Author: Spinny Roses
Warnings: Incest (Dean/Sam), gender switch, femmeslash (Hello!)
Spoilers: After "Asylum," little spoiler for "Scarecrow"
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: And Dean looked up from small, perky breasts and the lack of a penis up to see his (her?) now sister looking at him (her?) with confusion.
Ashes Ashes/We All Fall Down
By Spinny Roses
When Dean started to wake up, it was because long, fine hair tickled his nose incessantly. A few sneezes later and he woke up, blinking stupidly at the motel room. Slowly, strangely not quite awake yet, Dean went to stand up and found a great difference in center of balance. The floor came rushing up, and smashed into tender bits that should not be there.
The sound caused Sam to stir, but the horrified "What the fuck," slipping from Dean's lips as he looked down caused the younger of the two to sit up, hair in even more wild curls around a impossible, feminine face.
And Dean looked up from small, perky breasts and the lack of a penis up to see his (her?) now sister looking at him (her?) with confusion. "What the fuck?" Sam echoed, then eyes went wide at the soft, feminine pitch of the statement. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"You're telling me."
It took Sam and Dean a day just to learn how to stand up without falling over. Even though their breasts were actually on the medium to small side (Which caused Dean to grumble "If we were going to be turned into girls, why do we have tits like these?"), it was still enough for their center of balance to be that far off.
The next revelation, the fact their clothes no longer fit, was eclipsed by the third.
"Dean, we can't use these cards anymore."
"What are you talking about?" Dean said distractedly, trying to find a belt with a notch tight enough so the pants wouldn't slid down curvy hips.
"They all have male names. Charles, Harry... Fuck, we don't even have any Alexes or anything like that. No one's going to believe these names without ID, and our IDs all have male faces on them!"
Dean blinked at Sam, watching a slim hand push back what looked to be illegally silky curls. "Hey, princess, don't PMS on me. We can..."
"We can what, Deanna?" Sam spat back, tossing a card at Dean. "Get new cards? It'll take a while. In the meantime, this room's only paid for until tomorrow. Mind explaining how we two girls are going to pay for a room that two guys originally paid for?"
"We'll figure something out," Dean snapped at him... her... whatever. "Just calm the fuck down."
The first time Dean had actually looking into a mirror, it was after a shower, not the best time. Her hair was darkened with the water, and clung to her head in scraggly curls. There was barely any resemblance between the old, male Dean and the new one.
When her hair was dry, Sam kept looking at her, as if there was something on her face. Annoyed, constantly pushing back slightly wavy hair, Dean finally cracked. "Look, princess, take a fucking picture or get back to work. I don't want to be a girl forever."
The second time, it was right after having to go to the bathroom. The lack of a dick was even more apparent here, as she had to half-undress and then actually sit down to pee. Dean was grumbling about how it was obvious now why girls took so long in the bathroom when she looked up.
Seeing a young Mary Winchester with slightly darker hair looking back at her was one of the scariest things a big, bad hunter like Dean had ever seen.
The worst revelation came after they were thrown out of the motel.
Both of them were wound up, trying to remember what sort of witch or warlock or demon they might have pissed off, what sort of spell it might have been and how to reverse it, when Dean suggested they find a nice, secluded area and duke it out. Friendly wrestling match, and if they started to figure out even more how to use their new bodies (as well as rub up against each other, but Dean kept that to herself), so much the better.
It never got that far.
After two awkward punches, three failed grappling attempts, and one spectacular ass-landing by Sam, the two looked at each other with horror.
The muscle memory on how to fight, how to move... was gone.
"Hey, Dad? You're not going to believe this one. Look, Sammy and I..."
"Shut it, princess. Sammy and I have tried to figure out who or what did this, but... well... look, Dad? We need you. We're just outside Rockford, near the asylum. Just... please."
Dean hesitated for a few more seconds, then snapped the cell phone shut.
"Think he'll actually be here this time?" Sam said snidely, not taking her hand away from her face or bothering to sit up. They had been forced to find a new motel due to some wicked stomach pains Sam had been having, and now she was even more snappish and rather lethargic.
