Supernatural: Now Sleeps the Swan
Title: Now Sleeps the Swan
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: girl!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit (Het) Sexual Content, Underage (Sam is 17), Some Violence, and Language
Word Count: 8,797
Author’s Note: Written for spn_cinema where I claimed the prompt The Swan Princess, because Sam Winchester is the prettiest princess, the end. Thanks to ordinaryink for watching this with me one day and then putting this plotbunny I didn't actually want in my head as she so often does, but it's okay because I got revenge by making her draw me pretty stuff as I so often do. Thank you also to my beta, morganoconner, the spn_cinema mods, and, of course, I'd like to thank the Academy. I stole the title from some Pink Floyd song because I was stuck for a title and it seemed like the Dean Winchester thing to do. Obligatory Howard McGillin reference goes here. Can you tell I wrote these author's notes at 7 in the morning? No, but seriously. Google Howard McGillin. I wanna put my dick in that man's voice. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: After a long day at work, all Dean wants is a warm shower and his little sister's company. Unfortunately, things don't really go that way. Dean returns to find Sam missing and discovers that she's been kidnapped and cursed to turn into a swan every morning when the sun comes up.
ART
The letter is in Sam's hand, words scrawled in the cursive she uses when she's in a hurry. It's neat and legible despite the rush it was obviously written in, and Dean chuckles, remembering the messy way she wrote when she was first learning cursive, copying it onto lined paper from the book Dean bought her one summer to keep her entertained. Back then, always having his sister to worry about was embarrassing and frustrating, and it's weird to think of that now that she's the thing Dean's been waiting all day to see.
Look for a bird is all it says.
It's a weird fucking message, unnecessarily cryptic, and Dean shakes his head, thinking she's trying to mess with him or something. There are books open all over the kitchen table. Her laptop is there too, though it's on screensaver mode. It's clear she was doing research for his job at some point, but she's left it abandoned out here with nothing Dean can use except this stupid hint.
It's a quarter to five and she's not home. Dean's a little disappointed to be perfectly honest; he'd been hoping to come home covered in car grease and sweat, smelling like oil after a long day working on cars, and find Sam doing her homework, pretending she's not waiting for him and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on the table for him made itself.
She loves the smell of him after a day at the garage, however much she may try to say otherwise, and Dean thought he might convince her to follow him into the shower. He could use a good scrub and maybe a massage and his baby sister's pretty mouth wrapped around him as the water beats on his back. But apparently she's gone out with a friend or something, and instead of telling Dean when she'd be home, all she did was give him more work to puzzle over.
One goddamn night off. That's all Dean wants.
He walks into their room, letting the door close a little too loudly behind him. Sam's bed is made and Dean's is still a mess of sheets and blankets because when she got up for school this morning, she apparently didn't feel like fixing the mess she made.
He sighs and heads for the phone he left in the pocket of his other pants this morning, trying her cell. It rings until it goes to voicemail, so Dean figures she must be at the movies with a friend or something. She's been doing that kind of shit too often lately. Dean oughta say something to her before Dad gets back and notices it and it becomes an issue, but every time he resolves to say something, Sam finds a way to distract him.
What? Dean likes boobs, okay? Sam's got a glorious pair. It's an unfair advantage.
"Hey, brat," he says to her message machine. "You better call me back the second you get this and tell me where you are." He sits for a few seconds, thinking things over. She's just a kid, and she just wants a little space sometimes. Dean knows she has the right to that, even if he doesn't really like it. He continues in a softer tone, "I'll pick you up when you want to come home. Just give me a call."
He hangs up and tosses his phone aside, watching as it lands in a lump of sheets and disappears behind the line of the blanket. He might as well shower now. No use waiting until god knows when. Dean feels gross and probably doesn't smell any better.
He feels much less annoyed when he gets out of the shower. He takes his time getting dressed, pretending Sam's continued absence isn't making him feel antsy, and then goes to his phone to see if she called while he was in the bathroom.
Dean has 15 missed calls, and when he checks the call log, his stomach falls as he scrolls through the timestamps and realizes they're all from before he left his message. While he was at work and his phone was lying here forgotten in their bedroom. Sam could be in trouble, and Dean sure took his sweet ass time figuring it out.
His fingers are shaking as he dials voicemail. She left four, and Dean can hear her getting more and more panicked as they progress. Something huge, she says, is pecking at the window. At first she laughs a little, making it sound like she finds her own fear irrational and stupid and she's just calling Dean to be safe.
