Felis Major - SN fic - PG13
Title: Felis Major
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: the boys aren’t mine; just for fun.
Warnings: none
Pairings: none. Though, there could be a bit of sub-textual wincest for any dears who swing that way.
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 4585
Point of view: third
Notes: this started out humorous and mutated. Sorry.
More notes: Also, in Siberian tigers(the largest breed of the largest cat), adult males are about three-and-a-half feet tall and nine-to-twelve feet long. Just for a size reference.
Still more notes: “Felis Major” is incorrect Latin and I know it. I just like the way it sounds. The title should translate to “big cat.”
Spouse of notes the first: this was finished about two weeks ago, now. I just never got around to typing it up.
Sam. Wake up.
Something soft bats at his face, rests on his cheek.
Sammy. Now.
He reaches up to push it away. It feels… fragile? But it sounds like Dean. Weird. So he opens his eyes and looks over-
“Dean?” he blurts out dumbly, unable to believe his eyes. On the bed next to him is… “You’re…”
I’m a fuckin' cat, Sammy.
Sam feels laughter bubbling in his throat and Dean-a black panther cub-glares. Then raises a paw and unsheathes a very impressive set of claws. And peels back his lips to reveal a nice pair of fangs.
“Dude,” Sam asks, “who’d you piss off?”
Dean buts his head against Sam’s side and softly snarls. Stop laughing, dumbass. He hooks one of his front paws in Sam’s shirt and kneads his claws.
“Sorry,” Sam snickers, picking Dean up. “Dude, you’re so small.” Dean hisses but Sam ignores him, examines him. He gets out of bed still holding his newly felined brother and paces over to the laptop. He googles panthers, just to be sure, and ends up at a zoological site; Dean yowls as Sam checks him over. “You’re a panther alright, Dean; a jaguar,” Sam finally decides. “Well, fuck.”
-
Dean uses the bathtub as a litter box and Sam runs out for steak. He buys two big plastic bowls and a bag of catfood. Doubtful Dean’ll eat it, but at least the option is there.
His brother the panther cub is curled up in a nest of covers and Sam has never seen anything so adorable. He wishes he had a camera.
His brain has been working overtime, trying to figure out A) how Dean became a panther and B) how Sam can hear his voice. He’ll wait till the Dean-cub wakes up to ask why he hadn’t become an adult. Sam sets down his burdens, cleans out the bathtub, and then fills one of the bowls up with water. He uses a plastic fork and one of Dean’s knives to cut up the steak, placing the chunks in the other bowl. He sets the bowls on the floor, settles on the chair, and watches Dean sleep.
Adorable. Completely adorable. After Dean’s back to normal, Sam will never let him live this down.
-
It’s twenty more minutes before Dean stirs. He stretches in the sinewy way inherent in all cats and leaps off the bed, making immediately for the food.
What’d you find out? Dean asks and Sam shrugs.
“Nothing. I bought you food.”
Dean flicks an ear and lashes his tail. Don’t get pissy, Sam. I’m a damned cat.
“You’re a jaguar, Dean. a panther cub.”
Dean looks over and hisses. You tryin’ to tell me jaguars aren’t cats? Thought you were smart.
Sam rolls his eyes. “Just eat, okay? Once you’re full, we’ll retrace our steps, try to figure out what you did yesterday.”
Dean lashes his tail again but keeps quiet.
Sam researches jaguars some more, then animal transformations. What he finds about the latter is completely unhelpful: takes a lot of power and strong emotions. The jaguar information just says that Dean will be rambunctious, which isn’t new.
“Great,” Sam mutters and shuts the laptop. Looks up to find Dean gone. “Dean?” he demands, thrusting aside his computer, glancing around. Where can Dean have gone? He doesn’t have thumbs, so he can’t leave the room. “Dean, damnit.” He searches the room a section at a time but there’s no hint of the cub. Finally he sinks back onto the bed and slumps down.
He jumps when something hits the bed behind him. C’mon, Sammy, Dean says, loping around him and butting his thigh. Let’s go!
Sam picks him up and growls, “Where the hell were you?”
Dean blinks his large hazel eyes, the only part of him that didn’t change. Hunting you, Dean answers, drooping in Sam’s grip. What I’m ‘sposed to do, right?
