dean’s jacket and staying close to Dean’s side, Sam was glad that his hair could hide his eyes now. Dean led them to the bar, as good as steering Sam there, where Sam met his first problem. Sam had only just on Dean’s jacket off and placed on the bar when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
“Hey there, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Sam had always thought that particular line had been made up, that it was some urban myth of pick up lines. The fact that Dean had snorted and turned away to cover his smirk said something for the line and Sam actually felt a little sorry for the beefy guy next to him who’d used the line. “Why don’t you come and have a drink with me sweetness?” The guy had to be over 200lbs, grimy clothes and scarred face telling of either a ruthless past or a reckless one. Missing his right eye, with a scar right through it, and what appeared to be a claw scar on his neck, Sam really couldn’t imagine that this guy really thought he stood a chance.
Beefy moved closer to Sam, a thick arm moving around his waist and Sam tried to back away, ready to force his way through the bar if he had to. When a hand pulled on his arm Sam almost fell into Dean’s arm, reflexively bracing himself and ending up holding on to Dean’s shoulder. He had to use his other hand to loop hair behind his ear, ending up with his other arm around Dean’s neck. Dean’s own hand ended up dangerously close to Sam’s butt, resting just on the dip of his spine, fingers splayed to cover as much as possible.
“Cause she’s having a drink with me.” Dean’s voice was low and threatening, and a chill ran through Sam’s spine. He really liked this protective streak in Dean. The hard set to Dean’s jaw and the intensity in his eyes just made him that much more appealing, and Sam wasn’t sure why, but he pressed in just a little bit closer to Dean, the thin fabric of his tightly pulled t-shirt not stopping the heat from Dean’s chest soaking into Sam’s skin.
“Well, if it isn’t Dean Winchester.” Ellen’s voice was louder than strictly necessary and Sam glanced in her direction before he noticed that Beefy was moving away, muttering under his breath. “You’re in good company here with a Winchester, honey.” Sam wondered if there was a John Winchester story behind that comment, but Ellen didn’t let on and Sam knew better than to ask.
“Hey Ellen,” Dean moved to face the bar, and Sam moved to step away from Dean, but Dean only changed the arm around him and didn’t let go, pulling him closer to Dean. “Got your message, what you got for me?”
“Had Ash do some searching, see what he could pick up on all this.” Ellen put a beer down in front of Dean, looking towards Sam, “What’cha drinking honey?”
“Beer’s fine.” Sam answered, taking Dean’s from him and swallowing. “So, you’ve heard about this kind of thing?” Sam asked, watching as Ellen got another beer for Dean with an amused smile on her face. She looked to Dean before glancing at Sam, her question there but unasked.
“Amanda here is a sort of occult nerd. She and Sam are like birds of a feather.” Dean supplied, giving Ellen the go ahead without saying as much.
“And where is Sam?” Ellen asked, leaning on the bar.
“He’s tracking down another lead.” Dean replied flippantly, and Ellen seemed appeased with that.
“I’ve never heard of this happening, but I’ve heard of the possibility. Ash managed to find some stuff, but it could be any number of things.” Ellen supplied, looking a little apologetic and Sam felt the disappointment coil.
“Lemme guess,” slender fingers picked at the label on the bottle, “pranksters, wrongly pronounced Latin, bad witchcraft or hexes gone wrong?” The disappointment only mounted and Sam felt fairly dejected.
“You know your stuff.” Ellen seemed to be a little impressed, and a little too pleased for Sam’s liking. “But Ash found something on Pixies too.”
“Pixies? Like little people with wings and fairy dust?” Sam could almost smile at the incredulous sound of Dean’s voice. He was clearly not impressed.
“Not quite. Full size people, no wings. They’re like pranksters, but just a little different. These girls are not to be messed with. They have this kind of magic. Little mischief makers, and if your friend upset one, then this could happen.”
“Are they usually female?” Sam hazarded a guess, suddenly having a completely different sinking feeling in his gut.
“Usually, yeah.” Ellen answered. “You think you know what happened?”
“I have a theory, yeah.” A squeeze on his hip indicated that Dean had got to the same conclusion. “My friend is just a little bit promiscuous.” Sam supplied, cluing Ellen in on just what probably happened.
“Well, if he hurt a Pixie, that would get them mad enough to do this. There are a lot of things that could go wrong with this kind of thing.” Ellen said before heading to the other side of the bar, serving two waiting customers.
Sam had already made a mental list of all the things that could go wrong. All the horrible possibilities and technicalities that this could cause. None of them were pretty and having Ellen remind him that this could be not only permanent but also life threatening wasn’t really something Sam needed right then. Ellen seemed to be working her way around the bar, and Sam noticed Jo coming towards them, eyes set on Dean.
Unfortunately for her, that was when Dean decided to try and make amends. They ended up facing each other, Dean’s lower half pressed to Sam’s side, both arms around Sam’s waist to keep them close, blocking out anyone who might eavesdrop. Sam rested one hand on Dean’s shoulder, fingers trailing over the muscles in Dean’s neck. Dean’s breath whispered against Sam’s cheek, warming the skin and causing goose bumps to break out down Sam’s arms.
“I’m sorry.” Sam was surprised at the sincerity in Dean’s voice and the hint of guilt there too. Sam figured the conversation needed a little more privacy and he altered the position of his body, moving just that little bit closer, resting his cheek against Dean’s shoulder.
“What for?” Jo had stopped short of approaching them, cleaning a table Sam was sure she’d already cleaned, and watching Dean intently.
“I think I know what girl it was.” Sam could hear that Dean blamed himself, the fingers trailing up his arm and the hold on his waist weren’t the only thing that revealed Dean’s guilt, the slight apologetic tone in his voice added to the other clues from Dean’s behaviour. And really, could Sam hold it against Dean that something he had no control over happened? Blame would only hinder their search and hopefully Sam’s return to form.