It's probably just a bird, she says in a high-pitched, self-deprecating way. I don’t know why it's freaking me out so much, but I can't focus on my homework, and I would just really like if you came home, okay?
By the third one she's nearly hysterical, describing exactly what's happening. It's trying to get in-she's sure of it-it's trying to get her. She's back under control by the fourth one, but Dean doesn't feel any better when he hears why.
She says she's going outside to hunt it. She's going outside to face a monster on her own and now she's missing, and the facts of the case all flash in front of Dean's eyes. He should be killed for even bringing his sister into this now that he thinks of it. The victims have all been virgins between the ages of 15 and 19. Sam, at 17 years old, still technically fits the profile. Dean dragged Sam into a town where she was practically bait and then left her alone.
He runs his fingers through his wet hair, taking a deep breath and telling himself to get a grip. He can't panic yet. That won't help Sam. She's a capable girl, maybe she's getting rid of the body. Or out celebrating the kill. Or at the garage trying to tell Dean she finished the job for him without even trying to.
He picks up his phone again and pushes her number on speed dial. Just like before, it rings until it goes to voicemail. So Dean tries again. And again.
Finally he hears something. Sam's ringtone. Dean follows the sound, his heart pounding wildly against his chest. The ringing is outside, right under the living room window from the sound of it. Dean rushes through the door and rounds the house, sees a lump lying in the grass. He tries not to wonder if the lump is his sister as he runs to get a closer look.
It's the sling bag she takes to school. Inside are a couple of her favorite guns and knives, though one of them is lying a couple of feet away in a patch of grass. Dean doesn't have to check to know it's been fired. There's a few drops of blood right in front of it, but not nearly enough to have killed whatever she was shooting at.
The phone is there, too, ringing and ringing until finally Dean hears his sister's voice telling him she isn't available and to leave a message after the tone. He hangs up, falls to his knees, and punches the ground so hard he knows his knuckles will bruise.
As soon as Dean has pulled himself together enough, he gets into the Impala and heads straight to his witnesses. He doesn't know how else to go about finding Sam. All he's got are some missing person's reports, a scrap of paper and voicemails with nearly useless advice, and a crushing sense of guilt so strong rescuing Sam is the only thing keeping Dean in one piece.
The interviews lead nowhere. All the grieving mothers blink at him like he's lost his fucking mind when he tells them some new evidence has cropped up and he needs to know if their daughters said anything about birds before their disappearance, except for Amy Chaswick, mom to the third from last victim. Her eyes brighten at the question, and Dean thinks he's finally going to get lucky.
"Susie had a parrot," she says, nodding her head enthusiastically.
Dean tries to smile and pretend that's helpful information. It's not easy when his little sister is missing and he's just officially run out of ideas.
It's night by then. Dean knows the chances he'll find anything before sunrise are slim and he'd probably serve Sam best by getting some rest so he's more alert tomorrow, but the idea of going home and sleeping while Sam is in trouble makes him sick.
He drives in circles around the town a little while longer until finally he gives up, goes home terrified and defeated and hoping it's just some nightmare and he'll wake up tomorrow with Sam's curves pressing against him.
He lies in bed for a long time, trying to think over the facts of the case, find something he missed. Nothing comes up. He finally falls asleep somewhere around 3 am, his face pushed into the spot on his pillow where he can still smell Sam's shampoo.
He dreams of that first time on the couch, six months and eight towns back. The night he dozed off with his arm draped over his sister and the TV set to a quiet buzz. He woke up a couple of hours later with Sam's hair in his face, the smell sweet and fruity, and her ass pressed against his dick.
Dean thinks of how long it had taken him to realize what woke him up. He still remembers exactly the way his breath caught in his throat when he figured out what was causing the shaking.
Sam's hand, arm caught under the weight of Dean's, was tucked into the boxers she was wearing, and he could feel her body rocking as-Jesus. Sam was fingering herself and Dean was right there.
"Sammy," he'd muttered, brain and voice still trying to catch up. "What're you doing?"
The movement stopped when she heard his voice, but she didn't answer him. He could hear her panting breath, and then her hand was on top of his, her wet fingers guiding him down.
"Dean," she moaned, slipping his hand under the elastic and letting him rest over the thin fabric of her underwear. She was soaking through, so, so fucking wet, and Dean was so turned on by it he thrust forward, dick rubbing against her ass through layers of fabric. He didn't want to do that, or rather he didn’t want to want it. Just like he didn't want to push the cotton aside and press two fingers into her, but god, it was right there and it was Sam, and he did it anyway.
