New: SamPuss-in-Boots 1/4 (SPN-Dean/Sam) [NC-17]
Author: Trini and Saklani
Title: Sampuss-in-Boots
Codes: Sam/Dean
Series: SPN
Rating: NC-17
Beta: runedgirl
Summary: Sam and Dean attack a friendly ghost, who turns Sam into a cat... in boots. Now, the brothers must work their way through a twisted fairy tale to get Sam back to human and earn their own happily-ever-after.
Disclaimer: We don’t own them. We mean them no harm. We make no profit.
Posting: Please ask first!
Word Count: 32,789
Author's Notes: This was written for the spn_fairytales. We got an image of Sam as a cat in boots stuck in our heads, from which this fic was born. Ponderosa provided the lovely art, which makes us want a Sampuss of our own! And Lyns was our lovely beta, after we killed off several others! *hugs to both*
Dean groaned and lowered the shotgun. The spirit was gone, blasted by rock salt, but he knew she would return. They always did. Running a hand over his face, he straightened, grabbed his pack, slung it over his shoulder and headed downstairs to find Sam. They'd been separated when they entered the house, and he hadn’t heard from his brother since.
Sam stared up at Dean when he entered the front room, his new - and very different -- face twisted into a horrible scowl. He advanced a few steps, trying hard not to fall over and complete his indignity. "You- you idiot!" he yelled, amazed he could speak at all. "Look what you've done to me!" He brandished his sword and waved it angrily at his brother. "I'm a cat! With a sword! And boots! I'm fucking Puss-in-Boots!"
Stopping in his tracks, Dean let the bag crash to the floor and squinted at the house cat. The cat with boots. And a sword. Talking in Sam's voice. "Sammy?" he asked, not really believing the sight before his eyes. "How the fuck did you end up a cat? And why the hell are you blaming me?" Dean scowled at his brother... the cat.
Sam walked forward, paw-sized boots clomping against the wooden boards. "You jackass, how many times have I told you not to just start shooting? This isn't a normal spirit. If you hadn't been so busy blasting away, you might have noticed the protective symbols everywhere." Sam hit a few unearthly yowl-like notes and spit a few times. He failed to mention that pausing to glance at the protective symbols resulted in getting hit with a spell. Instead, he jabbed Dean in the leg with his sword. "Fix this, dumbass!"
"Ouch, damnit." Dean jumped back out of range, eyes still wide at the horrible sight of a cat throwing scornful glances his way. "Don’t blame this on me. The spirit'll come back, just like they always do." He snickered. "Let's go back to the motel, and I'll do some research."
Sam's ears flattened to his skull, and he growled at Dean. "I am not trusting you to do the research, Dean. I am not sitting around waiting for your brain to function." He turned his head and licked at the tabby fur on his right shoulder before realizing what he was doing and grimacing. "Oh yuck."
Dean laughed. "I think you're kinda stuck, bro. After all, I'm the one with opposable thumbs and, oh, a human body." He trailed off into snickers when he turned to grab his bag. "Impala's leavin', Sammy, better keep up."
Sam growled louder and tramped out after Dean, tripping over his boots several times. "Then you'll be taking direction from me," he grumbled. He stuck the sword back in its tiny scabbard, plotting revenge on his brother. Claws in sensitive places came to mind.
The odd clomping of Sam's little boots echoed through the house, making Dean conscious of his brother’s location the whole way. "By the way, if you even think about digging those claws into my car, I will leave your ass on the side of the road."
"That's right, threaten the cat," Sam said. He hopped down the porch stairs, surprised at how graceful he felt aside from the boots. //And it's your ass I'm going to be lacerating,// he thought.
”Just think, you can chase your own food, lick yourself clean." Dean grinned and waggled his brows. "Lick other places." Moving to the trunk, Dean tossed his gear in the back and then went to open the door for Sam. "Watch the claws," he admonished again.
Sam removed his sword and stuck Dean in the ass, before jumping easily into the car. "I'll be sure to do that," he said, putting the sword away. "Jerk."
"Bitch," Dean growled, closing the door with care and moving around to the driver's side. He resisted the urge to rub the spot Sam had stuck, refusing to give his brother the satisfaction. "Well then, Sammy, what is your great idea for research on this one?" He closed his own door and started the Impala with a smile and a pat for his 'baby' as she roared to life. "We have plenty of time to check it out."
"Find out what kind of a spirit curses people into fairy tale animals, maybe," Sam said with a roll of his green eyes. "And we don't have plenty of time, Dean. I am not staying a cat, no matter how funny you think it is." He curled his front paws, showing off claws, and lifted one to the delicate lining of the seat. "Now, buckle me in before I sharpen."
"You seriously want me to buckle you in?" Dean goggled at Sam. "The seatbelt will squish you." He frowned at Sam's claws nearing the leather seats, narrowing his eyes as he reached out and snagged the paw. He ignored the sting and said, "No need to threaten the car, dude. Tell me what you need, and I'll take care of it, but I'm gonna get mighty pissed if you go around threatening me.”
"And if you brake even slightly hard, I'm going to go through the windshield," Sam said. He tugged his paw away from Dean and licked the toes clean. "Oh sure, you're going to be pissed.”
"I wouldn't let you go flying through the windshield, Sammy." Dean grinned and shrugged. If Sam wanted to get squished by the seat belt, that was his choice. Leaning over, he grabbed the belt, tugged it into place and buckled his brother in. “You hungry?"
Sam gave Dean a disdainful look and struggled into a comfortable position. "No, I'm not hungry, Dean. I just want to find a way not to be a cat anymore. Jesus." He pawed at his boots, trying to get them off.
"Well, I'm getting food before we go back, or I won't get to eat until we figure this out." He looked over at Sam and frowned at his brother's struggles. "Want some help, there?"
"They don't come off," Sam said with a hiss. His tail lashed from side to side in annoyance. He leaned back in the seat, ears pressed flat against his skull and teeth bared. "I'm glad you can still think of the important things, like your stomach."
"If I can't eat, I can't concentrate," Dean ground out. "You know that, Sammy. Stop being so pissy and start thinking of what you want me to look up once we get back to the laptop." Glaring at his brother, he swung into a drive-thru, ordered some chicken tenders, burgers, fries, soda and milk.
"I can't eat that stuff," Sam said quietly. "It'll make me sick, Dean. I need-" he swallowed hard "-cat food."
"You can eat a little chicken and milk tonight while we get started on the research. I'll go get some cat food if this lasts into the morning." Dean grimaced at the thought of his brother eating that crap and turned back to smile sheepishly at the drive-thru guy. He'd been caught talking to a cat.
Sam waved a paw at the drive-thru guy and grinned in a cat-like fashion when Dean's drink got dropped down the side of the Impala.
Mumbling, Dean grabbed the bag of food and waved off the guy's stare before he stowed the stuff at his feet. "Stop that," he gritted out, once they pulled away from the window. "The less attention we bring to my having a cat, wearing boots, who can do human things, the better." Luckily, the motel was not far away and a minute or so later, he parked the car.
"So, are you going to stuff me under your jacket and carry me inside so as not to alert the neighbors?" Sam asked. He wriggled easily free of the seatbelt and stood up on his back paws, balancing on the boots. He glared at the door and then extended a paw to push at the handle. After some fruitless wiggling, his ears and tail drooped.
Seeing the dejection in Sam's posture, Dean sighed. "How about we compromise, Sammy? I want you back to normal nearly as much as you do. Let me carry you inside and help you when you need it. I'll do what you tell me as far as the research goes. Okay?"
Sam's tail twitched back and forth in agitation at the idea of being carried by his brother. He began to lick his front paws and wash his face. "Fine. Just don't drop me."
Dean just nodded and climbed out of the car, grabbing the food and shutting the door. With Sam being so finicky, he knew this would be a long night. He opened the passenger side door and reached down to lift Sam into his arms before stepping back and closing the car door with his hip. The motel room door proved a bit of a challenge, but Dean managed to get them safely through with only a minor fumble of the food. He never let Sam get unsteady in his arms. "Okay, you want the bed or the table? And do you want some food or not, Sammy?"
Dean smelled good! Sam's nose twitched in discovery of the pleasing scent he could now detect from his brother. He rubbed his face in Dean's shoulder and rumbled his very first purr. When Dean asked him a question, he flinched in embarrassment and hopped lightly down to the bed. Kicking at the annoying boots again, he stumbled his way to a pillow and sat down. "I guess I'll try some chicken."
The purr was a surprise, and Dean smiled until Sam jumped down. He frowned and went to the table to pull out the food. He tore up the chicken and put it on the paper wrapper. Caring for Sammy was something he'd been doing for as long as he could remember, and though it'd been a long time since he'd cut up Sam's food, the habit came back as though he'd been doing it all along. Dean hummed softly under his breath while he worked, grabbing his own food and climbing on the bed next to Sam. "Here ya go. Let me know if you want some milk. Otherwise, I'll put some water on the table for you." Dean bit into his burger and watched Sam from the corner of his eye.
Sam regarded the food and then shifted around, still uncomfortable in the boots. He balanced on his front paws and cautiously took a bit of chicken in his mouth. The flavor exploded over his tongue, and he wolfed down the piece. Before long, he devoured all of the chicken and stared forlornly at the empty wrapper. "More?" he asked, looking at Dean with huge eyes.
Dean blinked at Sam and then grinned. "Yeah, there's more, Sammy." He got up and grabbed the rest of the food, settling back before he tore pieces off and put them on the wrapper. After making a good pile, he went back to his own burger, watching Sam a bit more openly.
"Don't call me Sammy," Sam grumbled, before nose-diving back into his chicken. He ate until his tummy felt like bursting and then pulled back with a satisfied mrow. Without thinking about it, he began a full body wash, starting with his face and whiskers. Suddenly, he paused, paw in the air and stared with horror at Dean. "We gotta get this reversed, Dean, I'm acting like a cat!" He scrambled for the edge of the bed, jumped down and hobbled to the table, leaping up and pawing at his laptop.
Dean thought the washing was kind of cute, but wisely said nothing. "Give me another couple of minutes to finish my burger, and I'll open that damn thing up and start researching."
