Author: Spinny Roses
Warnings: Incest (Dean/Sam), genderswitch
Spoilers: AU of "Salvation" and "Devil's Trap." Part of Family Outside Rhymes series (AU starting at "Asylum" for entire series).
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: "Witch isn't powerful enough to keep a spell like this on you two, even if she makes a deal with the devil. My guess, I'd say some damned demon possessed this Meg's body and did this to you boys."
Jill Came Tumbling After
By Spinny Roses
Dean was nervously braiding and unbraiding her hair while looking at the cell phone. The hair coiled into tight plaits, then separated again. "Dad should have called by now."
"I know." Sam was dividing her attention between the book in front of her, the cell phone, and the Colt. "So shut up about it already. And damn it, Dean, if it's bothering you that much, cut it off."
Unamused, Dean finished the last tight plait in the braid and actually tied it off. "Remember last time we tried that, Sammy? I swear it tried to strangle you in your sleep."
She rolled her eyes, and went back to the book, her blood moving unsteadily through her veins at the memory of the vision. There was a reason why the blonde (Meg, her memory supplied) had said there was no way back. There was a reason why they had been changed into girls with long hair and no muscle memory about how to fight, why the muscle memory was so slow in building and why their hair remained long.
And damned if Sam knew what that reason was.
Despite the fact the guns were completely spotless and had been cleaned three times since they got back, Dean pulled out the .45 and started to field strip it again. She had just started running the brush through the barrel with nervous energy when the phone rang. "MotherfuckingSHIT!"
Sam snatched up the phone as Dean was wiping off the excess oil from her hands, flicking it open in one smooth motion. "Dad?"
"Sorry, Sam, wrong guess."
The darkly amused female voice slid out of the speaker, causing her eyes to narrow. "Where's Dad?"
Meg chuckled. "Now, Sam, isn't that the wrong thing to say when this is the first time we've talked in real time? How's life been, anyway?"
"Where is Dad, bitch?"
Dean watched her face, worried. "Sam, who the fuck is that?"
Another dark chuckle. "You make a bad girl, Sammy. Most girls would be gossiping with another female around, not demanding where their father is. But then again, considering that the only girl you've been around you've been fucking..."
"Where. Is. Dad?"
Her voice went serious, deadly. "Gone. Won't seen him ever, ever again, So, Sammy, let's see if you're actually as smart as they say. Where's the gun?"
Sam hesitated slightly, in the split second it took her to look at the Colt. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Now, see, that kind of bullshit had the good old Pastor Jim with a hole in his neck. So, let's try again. Where's the gun?"
"Think Dad would let us have it?" Sam shot back, eyes steadily on the gun as if it would disappear. Dean had quickly snapped the .45 back together, and slammed a full clip home. In fact, she was currently going between the windows, patrolling as Sam talked.
"No, but stupider things have happened. Bring the Colt, Sam, or else the next time you see Daddy Dearest? Will be in pieces." The phone beeped in her ear, the sound of the call ending. Sam slowly closed the phone, placing a hand to her forehead.
"Okay, Sam, who the fuck was that?"
Sam slowly looked up, watching Dean busy herself by looking out the windows, gun carefully up. "Meg," he said flatly. "At least, that's what she called herself."
Dean flashed a quick look over her shoulder. "Meg. Okay. Now, how the hell do you know this Meg?"
Sam laughed, a sharp bitter sound that fell from her lips as she leaned back. "Would you believe a vision?"
"You can pick up chicks in your vision? Damn, Sammy, I didn't know you were that good."
"Damn it, Dean!" Sam closed her eyes, the secret behind their transformation on her lips. "She... she did it. Dean, there isn't a cure. We're going to be girls until we-" She stopped, licking her lips. "She wants us to bring the Colt, or she'll start shipping us pieces of Dad."
Dean went still, looking at Sam in disbelief. She watched as Dean tried to grab onto one part of what she just said, just one part to start on about. Finally, Dean sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "We can't give her the gun," she said flatly, making her choice. "We'll have to find a way to get Dad back without giving her the gun."
Slowly, Sam nodded, not sure if she wanted to be relieved or disappointed. "I know. But..."