She responded with a gasp, her body trying to make more room for him to move inside her at the awkward angle. Dean's other hand came up from under her body, took one of her breasts-big like everything about her and brand new, impossible for Dean to ignore these last few months-and squeezed it, feeling her body jerk in response.
Her heart was hammering out of control; he could feel the beat of it under his fingers as he held her, even with the wifebeater she was wearing between him and her skin.
"This okay, Sammy?" he'd muttered as his fingers had fucked into her, and she'd nodded her head, breathing out an 'uhuh' before turning her mouth to kiss Dean.
Later, when he had finished her off and licked her clean off both of their fingers, Dad had come home and said something about them being too old to share a couch like that. He could have arrived while Dean was still inside of her, could have told Dean how disgusting he is for violating her like that, as if Dean didn't know on his own. His cheeks had flushed hot with shame.
He wakes up the next morning shaking and sweaty and hard and nearly laughs at the irony. Dean never in a million years thought the day would come when he would wish he'd done more than that. When he'd actually think it would have been the more responsible decision to take her up one of the times since then she's asked for cock when Dean's fingers or tongue were inside of her. He was proud of his restraint-but if he'd done that Sam wouldn't be a virgin. She wouldn't have been taken; she could be here lying in bed with him.
He should have crawled on top of her and marked his territory when he had the chance.
Dean rolls out of bed, wiping his hands over his face, and stumbles his way into a very cold shower. He doesn't bother calling out of work. He's going to solve this goddamn case today and then he's getting his sister the fuck out of this town and never coming back.
The day starts off as useless as the night before had ended. Dean has had zero brilliant flashes of inspiration, which leaves him with no leads and no one left to talk to. But he watches the sky, birds the only thing he knows to look out for, and by noon he's picked up on something.
There's a swan following him. At a distance at first, but closer and closer as the hours tick by. He pretends not to notice it, hoping it might do something useful, but finally he loses his temper, parks the Impala and gets out.
The bird is huge and graceful, and Dean will admit it's kind of beautiful. He was expecting something a little more badass-a hawk or an eagle, or maybe a mythical flying thing that could be mistaken for a bird, like a griffon. But no. Sam got abducted by a fucking swan.
When he gets her back and safe, he's going to tease her about that to the ends of the Earth. She deserves it after giving him this scare.
He aims right for its chest, but the swan flies fast, dodging the bullet. It gets closer, opening its beak, but retreats too quickly when Dean shoots again. For a moment he fears it's going to flee, fly up so high he loses sight of it, but it stops at a safe distance and looks back at Dean over its shoulder.
Dean doesn't want to say it's a wild goose chase after that, but well. The shoe fits. It's like the bird is leading him somewhere-a trap, no doubt-but what choice does Dean have but to fall into it? The damned thing has Sam.
So follow he does. For hours. Through the hottest part of the day, the late-May sun beating down on him, until finally Dean has to stop for rest and hope he can find it again. The swan stops, too. Whatever this trap is, it must be good.
Dean gets back on his feet. They're aching and undoubtedly covered in blisters after so much walking, but Dean doesn't have time to worry about that. The sun is starting to set, and Dean is not turning around and going back to the car without Sam, but once the sun's light is gone, he's going to be stranded in these unfamiliar woods with no way to see.
Okay, Dean probably just figured out the trap.
"Goddamn swan," he mutters to himself, picking up his pace when the bird flies higher into the sky, circling around something excitedly.
He breaks through a wall of bushes and sees what the swan was circling. It's still flying around the lake, but it's lowering itself with each rotation. Dean makes it to the water's edge as the swan's wings are grazing the water.
Then it stops flying, resting its body on the surface of the lake. It's facing Dean, Dean has a perfect shot. He raises his gun, locking aim on the monster, but then he sees its eyes. For half a second, the creature stares back at him, its expression fiercely intelligent, its eyes warm hazel and almost familiar.
A shiver goes through Dean and his hand shakes. The animal opens its mouth, making a loud, threatening sound. Dean's finger begins to tighten on the trigger, and then the moonlight on the lake reaches the feathers on the tip of the bird's outstretched wings, and the water begins to rise in a curtain around it.
Dean watches, too shocked to shoot, terrified of what will be standing there when the veil subsides and the monster shows itself again.
"Dean," he hears from behind the water. It's his sister's voice. "Dean, don't shoot."