"PSMing much, Sammy?"
In California, near Palo Alto, John Winchester ended the call to his voice mail, stopping the female voice with Dean's vocal patterns in mid-word.
Sam didn't turn away from the window. It was raining, the gentle sort of rain that the parched earth drank greedily, the sort of rain that was more a benediction than portent of things to come. The steady splat-splat of drops onto the window and soft grey sky was soothing, something Sam never noticed when she was male. "Yeah, a little."
Dean hesitated behind her, then put an awkward hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Sam, I didn't..."
The soft depression in her voice, the unsaid realization that they're really girls now, complete with menstrual cycle, made Dean's arms ache to hug her. Slowly, she stepped back. "Hey, man. No chick flick moments. That doesn't change when we're both chicks."
Sam was silent for a few more minutes, then turned away. "Yeah."
Three months. Three months of learning how to deal with girl parts, how to move properly, and buying girl clothes and pads (no tampons. That was just too creepy) when Dean ran into her father.
John took it better than they thought he would. When a distracted Dean literally bumped into him, dropping a bag of salt, John instantly bent down to pick it up, Southern manners coming to the fore as he apologized for the collision before he looked up into the girl's face.
All words died except for one, strangled word.
"And we've called you how many times-"
"-in the last three months but you haven't contacted us until now-"
"-and damn it, Dad, I thought I was dying the first time I-"
"Sammy, shut up," Dean said wearily, putting away the bag of salt. "Look, Dad, this is what happened. We went to bed one night after taking care of Dr. Elliot, woke up as girls the next day. No fights with demons or witches or anything like that. Gender switch curses have to be spoken in front of the victim, and the spell to do it from afar is a doozy and requires bits and pieces from the victim. Haven't had anyone bleed us or take our hair, so I have no fucking idea."
John looked between his children, two beautiful slips of girls, one almost the spitting image of Mary and the other looking like a female version of himself. "And what aren't you telling me?"
Sam grit her teeth, looking away.
"We tried sparring," Dean said reluctantly. "I don't think these are our bodies, just female. They're brand new bodies, and they don't know how to fight. I mean... our brains remember, but the muscle memory is..."
That was the shoe. John let out a long, rattling breath, looking between the two girls. Dean was trying to stay busy, trying so hard not to show the fear and guilt on her face. Sam was looking away, face in the deceptively fragile mask that hid tears. "That is... very serious," he started when Sam laughed.
"Very serious, he says," she mimicked, letting out another bitter laugh. "We know that."
John's hands came crashing down onto the table, making both girls flinch. "Sammy, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Slowly, she turned her head back to him, the mask starting to break. "Dad..." she whispered, her voice lost. "I'm a girl." Everything else, the loss of identity and ability to take care of herself, the loss of being Sam Winchester, was said between the quivering words.
Dean came up behind her, reaching out, then stopped and bit her lip. Her outreached hand curled in on itself, then she lowered it to her side, her own battle spoken by her uncertain movements.
And John, used to men and male hormones, sat there unsure and helpless as Sam turned away, crying silently.
There were so many more things that girls could do that if men did them, people looked at them strangely.
Fewer people made gay jokes when they checked into motels. It was perfectly normal, a girl and her female friend checking in together. When there was only bed available, only the oversexed men made lesbian jokes, offering to be the penis if they needed it.
If Sam was on the edge of breakdown, from an almost botched hunt the previous night due to their bodies not responding right, or the simple fact that he's a she now, giving into the urge to hug and comfort her was something Dean could do without anyone asking more than "Is she okay?"
John noticed it as Dean pulled Sam back from the window into a comforting hug, the motion looking so normal that he forgot, for a brief moment, that the two in front of him weren't sisters or very good friends, but his gender switched sons.
His sons, whom he was retraining how to fight.