Sam's ears flattened again, and the noise he made sounded angrier than any previous. "I'm sure you'd be glad to lose me entirely and just have a cat named Sam. Lot less trouble." He turned his back and licked his fur contemptuously, the movements fast and jerky.
Dean scowled at Sam's back. He would not rather have a cat than his brother. He wanted to lash out, but held back and took another deep breath. Sam was rightfully freaked and screaming at him wouldn't help. Instead, Dean wolfed down the rest of his burger, burping once it settled and shoving himself off the bed to sit in front of the computer.
Sam turned toward Dean and sat beside the computer. He licked one paw delicately and pressed the other to Dean's hand. "Start with the protective symbols on the walls and see if we can tie them into the spirit." He tugged on the fur between his toes. “We learned her name was Ms. Ariel, right? We can check into her background later.”
Dean wanted to chuckle, but bit his lip instead and fired up the computer, getting online and heading to some of Sam's bookmarked sites. "Anywhere you want me to start? Is there a source you think might have the stuff we need?"
Sam fussed about trying to get comfortable and finally sighed. "Dean, can you help me get these boots off? And this sword? This body is not made for accessories." He rolled on his back and stuck his booted paws at Dean.
Nodding, Dean dragged his gaze from the computer and over to Sam. He smiled and reached to pull one of the boots off. "Let me know if it hurts." The first boot came off okay, and he tossed it onto the table behind the computer before reaching for the second one.
Sam wiggled his toes and purred in relief to have them free. "Feels good, Dean." He waved the other boot at him hopefully.
"Okay." Dean smiled and tugged the second boot off, tossing it in the same direction. Like most people who enjoyed animals, Dean wanted to reach out and pet Sam, but figured he'd lose a hand for his troubles. Instead, he leaned over and worked the belt buckle, fumbling with the tiny pieces, but finally freeing Sam to move around.
Sam wiggled out of the scabbard and scrambled to all four paws. He butted his head against Dean with a small purr. "Thank you, Dean." He turned back to the computer, curled up in a comfortable manner and poked at the keyboard. "Ok, symbols."
Dean smiled, stroking one finger over Sam's head, and turned back to the computer. "Do we have any idea what ethnicity the symbols were?"
"Did you just, uh, stroke me?" Sam asked, enjoying the sensation. He flicked an ear at Dean, confused by his own feelings. "Damn, being a cat is fucking weird," he mumbled, before turning back to the screen. "I think they were Syrian.”
"You head-butted me; I was just reciprocating." Dean tried hard not to grin at Sam and scrolled down the websites looking for anything that resembled the symbols in the house.
"Stop," Sam said and pointed with a paw toward one of the symbols. "Senmurgh. Symbol of protection." Sam's tail flicked uneasily. "But he's benevolent, associated with healing..." He crept closer to Dean and sprawled over his arms, infringing on his typing ability. "Keep going."
Flexing his arm under Sam's weight, Dean sighed and scrolled further down the page. There was more about healing and protection, but nothing about pain or destruction or evil anywhere.
Sam tried to purse his lips and discovered cat's faces did not work that way. Instead, he let out another little hiss and said, "I have a bad feeling about this, Dean. Why would an evil spirit be using a benevolent symbol?" His tail began to twitch right under Dean's nose.
"Maybe it took over some benevolent spirit's home. Coulda killed it off and took its place." Dean shrugged and flexed his arm again. Sam was damn heavy on that spot and showed no signs of moving. He stroked Sam's tail, moving it out from under his nose.
"The protective spirits wouldn't have let an evil spirit in," Sam said, angling his rump so Dean rubbed there, too.
Dean grinned and reached out a hand to stroke down Sam's back and over his hip. "True. Ya think we went after a good one, Sammy?"
Sam purred deep in his throat and arched up off Dean's arm to better reach the stroking hand. His brain began to muddle with pleasure-filled endorphins. "I- uh- yeah, maybe."
Completely unaware of the petting now that he'd started, Dean leaned in and read the website carefully. If they had attacked a benevolent spirit, there was a good chance they'd have a hard time getting Sam reversed. "Looks like this spirit is only around during the daylight. I think we lost it when we did because it took off at the combination of intruders and impending darkness."
Sam flopped on his side, engine revving at its peak. He blinked stupidly when Dean spoke and then shook himself, a huge mess of fur falling off. "Shit, I may be stuck like this!"
Dean removed his hand, watching Sam shake himself out and then settle back, ears flattened again. "We'll get you back, Sam. We just need to talk with the spirit. Apologize, maybe."
"Uh huh, and how do we do that? Sorry for shooting you with rock salt, dude? Can you make my brother not a cat anymore?” Sam's ears remained flat, tabby fur shedding everywhere, while his tail lashed around.
"Sam, all we can do is try." Dean took a chance and stroked his hand down Sam's back, tugging the excess fur away and dropping it on the floor. "Let's read up a bit more about the spirit, Ms Ariel, and see if we can figure out what she might want. See if we can help it somehow."
Sam arched into the touch and then yawned. He approached his brother and peered over the edge of the table. He twitched for a moment and then jumped down on Dean’s lap. After a moment of shifting, he sat down and looked over the top of the table at the computer screen. "Try benevolent spirits."
Dean typed in the words, his left hand stroking Sam's head while he used the right to scroll through the choices and click on the links.
Sam purred deeply and nuzzled Dean's hand, before nipping his fingers. He began to knead Dean's knee and felt a deep contentment sink into his body. He could do this... he could be a cat... he could... wait, no! "Dean, I'm getting too into being a cat."
"It's probably because you're sleepy. Cats need to sleep like eighteen hours a day or something like that." He smiled down at Sam, curled up in his lap, his hand still moving slowly and steadily over the silky fur.
Sam kneaded some more, unable to help himself. "I don't want to be a cat, Dean," he said and sounded scared. "I can't stay like this." His claws came out and dug into Dean's knee.
"Ow, fuck," Dean quickly brought both hands down to uncurl the claws from his skin, picking his brother up to look him in the eyes. "You won't stay like this, Sam. I promise, we'll figure it out." He cradled his brother closer, turning him so he could face the computer screen from up near Dean's shoulder.
Sam dangled from Dean's hands and pawed at him with his back legs. "Hold my legs. Hold my legs. I don't like having my feet dangle."
Dean scooped up Sam’s back legs and tucked them against his body before reaching out with his free hand to scroll down the site a bit further and keep reading.
Sam curled into Dean's embrace and found comfort there despite his situation. He tucked his head under Dean's chin and rubbed gently, enjoying the sensation over the top of his skull and through the fur. "We need to offer something to the spirit..."
Dean wasn't used to touching Sam this much, regardless of how many chick-flick moments his brother tossed his way. Dean rubbed back, the whiskers on his chin catching lightly in the fur on Sam's head. Dean found himself getting sleepy.
Sam yawned again and butted his head against Dean. "Can't think, Dean. Want to curl up and sleep now. Need to wash." He pressed his paws to Dean's shirt and began to knead at him.
"Let's get some sleep then. We'll think on it in the morning over breakfast and come up with a plan. She won't be back around until then anyway." Dean reached under Sam's chin, scratching lightly while he pushed back from the table and cradled the cat close. He put Sam on the still made bed, pulling back the covers so he had soft pillows and sheets to curl up on, before moving to the bathroom and filling up the glass ashtray with some water. Coming back into the room, he placed it on the bedside table in case Sam got thirsty.
In the middle of giving himself a thorough bath, Sam noticed Dean carry in the water. "You really want me drinking out of that?"
"I washed it out with soap twice and swirled some mouthwash in it. It's as clean as I can get it, and the only thing we have for water." Dean grimaced a bit, thinking that tomorrow morning he could stop and buy cat supplies.
Sam sighed and trotted over to drink.. His little pink tongue rapidly lapped up as much as he could stand before he jumped back on Dean’s bed. For a moment, he paused and then jumped on the opposite bed and made for the pillows.
Dean nodded while he watched Sam, then went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was earlier than usual, but he was beat and figured some extra sleep wouldn't hurt. When he made it back to the room, Sam was curled on the pillows, head propped on his front paws, large green eyes staring up at him. Dean settled into the bed and looked back at Sam. "I promise we'll figure this out."
"And if we don't?" Sam asked, his voice small. "You can't take a cat hunting, Dean. And you can't leave me in motel rooms while you go hunting. You'll have to find me a new home."
"You're not going anywhere, Sam." Dean's said fiercely, his heart pounding at the thought. "We're gonna fix this, and you'll be hunting with me in no time." He punched at his pillow, the sight of his brother eating at him.
"Yeah, okay." Sam stared for another moment and then got back up and jumped to Dean's bed. "May I?"
"Yeah." Dean rolled to face the larger side of the bed and felt Sam walk over his hip when he made his way to the available pillow on the other side of the bed. He reached out once Sam had settled, hand stroking over his head and back. "We will fix this, Sammy."
Sam nuzzled into Dean's hand and grabbed on with both paws. "Don't make promises, Dean.”
Dean sighed, nodded and let Sam have his hand. He continued to stroke the soft fur. If there was one thing Dean did, it was take care of Sammy. No matter what breaking the curse required, Dean would get Sam back.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sam woke up cuddled against his brother's chest and held tightly in two strong arms. He blinked a few times to acclimatize himself to being a cat (and yeah, bring cuddled by Dean) and wiggled out of the grip. After indulging in a long stretch and grooming session, he hopped off the bed and trotted toward the bathroom. And froze. "Oh Hell." He glanced back at Dean and then at the bathroom and then at Dean again. "Not even." With a dignified air, he strode into the bathroom. A few minutes later, a flush could be heard.
Hearing the toilet flush, Dean rolled onto his side and stared at the other bed. The not-slept-in other bed, and the events from yesterday crashed through him. Sam was a cat. Sam had slept in his bed and from the fur on his chest, Sam actually had slept on him.
"Sammy, you okay?" He heard no cries or howls, so he figured Sam hadn't fallen in, but Dean wasn't taking any chances.