“Hey,” Sam’s hand splayed over Dean’s chest, directly above his heart. “It’s okay, we’ll fix this and move on. Just another hazard of the job.” Dean smiled slight and shook his head, placing a soft kiss to Sam’s head while Sam just settled for laying his head on Dean’s shoulder a moment longer.
“Hey there.” Sam stood up straight, but noticed that Dean didn’t draw away, as Jo approached, smiling widely at Dean. When she turned her gaze to Sam the smile turned cold, her eyes belying the kind smile with a hardness that should be reserved for evil mass murderers. Sam inadvertently moved closer to Dean. “Who’s your friend?” Dean clearly didn’t pick up the cold tone, but Sam did, and he began to wonder if Jo treated every female this way.
“This is Amanda; she’s helping out on a job.” The glare only intensified while Dean took a drink of beer.
“What are you a veteran hunter or something?” Sam suddenly realised that Jo saw her as competition, Jo was still harbouring her crush on Dean and seeing girl-Sam with Dean clearly unleashed Jo’s green eyed monster. The fact that Jo had never even approached Dean in a non-hunter manner really irked Sam, why should he suffer her insecurity on top of everything else?
“Nope. I’m just a college student. I know a bit about demonology and the occult though.” Sam said, deciding to just get it out, “Dean thought I’d be a great help though.” He knew he was laying it on thick, but Dean said nothing and didn’t move away or even remove his hand from Sam’s hip. Jo just nodded, and if Sam didn’t know better he’d say that ‘murderous rage’ wouldn’t cover the gleam in Jo’s eye right then.
Conversation picked up, mainly about previous hunts that Jo wanted to know about and Sam quickly realised that this was her way of shutting ‘Amanda’ out of the conversation. Sam shouldn’t know anything about those hunts, so really there was no reason for him to participate in the conversation at all. Sam ended up tuning the pair out, not interested in listening to Jo’s train wreck tactic of flirting.
Sam had no problem with Jo, not really. She was the daughter of a hunter their father had known, and an unspoken respect came with that. She was also the daughter of a woman their father respected, and both Dean and Sam had come to respect Ellen in her own right. Putting up with hunter’s day in and out, dealing with the drunken ones and still managing to be casual and nice with newcomers, it warranted its own respect.
As it was Dean’s arm fell from around Sam’s waist further into the conversation, and as Sam stood, leaning on the bar and picking at his bottle, his earlier suitor decided to try again.
“Hey sugar, looks like your boy’s neglecting you. Why don’t you come on over and sit with some real men?” Sam really wished guys knew when a girl was out of their league, it would make things so much easier.
“Listen, I’m not interested.” Sam said, not wanting to go through the whole rigmarole of being nice and not hurting their feelings. He was a goddamned hunter, feelings be damned. He didn’t need to be fending off advances for however long they were at the bar.
“What? You think you’re too good for me?” Beefy’s hand grabbed at Sam’s arm, yanking hard and nearly pulling Sam off his feet.
“Hey!” Dean was in Beefy’s face within seconds, the hand being snatched away from Sam’s arm. Dean stood between Sam and Beefy, eyes narrowed to slits and jaw clenched. While Beefy had a hand on his knife, Dean hand his around his gun and Sam noticed Ellen reaching for something under the bar. “I think you were told to get lost.” Dean practically snarled and Sam felt the need to have some kind of contact with his brother. Placing hands on Dean’s hips set not only to have that contact, but also to pull Dean back if needed. Fighting was one thing, stabbing and shooting was something altogether unwanted. As Beefy backed off, Dean shot a look around the bar, his jaw still set tight. Taking Sam’s hand and grabbing his jacket from the bar Dean sent a nod towards Ellen before heading for the door.
“Let’s get outta here.” Sam didn’t mind when Dean pulled him close, arm around his waist and holding tightly to one of Sam’s hips. Sam leant into Dean, letting their bodies soak up enough of each others warmth. Sam caught the icy glare that Jo was throwing in his direction; Sam just snorted and rolled his eyes, deciding that Jo could just deal with it. He was through being nice to her, bruised ego be damned.
“You take care.” Ellen said, Sam and Dean both nodded. If Sam was honest with himself he kind of liked the possessive way Dean’s grip tightened as they left the bar. He’d fully expected the closeness to disintegrate as they exited, but Dean didn’t release Sam until they drew up beside the impala. Sam turned and rested against the door, Dean depositing his jacket on the back seat before turning back to Sam.
Dean’s face was clouded over, not so much in anger but Sam could still see the lingering traces of fury on his brother’s face. Sam was more concerned with the fear in Dean’s eyes. One hand rose to Dean’s elbow, fingers gently caressing the warm flesh. “What’s wrong?” Dean just shook his head.
“Y’okay?” Dean asked, it was strange to see Dean being so caring, but Sam guessed that it really shouldn’t. Dean had looked out for Sam most of his life, maybe since he was a girl right now it was just far more evident.
“I’m fine.” Sam said, small smile on his face. “He just grabbed my arm.” Sam looked at the offending arm, frowning slightly at what he saw. “What the…” There was already a somewhat purple/black hue to his formerly tanned skin.
“Guess you bruise easier.” Dean said, hand skirting from Sam’s arm up to his shoulder where the earlier bruise from the shotgun was already healing. It was mildly scary that Dean had become the voice of reason. Dean’s hand continued, moving to cup Sam’s cheek, forcing Sam to look up and meet Dean’s gaze.
“I’m okay.” Sam tried again, whispered into the air. He wasn’t sure why he whispered, but it felt like anything could shatter this, and he needed to embrace the moment for what it was. When Sam tore his gaze away from Dean he noticed a figure, Jo, standing in the doorway to the Roadhouse, gazing over at them.
