Chapter Text
The first thing Dean became aware of as he opened his eyes was a painful throbbing sensation in his head. He shifted, realizing he was fully clothed and lying on top of his bed in the motel he and Sam had been staying in whilst they worked their latest case. Rubbing his forehead, he desperately tried to remember what they’d begun investigating – something about a strange death involving a flying flowerpot, if he remembered correctly.
Dean sat up and was met with an odd tickling sensation on the sides of his face. He seemed… Higher up, somehow. Disoriented, he tried to recall what had happened the previous night. He could remember pieces here and there – stopping by a bar to interview a witness while Sammy researched some lore, having a few more drinks than he should have. There was a girl, he remembered. What was her name?
“Jenny,” he muttered before stopping abruptly; what was with his voice? He cleared his throat, figuring he must be coming down with something. More importantly, if he’d met a girl, what the hell was he doing back in the motel? A sliver of guilt trickled through him as he thought the words but he ignored it – Dean and Cas were a thing of the past.
Cursing under his breath, Dean slumped back onto his bed only to be faced with the reappearance of the strange tickling sensation around his ears. Confused, he lifted his hands to his face and felt… Hair?
“What the–?” Dean attempted to leap out of bed and towards the mirror in the bathroom but tangled his legs in the sheets and fell flat on his face. Groaning, he pulled himself up onto his hands – why did his legs seem longer all of a sudden? He righted himself, stumbling to the mirror before freezing.
“What the hell?” He brought his hands to his face, tracing the features that were unfamiliar even though he’d been looking at them for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t his face.
It was Sam’s.
*****
Sam groaned. His head felt like it had been bashed in by several angry demons before being run over by a truck. Not pleasant.
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and blinked in shock as they adjusted to the brightness of the clean white walls. He sat bolt upright, staring around in shock. No motel he and Dean had ever stayed in kept their rooms this clean. Where the hell was he?
Sam felt something shift beside him and he cried out in shock, half of his body falling out of the unusually comfortable bed as he scrambled away from whatever dangerous creature had snuck up on him. Springing to his feet, he assumed a defensive position, a reaction that came as naturally as breathing.
Only what lay on the bed was not a vengeful demon or an angry spirit, but a petite woman with dark, messy hair that fell in waves around her shoulders, covered only by a thin sheet. He’d been in bed with a woman and she was now looking at him like him like he’d sprouted another head. Sam relaxed his stance and watched the woman warily as she sat up, rubbing her head.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was heavy with sleep.
He just stared at her, unable to think of an excuse for his strange behavior. As guilty as he made it him feel, Sam could not remember a single detail from his night with this woman. He remembered sitting down at the motel to look through some lore, calling Bobby and then… Nothing.
“Whatever,” she muttered, glancing down his body. He followed her gaze and was surprised to find that he was stark naked. He blushed and grabbed a pillow from the bed to shield himself.
“Getting shy now, are we?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “I don’t seem to remember you being all embarrassed last night.” She grinned at him as he looked away, cheeks an even deeper shade of red. Sam frantically combed the room in search of his clothes and, head pounding, he began to dress, protecting his dignity with the pillow to the best of his ability.
As he pulled on his jeans, she swung her legs off the bed. “Aren’t you going to stay for breakfast? Or we could have another round, if you like.” She patted the bed and he hesitated, before pulling his T-shirt over his head (he could’ve sworn he was wearing something plaid yesterday).
“Look,” he began, adjusting the shirt, “I have to be somewhere, uh–” Sam cleared his throat. His voice sounded somewhat deeper than normal.
Her gaze darkened all of a sudden, irritation sparking behind her narrowed blue eyes. “You don’t remember my name, do you?”
Sam realized with a start that she was right. If he didn’t look like a complete dick before, he definitely did now. Rubbing his head and squinting, he replied, “I, uh, everything’s a bit fuzzy…”
“I think you should leave, Dean.”
“Ok – wait, what? No my name’s Sam, my brother–” As soon as he’d said the words, he recognized his mistake.
“Oh, my God! You lied to me about your name? Why the hell would you do that?” She stood and advanced towards him, wrapping the sheet around her body.
“What? I never lied to you about my name! I’m Sam–”
“I don’t care. Just get out. Don’t bother calling me.” She placed a hand on his back and guided him roughly towards the door, grabbing it once he stood in the hallway. “It’s Jenny, by the way,” she yelled, slamming it shut with a loud bang.
Sam stood outside and moaned softly, head in his hands. He was hungover and disoriented and altogether unable to come to terms with the fact that he had apparently seduced a stranger under his brother’s name. And, to top it all off, his voice still sounded ridiculously deep.
He needed to fight some demons or something.
“Jenny, are you alright? I heard shouting–” The voice came from around the corner of the hallway and Sam turned to see an even shorter blonde woman appear a few meters away from him. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening in shock.
“Wha– Dean? What the hell are you doing here?”
“My name is Sam! Why does everyo–”
“Did you sleep with Jenny?” Her words were quiet but threatening as she took a few steps towards him.
Automatically retreating a similar distance, Sam stuttered, “I don’t know what–”
“Did you fuck my little sister?”
“I –”
“I can’t believe you! Do you honestly have that little respect for me? For her?” Voice rising, the woman placed her hands on her hips and took another step towards Sam who responded by backing into Jenny’s closed bedroom door. He was convinced he had never seen her before in his life. “You said you would call me, Dean. And now you’re off sleeping with my sister of all people, right next door to where we were just the night before, and you don’t even have the decency to fucking apologize?”