The wall of water falls back into the lake with a splash. Sam is standing there, held up by nothing. Dean blinks in shock as she takes a step toward him, her feet resting on top of the lake as if it were as solid as concrete.
"Jesus," Dean mutters.
Sam smiles just a bit and looks down at her feet. "Pretty cool, huh?"
Dean tries to march out to the middle of the lake to meet her, but he just ends up treading water. Sam laughs. "Hold on, I'm coming," she says. "I'll be right there, Dean."
Dean goes back to the shore to wait for her and watches as Sam carefully makes her way across. As soon as she's within arm's reach, he grabs her and pulls her into his arms, squeezing tight.
"Sammy, thank god," he says. "You scared the shit out of me. I could kill you."
Sam hugs him back, but she lets go way before Dean is ready to let her breathe.
"Come on," he says, trying to lead her back the way they came. "You can explain what the fuck just happened on the way back to the car. I trust you know how to get there since you're the one who led me out here."
Sam doesn't move with him, though, and when Dean turns to look at her, she shakes her head. "I can't leave here," she says. "I have to stay by the lake or I'll turn back into a swan."
"That's one of the top ten most ridiculous things either of us has ever said."
"I know," she says, letting out a shaky laugh. "This whole mess is ridiculous."
"What whole mess is this?" Dean takes a closer look at her now that he's checked her over for injuries and assured himself she doesn’t have any. "And what the fuck are you wearing?"
Sam is wearing a long, white dress with blue trimming. It's nice-really nice, like something out of another century. Her hair is hanging down around her waist instead of up in the sloppy bun or ponytail she usually keeps it in, and if Dean didn't know better, he'd think she was wearing makeup. It suits her about as well as the dress, which is to say not at all.
Sam looks down and back up, rolling her eyes. "Isn't it awful?" she says. "I look like such an idiot in this thing."
She's almost a stranger to Dean like this. Even with her angular, boyish features, she looks beautiful in a straightforward way that makes Dean's breath get caught in his throat. Sam's always gorgeous, but her shyness and the baggy hand-me-down boys' clothes she usually has to wear keep that hidden away so only Dean can see it. Like this, anyone could. Dean doesn't like it. If everyone can see Sam the way he does, he'll never be able to keep her. He's got nothing to offer.
"Yeah," he says in a thin voice. "You do. Totally stupid, not attractive at all."
She slaps his shoulder. "I think that's the worst part of the whole thing," she says, taking Dean's hand and leading him to a large rock by the water. She sits down and makes room so Dean can sit too. "Flying is kind of cool, but the clothing. Ick."
Dean laughs, tugging her in and kissing the top of her head. "God, Sammy, I'm so glad you're alright."
"I'm alright," she confirms, giving his thigh a reassuring pat and waiting for him to let her sit back up. "Seriously, Dean, it's not that bad."
"Tell me," he says. "What's going on?"
Sam shrugs. "It was so weird," she says. "I got home and started doing my homework and after a while I heard this tapping at the window. I'm sure you got the voicemail play-by-play by now."
Dean nods.
"Well, anyway, I finally saw the thing through the window. I thought it was a griffon at first, but it was more birdlike than that."
"That's when you wrote me the note?"
She nods. "Then I went outside to try and kill it-"
"You shouldn't have done that, Sam."
She snorts. "Well, I know that now."
"What is it?"
Sam shakes her head. "I don't know, Dean. I still don't know. I've never seen it before, whatever it is. Not even in Bobby's books."
"Tell me what it's like," he says. "I'll call Bobby and Dad tomorrow and explain."
"It shifts," she tells him.
"Okay, some kind of shifter."
"I guess." She smoothes her hand over the silky fabric of her dress. "He's terrifying as a bird, Dean. So big. He spread his wings and blocked out the sun and then he grabbed me up in his talons and flew me back here."
"Fuck."
She nods. "Pretty much, yeah."
"When it changes?"
"It's a guy. Just a regular guy." She looks up at Dean. "Young, or young-looking at least. Tall, blonde, blue eyes. Muscles on his muscles. He's kind of, well. Gorgeous." Dean glares, and Sam laughs and she leans forward and kisses him. "Just reporting the facts," she says as she pulls away. "You wanted to know what to look for, right?"
"Could've left out the bulging muscles and good looks."
Sam ignores him and continues, "He's a prince. Or so he says. Lives in a castle kind of mansion nearby. He owns all this land, including the lake."