Moving forward, Sam looped his arms around Dean’s neck, pleasantly surprised when Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling them flush together and giving Sam the much needed comfort that he really didn’t know he’d wanted. Dean never went in for chick flick moments, but the part of Sam that craved human contact savoured every second of it, knowing that Jo was watching and knowing that no matter what she’d never have this with Dean. Never.
Sam burrowed his head into Dean’s shoulder, nuzzling his nose into Dean’s neck, and Dean’s hand moved to the base of Sam’s neck, fingers tangling in messy brown hair. They stood like that for a few moments, Sam knowing better than to give Dean too big a reason to believe there was something wrong. Enough to comfort, not too much to worry. That was the plan. Slowly pulling away, Sam was pleased that Dean’s hand only went as far as to rest on his hips, not pulling away completely.
“Sorry,” Sam said, blushing mildly and noticing that Jo was still there. “Chick flick moment.” Dean smiled, a proper smile that Sam only saw on the off chance that something genuinely amused Dean.
“I think you’re entitled. You’re handling this pretty well.” Dean brushed hair out of Sam’s eyes, fingers trailing across Sam’s cheek as his hand dropped away and Sam realised something. This wasn’t just about giving Jo the boot, wasn’t just about showing her she had no chance. It was more than that. It was him and Dean and nothing else and that scared Sam. Because there were things he wasn’t supposed to feel, things that he wasn’t supposed to think, not about Dean.
“So, this girl?” It was harder to get back on track than Sam would’ve liked, and Dean nodded, as if not hearing Sam but agreeing anyway. “Where is she?”
“Right, um, girl, in Lincoln. You remember the hunt with the black dog?” Sam nodded, unable to forget that hunt.
“You practically got mauled. How could I forget?” Dean snorted and waved a hand, moving to open the door for Sam, which got him a laugh and gentle smack to the head. Sam waited for Dean to get round the other side of the car, opening his own door. Maybe mauled was too big a word, slashed to smithereens? No, still too much. Ripped to ribbons? Maybe a bit much. All in all, Sam knew that it had been close. Dean had gotten too close and the dog had nearly had Dean’s throat out. There were still healing cuts on Dean’s torso and thigh, so really, mauled wasn’t too far away from the truth.
“So, Lincoln. I’m assuming this was after we faked your health records and got you seen to at the hospital?” Sam asked, remembering filling out numerous forms with false details while Dean flirted with several candy stripers.
“Yeah. Elise, she was one of the nurses.” Dean said. “Blonde bombshell. And her legs.” Dean licked his lips. “I mean, they weren’t as nice as yours, but not everyone can have it all.” Sam decided not to comment on that, but the fact that Sam had nicer legs that the possible pixie who cursed him made him feel a little triumphant. “Anyway, she went to this bar, The Candy Store. I met her there after we ditched the hospital and you stopped mothering me enough to let me out.”
“Maybe I should’ve tied you to the bed.” Sam said, without thinking.
“Didn’t know you had a kinky side.” Dean patted Sam’s thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. It was a usual occurrence, and one Sam wouldn’t have thought twice about if he’d still been boy-Sam. But girl-Sam seemed to like the gentle petting more than Sam really needed. The tingles that went up his leg and the continued tingling in his crotch was not entirely unwelcome, but not exactly something he needed either.
“Right, yeah, whatever.” Sam said, clearing his throat. “So, we find this girl, Elise, find out if she’s a pixie and get her to fix me. No problem. Right?”
“Right.”
They really should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
* * *
Part 2
Author: vampire_heart/insomniacs_home
Pairing: Sam/Dean, girl!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11,584
Warnings: gender swap, slash, incest, porn.
Dedicated: To Diana. Who made a bet with me and I lost. Moral of the story, I shouldn’t make bets cause I lose.
And to riorhapsody, happy birthday.
Summary: Sam wakes up with a bit of a shocker. The boys need to find out how, why and who before they can turn Sam back. Only it’s a little more complicated than that.
I’ve taken some liberties. Since there is no actual destination given for Harvelle’s Roadhouse, I’ve given it a location. Fremont, Nebraska. It’s speculated that the Roadhouse is around the Nebraska borders, and I chose Fremont. It’s also not that far away from Sioux County, South Dakota, which is where we think Singer’s Salvage Yard is.
You Really Got Me Now
Sam had never really felt less than adequate. Least of all when it came to logic and learning. He could confidently state that he was a fairly intelligent person, but right then he really could get his brain to function at all.
They were in Davenport, Iowa. Not highly populated, but not deserted either. It wasn’t exactly an abnormal job they were on either. A simple haunting really, so Sam had no real theory to go on here. He couldn’t even find something to blame.
Dean was in the other room, spread out over one of the beds, snoring soundly. Sam, however, had spent the last half hour standing in the small bathroom, before the ass crack of dawn, staring at his reflection, wondering how the hell this could’ve happened and if he’d really fallen into the twilight zone at last.
He still recognised his own features, his eyes were definitely still his own, just framed with thicker lashes. The freckles, they were new, although similar to the dusting of freckles over Dean’s face. They were dotted over his nose and just under his eyes, and he was sure that his lips were just the same. Although he was having some serious trouble with his pronouns, since technically, those were breasts under his shirt. And other girl parts under his boxers.
Waking up to find you’ve become a girl is probably equally every male’s worst nightmare and wildest fantasy rolled into one. But Sam had already verified that this was reality and the nightmare part was currently all he could focus on. Pushing the brown bangs out of his eyes, mildly peeved that his hair was suddenly at least four inches longer overnight, Sam peered at his female self, as if willing it to return to male.
Figuring this out was going to cause a serious migraine, Sam was certain he, she…he’d never come across anything like this before. What would prove more difficult, would be figuring out how to change it all back. And then there was Dean. How do you explain to your older brother that overnight, his younger brother turned into his younger sister? Just the mechanics of it were too difficult for Sam to comprehend.