Sam is suddenly and sharply reminded of young Simba from The Lion King. “Oh, Christ,” he says, dropping Dean onto his lap. “You’re de-aging, Dean.”
Dean stretches out across Sam’s legs and mutters, Sleepy.
Sam scoops him up and cradles him, stands. “Okay, Dean,” Sam sighs. “We’ll head out after you’ve napped. Again.”
-
A few hours pass and finally Dean stirs, yawns. He’s still more adorable than anything in the history of ever.
Sammy? Dean asks; he sounds like the older brother Sam saw last night. Gruff. But he looks like a panther cub.
Hell, he is a panther cub. This is so fucking weird. “Yeah, Dean?” he asks, reaching out to rub Dean’s ears.
Can we go outside now, Sammy? Dean’s voice is still his older brother, but the tone is achingly young.
“Yeah, Dean,” Sam answers. “Let’s go.”
Dean leaps off his lap and springs for the door, dances in front of it. Sam grabs his wallet and keys, slips a gun in the back of his pants.
“Dean,” Sam says, kneeling, and Dean bounds over, rears on his hind legs, placing his front paws on Sam’s thigh. “You have to promise to listen to me. if I call you, you have to come immediately. Okay? Promise and mean it or you can’t go anywhere.”
Dean blinks up at him again and Sam thinks about Puss in Boots from the second Shrek movie. Jessica had loved that cat, melted every single time he was onscreen.
I promise, Sammy, Dean says. I’ll listen to you.
Sam stands back up and tells Dean, “Let me make sure no one’s there.” He slips out the door and glances around, then opens it wide enough for Dean to slip through. Dean bounds around like a puppy-a kitten-and Sam keeps his gaze peeled for anything that could be a threat to a panther cub. So far, no one near.
He strides over to the Impala and unlocks he-it; the damned car is an it-opens the passenger door for Dean, who bounces in and explores shotgun before tossing himself into the back and nosing around. Sam starts the Impala and drives carefully, slowly. He waits for Dean’s comment about driving like a grandma but it never comes.
Are we there yet? Dean finally asks, climbing back into the front.
“Almost,” Sam answers. “I’m takin’ you to the edge of town, just to be extra safe.”
Dean flops on his stomach and blinks his moon-sized eyes at Sam. Why?
“Because people aren’t supposed to keep panthers as pets. Someone could try takin’ you away from me.”
But you wouldn’t let ‘em, right, Sammy? You’ll keep me? Dean scoots forward and crawls into Sam’s lap, unheeding of the steering wheel.
Sam runs his hand along Dean’s back, kneads his skin. “You’re mine, Dean. No one will ever take you from me.”
Dean purrs and stretches out on Sam’s thigh, lets his paws dangle over either side. Are we there yet? he asks again, his tail sweeping against Sam.
Sam decides to experiment. He’s been wondering if Dean can hear his mind, so he thinks, Five more minutes.
Good, Dean says. Drive faster, Sammy.
Sam rubs Dean’s ears and pulls off the road a bit down the way. I guess we’re far enough from town. But listen to me, Dean. He turns off the Impala and picks Dean up, meets his eyes. “If I say it’s time to go, it’s time.”
I promise, Dean swears, stretching forward to lick the tip of Sam’s nose, purring again. Sam wonders if that’s part of the transformation, since jaguars-real jaguars-can’t purr. Can I go outside now, Sammy? Please?
Sam opens the door and Dean springs out, runs around. He explores everything and Sam follows, alert for any possible threat, keeping Dean in sight. It seems that Dean’s de-aging had finally stopped, somewhere between ten and six.
In the distance a dog barks. Sam can see the town about twenty miles away. The field he found is quiet, calm-and then Dean screeches, shouting, Sammy!
The gun is in his hand and he’s at Dean’s back before he’s even considered moving. Dean’s puffed up and snarling. A man is there, crouched down, eyes wide. And he’s holding a boy, hands on the child’s neck. The boy is limp, unmoving.
Sammy, I can’t hear his breath. Dean slips backwards to stand between Sam’s legs.
The man straightens, not looking away from Sam’s gun, and lets the boy fall. Dean lunges forward to sniff the child-seven or eight-and he growls, Dead.