Sam batted at the water faucet until it came on and then stuck both front paws under for a second. Ewwww. Cats really didn't like water. He pulled them back and shook them off with an expression of distaste. "Yeah, I'm fine, Dean. Managed to go to the bathroom all on my own." He strolled out, tail high in the air and chin lifted. "I'm not helpless."
"Okay, oh mighty one. Then get out of there so I can shower and get ready to head out." He strode past Sam, resisting the urge to lean down and pet him.
The shower was blessedly hot and energizing, leaving Dean with renewed conviction that they could meet this spirit head on and get Sam back to his normal state. He walked back in the room, towel draped around him as he scrounged for his clothes. Sam was perched on the table again, staring at the computer.
Sam gazed at the computer screen blankly, thinking of nothing beyond how much he wanted to scratch something. After a moment, he jumped down, dug his claws into the chair leg and began to scratch frantically.
"Sam!" Dean tugged Sam back from the chair. "Dude, don't wreck the furniture. We don't have the money to cover the damage. I'll get you a scratching thing, if you want, but just wait until we get to the store."
"Dean!" Sam yowled and fought him, using his powerful back legs to push away from his brother. "Let me go!"
Dean put him back up on the table near the computer. "Look, I promise not to manhandle you too much so long as you're not getting into anything you shouldn't be.” He turned away, muttering about finding a pet store while he tugged on his underwear, jeans, boots and tee shirt before finally standing ready to go. "You want your boots and sword back?"
"What about breakfast?" Sam asked, licking away the indignity (and fear) of being hauled around like a doll. "And yes, I want them back."
"Well, come over here, and I'll help you get them back on." Dean thought of all the times he put Sammy's shoes on him, tying the laces for him until his brother insisted he was too old for help. The boots didn't go back on quite so easily, but finally Dean got him back into the ridiculous get-up. "What do you want for breakfast?"
Sam took a few practice steps in the boots and drew the sword to wave around in mock battle. "Cat food."
Dean just stared at the cat waving a sword around. He opened his mouth to ask Sam how he could hold the sword but not do much of anything else that required such dexterity, but snapped his jaw shut on the question. "Okay, cat food, it is." His stomach turned at the notion, though he knew it was the best idea. "I need coffee first, and we need to ask about a pet store around here."
Sam turned and stared at him with slit eyes. "A pet store? What do we need from there, Dean? We can get cat food anywhere."
"Well, we need to get you a water dish so you don't have to drink out of the ashtray. Was also thinking we could get you a scratching post, another dish for your actual food...and some food." Dean grimaced and grabbed the note pad as he jotted everything down. "We don't need a box since you figured out how to use the toilet, but those other things are necessary, Sammy."
Sam's whole body drooped again, but he nodded slowly. "All right, I guess that makes sense. But nothing else, Dean. And I go in the store with you. So we best find a PetSmart or something."
"Only if you promise not to talk and wave your sword about. I don't want people trying to take you from me. Ready to go?" He figured he'd let Sam walk this morning, if he wanted, though Dean would also have been happy to carry him out.
"Take me from you?" Sam asked blankly. "Why would anyone do that? Except for your obvious abuse to animals." He glanced down at the boots and sword. He pattered to the door and looked up at Dean. "Whenever you are.”
Dean sighed, grinding his teeth once he opened the door and waited for Sam to leave. Unlocking the Impala, he got Sam buckled in before he shut the door and strode to the driver's seat. It didn't take them long to find a Starbucks and get directions to the local PetSmart.
"The sign says all animals in the store have to be leashed." Dean sighed, knowing that was not going to go over well. "Let me carry you through the store so that we don't get thrown out before we buy what we need."
Sam looked down at his boots and sword and then jumped on Dean's shoulder, kicking him in the back. Arranging himself carefully, with booted paws hanging off the edge, he looked at Dean and smirked through fangs. "Ready."
Grimacing, Dean reached up and tugged Sam down into his arms, knowing it would be a struggle. "Cats aren't supposed to be able to sit like that and if we're going to attract as little attention as possible to this whole situation, then you have to let me hold you, Sam."
"I'm wearing boots and a sword, Dean. I think getting noticed isn't going to be a problem. And you can't carry me and a basket." He wiggled his way back up toward Dean's shoulder.
"Sam, we're not arguing about this. The boots and sword are an oddity, yeah, but a cat that can sit like a human is more than that." He reached up and tugged Sam down again into his arms, careful to keep his feet tucked up.
Sam stared at him angrily, ears going flat and tail whipping about. "Put me down, Dean."
"No, Sam. Now, let's get in there and get what we need, so we can get you back to being a fucking human." Dean grit the words out, his grip secure.
"Put me down!" Sam yowled and hit the high note that only a truly angry cat can. His claws emerged from his front paws and bit deep into Dean's arms.
"Fuck!" Dean gripped him tighter and started back to the car. "I told you I wouldn't manhandle you if you behaved, but this is not even remotely appropriate." Opening the door to the car, Dean tossed Sam onto the seat and mentally braced himself to find shredded leather on his return. He shut the door quickly, locking Sam inside, and headed back to the store with rapid strides.
Dean was in and out in less than fifteen minutes, all of the items his brother needed in the bags. He approached the car slowly, looking in the window to locate Sam before he opened a door.
Sam sat on the dashboard, ears flat and teeth and claws bared. His sword rested in one small paw, ready to poke as many holes in Dean as possible. Nobody, nobody treated him like that and got away with it, least of all his brother. He had already made some deep gouges in the seats and roof.
Sighing when he saw Sam ready for battle, Dean gripped the bag in his arms and reached to unlock the door. Dean opened the door and slid in as quickly as he could, but it was not fast enough.
Sam dove for freedom the moment the door opened. He hit the pavement running, jabbing Dean with his sword (aiming for the groin) and went straight up the nearest tree to the highest possible limb.
Dean dropped the bag, grabbing his thigh where Sam made an uncomfortably close stab. "SAMMY!" he bellowed, striding over to the tree. His brother was sitting up there, perched on a branch and well out of reach. "What the fuck, man?"
Sam glared at him, his tail nearly whipping into his face in fury. He wanted to yell at his brother, but settled for wailing, which communicated how much he hated his brother and everything else right at that moment and he wasn't coming down from the tree until he felt like it, thank you very much, bastard!
Covering his ears, Dean finally understood the true meaning of caterwauling. Sam was raising a horrible racket, and Dean wanted to strangle him. "You done yet?" he asked when Sam quieted a bit.
Sam glared down from his perch and began a long, contemptuous paw washing. Checking to make sure no people were around, he said, "I think I'll stay here."
"So, you want to stay a cat, then?" Dean shrugged and turned to go back into the store. "I'll be back in a bit with some more stuff for you and then call Bobby about a new job."
Sam hissed and said, "You think you can catch me if I leave, Dean? Think anyone can? I'm not just a cat."
"I know you're not, Sam." Dean sighed, shoulders slumping. "If you really want to take off, go ahead." It certainly wasn't what he wanted, but since Sam had turned into the damn cat, he'd been mostly mean and stubborn and selfish. "You win, Sammy. I'll leave and you can do whatever you want." Turning again, he headed back to the Impala, figuring the least he could do was leave the food behind.
Sam's ears and tail drooped when Dean turned away from him. He wanted to call him back, but his Winchester pride and stubbornness got in the way. And the memory of Dean tossing him around like a piece of furniture. Slitting his eyes, he climbed down the tree and began to stalk in the other direction, head high.
Dean climbed into the Impala and slammed the door shut. He opened all of his purchases, first the two dishes and then the bag of food. He'd even bought Sam a small comfort bed for the car seat so he'd have something soft to sit on. He tore open the food and poured a large amount into the bowl and then opened the bottled water and filled the water dish. He opened the door and walked to the back of the car to put the stuff down. "I have food and water for you, Sam. You have my word I won't touch you if you come to eat and drink."
Dean kept to his word and went back to the car, shutting himself inside and pulling out his cell to phone Bobby. When Bobby answered, he managed a gruff hello and proceeded to tell him about the situation.
Sam hesitated, his nose picking up the scent of food. His tummy rumbled, and he figured that eating might be a good idea. Skirting back to the car, he pulled the dish over by one paw and began to munch. After a moment, he looked up at Dean, listening to his voice and hearing the fear and misery in the tone.
There wasn't much Bobby could tell Dean, but he promised to do what research he could and get back to them. Dean dropped his head back on the seat and rubbed at his eyes. He wanted to fix this, but Sam wouldn’t cooperate.
Sam jumped on the hood and stared at Dean through the windshield, his tail thumping the metal. He really didn't want to leave.
Dean started at the sounds and looked at Sam on the hood of his car. Sammy was still not happy, and Dean was scared out of his mind. There was nothing he could do if his brother took off, and if he did, Dean was sure he'd never see him again.
Sam's ears twitched forward, and he realized he could hear Dean’s short, fast breaths. His brother was scared. He scooted forward a little bit, still not mollified, but willing to make an effort, and put a paw on the windshield.
Leaning forward, Dean pressed his fingers to the glass on the opposite side of Sam's paw. "Come back in the car, Sammy. Please, let's figure this out together and get you back to human."
Sam flicked his ears in agreement and headed for the other side of the car and his door. He jumped down easily and waited for Dean. Still, he remained wary of being tricked and skittered a little even while he tried to give Dean another chance.
Dean climbed out of the car, went around, opened Sam's door, and let him climb in on his own. He dumped out the remaining water and put the two bowls on the floor of the backseat. When he climbed back into the car, he cleared his throat and flushed when he nodded at the padded bed. "That's for you. Figured it'd be more comfortable than the seat."
Sam looked at the bed and then at Dean. Finally, he climbed in and found a comfortable resting place. "Thank you." He paused a moment, looking at his brother with troubled green eyes. "We need to talk, Dean."
Dean nodded, sighing once he turned the ignition. "Let's go back to the room and see if we can dig up anything more on this benevolent spirit. We can talk on the way or when we get there. Your choice." He didn't look down at Sam, but was keenly aware of him.
"My choice?" Sam asked, but nodded agreement. "Ok." He paused to groom himself, trying to work out what he wanted to say. "We need to compromise on how to treat me, Dean. You have to remember that I'm Sam, and I have to remember... that I’m a cat."