All in all he could come up with a few theories. A trickster, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d come across one who just liked messing with people for no reason. Possibly a voodoo hex gone wrong, that wasn’t just as uncommon as one would hope for. The only issue with that would be finding out just which voodoo hex had gone wrong since those were the worst kind to fix. Similarly it could’ve just been a witch messing with the wrong magic. And Sam hated to count the number of books he’d need to find just to locate those spells and curses.
“Sam?” Movement indicated that Dean was up, heading towards the bathroom if the sound of the banging as Dean hit everything between him and said room. He really was rather uncoordinated in the morning. Sam took a deep breath and braced herself, himself, damnit! “Sam what’s…” Dean stood in the doorway, just staring, mouth slightly open and Sam started to get self-conscious.
“You gonna say something or just stare at me?” Sam asked, his voice soundly rather silky with a slight southern twang. Must be the Kansas girl in me, he thought with amusement. Dean just let his eyes roll over the scene and Sam fought the urge to wrap his arms around his body. He knew he must look ridiculous. His shirt was too loose in places it used to fight just right, hanging across his shoulders and over his waist, and far too tight in places it used to be loose, thanks largely to his new breasts. His boxers were only just hanging on, hips slim and pronounced with sharp hip bones peeking out from the waistband.
Funny how he felt so stupid when he could remember Jess looking damn near irresistible in the exact same get up.
“Dude, is that you?” Dean asked, clearly still checking him out, and Sam gave in to the urge and just hugged his chest to hide the assets.
“Yes. Now can you start thinking with your upstairs brain, please?” Was the whine in his voice? Oh, this couldn’t go well.
“I’m sorry, but…Damn Sammy.” Dean entered the room, moving to look around Sam, and then Sam realised that Dean was checking out his ass.
“DEAN!” Pressing his back to the wall, Sam glared at Dean, near to screaming and possibly hyperventilating. “Can you focus for one minute?”
“How do you expect me to focus when your legs go up to you neck! God Sam, you are hot!”
“Can we stick to the part where I’m a girl?” Sam asked, deciding to steer very clear of the fact that Dean thinking he was hot sent a little jolt through Sam’s gut that it really shouldn’t. “I want to be a boy again. Please.” Dean nodded, still not looking Sam in the face. Sam wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing.
“Well, I can’t think of anything that would do this.”
“I have. But I don’t know where to start.” Sam said, watching Dean intently as his older brothers eyes lingered around his waist, or lower. “Okay, what?”
“Do you um, have, y’know. Girl bits?”
“God!” Sam threw his arms in the air before storming out of the bathroom, heading straight for his bed and crawling under the covers. He didn’t need this, he really, really didn’t. It was hard enough to just keep calm. He was a freaking girl. And pronouns aside he was really confused. How would this get fixed? Could it even be fixed? Dad would know, Sam thought, barely able to stop the tears from coming.
“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was soft, a hand on his shoulder and a dip in the bed indicating that he’d just sat down. “Y’okay?”
“What do you think?” Sam managed to keep the sniffle out of his voice, only just keeping himself angry sounding and not scared shitless.
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to…upset you.” Dean started to rub circles on Sam’s shoulder, mildly comforting. “Now, from what I can figure, we can start work on your hunches, then see where it takes us, okay?” Sam pulled the covers down, looking at Dean from over his shoulder.
“Okay.” He said with a small smile, remotely glad that Dean wasn’t using his little breakdown for teasing purposes. Although a comforting Dean was mildly scary on its own.
“C’mon, bitch. Get dressed and lets get going.” The slap on his ass was sore, but the fact that Dean was treating him like nothing was different was enough that Sam really didn’t care about the sharp sting.
* * *
The local library really was little to no use for them. Their occult section was very limited and hardly covered any of the bases they needed. The librarian had merely stared at them when they’d asked about books on Demonology or the Occult. Although the news articles of the local area didn’t hint at any Trickster presence. Giving in on the research front, Sam allowed Dean to call Bobby and ask him what he thought.
When Bobby had demanded to speak to Sam, the younger Winchester had a stab of worry enter his mind. “Yeah?” He didn’t like the shake in his own voice, however feminine it was, and he didn’t enjoy the concerned look on Dean’s face either.
“Sammy, I need you to answer me truthfully.” Like Sam would even be able to lie to Bobby if he tried. That was Dean’s area of expertise. “Did it hurt when you were…transforming?”
“No. It just sorta happened overnight I guess. I went to sleep male and work up female.” Sam answered, and that’s honestly what happened. Waking up and needing to pee was the only reason that Sam was any the wiser to his sudden gender swap.
“Have you accepted any drinks from strangers?”
“No.”
“Slept with any strange girls?”
“No.”
“Pissed off any strange girls?”
“No!” Sam wasn’t enjoying the line of questioning at all. “Can you remember that this is me and not Dean?” Of the two of them Dean was probably the most likely candidate for angering any witches, or sirens, or priestesses, or just any general female. Not to mention the men in said female’s lives.
“Okay, I’m gonna do some digging. You just stick with whatever your doing. Maybe head over to the Roadhouse, see if Ellen can’t think of something.” Bobby suggested, probably just as lost as they were.
“Bobby, I don’t really want everyone to know that I’ve gone all girly, if you know what I mean.” Sam said, really not needing the stick that would come with this. Being John Winchester’s son had enough of a stigma attached. Being John Winchester’s son who got turned into a girl for no apparent reason was just a little bit worse.
“You’re right. The fewer people who know the better. How about we just keep this on the down low for now, if anyone asks, you can be some girl helping the boys. Don’t let anyone know that you’re really Sam Winchester. Make something up. You hear me?”
“Yes sir.” Sam answered, falling back into old ways from when Bobby used to watch over them. For all his leniency, Sam knew off the bat when Bobby was being serious, and this was one of those times.