Sam doesn’t move his gaze from the man. “Interesting pet,” the bastard drawls, looking from the gun to Dean.
Get away from him, Sam commands, stepping forward. Now, Dean.
But Dean gathers himself and Sam knows what he plans. No, Dean!
Dean springs and hooks his claws in the guy’s dark blue shirt, climbs up to his shoulder and hisses, biting at him. The man shrieks, trying to grip Dean, curses and spins around.
Sam can’t get off a good shot. Dean! he yells. “Get away from him!”
The man drops, hands at his neck. Blood gushes from between his fingers. Dean jumps clear and returns to the boy.
“Help me,” the man begs, gasping.
Sam turns his back and picks Dean up, cradles him close. Dean’s whimpering, trembling. ‘s’kay, Dean, Sam assures him. We’ll go back to the room, eat, sleep-it’s okay.
Why did he kill the baby? Dean asks.
Because he was a nasty man. Sam pauses and tucks the gun away, buries his face in Dean’s back. Sleep, Dean, he says. Let me take care of you.
Dean nestles in his grip and sighs.
-
Once they’re in the room, Sam gently places Dean on the bed closest to the bathroom and curls up around him. Why hadn’t he sensed the bastard and dealt with the threat? Dean killed a man. He shouldn’t have had to-he’s a baby.
Sam lightly rubs Dean’s spine. He bets that if their positions were reversed, Dean would’ve already turned him back.
Sleep, Sammy, Dean whispers, shifting slightly. Stop thinkin’ so hard.
-
Sam wakes a little after dawn to a huge, full grown black jaguar curled up beside him. Large hazel eyes watch him and Sam swallows. “Dean?” he breathes, unable to look away from the predatory gaze.
I’m hungry, Dean’s voice says in his head.
“Okay.” Sam slowly slips from the bed and Dean’s eyes never leave him. “I’ll be back with food soon.”
He fills up the bathtub with water and Dean jumps from the bed, silently pads over. He laps some up and Sam leaves the hotel room, locks the door behind him.
Holy fuck, he’s got an adult panther. Who’s hungry. The hell can he get Dean?
He decides to swing by the butcher and buys fifteen pounds of uncooked beef. It drains the majority of their cash, but he’ll be able to replenish it. Next he goes to the grocery store, buys a long, shallow box. He’s been gone twenty minutes.
Dean’s on the dresser when he gets back, carrying the meat in the box. Dean’s balanced precariously in the way all cats seem born knowing.
“Okay,” Sam says, moving slowly again. He empties the bags of meat into the box. “Here. You eat and I’ll go try to see if I can figure out what’s going on.”
No. Dean smoothly lunges from the dresser, approaches the food with liquid grace. He’s gigantic for a jaguar-for any cat, actually-head almost reaching Sam’s shoulder.
“No?” Sam repeats, backing away, hitting the door.
No, Dean tells him again. You won’t go huntin’ without me.
“Dean,” Sam says with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re a fuckin’ enormous jaguar. You can’t leave the room.”
Dean flicks an ear. I can’t protect you, Sam, caged in here. He gulps down the meat, blood dripping from his jaw, mixing in with the darkness of his fur.
Sam shakes his head, runs his hand through his hair. “So, you are Dean again,” he comments, just to say something.
I never stopped being Dean. his tail lashes. Sam can’t help but trail his eyes along Dean’s body, marvel at the beauty.
“You’re like the ultimate killer,” he says and Dean glances over.
You will not go hunting without me, Dean repeats, prowling over. His hazel eyes never leave Sam’s.
“But you can’t leave the room!” Sam argues, quelling beneath Dean’s gaze. The authorities would take you away, he tries, mentally talking to Dean again. Please, Dean. I can’t lose you.
Dean rubs against Sam, purring. You won’t, he promises, settling back on his haunches. His tail flicks and his tongue darts out, cleaning up the blood on his mouth. Come back in an hour, he finally says. Or I’ll find a way out of this room, track you down, and bite you all to Hell.
“Okay,” Sam replies, sagging in relief.
-
After a quick shower, Sam leaves. Dean’s on the dresser again, entirely too big for it, bathing. Sam takes two guns and three knives, repeats that he’ll be back in an hour.