After letting the words sink in, Dean finally nodded. "Fine. I'll try to be better about treating you like Sam, if you'll try to remember that the only thing anyone else can see right now is that you’re a cat." Dean pulled into their parking spot just a few minutes later, cut the engine and sat there for a moment before gathering all of the supplies and exiting the car. Grabbing the rest of the stuff from the backseat, he made his way to Sam's door and opened it for him.
After Dean opened their room, Sam hopped on one of the beds and began to struggle with his boots. He managed to throw one to the ground, before wrestling the second off. Panting lightly, he did not even bother with the sword, figuring he could just live with that on. He jumped back to the table and laptop and said, "What did Bobby say?”
Dean moved around the room, putting Sam's food and water dishes on the floor before picking the water one back up and filling it in the bathroom.. He'd bought two toys, but now felt stupid with them and tucked them in his duffle. Joining Sam at the table, he fired up the laptop and shrugged. "Didn't have much off the top of his head.” Dean fired up the computer and entered Ms Ariel’s name in the search engine.
Sam watched a long list of articles for the local newspaper appear on the list and pointed with his paw. "Try those, Dean. Why was our spirit in the paper so much in life?" He sniffed at Dean and said, "I'm sorry for scaring you."
"And I'm sorry for manhandling you." Dean didn’t take his eyes off the computer, opening a few of the articles from their search in new tabs. There were several about their spirit, mostly talking about all of the good things she'd done in life.
Sam's tail began to bang against the table, but this time in interest. "She liked fairy tale endings, Dean. She devoted her life to helping people make their dreams come true." His groan came out as a yowl. "When we went after her, we got zapped... well, I got zapped, into a fairy tale."
"Seems our spirit was quite the matchmaker, too. Got several of the local long-standing couples together and everything." Dean frowned and skipped to the next article. "Why would she turn you into Puss, though? That makes no sense at all."
Sam considered this for a long time, licking his paws while he did. "Well, Puss helped his poor master get together with a rich princess and killed an ogre.” He stopped mid-wash and trembled. "And Puss helped his master realize his value."
"Well, none of that pertains to us." Dean sighed and looked at Sam. "Don't look at me like that. I know your value, Sam. I've known your value my entire life." He turned back to the screen and scrolled through another article, but it was only more of the same.
Sam stood up and bumped his head against Dean's arm. "Maybe you do when I’m human, Dean. But maybe we need to figure out my value as a cat. Or that I have value no matter what I am,,, " He sat down and rubbed his ears with his right paw, thinking. "Why couldn't the rest pertain to us?"
"Figure out your value as a cat? Not that it would be the weirdest thing we've done." Dean turned and looked down at his brother, a small smile on his lips. "The rest doesn't pertain to us because you don't have a master...and if I'm supposed to fill that role, there's no way I'm getting with a rich princess." Sighing, Dean got up and went to get the journal. Time to look in there for ogres, though he was pretty damn sure there wasn't anything in the book about them.
Sam jumped down and trotted at his heels. "Yeah, I don't see us marrying you off to a princess either. But how about doing what Ms. Ariel did in her life? You know, making people's dreams come true." He hopped up on the dresser easily and then after wiggling his butt while calculating, leapt onto Dean's shoulder.
The solid weight landing on Dean's shoulder made him grunt in surprise. He caught himself from over-balancing and reached a hand up to Sam's side. "You have to warn me if you're gonna do that! I almost knocked you off." Dean grinned and pulled up the journal. "I suppose we could try that.” He waved the journal at Sam. "You remember anything in here about ogres? Are they even real?"
"I would have landed on my feet," Sam said absently, peering down at the journal. His sword scabbard bumped against Dean's head each time he breathed. "I recall some vague reference to ogres near the beginning." He scratched an itch by rubbing his face against Dean's hair. "They can hide in any form... I think."
Dean scowled when the sword hit him in the side of the head, tilting his face away from it once he flipped open to the beginning. He grinned and leaned his head toward Sam while he started flipping through the entries with their father's tight scrawl.
"There," Sam said, pointing with a paw. "Ogres... uncommon...eat humans, thought to be responsible for various disappearances... hard to track due to their ability to change shape at will... none seriously reported in states for over fifty years." Sam mumbled various parts aloud, before licking Dean's ear. "Tastes funny."
"Change shape at will and none reported in the states? Well, crap. That most likely leaves us without being able to fulfill that part of the fairytale." Dean made a sound of displeasure at the wetness on his ear, rubbing it dry. "Of course it tastes funny, Sam. It's skin for Christ sakes."
Sam sniffed and said, "But it smells kinda nice." His tail turned up again while he considered their father’s information. "I wonder if a cat would be better at tracking them down. Like be able to smell them, or something." His tail beat more rapidly now, once he warmed to the subject. "After all, that is something a cat can do better than a person. A measure of my value."
Dean nodded, considering the possibility. "That wouldn't surprise me, Sam. I bet their smell is consistent regardless of their physical appearance." He reached one hand back and stroked over Sam's head before steadying him on his shoulder.
"But to know, we have to ask Ms Ariel, Dean. Which means a trip... where we don't get mad at each other." Sam stopped and rubbed his head against Dean again. "I'm sorry about that, Dean. Sometimes... sometimes, I don't know which part of me is Sam and which part of me is cat."
Lowering them both to the bed, Dean rubbed Sam's head with a smile. "I'm sorry too, Sammy. It's hard now and it's going to be hard for awhile, but we'll fix this together. Okay?" He closed his eyes and scratched at Sam's chin with his fingers.
Sam purred and lifted his head to give Dean better access. He bumped into the sword handle and winced. "Uh, Dean, can you get this thing off me?"
"Yeah, of course. C'mon down here, and I'll get that off." Dean moved his fingers away from Sammy's chin, patting his lap in invitation. "Now, we just need to figure out how we can get her to talk to us...or at least listen."
Sam crawled on his lap and flopped to give Dean access to the tiny buckles. "I bet she'll be waiting for us, Dean. Maybe I can go in and see if she's willing to talk to me? Not like I can do her much harm with claws, teeth and sword."
"Oh, I don't know, Sammy, you're plenty dangerous with all of that." Dean grinned while he tugged at the little buckles, pulling them apart and placing the sword on the table between the two beds. "But I think it'd be smartest to let you in first. After all, I'm the one who shot her."
Sam stared at Dean with huge, green eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" he asked.
Dean grinned. "We both agreed to try and be reasonable, right? Well, I think your suggestion is the best way to go."
Sam pushed all four feet into Dean's lower stomach and whacked at him playfully. "That may be the first time you’ve so willingly agreed with a plan of mine. Maybe this cat gig isn't so bad. Free petting and agreeable brothers."
Dean snorted. "Don't forget eating cat food and licking your own ass." He shook his head and tugged lightly on Sam's tail. "I think you're better off as a human, Sam."
"Well, I can also lick my own balls," Sam said smugly and then licked a stripe up Dean's hand.
"Huh. Please tell me you did not lick your balls before you licked me because that would be gross." Dean wrinkled his nose and then slid his fingers under Sam's chin again to scratch him.
Sam just lolled his tongue at Dean and then purred when he was scratched. An odd impulse struck him, and he grabbed Dean's hand with his paws, licked and chewed at it and beat at the rest of the arm with his back legs.
Dean laughed since Sam wasn't using his claws. Moving his hand a little faster, Dean moved his fingers from under Sam's chin to the top of his head and ruffled his fur back and forth.
Sam pushed away and bounded to the other side of the bed. He licked at his fur quickly, as if checking to be sure there was no damage, before turning to Dean. "You like this... so do I."
Laughing again, Dean shrugged and cleared his throat. "No need to make a thing out of it. Let's hit the road and see if we can turn up Ms. Ariel and get you back to being a real boy." He raised his voice at the end in a poor imitation of Pinocchio.
Sam flicked an ear at the boots and sword. "Can it wait until tomorrow, Dean? I don't know if I have the energy to get back into boots and sword and go out again." He yawned and stretched. "Climbing trees and caterwauling takes it out of you."
"Yeah, of course, Sammy." Dean sat back on the bed and reached a hand out to glide down Sam's spine. "You need a hell of a lot more sleep now anyway. Grab some rest and I'll call Bobby to fill him in, get some lunch and then I'll be back, okay?"
Sam snuggled into the petting hand and purred at Dean. "What else did you get me, Dean, besides a bed and food?" He put a paw on Dean's knee and flexed his claws in and out a few times.
"Oh." Dean cleared his throat and rubbed over Sam's head. "Uh, nothing much. Just some catnip," he mumbled, hoping Sam was too tired to hear or care. Dean could get rid of the toys later, and Sam would be none the wiser.
Something inside Sam twitched at the word, and he hopped off the bed and headed for Dean's duffle. Once he neared the old bag, the scent of something heavenly touched his nose. He quivered from tip to tail and began to whack at the bag, hoping to make it give up its contents. "Dean!" he called, struggling vainly. "Dean! Gimme!"
"Aw shit, Sammy, you sure?" From the way Sam was freaking out, Dean was sure this wouldn’t end well. Regardless, he got on his feet and made his way to the duffle bag. Dean reached into an inner pocket, pulled out one of the catnip pillows he'd bought and dangled it above Sam's head before tossing it onto the opposite bed.
Sam charged after the catnip and leaped on the bed. He began to bat at the pillow, before rolling over it several times. Picking it up in his mouth, he chewed frantically at the exterior, drooling all over. Finally dropping the messy toy, he leaped in the air a few times, before smacking it across the bed and chasing it again, nearly going headfirst off the side.
Dean stared at Sam, who was not Sam. This was entirely cat. A cold shiver of dread raced down Dean's spine. What if they couldn't fix it? He'd have a Sammy-cat for the rest of their lives, and his brother would never come back. Dean took one more look at Sam before grabbing his keys and his wallet and moving to the door. "I'll be back in a bit, Sammy."
Sam lay on his side, blissed out and holding the pillow with his front paws. He managed a weak, "Whatever," before returning to chewing on the lovely catnip present.
Shaking his head, Dean dialed Bobby once he stepped out of the room. Dean climbed into the Impala and headed back to the edge of town where there was a diner. He needed something more than fast food to get him through this.