"What does he want with you?" Dean asks. "Where are the other girls?"
Sam shakes her head. "I tried looking for them, Dean. I get to be human during the day as long as I stay inside. I looked everywhere I could yesterday, but I think they're gone." Sam swallows hard. "Anyway, I decided I like it better out here, swan or not."
"What's with the swan thing anyway?"
"Whatever he is, he calls himself a protector of birds. He cast some kind of spell on me as soon as he got me here and now I can only be human while the moon is on this lake. If I step off his property, regardless of time, I turn into a swan. If I'm not on the lake when the moon first touches it, I don't get to change until the next night, and then only if I'm on the lake at the right time. He said it's not a punishment, he just wants to make sure I'm safe for him."
"I was making sure you were safe just fine," Dean mutters.
Sam reaches out, hand running through his hair. "I'm so glad you found me, Dean."
"Me too," he responds, his voice almost a whisper. "Has he hurt you?"
She shakes her head but looks away.
"Sam, you can tell me."
"He doesn't hurt me. It's so much weirder than that."
"Tell me."
"He says he's in love with me," Sam says, words rushing out. "Yesterday and this morning, he proposed to me and he said he would do it every day until I say yes. And he promises me all these riches and says I'll be his princess and, god, Dean, it's fucking creepy. I don’t even know him and he says all these things." She hides her face against his shoulder, and Dean can hear her letting her guard down. "I'm scared," she says. "Dean, I'm scared. I don't know what he wants from me or what he's gonna do to me and he's so gentle, but I wish he wouldn't be. I just wanna go home."
Dean strokes a hand through her hair. "Shh, Sammy, it's okay," he says. "I'll go there right now. I'll kill him. We'll get out of here. You're safe now, baby."
She shakes her head, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Dean, I shot him pointblank. Regular bullets don't kill him. We have to know what does before you go after him. And anyway, I don't know how to break the spell if he doesn't do it."
"So what, I'm supposed to leave you here when the sun comes up or something?"
Sam nods sadly. "You can come visit me at night. Maybe do some research during the day."
"No way. No fucking chance you’re staying with some creep who-"
"He'll kill you, Dean," she says. "And then I don’t know what he'll do to me. We have to figure out what to do and surprise him. Please, just this one time don't rush in half-cocked. He's not hurting me. He's good to me, as much as I hate it. I can survive a while longer."
Dean frowns. "I don't like it."
"I do miss you," she says, smiling fondly and kissing Dean again. "Stay with me until I have to change again. Then call Dad and Bobby and sleep a bit, do some research. I'll poke around the mansion and we can exchange info tomorrow night."
"Sammy, can't I stay? I'll hide and watch, just to make sure he doesn’t try anything."
Sam shakes her head. "He watches me pretty closely during the day. It's too risky. Besides, you've hardly eaten since I went missing."
"Stalker."
Sam grins. "You know it."
They sit together for the rest of the night, Sam's head resting on Dean shoulder as she tells him what it's like to be a swan. They watch the sunrise until Sam sprouts feathers again, and Dean runs back the way he came as a man's voice calls out for Sam.
Bobby's got nothing, but he promises to look into it and let Dean know if he finds anything. Dad's got nothing except reprimands Dean knows he deserves for letting Sam out of his sight. He looks into shape-shifting bird monsters, but all the lore he finds doesn't fit what Sam told him about her kidnapper.
He goes back the next night with no info or help to offer Sam. She seems less panicked now that she's had more time to get used to what's going on, or maybe she's just acting that way to make Dean feel better. Either way it works. They joke around more, and Sam gets Dean to lie in the grass by her lake, looking up at the stars. She tells him about the girl who takes care of her, how she makes Sam sit while she brushes her hair out and does her makeup. From what Sam has surmised, she's the monster's daughter from some other girl who must have said yes to his proposals, but who is no longer around to tell Sam why she would do something so stupid.
They establish a pattern. Dean researches through the day, slowly making progress, and learns how close to the lake he can drive the Impala before the road runs out. Sam meets him there in swan form about an hour before nightfall every day and leads him back to the lake. He brings bread and sprinkles it into the water, even though Rothbart (because apparently that's the prince-bird-monster-thing's name, and that's way too good for Dean to pass up) makes sure she has a feast every night.
Sam doesn't eat the bread crumbs and makes a point of reminding Dean she's not a damn animal, but the bitchface she gives him even in bird form is as close as he gets to having his sister for that hour, so Dean persists.