"But yeah, I get it." Dean sat back down, putting her gun close to the side. "We're going to need someone. Caleb... and Pastor Jim's..." She swallowed, skittering away from that. "Bobby. He's supposed to have all this stuff about demons and shit."
"Then we have to get moving." Sam hesitated, turning her head to look at Dean. "Hey, Dean, I..."
"We don't have time to have a fucking shouting match about this," Dean barked, shoving the Colt into its case. "Let's move."
Bobby had seen a lot of weird things in his life. Being a hunter and all, that was a bit of a prerequisite. Out of all the ghosts, wereanimals, and demons out there, seeing John Winchesters two boys show up on his doorstep, short on sleep and obviously female was... just another day in the life.
Sam had instantly gone to the books, lending truth to John's statement about her ability to glean information from text. She was muttering to herself, tracing the lines of the Key of Solomon. Bobby had already explained the function of it, and now she was trying to memorize it.
Bobby just turned his attention back to the two flasks in his hand. He filled the second flask and screwed it tight. Both of them held completely separate, yet equally important liquids. The first, he handed over to a delicate looking Dean. "Boys, what the hell did the two of you run up against?"
The girls flinched, and Sam looked up from the books she was immersed in. "A demon," she said shortly. "Or a witch, or something."
Dean's jaw flexed slightly, and nodded towards the second flask Bobby was slowly starting to hand over. "What's in that? More holy water?"
"Nah, boy, you already got the holy water. This is just some liquid courage."
Dean sighed, and grabbed the flask. With one smooth motion, she opened the top and downed a healthy gulp. Grudgingly, she let out a muttered "thanks" and pocketed the second flask. "So. What do you think, Bobby?"
"Witch isn't powerful enough to keep a spell like this on you two, even if she makes a deal with the devil. My guess, I'd say some damned demon possessed this Meg's body and did this to you boys," Bobby said casually, not even wincing when Sam tossed the book onto the table with more force than was necessary.
"You aren't blind and you've heard the story," Sam screamed, and it was a little hard to ignore the tremble in her voice. "Stop referring to us as 'boys'!"
Bobby chuckled, rescuing his precious book. "And what, y'all are thinking like girls now? Yeah, what I thought. You still think like the boys you are, you still boys to me. Besides, no spell's forever. Kill the demon in her, you probably end the spell."
The hope that shone in Dean's face was painful, almost as painful as the scornful disbelief Sam tried to hide away. She was about to open her mouth when the barking, a steady background annoyance, faded away with a pained yelp. Alarmed, the three ran over to the window only to be met with an unnatural stillness.
And no dog.
Sam and Dean had a split second to follow Bobby's eyes to the back room when the door slams open and a small blonde walked in. Sam's spine straightened unnaturally, and Dean stepped between her and the blonde. "Who the fuck are you?" she asked, hand going towards where she kept her gun.
The blonde rolled her eyes, and backhanded Dean. "You two girls surprise me," she drawled, reaching down to grab Dean by the throat. "Where's the gun?"
"Asked you a question first, bitch," she choked out, tugging at the impossibly strong grip on her larynx.
Sam came a little closer, and Dean wanted to yell at her for coming in close enough for the she-bitch to grab her. "Meg," she said quietly, almost through gritted teeth.
"Nice to meet you, Sammy," Meg said, almost cordially. "Now that we're all friendly, answer my question. Where's the Colt?"
"Buried it," Dean managed, letting out a strangled noise when her grip tightened.
"Dean's telling the truth," Sam followed up quickly. "Protective circles, holy water, the works. You won't-"
Meg snapped her arm forward, throwing Dean across the room. "See, I don't believe that. Not unless you really hate Daddy that much. I'm kinda surprised," she continued, stomping her way towards the dazed Dean. "It's kinda well known this family is a little too close. So, one more time. Where's the gun?"
Dean spat at her feet. "Fuck off, bitch."
With an exaggerated eyeroll, Meg backhanded her again, sending her through the half-open door and into the back room. Dean managed to catch something out of the corner of her eye, and started scooting back slightly. Meg followed, holding Sam in the same stranglehold. "Sloppy, sloppy work. Not even strong enough as girls, and did you really think I'd-" Meg cut off, as if she ran into something. Her hand opened slightly, and Sam ripped herself out of the hold, scrambling back.
