[Fic] Just like a Woman - Chapter 4
It was dark by the time they pulled into the parking lot of a low rent motel on the outskirts of Cedarburg, and Dean had just about calmed down from his soul examination by Castiel. That had been one hell of an awkward car journey, six hours stuck in a car, jittery and horny as fuck, sat next to his brother who kept giving him odd looks.
Dean loved his car, but he couldn't get out of there fast enough. The dingy motel room with its peeling forest motif wallpaper was a blessed relief.
“I'm taking a shower.” Dean called out as soon as they entered the room, heading straight into the small bathroom and locking the door behind him.
“Just remember to put clothes on before you come back out here.” Sam hollered after him, before collapsing on the nearest bed.
Dean didn't take long in the shower. Even though the lure of a nice long warm shower with his fingers, a new body to explore and thoughts of Castiel to help him get off, was an extremely tempting prospect, he wasn't entirely sure that it was a good idea.
Because getting off thinking about Castiel would mean that he'd have to actually properly admit to himself that he had the hots for him, and he wasn't sure that he could deal with that on top of everything else that was going on, there was also the fact that Sam was the other side of the door, and if that wasn't a mood killer he didn't know what was.
Towelling himself off, Dean pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, as much as he liked the thought of tormenting Sam even further, he really wasn't in the mood tonight.
As soon as this hunt was over, the better, and if Castiel could come up with the goods and get him changed back in the mean time, then that would be the cherry on the top.
Sam was already fast asleep when Dean exited the bathroom. Lucky for some, Dean thought, as he climbed into the other bed, he very much doubted that sleep would come easily to him tonight.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
The next morning Sam and Dean donned their suits and made their way into the centre of town. There had been another admission to the general hospital with exactly the same symptoms that they had been headed to the town to investigate.
“How many is this now?” Sam asked the pretty red headed doctor who had dealt with all the random cases of lunacy that had hit the town in the past couple of weeks.
“Mr Howell is the fourteenth patient I've treated for this so far. I just don't understand it, all their scans, their tests, everything has come back clean. One case, maybe two, I'd have brushed it off as an unfortunate break down in their mental health. But with this many cases...” The doctor trailed off.
“Is there anything that connects the patients? Previous medical history? Did they all eat at the same diner?”
The doctor turned her attention to Dean, “Apart form the fact that they are all men, no, nothing. Not that I can ascertain anyway.” Making her way over to a filing cabinet the Doctor pulled out a stack of files, “these are all the case histories of the patients. I'm not sure what good they'll do, but I hope that they can help some way in your investigation. Now if you'll excuse me agents, I've got rounds to do.”
Dean looked down at the stack of files in his hands, “is it me or is this whole getting information thing getting easier?”
“I think she's just happy to hand the case over to someone else. Fourteen perfectly healthy men suddenly go mad, with no explanation, no medical reasons, nothing. You'd be happy to offload it too.”
“Can't really argue with that.”
After leaving the hospital Sam and Dean split up to carry out interviews with the patients’ family members, which Dean concluded was a monumental waste of time. He'd come away from his six interviews with absolutely jack shit, except a wet patch on his jacket shoulder from having to comfort a couple of crying wives. Apparently being female made other women feel all too compelled to cry on his shoulder.
“You get anything? Cos I got nothing.” Dean leant against the impala, striking a line through the last name on his list.
“Yeah actually the first patient’s daughter mentioned her Dad had been out walking the dog along Cedar Creek, the night he went mad. Patient five and seven’s wives mentioned something similar.”
“So this creek is ground zero then?”
“Seems like it. I'm heading over to the library now, we should check out the town's archives, see if anything went down at the creek.”
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Dean palmed his tired eyes, they'd been in the library for four hours, and the lines of text he was trying to read were starting to blur together. It was stuffy and hot, and he was bored.
Just as he was about to move onto the next dull instalment of ye olde cedar times something caught his attention.
“Hey Sammy, I think I've got something. In 1856 a young woman named Laura Larking, drowned her children in the creek before killing herself. Think we've got another case of the woman in white?”
“Sounds like it. Though there haven't been any reports of a strange woman being seen anywhere.”
“Maybe that's because everyone who's seen her has gone mad? Find out where she's buried and I'll fill Bobby in, and let him know we're not dealing with anything apocalyptic. Maybe he'll be able to shed some light on the driven to insanity aspect.”
“La Sucia”
“La Suzie what now?”
“La Sucia.” Bobby ground out, the unspoken Idjit punctuating his words. “More commonly known as the Dirty Woman. She's the Honduran version of the woman in white.” Dean could hear Bobby's wheelchair creek as he rolled himself over to his desk. “It's said that she will seduce men by the side of a river appearing at first as a beautiful woman, before changing into an old woman, and that's what's supposed to turn the men mad.”
“And by seduce you mean...”
Bobby sighed, “Yes, Dean, she has sex with them.”
Dean pulled a face, yeah that would be enough to turn a guy mad. “Simple salt and burn job then. Nice to get something easy for a change.”