He visits the site of the ex-haunting, but nothing. Swings by the young lady who’d captured Dean’s attention-also nothing. Asks around for anyone considered odd or different-gets two names, but time is drawing close and he doesn’t want a pissed-off ginormous jaguar on his trail.
Dean’s waiting just inside the door. Three minutes, he announces as Sam removes the weapons. Then I’d be after you.
Sam shares what he’s found and Dean jumps up on the bed, stretches out across Sam’s legs. Do some recon, Sam, he says. Figure out which of ‘em is more likely to be our guy.
“And then?” Sam asks, roughly rubbing across Dean’s back, digging his fingers in.
Come get me, Dean responds, arching into the touch. You will not go up against him alone.
“Dean,” Sam groans.
Dean softly snarls and flicks his tail against Sam’s neck; Sam winces in pain. We’ll wait for dusk, Sam. No one’ll see me. But you aren’t going alone. He rubs his head into Sam’s chest, knocking him back slightly. Understood?
Sam sighs. “Fine. I’ll be back later.”
Promise.
He flops back and Dean stretches out beside him. I promise not to confront anyone without you, Dean.
-
Mark Adamson is a bust. Old, lives on the edge of town, freaky-but harmless.
Kathryn Willis, though, has potential. He feels a dark presence on her property; it makes his hackles rise.
So he returns to the room. Four hours to sundown, so he decides to nap. Dean’s found a way to turn on the TV and flip the channel; he’s watching “Oprah.” Sam flops on the other bed and mutters, “We’ll go after her later.”
Okay, Dean replies.
-
An hour after sunset Dean slips into the backseat of his Impala. He’s a moving shadow and if Sam didn’t know he was there, he wouldn’t see the panther.
Tell me about this woman, Dean says.
So Sam talks about how she scares the townspeople, how she never mingles, how she hates men, and the thing he felt as he set foot on her ground.
Stay here, Dean commands as Sam pulls off the road a mile away from the Willis property.
What? Sam spins around in his seat and looks in the back; Dean’s eyes glow in the scant moonlight.
Sammy. Stay here.
And how are you gonna get out of the car? Into the house?
Cats can’t smirk but somehow Dean does. I’m not just telepathic, Sam, he laughs, and the back door opens. He slips out and it closes.
Sam gapes. Dean’s laughter sounds in his mind and Dean says one more time, Stay, Sam. Please.
It galls him, but he does. He fiddles with one of his guns, taps the steering wheel, lists all of the amendments to the Constitution. Ten minutes after Dean vanishes into the darkness, Sam follows.
-
Looking back later, Sam can’t recall what happens next. He’s walking through the night, then he’s in a cage below ground with an old woman glaring at him.
“What are you doin’ sneakin’ up on my house, boy?” she demands, cloudy eyes hard.
Sam opens his mouth to lie but something in the shadows behind her moves and his gaze flicks to it. It’s big and dark and he’s about to warn her when she turns and says, “Nox, come here.”
Sam gapes as a panther the size of a Clydesdale horse steps into the light. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he whispers as the gigantic cat twines around Kathryn Willis.
“Now,” she says, “tell me what you’re doin’ trespassin’ or I’ll feed you to Nox-in pieces.”
“Did you turn my brother into a jaguar?” Sam asks quickly, rising to his feet. He’s too tall to fully stand upright, so he hunches down.
“Your brother that lovely boy with forest eyes?” Willis replies. “Beautiful creature. He’ll make a fine addition to my army.” She smirks and Nox sits beside her, gleaming blue eyes on Sam.
Sam feels something brush against his mind. “Army?” He tries to follow the presence but it bats him away.
“Men are too proud, trespasser,” Willis explains, hand on Nox’s head. “But I search for those who are worthy.” She smiles, stepping closer to the cage. “And I make them mine. Once I have enough, we’ll strike.” Her eyes trail along his body. “You would be a gorgeous tiger, you know. I think I’d name you Sol.”
The presence bats at him again and then a voice mutters, We can’t hurt her-but if you kill her, we’re free.
A dozen big cats-leopards, cheetahs, jaguars, tigers, lions-step out of the darkness in the corners, each unnaturally large. None are as big as Nox, but each is at least the size of a Morgan horse. They settle around Willis, still and silent. Sam shivers and looks back at the insane old woman.