“You and Dean stay outta trouble.” With a parting promise to behave as much as possible Bobby and Sam disconnected, leaving them back at square one with nothing to go on.
“Well?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“He’s gonna check a few leads. Will you call Ellen? See if Ash can find something? Don’t let her know that I’m a girl though. Okay?” Sam asked, giving Dean the phone and heading into the bathroom.
Without another word he locked the door, moving to the floor beside the bathtub and curling up on himself. The near hopelessness of the situation was starting to sink in. What if he couldn’t get out of this body? What if he was a girl forever? Would he still be able to hunt? Would he still be able to help Dean? All that he could think about was how his life would ultimately be altered if they couldn’t find a way around this, if it couldn’t be changed.
Sam didn’t know how long he sat there, hugging his knees to his chest, but Dean knocked against the door softly, calling his name. “You okay in there?” Sam didn’t answer, instead trying to get himself under control. But Dean being Dean didn’t seem to like the lack of response and before Sam really knew what was going on Dean was sitting next to him against the tub, door handle in his hand.
“You’re gonna need to fix that before we leave.” Sam said, wiping the tears from his face. “Stupid girl hormones.” Dean chuckled slightly, moving to drape an arm across Sam’s shoulders. “Dean, what if we can’t fix this?”
“Hey, don’t think like that. We will, we’ll find out how it happened and change it back. I promise.” Dean answered, and Sam wanted to believe him, wanted that comforting and cock-sure tone to be all he thought about and believe that Dean would fix this. But there was still the underlying dread and uncertainty that accompanied the trust he had in his brother, the thought that this was his life now.
“I called Ellen, she’s gonna get Ash on it. Told her we were helping out a friend.” Dean said, and Sam just nodded, accepting that people would have to know something. “I said we’d make our way to the Roadhouse, so, lets finish up here and get on the road.” Dean gave his shoulders a squeeze before standing and leaving and Sam figured he should at least give his brother points for taking this as well as he was.
Sighing, Sam got to his feet, wiping his face with a warm cloth and peering back into the mirror. He should probably look into getting girl clothes, but that would just make him think about the permanency of his … condition? No, he’d stick it out in his own clothes. At least for now.
* * *
Finishing up the job would’ve been easy for Dean and Sam pre-gender change. Post-gender change was a little different. Sam discovered that his girl self was about three inches shorter than his normal self, climbing was a little bit different. The shotgun had a bigger kick to it than Sam remembered and he figured that there was going to be a nice sized bruise on his shoulder in the morning. Why they had to use that shotgun that time he’d never know, the only reason he could come up with was that the rock salt covered a wider diameter fired from that particular gun.
All in all they got the job done, poltergeist gone, mansion no longer haunted. But Sam had a sneaky suspicion that Dean was far more frustrated and worried than he’d let on during the hunt. When they got back to the motel Dean went straight to the bathroom and hit the shower, classic Dean for ‘leave me alone, I’m mad at you’. Although Sam rationalised that there was no way that Dean could’ve be mad at him for the situation, but Dean didn’t rationalise like that, he just felt things and then moved on. Sam knew that things would be fine in a matter of hours, it didn’t stop Sam from sitting on his bed, bathroom door handle in hand.
His head hurt from where he’d hit it on the window ledge. His ankles were sore from the running, not having a pair of sneakers that actually fit him might’ve been the reason for that, and he was cold. Layers didn’t work so well when they didn’t fit either.
When Dean emerged from the bathroom, steam filtering through the open door and engulfing half of the bedroom, Sam couldn’t help but notice all the wet, toned skin. Sure, Dean was an attractive person, but Dean was still his brother, and noticing how toned and attractive Dean was hadn’t really crossed Sam’s mind in all the years they’d been hunting. Sam turned away from Dean, hiding the blush he knew had spread across his cheeks, grabbing a change of clothes and heading for the bathroom himself.
By the time Sam decided to come out, Dean was already in bed, propped up against the pillows and watching TV.
* * *
All I Want Is Something Special
The next day they were on the road, heading straight for the Roadhouse. Both agreeing that they needed to settle this as soon as possible and not take any jobs in between.
“Bobby says that he’s spoke to anyone who’d know how to do this, he said it should’ve hurt more.” Sam said, reading a book he’d found on modern witchcraft for the scorned woman. “He figured it was a good sign since it didn’t hurt at all. So that rules out Latin gone wrong or witchcraft used wrong. These kinds of things don’t go wrong apparently, so something wanted this to happen.” Sam closed the book, sighing and brushing the hair from his eyes again. “I don’t know what makes me feel better, that this wasn’t an accident or that it could’ve been worse. I mean, being a girl kinda sucks, but having to go through a painful transformation to become a girl? That would suck more.” Dean seemed to shift in his seat, not averting his gaze from the road while Sam continued babbling.
This continued for nearly three hours, before Dean decided it was time for lunch. Pulling over in another burger diner, Sam fell into step behind Dean and ignored everything around him. Sliding into one of the booths, Sam stretched his legs out under the table, ankles knocking with Dean’s. They both ordered their usual - Sam found it mildly distressing that they had a usual - and waited for the waitress to return with their coffee’s.
It was when their food arrived and Sam sipped at his black coffee that he realised people were staring. Mainly the older, trucker type men. Glancing in the napkin dispenser clandestinely, Sam tried to check and see if he had something on his face or if his girl self suddenly ended up with some kind of break out. Finding nothing on his face Sam kicked Dean to get his attention.
“Dean,” Sam managed to ignore the glare Dean shot in his direction, which wasn’t very effective with the cheese and grease on Dean’s bottom lip. “People are staring.” Sam whispered, trying not to attract anymore attention.
