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Sam turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open and stepped through. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes a little, the farm theme of this week’s motel room still ridiculous, even by their standards. After dropping the bags of food and cardboard carrier of drinks on the table, he turned and scanned the room.
“Dean?” Sam called out, stupidly, since his brother was obviously nowhere in sight. The bathroom door was wide open, too, and he could see it was empty. Dean probably walked to the Gas ‘n Sip down the block for beer, so Sam dropped down into one of the chairs and began pulling his food out from the bags. As soon as he sat he could feel the energy draining from him, the last vestiges of adrenaline fading after their evening spent taking out a nasty, vengeful witch. After eating, he’d fall into bed and sleep until Dean woke him in the morning.
Sam was three bites into his chicken sandwich when he heard a scratching sound coming from between the beds. His first thought was mice – they’d stayed at motels that were infested a few times before, and although not ideal, he really didn’t care this time, he was too tired. Just as he was turning his attention back to his dinner, the scratching came again, and from the corner of his eye Sam could see something moving by the beds. He turned his head just in time to see, clawing its way up the comforter, a tiny grey kitten.
Sam stepped across the room as the little ball of fluff struggled over the edge of the bed, sat down and stared up at him. With big, round, green eyes. It blinked once, then opened its mouth.
“Mew!” The sound came out as little more than a squeak, and Sam could have sworn its face turned into a scowl at hearing its own pathetic noise. Something was niggling at the back of Sam’s mind, though, and he scanned the room starting with the kitten sitting on the corn-patterned blanket, over the duffel bag sitting on the end of the bed where Dean had dumped it, Dean’s gun and knife set neatly on the nightstand, and then… there on the floor between the two beds, a heap of fabric. Denim and flannel and leather, laid out like a body had just slithered out of them… Dean’s clothes. One of his boots sat upright at the end of a pant leg, the other tipped over, both still laced up with a sock sticking out.
Sam darted his eyes back to the kitten, a cold shiver running up his spine.
“Dean?”
“MROW!” the kitten yelled – or, as close to a yell as a thing that small could manage, and the inflection of that meow was clearly saying ‘Yes, of course it’s me!’. He huffed, a miniscule puff of air pushing out of his tiny nose, and it was so very Dean that Sam was fully convinced now that it really was his brother sitting there on the bedspread in a kitten’s body. The witch had somehow managed to fire off a spell before they’d wasted her.
“Crap.” Sam’s shoulders fell as he stood there staring at Dean. Dean blinked. Sam’s mind raced, flipping through all the curses and spells he’d ever learned about, searching for anything they’d come across before that resulted in shifting into an animal. Or a goddamn kitten. Dean was going to bitch about this one for months. “Alright. We’ll figure this out, Dean.”
Sam reached down and scooped Dean up, the ball of fluff barely overflowing Sam’s giant hand, and walked back over to the table. He set Dean down on the scratched wood surface, pushed his half-eaten food to the side and pulled out his laptop.
Dean sat quietly and watched Sam for a few minutes, but then stood up and crossed the table to the bag of food on the far edge. He lifted a fuzzy paw, needle-like claws extended, and batted at the paper sack. Sam glanced up from his research to watch Dean’s arm move, batting at the paper and doing nothing to move it like he obviously intended, just making noise. Sam sighed.
“Of course you’re hungry.” Sam rolled his eyes, then grabbed the sack of food. He pulled out the burger he’d gotten for Dean and unwrapped it, then pulled the patty from between the two halves of bun and cut it up into small pieces, spreading it out on the wrapper. Dean stepped up to the pile of meat and leaned down, picking up a chunk with his mouth and chewing.
Sam went back to his research, ignoring the gnawing sounds his kitten brother was making a foot away from him. A few minutes later, Dean had finished the burger and Sam was no closer to finding what kind of spell could have gotten them in this predicament. He looked up in time to see Dean setting a paw on the overturned paper bag their dinner had come in, then another, and a third, until he was standing in the center of the now smooshed-down bag. He looked up at Sam, blinked his round, green eyes, then lifted a paw to his mouth and licked. Dean paused, blinked again with an expression of surprise on his furry face, then licked again. He seemed a bit mortified at himself, but continued to lick. Sam could just imagine the thoughts going through his brother’s head – something akin to “Son of a bitch, I’m licking myself! What the hell?”
Sam smirked, and turned his attention back to his computer. He glanced up at Dean periodically, watching as he licked and swiped his paw over his face, taking a proper cat bath. He couldn’t wait to tease Dean about this.
Once he was done cleaning himself, Dean turned around a few times on the bag, then settled down in a tiny ball of fluff and put his head down. Sam could see his eyes closing slowly, and figured Dean would be fast asleep in a few minutes.
After exhausting all of the websites he could find and coming up with no answers, Sam decided it was time to ask for help. He pulled out his phone, but before dialing Bobby’s number he smirked, then opened up the camera. Dean was fast asleep now, a perfectly round ball of grey fur, pink nose half buried behind fluffy tail. Sam snapped a picture, then sent it to Bobby before dialing his number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Alright, you idjit, why are you sending me a picture of a kitten?”
“Hey, Bobby. I’m fine, how are you?”
“Yeah, yeah. What’s up?”
“I need some help finding a counterspell.” Sam watched as Dean stood up sleepily and turned around, settling back in facing the other way.