“You'll be lucky. Look Dean this ain't your regular salt and burn. She seduces men, and once she's got one under her spell, there's no breaking it. All these men were compelled to sleep with her, and there was nothing they could do. The minute you and Sam turn up to salt and burn her, she'll appear and you'll be hooked.”
Dean took a deep breath, did he really have to say this out loud. “Not that I want to actually admit it Bobby, but I'm not exactly a man any more. Pretty sure that leaves me off her hit list. I mean I don't exactly have the equipment she needs to complete the dirty deed.”
“And if you're wrong?”
“Then I'm quite literally and metaphorically screwed. It's got to be worth a shot. I mean we don't have any non angel made females along for the ride, I'm the best chance we have at killing her.”
“I don't like it, but you've got a point. He's not going to like it, but you best be leaving Sam out of the hunt.”
“It won't be a problem. We'll call you once I've burned the bitch.”
Conversation over, Dean slipped his phone back into his pocket.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
“I don't like this plan.”
Sam's voice filtered through into the bathroom, where Dean was currently getting dressed for the hunt. Man it was good to get out of that stifling suit. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's concerns.
“You go out there and this Larking chick will most definitely rape you and turn you into a dribbling idiot,” Dean paused, “even more of a dribbling idiot. There's a fifty percent chance that I can go out there and she won't affect me at all.”
“I get that, I do, but Dean hunting alone isn't good at the best of times, but aren't you kind of at a disadvantage now?”
“What because I'm a chick?” Dean asked, pulling open the door and leaning against the door frame, the fact that he was only wearing a pair of black satin panties, and a lacy black bra highlighting the fact that, yep he was very much a chick. “That's just sexist.”
Sam shifted on the bed uncomfortably, his eyes drilling holes into the opposite wall. Because he was not looking at Dean, nope, no way.
“Have you developed an aversion to clothes or something? And yes Dean because you're now a girl. Fighting isn't going to be the same; your strength isn't going to be the same. You're shorter than you were, you don't have the same reach. It's going to be a lot harder because it's going to be so different.”
Dean purposefully crossed directly into Sam's line of vision, standing at the foot of his bed, arms crossed.
“I can still kick your ass. How about I show you how capable I am that way? Then you can sit here safe in the knowledge that I won't be getting my ass handed to me by psycho bitch.”
Sam sighed, “Dean I'm just concerned is all. Do you really think a solo hunt is the best time to be testing out your new body?”
Pulling up his hair into a ponytail Dean turned on his heel, and grabbed his duffel bag. “Guess we're going to find out.”
The sun had set a good three hours before Dean had finally convinced Sam to stay in the motel while he went out on the hunt. He had a niggling feeling that Sam had been right, and that maybe he was jumping head first into a situation that he really wasn't prepared for. But he wasn't going to let this shit beat him.
He was still Dean Winchester no matter what.
Laura Larking's grave wasn't the easiest grave in the world to find. She'd killed her children and then herself, so it wasn't as if anyone was going to splash out on a proper tombstone or a decent plot, and even with the plot number and detailed directions from Sam, it still took him half an hour to find the thing.
Shovel in hand, he set about digging her up. Hard work for two, even harder for one, especially when that one person wasn't used to working their body like this. Still Sam hadn't had a point and Dean could do this.
By the time his shovel hit home on the wood of the coffin, Dean felt more exhausted than he had in a long time, he was covered in sweat, his hair was a mess, and his body ached from head to toe.
Just a little more, Dean thought, and then he'd be done, and he could collapse for a week.
Unfortunately for Dean however, supernatural beings had a knack of never letting you catch a break, and as he was about to rip open the lid of the coffin, Laura Larking chose to appear, in all her old hag glory.
Well she definitely wasn't trying to seduce him, so that was a big fat tick in the 'good things to come out of being turned into a girl' column.
Laura lunged at Dean in full on ‘I am going to tear you to shreds and finger paint with your blood’ assault mode. Barely giving Dean any time to react.
Grasping out, Dean just managed to grab the iron crowbar he'd left by the side of the grave. Swinging it out, he sliced through the ghost. Buying him a little time to get the coffin open. Not enough time though, he'd barely broken through when he was grabbed from behind and flung out of the grave, smashing into one of the nearby gravestones.
That was going to leave a bruise.
Regaining his focus Dean looked up to see Laura charging him again, her features switching between that of a beautiful young woman, and a sickly old one. A screeching cry of “where are my children?” filled the air as she went to attack Dean again.
Dean dived out of the way, scrabbling towards her grave, he needed to salt and burn her now.
In one swift movement he managed to strike Laura again as she appeared next to him, her cry cutting off as the iron bar cut through her. As quick as he could Dean poured salt over her bones, and was about to reach into his pocket for his lighter, when Laura got the better of him again, and he was flung against another gravestone.
He could feel the blood trickling down his face from where he'd hit the hard stone, and his vision started to blur. Laura was still advancing, her face still distorting, she was in flux, obviously confused as to what exactly Dean was.