Dean looked around at all the other customers, glaring slightly and Sam saw more than one person look away suddenly, finding their food very interesting. “Dude, they’re looking at you.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re hot.” Dean said, soundly a little irritated. Neither talked while they ate, Sam finishing up before Dean and finishing off his coffee while Dean sat there growling. “You finished?” Sam just nodded as Dean stood up, throwing some bills on the table. Sam noticed that not only were they real dollars, they also covered both the bill and a tip for the waitress. Sam slid out of the booth and was slightly shocked when Dean draped his leather jacket over Sam’s shoulders. Not saying a word, Sam slid his arms into the jacket, noticing that it practically drowned him but felt right. When Dean’s arm wrapped around Sam’s waist and pulled him close to Dean’s side Sam couldn’t just ignore it.
“What are you doing?” Sam practically hissed, not wanting to draw attention to them.
“You want these lowlifes to think you’re available?” Dean had a point, because Sam had noticed two men at the diner bar look as if they were likely to move towards them. Sam sighed before giving in, leaning into Dean and letting his arm drape around Dean’s waist, hanging on to his hip. It was weird how well they fitted together. How Sam’s hip came just above Dean’s hip and they were both able to meld their upper bodies to one another. Sam refused to let himself think about just how nice it was, about how comfortable Dean’s arm was around him and just what kind of reaction Dean’s presence was getting from his body.
Stupid girl hormones.
Sam spent the rest of the journey to the Roadhouse not thinking about Dean or how nice he smelt, or how strong he was. It was just because he was a girl. That was all.
If Sam told himself enough, maybe he’d believe it.
* * *
They arrived that the Roadhouse 300 miles later. And then spent ten minutes in the car while Sam worked up the courage to get out the car and into the bar. The only thing he could think about was messing up, about someone, anyone finding out that he wasn’t really him or her or whatever and the whole thing being blown. What if Ellen could see through it all completely? Bobby knowing was enough.
“Okay, so we don’t tell them you’re you. I’ll just say that you’re off following your own lead. It wouldn’t be the first time we’d split up.” Sam wasn’t sure if he should be comforted by Dean’s logic or scared by it.
They’d already agreed that Sam couldn’t be Sam and that a new name had to be decided on 250 miles earlier. They had argued the first 230 miles over what name to have since Sam refused to have anything stupid and Dean ended up vetoing most of the names by reasoning of having slept with girls by those names. Just 60 miles before Dean had decided on Amanda and Sam was too tired to argue anymore.
When Sam finally got out of the car, and Dean had walked with him into the Roadhouse, Dean’s arm around his shoulders, Sam was sure he now knew what it would be like to be a zoo exhibition. He was sure that everyone was staring at him. Shrugging further into Dean’s jacket and staying close to Dean’s side, Sam was glad that his hair could hide his eyes now. Dean led them to the bar, as good as steering Sam there, where Sam met his first problem. Sam had only just on Dean’s jacket off and placed on the bar when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
“Hey there, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Sam had always thought that particular line had been made up, that it was some urban myth of pick up lines. The fact that Dean had snorted and turned away to cover his smirk said something for the line and Sam actually felt a little sorry for the beefy guy next to him who’d used the line. “Why don’t you come and have a drink with me sweetness?” The guy had to be over 200lbs, grimy clothes and scarred face telling of either a ruthless past or a reckless one. Missing his right eye, with a scar right through it, and what appeared to be a claw scar on his neck, Sam really couldn’t imagine that this guy really thought he stood a chance.
Beefy moved closer to Sam, a thick arm moving around his waist and Sam tried to back away, ready to force his way through the bar if he had to. When a hand pulled on his arm Sam almost fell into Dean’s arm, reflexively bracing himself and ending up holding on to Dean’s shoulder. He had to use his other hand to loop hair behind his ear, ending up with his other arm around Dean’s neck. Dean’s own hand ended up dangerously close to Sam’s butt, resting just on the dip of his spine, fingers splayed to cover as much as possible.
“Cause she’s having a drink with me.” Dean’s voice was low and threatening, and a chill ran through Sam’s spine. He really liked this protective streak in Dean. The hard set to Dean’s jaw and the intensity in his eyes just made him that much more appealing, and Sam wasn’t sure why, but he pressed in just a little bit closer to Dean, the thin fabric of his tightly pulled t-shirt not stopping the heat from Dean’s chest soaking into Sam’s skin.
“Well, if it isn’t Dean Winchester.” Ellen’s voice was louder than strictly necessary and Sam glanced in her direction before he noticed that Beefy was moving away, muttering under his breath. “You’re in good company here with a Winchester, honey.” Sam wondered if there was a John Winchester story behind that comment, but Ellen didn’t let on and Sam knew better than to ask.
“Hey Ellen,” Dean moved to face the bar, and Sam moved to step away from Dean, but Dean only changed the arm around him and didn’t let go, pulling him closer to Dean. “Got your message, what you got for me?”
“Had Ash do some searching, see what he could pick up on all this.” Ellen put a beer down in front of Dean, looking towards Sam, “What’cha drinking honey?”
“Beer’s fine.” Sam answered, taking Dean’s from him and swallowing. “So, you’ve heard about this kind of thing?” Sam asked, watching as Ellen got another beer for Dean with an amused smile on her face. She looked to Dean before glancing at Sam, her question there but unasked.
“Amanda here is a sort of occult nerd. She and Sam are like birds of a feather.” Dean supplied, giving Ellen the go ahead without saying as much.
“And where is Sam?” Ellen asked, leaning on the bar.
“He’s tracking down another lead.” Dean replied flippantly, and Ellen seemed appeased with that.
“I’ve never heard of this happening, but I’ve heard of the possibility. Ash managed to find some stuff, but it could be any number of things.” Ellen supplied, looking a little apologetic and Sam felt the disappointment coil.
“Lemme guess,” slender fingers picked at the label on the bottle, “pranksters, wrongly pronounced Latin, bad witchcraft or hexes gone wrong?” The disappointment only mounted and Sam felt fairly dejected.