~~~~~~~~~
Title: Sampuss-in-Boots
Codes: Sam/Dean
Series: SPN
Rating: NC-17
Beta: runedgirl
Summary: Sam and Dean attack a friendly ghost, who turns Sam into a cat... in boots. Now, the brothers must work their way through a twisted fairy tale to get Sam back to human and earn their own happily-ever-after.
Disclaimer: We don’t own them. We mean them no harm. We make no profit.
Posting: Please ask first!
Word Count: 32,789
Author's Notes: This was written for the spn_fairytales. We got an image of Sam as a cat in boots stuck in our heads, from which this fic was born. Ponderosa provided the lovely art, which makes us want a Sampuss of our own! And Lyns was our lovely beta, after we killed off several others! *hugs to both*
Dean groaned and lowered the shotgun. The spirit was gone, blasted by rock salt, but he knew she would return. They always did. Running a hand over his face, he straightened, grabbed his pack, slung it over his shoulder and headed downstairs to find Sam. They'd been separated when they entered the house, and he hadn’t heard from his brother since.
Sam stared up at Dean when he entered the front room, his new - and very different -- face twisted into a horrible scowl. He advanced a few steps, trying hard not to fall over and complete his indignity. "You- you idiot!" he yelled, amazed he could speak at all. "Look what you've done to me!" He brandished his sword and waved it angrily at his brother. "I'm a cat! With a sword! And boots! I'm fucking Puss-in-Boots!"
Stopping in his tracks, Dean let the bag crash to the floor and squinted at the house cat. The cat with boots. And a sword. Talking in Sam's voice. "Sammy?" he asked, not really believing the sight before his eyes. "How the fuck did you end up a cat? And why the hell are you blaming me?" Dean scowled at his brother... the cat.
Sam walked forward, paw-sized boots clomping against the wooden boards. "You jackass, how many times have I told you not to just start shooting? This isn't a normal spirit. If you hadn't been so busy blasting away, you might have noticed the protective symbols everywhere." Sam hit a few unearthly yowl-like notes and spit a few times. He failed to mention that pausing to glance at the protective symbols resulted in getting hit with a spell. Instead, he jabbed Dean in the leg with his sword. "Fix this, dumbass!"
"Ouch, damnit." Dean jumped back out of range, eyes still wide at the horrible sight of a cat throwing scornful glances his way. "Don’t blame this on me. The spirit'll come back, just like they always do." He snickered. "Let's go back to the motel, and I'll do some research."
Sam's ears flattened to his skull, and he growled at Dean. "I am not trusting you to do the research, Dean. I am not sitting around waiting for your brain to function." He turned his head and licked at the tabby fur on his right shoulder before realizing what he was doing and grimacing. "Oh yuck."
Dean laughed. "I think you're kinda stuck, bro. After all, I'm the one with opposable thumbs and, oh, a human body." He trailed off into snickers when he turned to grab his bag. "Impala's leavin', Sammy, better keep up."
Sam growled louder and tramped out after Dean, tripping over his boots several times. "Then you'll be taking direction from me," he grumbled. He stuck the sword back in its tiny scabbard, plotting revenge on his brother. Claws in sensitive places came to mind.
The odd clomping of Sam's little boots echoed through the house, making Dean conscious of his brother’s location the whole way. "By the way, if you even think about digging those claws into my car, I will leave your ass on the side of the road."
"That's right, threaten the cat," Sam said. He hopped down the porch stairs, surprised at how graceful he felt aside from the boots. //And it's your ass I'm going to be lacerating,// he thought.
”Just think, you can chase your own food, lick yourself clean." Dean grinned and waggled his brows. "Lick other places." Moving to the trunk, Dean tossed his gear in the back and then went to open the door for Sam. "Watch the claws," he admonished again.
Sam removed his sword and stuck Dean in the ass, before jumping easily into the car. "I'll be sure to do that," he said, putting the sword away. "Jerk."
"Bitch," Dean growled, closing the door with care and moving around to the driver's side. He resisted the urge to rub the spot Sam had stuck, refusing to give his brother the satisfaction. "Well then, Sammy, what is your great idea for research on this one?" He closed his own door and started the Impala with a smile and a pat for his 'baby' as she roared to life. "We have plenty of time to check it out."
"Find out what kind of a spirit curses people into fairy tale animals, maybe," Sam said with a roll of his green eyes. "And we don't have plenty of time, Dean. I am not staying a cat, no matter how funny you think it is." He curled his front paws, showing off claws, and lifted one to the delicate lining of the seat. "Now, buckle me in before I sharpen."
"You seriously want me to buckle you in?" Dean goggled at Sam. "The seatbelt will squish you." He frowned at Sam's claws nearing the leather seats, narrowing his eyes as he reached out and snagged the paw. He ignored the sting and said, "No need to threaten the car, dude. Tell me what you need, and I'll take care of it, but I'm gonna get mighty pissed if you go around threatening me.”
"And if you brake even slightly hard, I'm going to go through the windshield," Sam said. He tugged his paw away from Dean and licked the toes clean. "Oh sure, you're going to be pissed.”
"I wouldn't let you go flying through the windshield, Sammy." Dean grinned and shrugged. If Sam wanted to get squished by the seat belt, that was his choice. Leaning over, he grabbed the belt, tugged it into place and buckled his brother in. “You hungry?"
Sam gave Dean a disdainful look and struggled into a comfortable position. "No, I'm not hungry, Dean. I just want to find a way not to be a cat anymore. Jesus." He pawed at his boots, trying to get them off.
"Well, I'm getting food before we go back, or I won't get to eat until we figure this out." He looked over at Sam and frowned at his brother's struggles. "Want some help, there?"
"They don't come off," Sam said with a hiss. His tail lashed from side to side in annoyance. He leaned back in the seat, ears pressed flat against his skull and teeth bared. "I'm glad you can still think of the important things, like your stomach."
"If I can't eat, I can't concentrate," Dean ground out. "You know that, Sammy. Stop being so pissy and start thinking of what you want me to look up once we get back to the laptop." Glaring at his brother, he swung into a drive-thru, ordered some chicken tenders, burgers, fries, soda and milk.
"I can't eat that stuff," Sam said quietly. "It'll make me sick, Dean. I need-" he swallowed hard "-cat food."
"You can eat a little chicken and milk tonight while we get started on the research. I'll go get some cat food if this lasts into the morning." Dean grimaced at the thought of his brother eating that crap and turned back to smile sheepishly at the drive-thru guy. He'd been caught talking to a cat.
Sam waved a paw at the drive-thru guy and grinned in a cat-like fashion when Dean's drink got dropped down the side of the Impala.
Mumbling, Dean grabbed the bag of food and waved off the guy's stare before he stowed the stuff at his feet. "Stop that," he gritted out, once they pulled away from the window. "The less attention we bring to my having a cat, wearing boots, who can do human things, the better." Luckily, the motel was not far away and a minute or so later, he parked the car.
"So, are you going to stuff me under your jacket and carry me inside so as not to alert the neighbors?" Sam asked. He wriggled easily free of the seatbelt and stood up on his back paws, balancing on the boots. He glared at the door and then extended a paw to push at the handle. After some fruitless wiggling, his ears and tail drooped.
Seeing the dejection in Sam's posture, Dean sighed. "How about we compromise, Sammy? I want you back to normal nearly as much as you do. Let me carry you inside and help you when you need it. I'll do what you tell me as far as the research goes. Okay?"
Sam's tail twitched back and forth in agitation at the idea of being carried by his brother. He began to lick his front paws and wash his face. "Fine. Just don't drop me."
Dean just nodded and climbed out of the car, grabbing the food and shutting the door. With Sam being so finicky, he knew this would be a long night. He opened the passenger side door and reached down to lift Sam into his arms before stepping back and closing the car door with his hip. The motel room door proved a bit of a challenge, but Dean managed to get them safely through with only a minor fumble of the food. He never let Sam get unsteady in his arms. "Okay, you want the bed or the table? And do you want some food or not, Sammy?"
Dean smelled good! Sam's nose twitched in discovery of the pleasing scent he could now detect from his brother. He rubbed his face in Dean's shoulder and rumbled his very first purr. When Dean asked him a question, he flinched in embarrassment and hopped lightly down to the bed. Kicking at the annoying boots again, he stumbled his way to a pillow and sat down. "I guess I'll try some chicken."
The purr was a surprise, and Dean smiled until Sam jumped down. He frowned and went to the table to pull out the food. He tore up the chicken and put it on the paper wrapper. Caring for Sammy was something he'd been doing for as long as he could remember, and though it'd been a long time since he'd cut up Sam's food, the habit came back as though he'd been doing it all along. Dean hummed softly under his breath while he worked, grabbing his own food and climbing on the bed next to Sam. "Here ya go. Let me know if you want some milk. Otherwise, I'll put some water on the table for you." Dean bit into his burger and watched Sam from the corner of his eye.
Sam regarded the food and then shifted around, still uncomfortable in the boots. He balanced on his front paws and cautiously took a bit of chicken in his mouth. The flavor exploded over his tongue, and he wolfed down the piece. Before long, he devoured all of the chicken and stared forlornly at the empty wrapper. "More?" he asked, looking at Dean with huge eyes.
Dean blinked at Sam and then grinned. "Yeah, there's more, Sammy." He got up and grabbed the rest of the food, settling back before he tore pieces off and put them on the wrapper. After making a good pile, he went back to his own burger, watching Sam a bit more openly.
"Don't call me Sammy," Sam grumbled, before nose-diving back into his chicken. He ate until his tummy felt like bursting and then pulled back with a satisfied mrow. Without thinking about it, he began a full body wash, starting with his face and whiskers. Suddenly, he paused, paw in the air and stared with horror at Dean. "We gotta get this reversed, Dean, I'm acting like a cat!" He scrambled for the edge of the bed, jumped down and hobbled to the table, leaping up and pawing at his laptop.
Dean thought the washing was kind of cute, but wisely said nothing. "Give me another couple of minutes to finish my burger, and I'll open that damn thing up and start researching."