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on and I – I’ve never even met you before now, let alone–”
“Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play it. You know, I am sick of guys like you treating girls like crap: running out as soon as you can, lying, messing with our heads, not even bothering to remember our fucking names.” The woman took another step closer to Sam who was now leaning entirely on the door. “Guys like you are not worth my time – I never believed you knew Oprah anyway…” She continued her angry tirade while Sam stood bemused and intimidated; although she barely came up to his chest, Jenny’s sister was clearly a force to be reckoned with. The longer she spoke, the more Sam felt like he was going to vomit – he wasn’t quite as accustomed to excessive drinking as his brother. He brought a hand to his face to push his hair out of his eyes only to find that something felt… well, different.
He wasn’t given time to dwell on it as she showed no signs of stopping yet. “And it wasn’t even that good! You were so goddamn full of yourself I thought I’d be in for a good old time but, well, let’s just say it was over faster than the time it took you to rip off your fucking pants…” Sam was honestly starting to fear for his safety at the mercy of the short, angry woman. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking rationally but, in that moment, he would have taken another year in the cage over facing her. He’d managed to survive possession by Lucifer relatively unscathed physically; he wasn’t so sure he’d have the same level of success right now. “… I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing that! Just get out! And if you ever come near me or my sister again, I swear to God–”
Sam had no doubt that she would have continued for some time if a movement behind him hadn’t caused him to fall backwards painfully onto his ass.
“Georgia?” A confused voice floated out from behind him. Looking around, Sam realized that Jenny had opened the door he had been trying desperately to disappear into, sending him onto the floor in front of an ornate, full length mirror. Something about his reflection caught his eye and he turned before doing a double take.
His brother’s large, green eyes stared back at him.
Sam froze, unable to do much but gape at his brother’s image in the mirror. He drew a trembling hand to his cheek and was dismayed to feel his fingers meet with bare skin. Panicking, Sam ran his fingers over the rest of his head frantically as he searched for the comfort of his glorious mane. What the hell was going on? Where was his hair? What if his sideburns were gone forever? The absence of the cheek-hugging facial hair that had become a close companion of his over the past few years physically pained him as he continued to stare at his reflection. His brother’s stared back, echoing his lament for the ghost of good hair past.
*****
Dean stared in the mirror, utterly perplexed as Sammy’s face stared back at him, mirroring his confusion. Several minutes later, he dragged himself away from his reflection as he realized that he was only wearing a pair of loose, grey boxer shorts. He was staring at his little brother’s almost-naked body. Swearing profusely under his breath, he stumbled around the motel room as he pulled on a pair of jeans he found on the floor. The only shirts he could find were plaid – did Sam wear anything else? – so he reluctantly pulled one on.
Ok, this is beyond weird, Dean thought, staring at his giant feet. What the fuck is going on?
He began to pace across the motel room, banging his head painfully as he passed under the light fixture. ‘Son of a bitch,’ he yelled, only it didn’t sound right in Sammy’s voice.
Well if I’m kicking in Sam’s body, he’s probably locked up in mine too, Dean reasoned. Which means I need to track that son of a bitch down and find out what the hell he’s done to my body; I mean, who wouldn’t want to take advantage of being a hot piece of ass like me for a day?
He brushed the long strands of hair out of his face for about the fourteenth time as he fished his brother’s phone out of his pocket. He sent a text to Sam (Dean?), telling him to get his ass back to the motel before he ruined Dean’s life.
Twenty minutes later, there came a frantic knock on the door and Dean let his brother into the room. He watched incredulously as his own body barged in and made its way over to the mirror, frantically running his hands over his face as he tried to make sense of the situation.
Turning to Dean, horror impending on his gaze as he laid eyes on his own body, Sam whispered, “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know, Sammy. But I don’t like it.” Dean cleared his throat – he missed his own voice already.
“How – what – I’m in your body!” Sam’s gaze returned, horrified, to his reflection.
Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. “No shit, Sammy. Now what the hell are we gonna do about it?”
“I – I’ve never heard of anything like this before… What could it be? There must be something, there has to be!”
“Woah, calm your shit Sammy. We’ll figure something out.”
Sam whirled around to face Dean. “I swear to God, Dean, if you do anything to my sideburns…” He left the sentence open ended, aware that Dean knew full well the lengths his brother would go to in order to protect his locks.
“I won’t touch them, Sammy, keep your panties on. What’s the last thing you remember before you woke up?”
Sam’s brow furrowed and he pouted – clearly it was just a natural position for Dean’s face – before replying, “I called Bobby about the flowerpot case while I was researching. Probably about one in the morning.”
“I was in that bar downtown,” Dean paused to clear his throat and shifted his eyes away from Sammy’s, “doing… research.”
Sam rolled his eyes and pulled the mother of all bitch faces, uncharacteristically sassy for Dean’s softer features. “Dean,” he said, “I know exactly what you were doing. Sisters? Really?”
Dean just shrugged. “Well maybe something happened at the bar that I don’t remember. I’ll go and take a look. You stay here and keep that face pretty, OK?”
Sam nodded in agreement.
Before Dean left, he paid a visit to the bathroom, no longer able to put off business that he had been avoiding so far. Although he tried to avert his eyes, he almost missed the toilet bowl completely and so, sighing woefully, was forced to note that his brother was bigger than him in more ways than one.