Dean couldn't help the smug smile crossing her lips. "Counted on it, bitch." At once, the three girls looked up, seeing the Key of Solomon Bobby had drawn on the ceiling months before. "What was that, again?"
Meg only looked at her, snarling.
Despite the weakening from the Key of Solomon, it took Sam, Dean, Bobby, and several ruined chairs before they could finally tie Meg down. The question, now, was what sort of leverage they actually had on her. Dean was of the mind that they could beat what they wanted out of her.
After the fifth dominatrix crack, and no information as to where their father was, she was forced to give up.
"What are we going to do?" Sam demanded. "We're not going to get anything out of that demon, we can't hand over the gun, and if we exorcise it, it's just free to possess someone else."
"No, it's not," Bobby said, unexpectedly. "Damned thing would stay in the Key, probably would die if you're as good as John says." He looked past the half-closed door, watching Meg pull at her ropes.
"Threaten her with eternal captivity or death. I like it," Dean grumbled, and blew a few errant strands of hair out of her face. "Sammy?"
Sam just followed Bobby's gaze. "Bobby... you said there's a real girl in there, a human girl." At his cautious nod, she frowned, thinking. "She, the real Meg, won't be hurt by this?"
"Not if you're as good as they say."
Sam closed her eyes, and nodded. "Okay. Let's do it."
Okay, it was time for Dean to review what had just happened. They had gotten out of Meg that their father was in Jefferson, Missouri, she had pushed Sam to finish the exorcism, black smoky shit out of Meg's mouth, the horrible pain in her chest and stomach as well as ripping sounds and... now, she was waking up, staring at the ceiling. A little flex of muscles confirmed it: She was naked, on the floor, and had a sheet over her. She grunted and started to sit up.
Something was seriously wrong. Different. Her head was too light, the grunt too low pitched. One eye cracked open, noting the sheet draped wrong. One quick look under it caused a happy yell to fill the room.
No more breasts and the penis was back. While Dean was certain there would be a bizarre moment down the line where he'd (male pronouns again, Dean thought gleefully, he could think of himself as male again) miss the breasts, the dick and ability to pee standing up and not half undressed made up for it. A quick look around the floor and a hand through his hair confirmed the lighter feeling on his head - while it wasn't the same cut as before, his hair length had gone back to above his ears. He grinned and stood, only stumble and nearly fall on his face.
Okay, he had to find his center of balance again. Okay. It had to be easier the second time; he had this body before. In the meantime, he was just going to stumble over to the door and when did Bobby get all the sharp furniture?
"Hey, Sammy!" he called, distracted. "Bobby was... shit."
Sam looked up, eyes dark and body still, still female. She looked down and rolled her eyes. "Dean, at least use the sheet."
With a quick motion, she tossed a bundle of clothes at him and hey, he was picking up how to move a lot faster then he did when he suddenly turned female. "Just... get dressed. Meg wants to talk to you, and I don't think she wants to see your dick."
Dean did so, not really recognizing the clothes. Made sense, most of their guy clothes were stuffed away and Bobby would have some clothes for him to wear. "Sam."
"Talk to Meg," she clipped out, putting her head in her hands. "God."
It was the suppressed sob in her voice that made him go towards the bedroom, towards Bobby's voice. When he opened the door, Bobby was carefully cleaning a nasty looking wound on Meg's stomach. They both looked at the door, and Meg smiled. "Hey there, Dean," she said, her voice almost faded away to nothing.
Dean just looked at her, stunned. "What the hell?" he finally got out, stepping into the room.
"She was shot," Bobby muttered, then shook his head. "It's been too long. You need a hospital."
"I won't make it, and you know it." Dean was starting to feel bad that he never got to meet the real Meg outside possession. She was truly no-nonsense. "Dean... look, nothing I can say will make up for it. The demon was trying to make Sam more powerful and it backfired. Sam..." Here, she winced, and gasped. "Sunrise Apartments, Dean. It was telling the truth. Get him, save him."
Dean just shook his head. "That makes no sense. Meg, what do you mean, more powerful? Why was I changed?"