"He's got me on a goddamn pedestal," Sam says, laughing as she rolls over onto her side to face Dean. "You should hear the way he talks to me, Dean. It's rich. Thinks I'm the Virgin Mary or something."
"I should just let him keep your annoying ass," Dean mutters. "Apparently he likes you more than I do."
"I will hurt you," she says, sitting up. The moon is shining bright silver over her shoulder, making the fabric of the white dress she's holding over her chest shimmer.
"Yeah?" Dean asks. "A sweet, innocent creature like you?"
"Pure," she says. "That's his favorite."
"Where'd he get an idea like that?" Dean asks, reaching up to tug her hand down. She lets the dress slip from her grasp, and Dean cups one breast as he looks at all that newly exposed skin. He bites his bottom lip and tips his head up, waiting for her to duck down and kiss him. She doesn't disappoint.
"Mmm," she says, moaning and grinding against Dean's leg. "'Cause I'm a virgin."
"Yeah, maybe," he mutters, his hand slipping up her bunched skirt and resting high on her thigh. "You tried telling him how much you love your big brother's dick yet, Saint Samantha?"
She lets out a breathy laugh. "Somehow don't think that'd go over so well."
Dean shrugs, kissing her harder, and then she sits up again. "Do you think he'll lose interest in me if I go back there tomorrow and I'm not?"
"Not what?" he asks. "A virgin?"
"Yeah," she says. She puts her hand over Dean's on her thigh and meets his eyes. "You have a condom in your wallet, don't you? From the ol' waitress and drunk bar girl days?"
"You're crazy."
"Maybe he'll let me go," she says, like this is some brilliant idea. "He only wants me for my purity, so maybe he'll just-"
"Sam, when do the bad guys ever just let people go?"
She shrugs. "Well, even if he doesn't. Why not?" She smiles wickedly. "I could use a pick-me-up."
"Christ, Sammy. We're lying on the bank of a lake and you're going to turn into a bird in a few hours, are you seriously asking me to deflower you?"
"Oh, wow. This conversation was so worth it just to hear you say 'deflower' seriously."
Dean digs his hands into her smartass sides, tickling her until she collapses down on top of the puddle of her dress, laughing hysterically. At some point they start making out and before long they've freed Sam of the stupid outfit and her hair is the sloppy mess Dean is used to, and fuck, he's so glad to have his sister back he stops thinking clearly.
"Dean," she says after a while. "Please. I was serious. I want it. I've wanted it. And I'm so lonely when you're not-"
Dean kisses her, shutting her up, and lets her have her way when she starts to undo the buttons on his jeans. "How do you want to, Sammy?"
She smiles, pushing him back onto the ground. She's already wet and open, Dean's been touching her for hours. She leans over him to get his wallet out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans and takes out the condom. By now they're both naked, lying on top of the excess fabric of Sam's stupidly long dress as if it were a picnic blanket. It's going to be stained by grass and dirt tomorrow, and Dean likes that just fine.
She fights with the condom package for about half a minute before Dean takes it out of her hand and opens it himself, and he helps her slide it on. Then she surprises him, climbs on top of him and lowers herself slow and nervous but damn well determined. She lets out a gasp of pain as she sinks down all the way, taking him, and Dean groans. It's been way too long since he's fucked someone.
He doesn't move, though. He doesn't have much experience with virgins, doesn't even remember what it was like to be one himself, but he knows fucking Sam's brains out will have to wait until they've done this a few times.
He puts his hand flat over her pelvis and moves it down until his thumb is putting pressure on her clit. "You okay?" he asks. "Wanna stop?"
"No," she says. "I'm good. That's so good, Dean. Just gotta-"
She puts her hands out on the ground then and leans over Dean so she has a little leverage. He holds her up with the hand he isn't using on her, and she starts to move up.
At first Dean can tell it's still hurting her, so he kisses her, his hand getting trapped between them as he keeps rubbing her. She touches his face, her hand smelling like rich earth, and gasps out his name, starting to roll her hips a little faster.
"It's okay, Sammy," he whispers, breaking from their kiss to press his lips to her chest and collar bone and neck and wherever the fuck else his mouth lands as he showers her. "Got you, baby. I've got you."
"Dean," she says. It's all she says, but it fills Dean's ears and he'd be happy to never hear anything but his sister calling out to him like this.
It's a long time before it's over. Dean's not surprised considering she's just getting used to it, but after a while she tells him it's good and she wants him on top of her, and he rolls her over and takes care of her like he always will. Like no one the fuck else is ever going to, swan spell or not. Sam is his.