John was out, for whatever reason. Sam and Dean were told to stay at the motel, which caused Sam to bristle slightly. It was with good reason, though. Sam was a little anemic at the moment, hunt gone wrong coupled with the wrong time of month, and had nearly fainted the last time she went out.
So instead, she was slowly driving Dean crazy.
"What about chocolate? We've got to have that."
"You ate the last of it, now shut the fuck up, Sam!" Dean snapped, going over the notes for the fourth time.
Sam was quiet for a few minutes, then broke the silence with a soft sniff. Dean let the pen drop from her fingers with an annoyed sigh, and turned to look at her brother-cum-sister. "Look, stop this shit. Unless you suddenly remember what happened or you have a vision, just... stop and let me try to figure out what is going on."
Sam blinked a few times, panic starting to overcome her face.
"You have had a vision since you... right?"
The horror that shone through her face was answer enough. "Dean..."
She didn't even know she was moving until Sam was clinging to her, sobbing into her shoulder as she knelt by the bed. Hysterical words were dropping from Sam's lips, phrases like "don't know who I am anymore" and "useless as a girl" and just plain "useless." Dean barely realized she was crying as well until Sam pulled back slightly, embarrassed at the wet spot she was leaving on Dean's shoulder. The two girls looked at each other, skin blotchy from crying and sniffing away dripping snot.
That was when Dean darted forward, pressing her lips against Sam's. The original intention, comfort, was lost as soon as it was thought up. They clung to each other, desperate, fingers moving through hair and over breasts. Dean fingered Sam's nipples through her clothes, then snuck cold fingers under her shirt to tease them to full hardness, causing the youngest Winchester to groan and cling to her. Dean licked her collarbone, barely having to bend her head. Sam's still a head taller, hips rounder, breasts bigger... the epitome of female sexiness, beneath her fingers and groaning for more.
Dean pushed down Sam's pants, burrowing her nose into the plain cotton panties and licking her through the cloth. Sam's back arched, leaning back onto her elbows as Dean licked her clit and started to push aside the barrier. She ran her fingers up and down her slit, picking up moisture and spreading it around her clit before returning her tongue there. Sam gripped the bed and started to lay back, Dean's talented tongue and fingers combined with the frantic, needy pace making her body want, need more.
And Dean was more than happy to give it, carefully sliding her slender fingers deeper and deeper in, curving to the spot that had former girlfriends yelping in untold pleasure. Sam gasped and grabbed at her hair, her legs starting to press together as it all became so much, too much. "Dean..." The rest of it was cut off as her body shuddered out an orgasm, barely noticing she was panting, almost whimpering with each contraction.
It was pleasure; it was pain, immeasurable pleasure melting into blinding pain and a vision. A blonde girl, in the bloody cab of a truck, looking down into a chalice. She smiled slightly, and looked up, looked right at where Sam would be.
"Hey there, boys. Oh, I'm sorry. Girls. Enjoying yourselves?" Idly, she stirred the blood in the chalice. "Of course you are. I was a little surprised, Dean looking so much like your mother. Would this be an Oedipal Complex, or just plain incest, do you think?"
Sam snarled and took a step forward, not even noticing the extra foot in height and hard muscle in place of full breasts, when she raised the hand not sitting in blood. Sam froze, unable to move farther. "Unfortunately," she continued, "this hasn't happened yet and you can't really do anything about it. Especially like that. Enjoy, you'll have to live with those forms."
"Name's Meg. Be seeing you, Sammy boy."
The blood splattered truck faded back into the dingy motel room, and Dean's face shouting her name with a rising edge of hysteria. Sam rubbed at her eyes, hands trembling from orgasm aftermath and vision pain.
"Sam. Sammy, what was that? Sam, talk to me."
A hysterical laugh bubbled up behind her lips, the horrifying knowledge that there was no cure, no way to change back causing the laugh to spill out on the edge of tears. She laughed and cried on her back, her pants still around her knees and underwear pushed to one side, room still smelling of sex, and still couldn't tell Dean.
Couldn't even tell her about the murder about to happen by an innocent looking blonde.