“You’re tryin’ to start a war?” He can’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.
Willis scoffs. “Just like a man. My goal is beyond your puny comprehension.” She turns and threads her way through the cats, pausing at the door. “How’s your brother?” she asks. “Still a cub?”
Sam raises his head. “He won’t join your army.” Sam leaves out the you crazy bitch, but knows she hears it.
“If he killed someone, boy,” she says, “then he’s already mine.”
Once we kill, the same voice whispers, we’re hers for life.
“Visit with my kitties,” Willis chuckles. “I’ll be back later.” She flicks off the tinny light and leaves.
One of the cats-he doesn’t know which-brushes against the cage. “Shit,” Sam groans. Dean?
No answer. “Is my brother gonna get as big as ya’ll?” Sam questions the darkness.
Eventually, the voice tells him. But he won’t be your brother anymore. I haven’t been myself in so long… I can’t even remember my name.
“Nox?” Sam guesses. The cats remain silent.
Yes. That is what she calls me. I was the first she changed. The gigantic panther chuffs. Her favorites are different colors-the white tiger, pale lion, royal cheetah, me. What did she turn him into?
“A panther,” Sam says with a soft, sad laugh. He sinks against the bars, his skin touching Nox’s fur. He runs his hand along Nox’s flank. “How the hell are we gonna get outta this?”
She gives each of us a talent, or rather, calls to the forefront something we could already do, though not so well. I can slide through walls. Sam pulls back, clasps his hands. I am the king. I am the only other that my companions follow.
Dean! Sam yells and one of them snarls. He hears movement, then the light flicks on.
Your brother will obey her, Nox says. He will not have a choice. The three cheetahs slip out the door, one with thick markings instead of spots. Two leopards and a lion follow. They seek the rogue, Nox explains, lying on the floor. Your brother. The white tiger, almost Nox’s size, jumps up on the cage, stretching out along the top. The cougar sits by Nox while the blond lion hops up on the table. But he will come here, won’t he? She is no fool, our lady. He will come for you, then she will claim him and turn you into a tiger.
A cat yowls somewhere in the house; Nox shoots to his feet. The lion and cougar lope out the door; the tiger leaps from the cage to stand by Nox.
“What happens,” Sam asks, meeting Nox’s sapphire eyes, “if Dean kills Willis?”
A different voice, deeper and huskier, says, Won’t happen. He’ll die before he can hurt her. The tiger butts his head against Nox’s, rubs along his side, then hurries out.
“What are your names?” Sam questions, trying to keep himself-and his keeper-distracted.
Only I have one, Nox responds. That she would name you shows how much she desires you.
Another cat yowls then snarls. Sam flinches at a scream. “What’s goin’ on?” he demands, standing as tall as he can in the cramped quarters.
Your brother. He can’t hurt her but he can try.
Dean! Sam yells once more-no reply.
“Get me out of here!” Sam begs the gigantic panther. “Please. I can end this!”
Nox regards him for a moment. You can kill her? You would?
Sam doesn’t hesitate. He puts all of his earnestness, all of his determination, into one word. “Yes.”
The smallest of the cats, a sleek leopard, slinks into the room, a set of keys held in his mouth. He pads up to the cage and drops his burden through the bars.
Quickly, Nox says while Sam scoffs and scoops up the keys. Follow him when you are free.
Nox trots out, a moving shadow, the most dangerous predator Sam has ever seen.
Sam wastes no time in unlocking the cage. The leopard waits for him. Hurry! a young male voice exclaims. You have to stop her before any of the clan dies.
He follows the leopard, wondering what age the boy had been when Willis changed him. Not more than sixteen, for sure.
They ascend three levels, the sound of fighting-snarling, shrieking, growling-growing steadily louder. The leopard drops off, but tells Sam, Keep going. Follow this hall; you’ll avoid the battle and find her.
“Don’t hurt Dean,” Sam pleads and the leopard peers up at him with sweet brown eyes, tilts his head.
Nox told us to be careful. But Dean isn’t. He refuses to hear us.
So Sam hurries, looking for Willis, hoping to end the madness before something truly god-awful happens.
Dean! he shrieks with everything in him, searching for Willis. Please stop fighting them! They’re tryin’ to help us!