Finally she makes a surprised sound, wraps her long, long legs around Dean and starts to fuck up against him as he thrusts down into her. She doesn't have to tell him, he feels her cunt clenching tight around his cock and kisses the low, panting sounds she makes as she comes. Dean loses it pretty soon after that, because he's been going crazy keeping himself from finishing inside of her before she got her turn.
He pulls out quickly after, kissing her shoulder and stroking her skin, and Sam smiles this warm little smile that makes Dean's heart do all kinds of ridiculous, clichéd things he'll never actually admit to. He reaches out, pushing the matted hair off her neck and getting a grip on her collarbone. "You like that, sweetheart?"
Sam laughs. "I'm not your sweetheart," she replies half-heartedly. "But I definitely liked it."
"Next time we do it," he says, "I'll make you feel so good you won't care what I call you."
"I'll hold you to that," she replies darkly.
They rinse off in the lake, splashing each other and swimming and actually having a pretty good time until the sun comes up and takes Dean's sister away again.
"The fuck kind of name for a monster is a ziz?" Dean asks.
"I didn't name the damn thing," Bobby says. "I'm just trying to save your sister's ass. But if you don't want my help-"
"Alright, alright," Dean says, scrubbing his hand over his face. "I get the point. What's the lore?"
"Says it's a bird protection spirit, comes from Hebrew legends mostly," Bobby starts.
"Yeah, Sam mentioned the protect-y thing. So what's the sonofabitch's MO?"
"Likes virgins, apparently. Kidnaps them and makes them into birds in order to keep them safe and pure. Then they try to marry the girl. If she says yes they do that, mate, wait for her to give birth and then, well, you know. Same ending as every other monster."
"Sam won't be doing that," Dean says. "What if she says no?"
Bobby stays quiet on the other end of the line.
"Bobby," Dean says sharply.
"Well, it says eventually the thing stops being patient and courting her. Forces her, then loses interest because she's not pure anymore and kills her."
"Jesus," Dean mutters. "That's one way to show your love."
"Apparently the thing really does love the girls, though. Crazy, over passionate kind of love. Scarier than hate if you've ever seen that kind of thing."
Yeah, Dean knows all about that kind of thing. He clears his throat. "What does the lore say about girls who, uh-what if she goes with someone who's not the ziz while under his spell?"
"Lore didn't mention that. Probably keep 'em too well guarded for that to happen. Can't imagine it'd be pretty, though." Dean can practically hear Bobby shrug over the phone. "Anyway, you don't really have time to worry about theoreticals right now."
"Right," Dean says, pointedly avoiding the subject. "All I wanna worry about right now is breaking the spell and killing it. How do I do that?"
"I'm still working on how to break the spell," Bobby replies. "Silver bullets should kill it, though. It's still from the same bloodline as most shifters."
"Thanks, Bobby," Dean says. "I'll keep you updated."
Bobby says his goodbyes, and Dean hangs up, his stomach in knots. He doesn't want to kill this thing before the spell is lifted, but if it comes down to that, he'll do it. Sam being cursed Dean can deal with. No goddamn bird monster is raping his little sister.
Tonight when he goes to the lake, he decides, he's gonna march up to Rothbart's door and plant silver in the bastard's heart for ever daring to take Sam.
A knock on the door startles Dean out of his thoughts. It must be Dad. John had been pretty far when Dean called, but he'd told Dean he'd leave right away. He hadn't expected to see his father this soon, but he's relieved. Dad will save Sam.
He opens the door, expecting to see his father, but instead Sam is standing there, fully human despite the fact that it's only 5 o'clock and the sun is still up.
"Sam?" he asks. "What-how are you here?"
She smiles, pushing him aside and waltzing into the room. "He let me go," she says, sounding smug. "Just like I guessed. He didn't want me anymore because he could tell I wasn't a virgin, so he sent me packing."
Dean feels his eyebrows draw together. It seems way too easy and like a trick, especially after what Bobby just told him about this monster, but at least Sam is here and safe and maybe the spell is lifted. "You sure it was that easy?"
"Well, I mean, I got an earful about what a dirty slut I am if you'd like to hear about that."
Dean flinches, closing the door and taking Sam into his arms. "I'll teach him to talk to you like that. I'm gonna make him pay for all of this."
"My hero," she says in high-pitched voice. She rises to her toes and grazes his lips with her own.