Sam's ears flattened again, and the noise he made sounded angrier than any previous. "I'm sure you'd be glad to lose me entirely and just have a cat named Sam. Lot less trouble." He turned his back and licked his fur contemptuously, the movements fast and jerky.
Dean scowled at Sam's back. He would not rather have a cat than his brother. He wanted to lash out, but held back and took another deep breath. Sam was rightfully freaked and screaming at him wouldn't help. Instead, Dean wolfed down the rest of his burger, burping once it settled and shoving himself off the bed to sit in front of the computer.
Sam turned toward Dean and sat beside the computer. He licked one paw delicately and pressed the other to Dean's hand. "Start with the protective symbols on the walls and see if we can tie them into the spirit." He tugged on the fur between his toes. “We learned her name was Ms. Ariel, right? We can check into her background later.”
Dean wanted to chuckle, but bit his lip instead and fired up the computer, getting online and heading to some of Sam's bookmarked sites. "Anywhere you want me to start? Is there a source you think might have the stuff we need?"
Sam fussed about trying to get comfortable and finally sighed. "Dean, can you help me get these boots off? And this sword? This body is not made for accessories." He rolled on his back and stuck his booted paws at Dean.
Nodding, Dean dragged his gaze from the computer and over to Sam. He smiled and reached to pull one of the boots off. "Let me know if it hurts." The first boot came off okay, and he tossed it onto the table behind the computer before reaching for the second one.
Sam wiggled his toes and purred in relief to have them free. "Feels good, Dean." He waved the other boot at him hopefully.
"Okay." Dean smiled and tugged the second boot off, tossing it in the same direction. Like most people who enjoyed animals, Dean wanted to reach out and pet Sam, but figured he'd lose a hand for his troubles. Instead, he leaned over and worked the belt buckle, fumbling with the tiny pieces, but finally freeing Sam to move around.
Sam wiggled out of the scabbard and scrambled to all four paws. He butted his head against Dean with a small purr. "Thank you, Dean." He turned back to the computer, curled up in a comfortable manner and poked at the keyboard. "Ok, symbols."
Dean smiled, stroking one finger over Sam's head, and turned back to the computer. "Do we have any idea what ethnicity the symbols were?"
"Did you just, uh, stroke me?" Sam asked, enjoying the sensation. He flicked an ear at Dean, confused by his own feelings. "Damn, being a cat is fucking weird," he mumbled, before turning back to the screen. "I think they were Syrian.”
"You head-butted me; I was just reciprocating." Dean tried hard not to grin at Sam and scrolled down the websites looking for anything that resembled the symbols in the house.
"Stop," Sam said and pointed with a paw toward one of the symbols. "Senmurgh. Symbol of protection." Sam's tail flicked uneasily. "But he's benevolent, associated with healing..." He crept closer to Dean and sprawled over his arms, infringing on his typing ability. "Keep going."
Flexing his arm under Sam's weight, Dean sighed and scrolled further down the page. There was more about healing and protection, but nothing about pain or destruction or evil anywhere.
Sam tried to purse his lips and discovered cat's faces did not work that way. Instead, he let out another little hiss and said, "I have a bad feeling about this, Dean. Why would an evil spirit be using a benevolent symbol?" His tail began to twitch right under Dean's nose.
"Maybe it took over some benevolent spirit's home. Coulda killed it off and took its place." Dean shrugged and flexed his arm again. Sam was damn heavy on that spot and showed no signs of moving. He stroked Sam's tail, moving it out from under his nose.
"The protective spirits wouldn't have let an evil spirit in," Sam said, angling his rump so Dean rubbed there, too.
Dean grinned and reached out a hand to stroke down Sam's back and over his hip. "True. Ya think we went after a good one, Sammy?"
Sam purred deep in his throat and arched up off Dean's arm to better reach the stroking hand. His brain began to muddle with pleasure-filled endorphins. "I- uh- yeah, maybe."
Completely unaware of the petting now that he'd started, Dean leaned in and read the website carefully. If they had attacked a benevolent spirit, there was a good chance they'd have a hard time getting Sam reversed. "Looks like this spirit is only around during the daylight. I think we lost it when we did because it took off at the combination of intruders and impending darkness."
Sam flopped on his side, engine revving at its peak. He blinked stupidly when Dean spoke and then shook himself, a huge mess of fur falling off. "Shit, I may be stuck like this!"
Dean removed his hand, watching Sam shake himself out and then settle back, ears flattened again. "We'll get you back, Sam. We just need to talk with the spirit. Apologize, maybe."
"Uh huh, and how do we do that? Sorry for shooting you with rock salt, dude? Can you make my brother not a cat anymore?” Sam's ears remained flat, tabby fur shedding everywhere, while his tail lashed around.
"Sam, all we can do is try." Dean took a chance and stroked his hand down Sam's back, tugging the excess fur away and dropping it on the floor. "Let's read up a bit more about the spirit, Ms Ariel, and see if we can figure out what she might want. See if we can help it somehow."
Sam arched into the touch and then yawned. He approached his brother and peered over the edge of the table. He twitched for a moment and then jumped down on Dean’s lap. After a moment of shifting, he sat down and looked over the top of the table at the computer screen. "Try benevolent spirits."
Dean typed in the words, his left hand stroking Sam's head while he used the right to scroll through the choices and click on the links.
Sam purred deeply and nuzzled Dean's hand, before nipping his fingers. He began to knead Dean's knee and felt a deep contentment sink into his body. He could do this... he could be a cat... he could... wait, no! "Dean, I'm getting too into being a cat."
"It's probably because you're sleepy. Cats need to sleep like eighteen hours a day or something like that." He smiled down at Sam, curled up in his lap, his hand still moving slowly and steadily over the silky fur.
Sam kneaded some more, unable to help himself. "I don't want to be a cat, Dean," he said and sounded scared. "I can't stay like this." His claws came out and dug into Dean's knee.
"Ow, fuck," Dean quickly brought both hands down to uncurl the claws from his skin, picking his brother up to look him in the eyes. "You won't stay like this, Sam. I promise, we'll figure it out." He cradled his brother closer, turning him so he could face the computer screen from up near Dean's shoulder.
Sam dangled from Dean's hands and pawed at him with his back legs. "Hold my legs. Hold my legs. I don't like having my feet dangle."
Dean scooped up Sam’s back legs and tucked them against his body before reaching out with his free hand to scroll down the site a bit further and keep reading.
Sam curled into Dean's embrace and found comfort there despite his situation. He tucked his head under Dean's chin and rubbed gently, enjoying the sensation over the top of his skull and through the fur. "We need to offer something to the spirit..."
Dean wasn't used to touching Sam this much, regardless of how many chick-flick moments his brother tossed his way. Dean rubbed back, the whiskers on his chin catching lightly in the fur on Sam's head. Dean found himself getting sleepy.
Sam yawned again and butted his head against Dean. "Can't think, Dean. Want to curl up and sleep now. Need to wash." He pressed his paws to Dean's shirt and began to knead at him.
"Let's get some sleep then. We'll think on it in the morning over breakfast and come up with a plan. She won't be back around until then anyway." Dean reached under Sam's chin, scratching lightly while he pushed back from the table and cradled the cat close. He put Sam on the still made bed, pulling back the covers so he had soft pillows and sheets to curl up on, before moving to the bathroom and filling up the glass ashtray with some water. Coming back into the room, he placed it on the bedside table in case Sam got thirsty.
In the middle of giving himself a thorough bath, Sam noticed Dean carry in the water. "You really want me drinking out of that?"
"I washed it out with soap twice and swirled some mouthwash in it. It's as clean as I can get it, and the only thing we have for water." Dean grimaced a bit, thinking that tomorrow morning he could stop and buy cat supplies.
Sam sighed and trotted over to drink.. His little pink tongue rapidly lapped up as much as he could stand before he jumped back on Dean’s bed. For a moment, he paused and then jumped on the opposite bed and made for the pillows.
Dean nodded while he watched Sam, then went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was earlier than usual, but he was beat and figured some extra sleep wouldn't hurt. When he made it back to the room, Sam was curled on the pillows, head propped on his front paws, large green eyes staring up at him. Dean settled into the bed and looked back at Sam. "I promise we'll figure this out."
"And if we don't?" Sam asked, his voice small. "You can't take a cat hunting, Dean. And you can't leave me in motel rooms while you go hunting. You'll have to find me a new home."
"You're not going anywhere, Sam." Dean's said fiercely, his heart pounding at the thought. "We're gonna fix this, and you'll be hunting with me in no time." He punched at his pillow, the sight of his brother eating at him.
"Yeah, okay." Sam stared for another moment and then got back up and jumped to Dean's bed. "May I?"
"Yeah." Dean rolled to face the larger side of the bed and felt Sam walk over his hip when he made his way to the available pillow on the other side of the bed. He reached out once Sam had settled, hand stroking over his head and back. "We will fix this, Sammy."
Sam nuzzled into Dean's hand and grabbed on with both paws. "Don't make promises, Dean.”
Dean sighed, nodded and let Sam have his hand. He continued to stroke the soft fur. If there was one thing Dean did, it was take care of Sammy. No matter what breaking the curse required, Dean would get Sam back.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sam woke up cuddled against his brother's chest and held tightly in two strong arms. He blinked a few times to acclimatize himself to being a cat (and yeah, bring cuddled by Dean) and wiggled out of the grip. After indulging in a long stretch and grooming session, he hopped off the bed and trotted toward the bathroom. And froze. "Oh Hell." He glanced back at Dean and then at the bathroom and then at Dean again. "Not even." With a dignified air, he strode into the bathroom. A few minutes later, a flush could be heard.
Hearing the toilet flush, Dean rolled onto his side and stared at the other bed. The not-slept-in other bed, and the events from yesterday crashed through him. Sam was a cat. Sam had slept in his bed and from the fur on his chest, Sam actually had slept on him.
"Sammy, you okay?" He heard no cries or howls, so he figured Sam hadn't fallen in, but Dean wasn't taking any chances.
Sam batted at the water faucet until it came on and then stuck both front paws under for a second. Ewwww. Cats really didn't like water. He pulled them back and shook them off with an expression of distaste. "Yeah, I'm fine, Dean. Managed to go to the bathroom all on my own." He strolled out, tail high in the air and chin lifted. "I'm not helpless."