“You know your stuff.” Ellen seemed to be a little impressed, and a little too pleased for Sam’s liking. “But Ash found something on Pixies too.”
“Pixies? Like little people with wings and fairy dust?” Sam could almost smile at the incredulous sound of Dean’s voice. He was clearly not impressed.
“Not quite. Full size people, no wings. They’re like pranksters, but just a little different. These girls are not to be messed with. They have this kind of magic. Little mischief makers, and if your friend upset one, then this could happen.”
“Are they usually female?” Sam hazarded a guess, suddenly having a completely different sinking feeling in his gut.
“Usually, yeah.” Ellen answered. “You think you know what happened?”
“I have a theory, yeah.” A squeeze on his hip indicated that Dean had got to the same conclusion. “My friend is just a little bit promiscuous.” Sam supplied, cluing Ellen in on just what probably happened.
“Well, if he hurt a Pixie, that would get them mad enough to do this. There are a lot of things that could go wrong with this kind of thing.” Ellen said before heading to the other side of the bar, serving two waiting customers.
Sam had already made a mental list of all the things that could go wrong. All the horrible possibilities and technicalities that this could cause. None of them were pretty and having Ellen remind him that this could be not only permanent but also life threatening wasn’t really something Sam needed right then. Ellen seemed to be working her way around the bar, and Sam noticed Jo coming towards them, eyes set on Dean.
Unfortunately for her, that was when Dean decided to try and make amends. They ended up facing each other, Dean’s lower half pressed to Sam’s side, both arms around Sam’s waist to keep them close, blocking out anyone who might eavesdrop. Sam rested one hand on Dean’s shoulder, fingers trailing over the muscles in Dean’s neck. Dean’s breath whispered against Sam’s cheek, warming the skin and causing goose bumps to break out down Sam’s arms.
“I’m sorry.” Sam was surprised at the sincerity in Dean’s voice and the hint of guilt there too. Sam figured the conversation needed a little more privacy and he altered the position of his body, moving just that little bit closer, resting his cheek against Dean’s shoulder.
“What for?” Jo had stopped short of approaching them, cleaning a table Sam was sure she’d already cleaned, and watching Dean intently.
“I think I know what girl it was.” Sam could hear that Dean blamed himself, the fingers trailing up his arm and the hold on his waist weren’t the only thing that revealed Dean’s guilt, the slight apologetic tone in his voice added to the other clues from Dean’s behaviour. And really, could Sam hold it against Dean that something he had no control over happened? Blame would only hinder their search and hopefully Sam’s return to form.
“Hey,” Sam’s hand splayed over Dean’s chest, directly above his heart. “It’s okay, we’ll fix this and move on. Just another hazard of the job.” Dean smiled slight and shook his head, placing a soft kiss to Sam’s head while Sam just settled for laying his head on Dean’s shoulder a moment longer.
“Hey there.” Sam stood up straight, but noticed that Dean didn’t draw away, as Jo approached, smiling widely at Dean. When she turned her gaze to Sam the smile turned cold, her eyes belying the kind smile with a hardness that should be reserved for evil mass murderers. Sam inadvertently moved closer to Dean. “Who’s your friend?” Dean clearly didn’t pick up the cold tone, but Sam did, and he began to wonder if Jo treated every female this way.
“This is Amanda; she’s helping out on a job.” The glare only intensified while Dean took a drink of beer.
“What are you a veteran hunter or something?” Sam suddenly realised that Jo saw her as competition, Jo was still harbouring her crush on Dean and seeing girl-Sam with Dean clearly unleashed Jo’s green eyed monster. The fact that Jo had never even approached Dean in a non-hunter manner really irked Sam, why should he suffer her insecurity on top of everything else?
“Nope. I’m just a college student. I know a bit about demonology and the occult though.” Sam said, deciding to just get it out, “Dean thought I’d be a great help though.” He knew he was laying it on thick, but Dean said nothing and didn’t move away or even remove his hand from Sam’s hip. Jo just nodded, and if Sam didn’t know better he’d say that ‘murderous rage’ wouldn’t cover the gleam in Jo’s eye right then.
Conversation picked up, mainly about previous hunts that Jo wanted to know about and Sam quickly realised that this was her way of shutting ‘Amanda’ out of the conversation. Sam shouldn’t know anything about those hunts, so really there was no reason for him to participate in the conversation at all. Sam ended up tuning the pair out, not interested in listening to Jo’s train wreck tactic of flirting.
Sam had no problem with Jo, not really. She was the daughter of a hunter their father had known, and an unspoken respect came with that. She was also the daughter of a woman their father respected, and both Dean and Sam had come to respect Ellen in her own right. Putting up with hunter’s day in and out, dealing with the drunken ones and still managing to be casual and nice with newcomers, it warranted its own respect.
As it was Dean’s arm fell from around Sam’s waist further into the conversation, and as Sam stood, leaning on the bar and picking at his bottle, his earlier suitor decided to try again.
“Hey sugar, looks like your boy’s neglecting you. Why don’t you come on over and sit with some real men?” Sam really wished guys knew when a girl was out of their league, it would make things so much easier.
“Listen, I’m not interested.” Sam said, not wanting to go through the whole rigmarole of being nice and not hurting their feelings. He was a goddamned hunter, feelings be damned. He didn’t need to be fending off advances for however long they were at the bar.
“What? You think you’re too good for me?” Beefy’s hand grabbed at Sam’s arm, yanking hard and nearly pulling Sam off his feet.
“Hey!” Dean was in Beefy’s face within seconds, the hand being snatched away from Sam’s arm. Dean stood between Sam and Beefy, eyes narrowed to slits and jaw clenched. While Beefy had a hand on his knife, Dean hand his around his gun and Sam noticed Ellen reaching for something under the bar. “I think you were told to get lost.” Dean practically snarled and Sam felt the need to have some kind of contact with his brother. Placing hands on Dean’s hips set not only to have that contact, but also to pull Dean back if needed. Fighting was one thing, stabbing and shooting was something altogether unwanted. As Beefy backed off, Dean shot a look around the bar, his jaw still set tight. Taking Sam’s hand and grabbing his jacket from the bar Dean sent a nod towards Ellen before heading for the door.
