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Dean sat at the bar, fourth beer in hand, and there it was again—that feeling he couldn’t shake since the faith healer in Nebraska fixed whatever the hell had been wrong with his heart.
It had been weeks since the healing, and he still felt better than he had in years. His back hurt less, his shoulder only clicked every now and then, and he woke up feeling… decent. At first, he figured that was normal—getting better always came with a rush of energy. But now he wasn’t so sure. Part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that something about him had changed.
Because then there was the other thing.
At first Dean ignored it because there was just no way. He noticed a guy at a truck stop had really nice hair. Whatever. Guys noticed stuff. Then a bartender smiled at him and Dean spent the next twenty minutes thinking about the bartender’s mouth instead of the waitress bending over two stools away. Still explainable.
After that, it started happening constantly. Dean would catch himself staring at some dude’s lips while he talked. Looking too long at a guy’s ass without meaning to. Wondering what scruff would feel like against his jaw before he forced himself to snap the hell out of it.
That started to feel a bit concerning.
Because Dean liked women. Loved women. Every kind—loud women, quiet women, mean women, sweet women, buff chicks who could throw him through drywall, older ladies at diners who called him honey. The list went on and on. The point was, he’d always been attracted to women, and he’d never once doubted it.
Which meant this had to be some kind of supernatural bullshit.
Dean took another swig of his beer and shook his head like that might clear it out. He came to this bar for the usual reason—find a woman, have a drink, end the night somewhere else.
But he couldn’t keep his attention where he wanted it. It kept drifting back to the good-looking guy across the bar. He tried to stop his eyes from wandering, tried to shove his thoughts somewhere else, tried to make himself focus on literally anything else—but it didn’t work. He couldn’t help it.
So he stood up and left before it could turn into anything more.
The next morning at a nearby diner, Sam had his laptop open, scanning various sites for anything weird. Dean sat across from him, picking at a plate of eggs that had gone cold a while ago. Mindlessly, he began tapping his fork against the ceramic.
“Dude, stop,” Sam said without looking up.
Dean dropped the fork onto the plate without saying a word.
Sam glanced up, “Maybe you should’ve ordered that coffee,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth as he waited for Dean to bite back. But Dean didn’t react at all, and Sam’s smile faded.
“Alright,” Sam sighed, shutting his laptop. “I know you don’t like talking about… stuff, but you’ve been off for days now. And it’s kind of starting to worry me.”
“I’m fine.”
“You were back at the motel before ten last night.”
Dean finally looked up. “So?”
“That’s not you.”
Dean gave a short laugh and shoved a bite of eggs into his mouth.
Sam leaned back a little. “Look, I think I know what this is about.”
Dean looks up. “You do?”
“Yeah.”
“…So you know I’m—”
“Missing Cassie,” Sam finishes.
“—gay?” Dean blurts at the same time.
The brothers stare at each other, both wide-eyed and not really sure what just happened.
Sam breaks the silence. “Wait—what? Did you just say you’re gay?”
“Dude, shh,” Dean says in a loud whisper, suddenly realizing there are people sitting all around them.
“Okay, sorry,” Sam says, lowering his voice. “I’m just… I thought you’ve been down since Cassie. I’m confused.”
Truth is, having to leave Cassie right after getting her back didn’t help with the mess in his head either, but there’s no way Dean’s gonna start opening up about her to Sam, because then he’s just gonna miss her a whole lot more.
“You think you’re confused?”
“So… you’re confused if you’re gay?” Sam questions.
“No! Yes! I don’t know!” Dean says in defeat, dropping his head into his hands.
After a few seconds of silence, Sam seems to shake off the initial surprise.
“I mean… that’s great, Dean. Not the confused part– just the– if you’re gay, I mean,” Sam says carefully. “I just… I didn’t really expect that. Or for you to actually tell me. Um… how did you know?”
“Sam, no” Dean says regretfully, wishing he never even brought it up, “It’s… It’s not like that. It’s complicated.”