Twisting his body Dean managed to free his lighter from his pocket. Opening it he hoped to god that it would hit its target, as he flung it aflame towards Laura's grave. If it didn't, he was definitely a goner. Closing his eyes, Dean prepared himself for the worse. The worse didn't come though and the roar of fire ripping through bones, and the agonising cry of a ghost burning away sounded out through the graveyard.
Laying his head against the ground, Dean let out a long shaky breath. That had been an absolute clusterfuck, and way too close for comfort.
He was alive, and in one piece, more or less and that was all that really mattered. That and he hadn't needed Sam's help at all...okay that was a lie, as soon as his head stopped spinning and he could move enough to grab his phone without feeling the urge to vomit, he was going to call Sam and get him to come out and drive him back to the motel. He really was in no state to drive.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Having made absolutely sure that Dean was alright and that he wasn't going to slip into a coma, if he was left alone for more than a couple of seconds, Sam had left the motel room to go check out the hospital to see if there had been any change in the mental health of Laura's victims, unfortunately unlikely, and to grab some food. Leaving Dean in peace.
Dean was fine anyway, he was slightly more beaten up than he'd like, but it wasn't anything new. So he was a girl now, that didn't mean he needed any more care and protection than normal.
Or maybe he did, Dean winced as he stood up, head spinning, stumbling forwards as his throbbing head knocked him off balance.
In that split second, he'd managed to register enough to prepare himself to hit the deck, what he didn't expect was to be caught in a pair of strong arms.
“Sam told me you'd sustained a head injury.”
The words were muffled but that was definitely Castiel's voice, and that was definitely Castiel's trench coat Dean was clinging to.
His head wasn't exactly swimming any more, and his legs no longer felt like jelly. But Dean didn't relinquish his grip on Castiel, and Castiel didn't seem eager to let go either.
“I got thrown into a gravestone. Nothing that hasn't happened a hundred times before.” Dean opened his eyes and shifted in Castiel's arms so that he could look at him properly. “Please don't tell me Sam called you here just for that.”
“He was concerned about your well being, and declared that you were being stubborn.”
“I'll always be stubborn, but you know what would fix my well being? Having my own body back. That would make me feel a whole lot better.”
Dean released his grip on Castiel, and the angel followed suit, helping Dean sit back down on the bed.
“I'm fine Cas, really. Just sore and a bit dizzy. I don't need a babysitter, especially not one who's got other far more important things to be doing.”
“He's worried about you.”
“He thinks he needs to play the big protective brother, and I get it, I really do. But that's not his role, it's mine. It's what I've done my entire life, and I'm not going to let him take that away from me.” Dean sighed; Castiel was still looking at him like he really didn't believe that was all that was wrong.
“Sam will be back soon and I'm fine really. You should get back to finding out who did this to me.”
Castiel looked uncertain for a moment, but did as he had asked. Leaving Dean alone to wallow in his misery.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
“Um Dean, what are you doing?”
Sam stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the motel room. He'd decided that they should take a break in their journey back to Bobby's. Dean had decided he was being an overprotective jerk, but hadn't put up too much of a fight.
Dean was sat at the motel room’s small table, Sam's laptop open in front of him, and what looked like the entire contents of Macy's make-up counter spread out in front of him. Not that Sam had ever been in a Macy's...
“Turns out you can find make-up tutorials on YouTube. Seriously dude, they teach you everything.”
Dean looked up at Sam with a wide smile, like this was the greatest discovery since porn.
“Since when did you start wearing make-up?” Sam asked with a curious glance, the sight of his brother applying eye-liner only slightly disturbing.
“Since I grew breasts and realised how dog tired I look after a late night burning corpses and being thrown around a graveyard.”
Sam shook his head, placing the take out he'd got for them on the table.
“You're such a girl.”
“Yeah well at least I have an excuse. What's yours?”
Ignoring Dean's petty insult Sam sat down at the table and started to tuck into the Chinese.
“Why are you getting so dolled up anyway? I thought we were going to take it easy tonight.”
Dean shut the laptop and started clearing up his mess, “No, you decided we were taking it easy. I'm going out.”
“I'll come with you.” Sam scrambled to grab his jacket.
“I don't need a bodyguard Sammy. I'm just going out for a couple of drinks. Could you perhaps just let me do this?”
Sam sighed and put his jacket back down, “Fine, just do me a favour yeah?”
Dean looked at his brother expectantly, waiting for the ‘don't drink too much, be home by midnight’ speech.
“If you hook up with any guys, please don't bring them back here.”
“But if I hook up with any girls call ahead so you can hook up the camcorder?” Dean smiled.
Sam laughed in reply, but quickly sobered up. “Look Dean, I understand it okay. I didn't trust that you'd be able to do the job yesterday. I was being overprotective, and I was wrong.”
“You were, but you're still not coming with me.” Grabbing his jacket and his keys Dean opened the door, “I promise I'll be good, don't wait up for me, and if you feel the urge to crack one off thinking about my hot bod. Don't feel guilty, I'm a babe, it's only natural.”
“Jerk.”
“Sweet dreams, Sammy.”
Dean closed the door behind him, shrugging on his jacket and heading into the town.
Chapter 5