“Let’s get outta here.” Sam didn’t mind when Dean pulled him close, arm around his waist and holding tightly to one of Sam’s hips. Sam leant into Dean, letting their bodies soak up enough of each others warmth. Sam caught the icy glare that Jo was throwing in his direction; Sam just snorted and rolled his eyes, deciding that Jo could just deal with it. He was through being nice to her, bruised ego be damned.
“You take care.” Ellen said, Sam and Dean both nodded. If Sam was honest with himself he kind of liked the possessive way Dean’s grip tightened as they left the bar. He’d fully expected the closeness to disintegrate as they exited, but Dean didn’t release Sam until they drew up beside the impala. Sam turned and rested against the door, Dean depositing his jacket on the back seat before turning back to Sam.
Dean’s face was clouded over, not so much in anger but Sam could still see the lingering traces of fury on his brother’s face. Sam was more concerned with the fear in Dean’s eyes. One hand rose to Dean’s elbow, fingers gently caressing the warm flesh. “What’s wrong?” Dean just shook his head.
“Y’okay?” Dean asked, it was strange to see Dean being so caring, but Sam guessed that it really shouldn’t. Dean had looked out for Sam most of his life, maybe since he was a girl right now it was just far more evident.
“I’m fine.” Sam said, small smile on his face. “He just grabbed my arm.” Sam looked at the offending arm, frowning slightly at what he saw. “What the…” There was already a somewhat purple/black hue to his formerly tanned skin.
“Guess you bruise easier.” Dean said, hand skirting from Sam’s arm up to his shoulder where the earlier bruise from the shotgun was already healing. It was mildly scary that Dean had become the voice of reason. Dean’s hand continued, moving to cup Sam’s cheek, forcing Sam to look up and meet Dean’s gaze.
“I’m okay.” Sam tried again, whispered into the air. He wasn’t sure why he whispered, but it felt like anything could shatter this, and he needed to embrace the moment for what it was. When Sam tore his gaze away from Dean he noticed a figure, Jo, standing in the doorway to the Roadhouse, gazing over at them.
Moving forward, Sam looped his arms around Dean’s neck, pleasantly surprised when Dean’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling them flush together and giving Sam the much needed comfort that he really didn’t know he’d wanted. Dean never went in for chick flick moments, but the part of Sam that craved human contact savoured every second of it, knowing that Jo was watching and knowing that no matter what she’d never have this with Dean. Never.
Sam burrowed his head into Dean’s shoulder, nuzzling his nose into Dean’s neck, and Dean’s hand moved to the base of Sam’s neck, fingers tangling in messy brown hair. They stood like that for a few moments, Sam knowing better than to give Dean too big a reason to believe there was something wrong. Enough to comfort, not too much to worry. That was the plan. Slowly pulling away, Sam was pleased that Dean’s hand only went as far as to rest on his hips, not pulling away completely.
“Sorry,” Sam said, blushing mildly and noticing that Jo was still there. “Chick flick moment.” Dean smiled, a proper smile that Sam only saw on the off chance that something genuinely amused Dean.
“I think you’re entitled. You’re handling this pretty well.” Dean brushed hair out of Sam’s eyes, fingers trailing across Sam’s cheek as his hand dropped away and Sam realised something. This wasn’t just about giving Jo the boot, wasn’t just about showing her she had no chance. It was more than that. It was him and Dean and nothing else and that scared Sam. Because there were things he wasn’t supposed to feel, things that he wasn’t supposed to think, not about Dean.
“So, this girl?” It was harder to get back on track than Sam would’ve liked, and Dean nodded, as if not hearing Sam but agreeing anyway. “Where is she?”
“Right, um, girl, in Lincoln. You remember the hunt with the black dog?” Sam nodded, unable to forget that hunt.
“You practically got mauled. How could I forget?” Dean snorted and waved a hand, moving to open the door for Sam, which got him a laugh and gentle smack to the head. Sam waited for Dean to get round the other side of the car, opening his own door. Maybe mauled was too big a word, slashed to smithereens? No, still too much. Ripped to ribbons? Maybe a bit much. All in all, Sam knew that it had been close. Dean had gotten too close and the dog had nearly had Dean’s throat out. There were still healing cuts on Dean’s torso and thigh, so really, mauled wasn’t too far away from the truth.
“So, Lincoln. I’m assuming this was after we faked your health records and got you seen to at the hospital?” Sam asked, remembering filling out numerous forms with false details while Dean flirted with several candy stripers.
“Yeah. Elise, she was one of the nurses.” Dean said. “Blonde bombshell. And her legs.” Dean licked his lips. “I mean, they weren’t as nice as yours, but not everyone can have it all.” Sam decided not to comment on that, but the fact that Sam had nicer legs that the possible pixie who cursed him made him feel a little triumphant. “Anyway, she went to this bar, The Candy Store. I met her there after we ditched the hospital and you stopped mothering me enough to let me out.”
“Maybe I should’ve tied you to the bed.” Sam said, without thinking.
“Didn’t know you had a kinky side.” Dean patted Sam’s thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. It was a usual occurrence, and one Sam wouldn’t have thought twice about if he’d still been boy-Sam. But girl-Sam seemed to like the gentle petting more than Sam really needed. The tingles that went up his leg and the continued tingling in his crotch was not entirely unwelcome, but not exactly something he needed either.
“Right, yeah, whatever.” Sam said, clearing his throat. “So, we find this girl, Elise, find out if she’s a pixie and get her to fix me. No problem. Right?”
“Right.”
They really should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
* * *
Part 2