“What’s the spell?” Bobby asked, his gruff annoyance turning into all business.
“That kitten? It’s Dean.” Sam listened to the noises on the other end of the phone line as Bobby went through shocked and confused and eventually settled on amused.
“How in the hell…”
“A witch. We ganked her, got back to the motel, and by the time I got back from grabbing dinner, Dean had changed. Pile of clothes on the floor like he just shrank out of them.”
“Did you check his clothes for hex bags?”
“Of course. Nothing.”
“Alright. Give me a few, I’ll see what I can dig up here.”
“Thanks, Bobby.”
“And Sam? When Dean wakes up, tell him I said he’s adorable.”
Bobby chuckled, then the line when dead. Sam grinned as he set his phone down. He looked over at Dean and saw him lying there with his eyes open, glaring up at him.
“Oh, shut up. You know I wouldn’t have told him if I didn’t need to. I couldn’t find anything online.”
Dean huffed, stood up and turned, laying back down with his back to Sam. Sam rolled his eyes, pushed his chair back and went to take a shower.
It was a couple hours later when Sam’s phone rang, and he jumped up off the bed to grab it from the table.
“Hey, Bobby. What’d you find?”
“There has to be an object of some kind. If it’s not a hex bag, then something else – could be something that looks normal that she slipped in his pocket. Something normal you wouldn’t notice. Find that, then put it in a mixture of salt, vinegar and sage. Equal parts. Should take about eight hours or so for the spell to wear off once the thing is soaking.”
Sam let out a relieved breath.
“At least it’s an easy fix. Thanks, Bobby.”
“No problem, kid. Have Dean call me when he’s back to normal. I’m gonna need to rib him about this.”
Sam chuckled. “You got it.”
Once he set the phone back down, Sam went back to the pile of Dean’s clothes that were still on the floor between the beds and started rifling through them, pulling out everything from the pockets and setting them in a pile. He carefully felt every inch of fabric to make sure there was nothing hidden, even checked the treads of Dean’s boots for anything stuck in there. Once he was done, he considered the small pile: wallet, pocket knife, zippo lighter, three packs of matches, two paperclips, a handful of coins, a melted and re-hardened piece of chocolate, a pen, a condom. None of it was anything out of the ordinary, nothing he wouldn’t expect to find Dean carrying with him. Sam scratched his head, then looked over at Dean, who was now sitting up at the edge of the table watching Sam.
“Alright Dean,” Sam said as he crossed the room, then picked up his brother and carried him over to the bed. “The witch had to put an object on you, that’s the only way the spell works, so you gotta tell me which one of these it is, or it’s all going in a salt and vinegar soup.”
Sam watched as Dean padded across the bed to the pile of objects. He tilted his head for a second, then took another step forward and put a paw on the lighter. He tapped it twice, then looked up at Sam.
“You didn’t have that on you to start with?” Sam asked, just wanting to be sure. He thought his brother always carried a lighter, but he supposed there were enough matches to make up for a lack of zippo. Dean tapped the lighter again with his paw, and that was good enough for Sam. “Alright, I gotta run out to get a couple things. Bobby said it’ll take a while for the spell to wear off, so just chill, okay?”
Dean walked over to a clear area of the bed and lay down. Sam nodded, turned the TV on, tuned it to an action movie, then grabbed his coat. Fortunately, it was just a quick trip to a grocery store for vinegar and more sage, and he was back half an hour later. Sam made quick work of mixing up the ingredients and dropping the lighter in, leaving it to sit on the table. Dean was fast asleep, all there was left to do was wait, so Sam crawled into the other bed and was out in minutes.
It was a few hours later when Sam woke up, movement jarring him from sleep. It only took him a few seconds to realize it was Dean who’d woken him. He’d climbed up onto Sam’s bed, and was curling himself up next to Sam’s hip.
“Aww, you want to cuddle, Dean?” Sam said, laughing. A second later Sam jumped, jerking his leg away from the five needle-tipped claws Dean had planted in his thigh. “Ow! Jerk! Fine, I get it. You’re tiny and cold. Go back to sleep already.”
They both settled back in, but just as Sam was starting to drift back to sleep, he couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out. He felt a kick, a tiny paw connecting with his hip, then heard a huff. He fell back asleep with a grin on his face.
It was mid-morning when Sam woke up again, this time from a heat and weight next to him that he wasn’t used to. When he opened his eyes, there was Dean – the real, human Dean – laying face down, halfway down the mattress, bare ass to the air and one arm draped over Sam’s hip. He was still fast asleep, snoring lightly. Sam nudged him with his knee.
“Dean.”
Dean snuffled, adjusted his head, but didn’t wake up.
“Dean!” Sam raised his voice and kneed Dean again a bit harder.
This time he raised his head, looking out across the room then turning to look up the bed at Sam in confusion.
“Wha?”
“You’re back to normal. Go put some clothes on.” Sam nudged his brother again before rolling over and pulling the blanket up over his shoulder. Dean groaned, and Sam could feel him moving around to sit up, the bed jostling as he stood up.
“Not a word, Sam,” Dean said as he made his way to the bathroom. “Not one goddamned word.”
The bathroom door clicked shut, and Sam chuckled quietly before drifting back off to sleep.