No response. But he hears a scuffling up ahead and hits a door just as it swings shut. He kicks it in and doubles over as a searing pain shoots up his side.
“Mine,” Willis hisses. “Quit fightin’, Sol. I can stop the pain, turn you into the greatest predator that ever walked.” Sam falls to his knees, hands held to his side. The pain keeps growing. He gasps, unable to speak, and glares up at her. Willis kneels beside him, touches his face. “I love your spirit, Sol. I do. But I’ll have to break you more’n any’a the others.”
And the pain licks down his side, through his hip and leg, across his torso, up to his head. He can’t even whimper.
And then a shout fills his head. Sammy!
So Sam reaches out, quick as he can, ignoring everything but the crazy bitch’s sparrow-like neck.
And he snaps it.
-
“Sam. Wake up.”
Something bats his cheek, a feather-soft touch.
“Sammy.”
He reaches to knock it away but his hand doesn’t move. So he tries speaking, but his mouth is dry, his throat sore. He forces his eyes open and sees a blurry above him. Familiar.
Home. “Dean?”
Behind Dean, around him, stands a group of men, all ages and races. But Sam focuses on Dean, on the cut across his forehead, down his face. Sam’s eyes trail along his brother’s body. “Are you naked?” he croaks out and Dean chuckles, though it sounds fake and forced.
“A bit, yeah,” he answers.
Dean’s chest and abdomen are dotted with scratches. He kneels over Sam like it hurts.
“What happened?” He has cotton in his mouth.
“ Devon,” Dean calls. “Get a glass’a water.”
Sam’s gaze flicks to a boy-can’t be more than sixteen, if that-who darts from the crowd. He, too, is naked. A quick glance reveals they all are.
Devon hurries back with a cup of water and hands it to Dean. Dean cradles Sam’s head and tilts the brim at his mouth. He gulps the cool liquid down and Dean pulls the glass away. “Slowly, Sam,” he soothes. “Slowly.” So he sips and Dean only removes the glass when it’s empty.
The men fade down the hall one by one and return clothed. One of them-about Dean’s size with black hair and blue eyes-drops next to him and offers a green robe. Dean shrugs it on with a hiss.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man says.
Dean shrugs and hisses again. “Not your fault, Nick. I could’a listened to ya’ll.” He stands and asks, “Would ya’ll help me get ‘im up?”
Fur of the men, including Nick, bend over and grip Sam, gently lift him to his feet.
“Michael,” Nick commands, “go with Dean to his car.”
Sam watches as Michael-a slight African-heads off down the hall. Dean turns to him and gently reaches out to brush Sam’s cheek, then spins and follows Michael.
“Cade!” Nick calls and another boy steps forward. “Get a chair for Sam.”
The men keep a good hold of him, supporting most of his weight. He still can’t remember everything-or, well, anything-- that happened and wants to check with Dean before he asks.
Cade returns with a wooden chair and they lower him into it. He looks around, trying to ignore the sharp ache pervading his entire body. They’re on the ground floor; he can see trees outside, and the sky. Going by the position of the sun, dawn just passed.
He hears the men quietly talking, though Nick and another stay by him, silent and steady. Distantly comes the Impala’s growl and Sam relaxes. Dean pulls up in the front and the men help Sam shuffle out. Dean hurries from the car and takes over, settles Sam shotgun. He gently closes the door and Sam can just make out his and Nick’s voices. But his body sinks against the seat and sleep beckons, so he slips under.
-
He wakes as Dean turns off the highway. Dean’s clothed now, though Sam doesn’t know when or where he got the outfit. “Where are we?” he groans, rubbing his eyes.
“ Arizona,” Dean answers. “’bout fifty miles from the Grand Canyon.”
“Dean,” Sam asks, sitting up and arching his back, trying to get rid of the steady ache, “what happened?”
Dean looks over and tries smiling. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Um…” Sam thinks back. “We dealt with that ghost-the farmer.”
Dean bangs his head on the steering wheel and groans. “That was a few days ago, Sammy.”
“Who were those guys?” Sam asks, turning his head.
Dean sighs. “Let’s get some food and a room. Then we’ll talk, ‘kay?”
“Okay,” Sam agrees.
-