"Okay, oh mighty one. Then get out of there so I can shower and get ready to head out." He strode past Sam, resisting the urge to lean down and pet him.
The shower was blessedly hot and energizing, leaving Dean with renewed conviction that they could meet this spirit head on and get Sam back to his normal state. He walked back in the room, towel draped around him as he scrounged for his clothes. Sam was perched on the table again, staring at the computer.
Sam gazed at the computer screen blankly, thinking of nothing beyond how much he wanted to scratch something. After a moment, he jumped down, dug his claws into the chair leg and began to scratch frantically.
"Sam!" Dean tugged Sam back from the chair. "Dude, don't wreck the furniture. We don't have the money to cover the damage. I'll get you a scratching thing, if you want, but just wait until we get to the store."
"Dean!" Sam yowled and fought him, using his powerful back legs to push away from his brother. "Let me go!"
Dean put him back up on the table near the computer. "Look, I promise not to manhandle you too much so long as you're not getting into anything you shouldn't be.” He turned away, muttering about finding a pet store while he tugged on his underwear, jeans, boots and tee shirt before finally standing ready to go. "You want your boots and sword back?"
"What about breakfast?" Sam asked, licking away the indignity (and fear) of being hauled around like a doll. "And yes, I want them back."
"Well, come over here, and I'll help you get them back on." Dean thought of all the times he put Sammy's shoes on him, tying the laces for him until his brother insisted he was too old for help. The boots didn't go back on quite so easily, but finally Dean got him back into the ridiculous get-up. "What do you want for breakfast?"
Sam took a few practice steps in the boots and drew the sword to wave around in mock battle. "Cat food."
Dean just stared at the cat waving a sword around. He opened his mouth to ask Sam how he could hold the sword but not do much of anything else that required such dexterity, but snapped his jaw shut on the question. "Okay, cat food, it is." His stomach turned at the notion, though he knew it was the best idea. "I need coffee first, and we need to ask about a pet store around here."
Sam turned and stared at him with slit eyes. "A pet store? What do we need from there, Dean? We can get cat food anywhere."
"Well, we need to get you a water dish so you don't have to drink out of the ashtray. Was also thinking we could get you a scratching post, another dish for your actual food...and some food." Dean grimaced and grabbed the note pad as he jotted everything down. "We don't need a box since you figured out how to use the toilet, but those other things are necessary, Sammy."
Sam's whole body drooped again, but he nodded slowly. "All right, I guess that makes sense. But nothing else, Dean. And I go in the store with you. So we best find a PetSmart or something."
"Only if you promise not to talk and wave your sword about. I don't want people trying to take you from me. Ready to go?" He figured he'd let Sam walk this morning, if he wanted, though Dean would also have been happy to carry him out.
"Take me from you?" Sam asked blankly. "Why would anyone do that? Except for your obvious abuse to animals." He glanced down at the boots and sword. He pattered to the door and looked up at Dean. "Whenever you are.”
Dean sighed, grinding his teeth once he opened the door and waited for Sam to leave. Unlocking the Impala, he got Sam buckled in before he shut the door and strode to the driver's seat. It didn't take them long to find a Starbucks and get directions to the local PetSmart.
"The sign says all animals in the store have to be leashed." Dean sighed, knowing that was not going to go over well. "Let me carry you through the store so that we don't get thrown out before we buy what we need."
Sam looked down at his boots and sword and then jumped on Dean's shoulder, kicking him in the back. Arranging himself carefully, with booted paws hanging off the edge, he looked at Dean and smirked through fangs. "Ready."
Grimacing, Dean reached up and tugged Sam down into his arms, knowing it would be a struggle. "Cats aren't supposed to be able to sit like that and if we're going to attract as little attention as possible to this whole situation, then you have to let me hold you, Sam."
"I'm wearing boots and a sword, Dean. I think getting noticed isn't going to be a problem. And you can't carry me and a basket." He wiggled his way back up toward Dean's shoulder.
"Sam, we're not arguing about this. The boots and sword are an oddity, yeah, but a cat that can sit like a human is more than that." He reached up and tugged Sam down again into his arms, careful to keep his feet tucked up.
Sam stared at him angrily, ears going flat and tail whipping about. "Put me down, Dean."
"No, Sam. Now, let's get in there and get what we need, so we can get you back to being a fucking human." Dean grit the words out, his grip secure.
"Put me down!" Sam yowled and hit the high note that only a truly angry cat can. His claws emerged from his front paws and bit deep into Dean's arms.
"Fuck!" Dean gripped him tighter and started back to the car. "I told you I wouldn't manhandle you if you behaved, but this is not even remotely appropriate." Opening the door to the car, Dean tossed Sam onto the seat and mentally braced himself to find shredded leather on his return. He shut the door quickly, locking Sam inside, and headed back to the store with rapid strides.
Dean was in and out in less than fifteen minutes, all of the items his brother needed in the bags. He approached the car slowly, looking in the window to locate Sam before he opened a door.
Sam sat on the dashboard, ears flat and teeth and claws bared. His sword rested in one small paw, ready to poke as many holes in Dean as possible. Nobody, nobody treated him like that and got away with it, least of all his brother. He had already made some deep gouges in the seats and roof.
Sighing when he saw Sam ready for battle, Dean gripped the bag in his arms and reached to unlock the door. Dean opened the door and slid in as quickly as he could, but it was not fast enough.
Sam dove for freedom the moment the door opened. He hit the pavement running, jabbing Dean with his sword (aiming for the groin) and went straight up the nearest tree to the highest possible limb.
Dean dropped the bag, grabbing his thigh where Sam made an uncomfortably close stab. "SAMMY!" he bellowed, striding over to the tree. His brother was sitting up there, perched on a branch and well out of reach. "What the fuck, man?"
Sam glared at him, his tail nearly whipping into his face in fury. He wanted to yell at his brother, but settled for wailing, which communicated how much he hated his brother and everything else right at that moment and he wasn't coming down from the tree until he felt like it, thank you very much, bastard!
Covering his ears, Dean finally understood the true meaning of caterwauling. Sam was raising a horrible racket, and Dean wanted to strangle him. "You done yet?" he asked when Sam quieted a bit.
Sam glared down from his perch and began a long, contemptuous paw washing. Checking to make sure no people were around, he said, "I think I'll stay here."
"So, you want to stay a cat, then?" Dean shrugged and turned to go back into the store. "I'll be back in a bit with some more stuff for you and then call Bobby about a new job."
Sam hissed and said, "You think you can catch me if I leave, Dean? Think anyone can? I'm not just a cat."
"I know you're not, Sam." Dean sighed, shoulders slumping. "If you really want to take off, go ahead." It certainly wasn't what he wanted, but since Sam had turned into the damn cat, he'd been mostly mean and stubborn and selfish. "You win, Sammy. I'll leave and you can do whatever you want." Turning again, he headed back to the Impala, figuring the least he could do was leave the food behind.
Sam's ears and tail drooped when Dean turned away from him. He wanted to call him back, but his Winchester pride and stubbornness got in the way. And the memory of Dean tossing him around like a piece of furniture. Slitting his eyes, he climbed down the tree and began to stalk in the other direction, head high.
Dean climbed into the Impala and slammed the door shut. He opened all of his purchases, first the two dishes and then the bag of food. He'd even bought Sam a small comfort bed for the car seat so he'd have something soft to sit on. He tore open the food and poured a large amount into the bowl and then opened the bottled water and filled the water dish. He opened the door and walked to the back of the car to put the stuff down. "I have food and water for you, Sam. You have my word I won't touch you if you come to eat and drink."
Dean kept to his word and went back to the car, shutting himself inside and pulling out his cell to phone Bobby. When Bobby answered, he managed a gruff hello and proceeded to tell him about the situation.
Sam hesitated, his nose picking up the scent of food. His tummy rumbled, and he figured that eating might be a good idea. Skirting back to the car, he pulled the dish over by one paw and began to munch. After a moment, he looked up at Dean, listening to his voice and hearing the fear and misery in the tone.
There wasn't much Bobby could tell Dean, but he promised to do what research he could and get back to them. Dean dropped his head back on the seat and rubbed at his eyes. He wanted to fix this, but Sam wouldn’t cooperate.
Sam jumped on the hood and stared at Dean through the windshield, his tail thumping the metal. He really didn't want to leave.
Dean started at the sounds and looked at Sam on the hood of his car. Sammy was still not happy, and Dean was scared out of his mind. There was nothing he could do if his brother took off, and if he did, Dean was sure he'd never see him again.
Sam's ears twitched forward, and he realized he could hear Dean’s short, fast breaths. His brother was scared. He scooted forward a little bit, still not mollified, but willing to make an effort, and put a paw on the windshield.
Leaning forward, Dean pressed his fingers to the glass on the opposite side of Sam's paw. "Come back in the car, Sammy. Please, let's figure this out together and get you back to human."
Sam flicked his ears in agreement and headed for the other side of the car and his door. He jumped down easily and waited for Dean. Still, he remained wary of being tricked and skittered a little even while he tried to give Dean another chance.
Dean climbed out of the car, went around, opened Sam's door, and let him climb in on his own. He dumped out the remaining water and put the two bowls on the floor of the backseat. When he climbed back into the car, he cleared his throat and flushed when he nodded at the padded bed. "That's for you. Figured it'd be more comfortable than the seat."
Sam looked at the bed and then at Dean. Finally, he climbed in and found a comfortable resting place. "Thank you." He paused a moment, looking at his brother with troubled green eyes. "We need to talk, Dean."
Dean nodded, sighing once he turned the ignition. "Let's go back to the room and see if we can dig up anything more on this benevolent spirit. We can talk on the way or when we get there. Your choice." He didn't look down at Sam, but was keenly aware of him.
"My choice?" Sam asked, but nodded agreement. "Ok." He paused to groom himself, trying to work out what he wanted to say. "We need to compromise on how to treat me, Dean. You have to remember that I'm Sam, and I have to remember... that I’m a cat."