“Uh, well, that’s okay,” Sam says quickly, clearly trying to be helpful but coming off a little too intense. “I mean… it’s fine, Dean. It doesn’t have to be simple. You can be confused, you can, you know, explore... I mean, in college I–”
Before Sam can continue, Dean cuts in. “It was that damn teacher the crazy old reaper lady killed.”
“What…?” Sam says, puzzled.
“The teacher. The one who died at the pool.” Dean leans in, very serious, dropping his voice to a loud whisper like this is classified information. “Sammy, I think that swimmer turned me gay.”
Sam just stares at him, completely at a loss of words.
“Marshall Hall. He was gay, right? And you know, when I stole his life, I must’ve stolen some of his gayness too. Like… inherited it or something.”
“Dean, that’s not— that’s not how being gay works.”
“Are you really trying to tell a gay guy how being gay works?” Dean shoots back immediately. He drags both hands through his hair, already ramping up into it. “Look, I stole his life. I stole his health and everything. I’ve felt great these past few weeks. Every bone that’s ever ached feels like it got rebuilt or something. And he was a swimmer, so he had to be healthy. So that’s why I feel so good. And I think his health wasn’t the only thing that transferred. His gayness did too.”
“Dean, that doesn’t– that’s not– Marshall Hall didn’t make you gay.” Sam says, almost smiling and shaking his head a little, like he can’t decide if this is a joke. “I mean, you were flirting with our waitress not even ten minutes ago.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been checking out that waiter too,” Dean says, nodding toward the guy across the diner before it fully registers what he just admitted.
Sam stares at his older brother for a long moment, clearly trying to make sense of him.
“…Never mind. Forget I said anything,” Dean says as he begins to slide out of the booth.
“What– Dean?” Sam starts, thinking he might’ve pushed too hard or said the wrong thing. He knows Dean, knows it probably took him weeks just to get this out.
“Drop it, Sam,” he says, walking towards the doors.
When Sam joined Dean in the Impala, he respected Dean’s request to “drop it” and started talking about a potential case a few states over instead. Dean occasionally hummed in response, but by the time they got to their motel, he had mostly stopped listening altogether.
Later that evening, Dean mindlessly flicked through the same four boring channels the motel had to offer while Sam was out, presumably digging for information on their next hunt. When he finally came back with a six-pack, he handed Dean a beer and shut the TV off without warning.
“Dude, what the hell?” Dean mutters, lying on the bed, not bothering to sit up.
“I did some research,” Sam says, sitting down on his own bed.
“About?”
“Faith healing, reapers… that whole situation in Nebraska,” Sam says. “What it actually means when one life gets taken and used to save another.”
“And?”
“Okay, look. Nothing I found says you can inherit anything from the person who dies. Not their health, not anything else. It was a life-for-life situation. That’s it.”
Dean sighs, “Then explain how I suddenly feel all shiny and new?”
“Because you were healed,” Sam explains. “You weren’t just sick, Dean. You were dying. It feels so intense because you went from dying to completely fine in a matter of seconds, completely skipping over the recovery period. So I think your body’s still adjusting to it. Just give it a few hunts… a couple bruises and busted ribs and you’ll feel like yourself in no time.”
Dean stares at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact. “That still doesn’t explain my sudden…” He waves a hand vaguely, searching, “...urges.”
Sam hesitates. “Dean… maybe this isn’t some supernatural thing. Maybe it’s just you.”
Dean looks over at him. “What, so I spend my whole life into women and suddenly wake up gay?”
“No,” Sam says carefully. “I’m saying it’s not black and white. You’re still attracted to women, right? I mean, you loved Cassie. And judging by the waitress earlier, that hasn’t exactly changed.”
“Yeah,” Dean swallows hard. “But Sammy, I…”
Sam patiently waits for Dean to continue, but after a few minutes it’s clear Dean doesn’t know how to talk about it.
“Look, you don’t have to figure any of this out tonight,” Sam says softly. “And I know you don’t want to talk about it, so I’m not gonna push. But if you ever do… I’m here. You’re my brother, and no matter what, that’s not going to change. Okay?”
Dean doesn’t say anything. He just nods.