She smiled sadly. "Protection. It knew... kill you, and Sam... and that wouldn't..." Her eyes closed, and her words cut off. Dean rushed forward, pressing two fingers to her throat and sighing as her pulse beat weakly against his skin.
Each beat was weaker than the last, each of her breaths shallower than before. Dean wanted to grab her, shake her, tell her she couldn't die, something like this couldn't happen again to him.
The thought had barely occurred to him when her last breath sighed out, and her pulse went still against his fingers.
"Meg?" His hand went to her shoulder, and he shook her lightly. "Meg?" Harder. "Meg, wake up. Damn it, wake up!" Her head was flopping back and forth as he shook her, almost screaming at her. "Wake up!"
Bobby grabbed him, hauling him away. "Damn it, boy! Look, Sam knows it too. Meg knew she was dying and told him almost the same thing, only she managed to tell him that it was better being dead than possessed." Dean turned to him, not really seeing his face. "God damn it, boy, listen to me. Your. Father. Is. In. Danger. Go. Get. Him."
It was the patronizing tone of voice that finally got to Dean. He lifted his chin, and let out a long breath. "Going to take care of her, make sure she gets the full treatment?"
That caused Bobby to smile. "'Course, boy. She's a fallen soldier. Now go get y'all's asses out of here. Take the book with you."
Dean nodded, once, and went back out to where Sam was sitting. He grabbed the book she had been reading before the whole thing with Meg, and dropped it in her lap. "Let's get going, Sam."
She didn't even grab for the book as it fell off her lap.
"Sam?" Dean ducked down slightly, looking at her. "Shit. Come on, Sammy. Stop moping and let's go get Dad."
She didn't acknowledge that.
With an irritated grunt, Dean grabbed her and hauled her up. "Look, we don't have time for this!"
Sam looked up at him, and while she was still freakishly taller than most girls, she didn't hit six feet. It was a near thing, but Dean was still taller by an inch or two. From that slight height advantage, he saw the whirlwind of emotion on her face and the almost complete emotional breakdown.
There was no way that Dean wasn't going to respond to that. "Sam," he said, a little softer, "Dad's in danger. I know Meg was an innocent, but at least she died free. But we can save Dad. Okay?"
The breakdown became complete at that last line, and she melted into his arms, crying. Despite the months with the plumbing, Dean wasn't very good as speaking Crying Girl (Most of the time he went into Patented Dean Move Number 148: How to Calm Girls Down and Get Their Panties Off at the Same Time, but that just felt wrong right now) but he managed to hear something about Meg, innocent, and being a girl forever. Which made no sense. Dean changed back, why wouldn't Sam at some point?
When the crying slowed, Dean bumped her slightly. "Ready to go?"
She rubbed her nose, nodding. "Yeah. Is Bobby...?"
"He'll take care of her." Dean picked up the book, handing it to her. "Let's go."
It would take at least two days. Sam said she could drive, but Dean just looked at her as she yawned and rubbed at her eyes. He wasn't about to put his baby into jeopardy, so it would have to wait for another day.
So yet another fleabag motel. Dean wasn't going to tell Sam that he had specifically asked for one bed.
"Dude, what the hell?"
"Cheaper, Sammy," Dean said, pulling out the salt bag. "We'll sleep for five hours, get back on the road."
"Fine," she muttered, pulling out the parchment and ink. Soon, there was salt and every protective rune they knew against every surface open to the outside world. Dean rolled his shoulders and fairly threw himself onto the bed. "Hey, um..."
He opened one eye, looking at her. "Yeah?"
There were several things he could say, thousands of things about the touchy-feeling nature of the conversation, but they were all swallowed as Dean reached up and grabbed her, pulling her into a hug.
"Dean, what the?"
"Just shut up, Sam." She was going to change back into a guy, he knew it. Sometime, soon. She was going to change back into the guy that knew how to fight and whose muscles didn't forget all the training the next morning. She was going to change into a guy that didn't relax and conk out in his arms without a fight, though a good portion of that was probably exhaustion from the previous day.
Sam was going to change back, and until then, Dean was determined to protect her. He brushed her hair back, the strands stiff with sweat and tears, and whispered to her, "I won't let you get hurt. I'll protect you."
She shifted, too tired to wake up. He tightened his hug, pressing his lips to her hair.