After letting the words sink in, Dean finally nodded. "Fine. I'll try to be better about treating you like Sam, if you'll try to remember that the only thing anyone else can see right now is that you’re a cat." Dean pulled into their parking spot just a few minutes later, cut the engine and sat there for a moment before gathering all of the supplies and exiting the car. Grabbing the rest of the stuff from the backseat, he made his way to Sam's door and opened it for him.
After Dean opened their room, Sam hopped on one of the beds and began to struggle with his boots. He managed to throw one to the ground, before wrestling the second off. Panting lightly, he did not even bother with the sword, figuring he could just live with that on. He jumped back to the table and laptop and said, "What did Bobby say?”
Dean moved around the room, putting Sam's food and water dishes on the floor before picking the water one back up and filling it in the bathroom.. He'd bought two toys, but now felt stupid with them and tucked them in his duffle. Joining Sam at the table, he fired up the laptop and shrugged. "Didn't have much off the top of his head.” Dean fired up the computer and entered Ms Ariel’s name in the search engine.
Sam watched a long list of articles for the local newspaper appear on the list and pointed with his paw. "Try those, Dean. Why was our spirit in the paper so much in life?" He sniffed at Dean and said, "I'm sorry for scaring you."
"And I'm sorry for manhandling you." Dean didn’t take his eyes off the computer, opening a few of the articles from their search in new tabs. There were several about their spirit, mostly talking about all of the good things she'd done in life.
Sam's tail began to bang against the table, but this time in interest. "She liked fairy tale endings, Dean. She devoted her life to helping people make their dreams come true." His groan came out as a yowl. "When we went after her, we got zapped... well, I got zapped, into a fairy tale."
"Seems our spirit was quite the matchmaker, too. Got several of the local long-standing couples together and everything." Dean frowned and skipped to the next article. "Why would she turn you into Puss, though? That makes no sense at all."
Sam considered this for a long time, licking his paws while he did. "Well, Puss helped his poor master get together with a rich princess and killed an ogre.” He stopped mid-wash and trembled. "And Puss helped his master realize his value."
"Well, none of that pertains to us." Dean sighed and looked at Sam. "Don't look at me like that. I know your value, Sam. I've known your value my entire life." He turned back to the screen and scrolled through another article, but it was only more of the same.
Sam stood up and bumped his head against Dean's arm. "Maybe you do when I’m human, Dean. But maybe we need to figure out my value as a cat. Or that I have value no matter what I am,,, " He sat down and rubbed his ears with his right paw, thinking. "Why couldn't the rest pertain to us?"
"Figure out your value as a cat? Not that it would be the weirdest thing we've done." Dean turned and looked down at his brother, a small smile on his lips. "The rest doesn't pertain to us because you don't have a master...and if I'm supposed to fill that role, there's no way I'm getting with a rich princess." Sighing, Dean got up and went to get the journal. Time to look in there for ogres, though he was pretty damn sure there wasn't anything in the book about them.
Sam jumped down and trotted at his heels. "Yeah, I don't see us marrying you off to a princess either. But how about doing what Ms. Ariel did in her life? You know, making people's dreams come true." He hopped up on the dresser easily and then after wiggling his butt while calculating, leapt onto Dean's shoulder.
The solid weight landing on Dean's shoulder made him grunt in surprise. He caught himself from over-balancing and reached a hand up to Sam's side. "You have to warn me if you're gonna do that! I almost knocked you off." Dean grinned and pulled up the journal. "I suppose we could try that.” He waved the journal at Sam. "You remember anything in here about ogres? Are they even real?"
"I would have landed on my feet," Sam said absently, peering down at the journal. His sword scabbard bumped against Dean's head each time he breathed. "I recall some vague reference to ogres near the beginning." He scratched an itch by rubbing his face against Dean's hair. "They can hide in any form... I think."
Dean scowled when the sword hit him in the side of the head, tilting his face away from it once he flipped open to the beginning. He grinned and leaned his head toward Sam while he started flipping through the entries with their father's tight scrawl.
"There," Sam said, pointing with a paw. "Ogres... uncommon...eat humans, thought to be responsible for various disappearances... hard to track due to their ability to change shape at will... none seriously reported in states for over fifty years." Sam mumbled various parts aloud, before licking Dean's ear. "Tastes funny."
"Change shape at will and none reported in the states? Well, crap. That most likely leaves us without being able to fulfill that part of the fairytale." Dean made a sound of displeasure at the wetness on his ear, rubbing it dry. "Of course it tastes funny, Sam. It's skin for Christ sakes."
Sam sniffed and said, "But it smells kinda nice." His tail turned up again while he considered their father’s information. "I wonder if a cat would be better at tracking them down. Like be able to smell them, or something." His tail beat more rapidly now, once he warmed to the subject. "After all, that is something a cat can do better than a person. A measure of my value."
Dean nodded, considering the possibility. "That wouldn't surprise me, Sam. I bet their smell is consistent regardless of their physical appearance." He reached one hand back and stroked over Sam's head before steadying him on his shoulder.
"But to know, we have to ask Ms Ariel, Dean. Which means a trip... where we don't get mad at each other." Sam stopped and rubbed his head against Dean again. "I'm sorry about that, Dean. Sometimes... sometimes, I don't know which part of me is Sam and which part of me is cat."
Lowering them both to the bed, Dean rubbed Sam's head with a smile. "I'm sorry too, Sammy. It's hard now and it's going to be hard for awhile, but we'll fix this together. Okay?" He closed his eyes and scratched at Sam's chin with his fingers.
Sam purred and lifted his head to give Dean better access. He bumped into the sword handle and winced. "Uh, Dean, can you get this thing off me?"
"Yeah, of course. C'mon down here, and I'll get that off." Dean moved his fingers away from Sammy's chin, patting his lap in invitation. "Now, we just need to figure out how we can get her to talk to us...or at least listen."
Sam crawled on his lap and flopped to give Dean access to the tiny buckles. "I bet she'll be waiting for us, Dean. Maybe I can go in and see if she's willing to talk to me? Not like I can do her much harm with claws, teeth and sword."
"Oh, I don't know, Sammy, you're plenty dangerous with all of that." Dean grinned while he tugged at the little buckles, pulling them apart and placing the sword on the table between the two beds. "But I think it'd be smartest to let you in first. After all, I'm the one who shot her."
Sam stared at Dean with huge, green eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" he asked.
Dean grinned. "We both agreed to try and be reasonable, right? Well, I think your suggestion is the best way to go."
Sam pushed all four feet into Dean's lower stomach and whacked at him playfully. "That may be the first time you’ve so willingly agreed with a plan of mine. Maybe this cat gig isn't so bad. Free petting and agreeable brothers."
Dean snorted. "Don't forget eating cat food and licking your own ass." He shook his head and tugged lightly on Sam's tail. "I think you're better off as a human, Sam."
"Well, I can also lick my own balls," Sam said smugly and then licked a stripe up Dean's hand.
"Huh. Please tell me you did not lick your balls before you licked me because that would be gross." Dean wrinkled his nose and then slid his fingers under Sam's chin again to scratch him.
Sam just lolled his tongue at Dean and then purred when he was scratched. An odd impulse struck him, and he grabbed Dean's hand with his paws, licked and chewed at it and beat at the rest of the arm with his back legs.
Dean laughed since Sam wasn't using his claws. Moving his hand a little faster, Dean moved his fingers from under Sam's chin to the top of his head and ruffled his fur back and forth.
Sam pushed away and bounded to the other side of the bed. He licked at his fur quickly, as if checking to be sure there was no damage, before turning to Dean. "You like this... so do I."
Laughing again, Dean shrugged and cleared his throat. "No need to make a thing out of it. Let's hit the road and see if we can turn up Ms. Ariel and get you back to being a real boy." He raised his voice at the end in a poor imitation of Pinocchio.
Sam flicked an ear at the boots and sword. "Can it wait until tomorrow, Dean? I don't know if I have the energy to get back into boots and sword and go out again." He yawned and stretched. "Climbing trees and caterwauling takes it out of you."
"Yeah, of course, Sammy." Dean sat back on the bed and reached a hand out to glide down Sam's spine. "You need a hell of a lot more sleep now anyway. Grab some rest and I'll call Bobby to fill him in, get some lunch and then I'll be back, okay?"
Sam snuggled into the petting hand and purred at Dean. "What else did you get me, Dean, besides a bed and food?" He put a paw on Dean's knee and flexed his claws in and out a few times.
"Oh." Dean cleared his throat and rubbed over Sam's head. "Uh, nothing much. Just some catnip," he mumbled, hoping Sam was too tired to hear or care. Dean could get rid of the toys later, and Sam would be none the wiser.
Something inside Sam twitched at the word, and he hopped off the bed and headed for Dean's duffle. Once he neared the old bag, the scent of something heavenly touched his nose. He quivered from tip to tail and began to whack at the bag, hoping to make it give up its contents. "Dean!" he called, struggling vainly. "Dean! Gimme!"
"Aw shit, Sammy, you sure?" From the way Sam was freaking out, Dean was sure this wouldn’t end well. Regardless, he got on his feet and made his way to the duffle bag. Dean reached into an inner pocket, pulled out one of the catnip pillows he'd bought and dangled it above Sam's head before tossing it onto the opposite bed.
Sam charged after the catnip and leaped on the bed. He began to bat at the pillow, before rolling over it several times. Picking it up in his mouth, he chewed frantically at the exterior, drooling all over. Finally dropping the messy toy, he leaped in the air a few times, before smacking it across the bed and chasing it again, nearly going headfirst off the side.
Dean stared at Sam, who was not Sam. This was entirely cat. A cold shiver of dread raced down Dean's spine. What if they couldn't fix it? He'd have a Sammy-cat for the rest of their lives, and his brother would never come back. Dean took one more look at Sam before grabbing his keys and his wallet and moving to the door. "I'll be back in a bit, Sammy."
Sam lay on his side, blissed out and holding the pillow with his front paws. He managed a weak, "Whatever," before returning to chewing on the lovely catnip present.
Shaking his head, Dean dialed Bobby once he stepped out of the room. Dean climbed into the Impala and headed back to the edge of town where there was a diner. He needed something more than fast food to get him through this.
~~~~~~~~~