"Your dress changed," Dean observes. It looks exactly like the white one she's been wearing only now it's black with red trimming instead of white and blue.
She smiles, shrugging. "Well, we damn well ruined the other one, right?" She laughs. "This is the dress that bad girls wear." She twirls. "I think it suits me, don't you?"
Dean frowns, not loving that she's making light of this, but he lets it slide. "Put some comfortable clothes on and let's go hunting, huh Sammy?"
Sam stops twirling and faces Dean, a dark look in her eyes. "Maybe later," she says. "I just want to stay here with you for a while."
She walks toward him slowly, letting her dress sway so it's almost hypnotic. She really does look pretty good, and Dean could go for some relieved you're-not-a-swan-anymore sex. Or any sex, if he's being honest. She loops her arms around Dean's neck and hangs off him. "I really missed you, Dean," she says.
"You too, Sam," he says, letting her kiss him again. He gets carried away for a few minutes before he remembers to focus. He pushes Sam back and holds her at arm's length. "Sam, let's take care of the hunt first, okay? I don't want him kidnapping anyone else."
"That's what I love about you," she tells him, reaching out for him again. "Always such a hero."
There's a pecking sound at the window, and Dean tries to look and see if it's the monster. That's how it started when he came for Sam. Maybe he's back, trying to get her attention again. Dean knew it couldn't be over. "Sammy, I think he's outside-"
"Oh, worry about him later," she says, yanking his head in for a kiss. Like she's trying to distract him. "Tell me how much you love me, Dean."
The whole thing is just the slightest bit off. Dean's sister knows how he feels-she doesn't really need to hear it. It's just not the way they do things.
It's not actually hard to figure out. Dean's pretty sure he knew that this wasn't Sam from the moment he opened the door. "Sam, why'd he let you go?"
"I told you," she says, voice growing annoyed. "He could tell I loved someone else. You. You love me too, don't you?"
"Oh, I love Sam," Dean says. He pulls her in close, pretending he's about to kiss her and reaching out for the silver knife he set on his bed instead. "Problem is, sweetheart, you ain't her."
Dean drives the knife into the creature's back, hears a birdlike cry immediately. He feels relief rush through him at the confirmation that he was right. Not that Dean wouldn't know Sam or would have stabbed this thing without being sure, but still.
He looks out the window in time to see Sam, the swan version of her, looking in on them, but then she faints, falling toward the floor and out of his line of vision. Dean drops the monster's body, looking down to see a common swallow bleeding at his feet.
The door of the cottage they've been staying in falls to the floor with a loud bang, and Dean sees the outline of a man standing in the doorway.
"That was my daughter," the man says, stepping into the light. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Muscles on his muscles. Dean picks up the gun on his bed. He's going to enjoy this.
"Rothbart, buddy, I've been waiting to meet you."
"Don't get cocky with me," he says darkly. "You killed my baby."
"You kinda asked for it sending her here," Dean replies. "Where's Sam?"
"Your whore is dead," he says with a smile so cruel Dean can't help believing it. "Just like you'll be in a moment."
"I don't think so," Dean says, aiming and pulling the trigger.
The man lets out a savage growl, and Dean watches as he jumps into the air and stays there, turning into a bird so huge its wings cut dents onto the walls on both sides of the cabin. The bullet hits the wall by the door, and suddenly there's a long, thin tail wrapped around Dean's hand, knocking his gun away.
Shit. Dean feels a thick talon slice into his leg and is pretty sure it's game over. But, well, unless the thing was lying about Sam, Dean's really not all that keen to live, anyway. He'd really like to waste this fucking thing first though, that's his regret.
He's pretty much ready to give up when he sees something moving in the doorway. Sam is there in her stained dress, her hair a mess. She's got a thick bruise under her eye that makes Dean's heart sink, but aside from that she seems okay.
She holds a finger up to her lips, signaling to Dean not to let on that she's there, and her eyes are shining bright with mischief.
Dean's little sister fucking rocks.
"Wait!" Dean says, holding his hands up to shield his face before the bird can peck his head off.
The monster pauses, looking confused, which gives Sam just enough time to dig into Dean's duffle and come back up with a gun and few silver bullets. All he needs is a few more seconds while she loads it.
"I was going to tell you why you shouldn't kill me," Dean says thoughtfully. "But I forgot my reason. Carry on."
The bird tilts its head in confusion and figures out what Dean is up to a moment too late. He turns to face Sam just in time to catch one bullet in the eye and three in the chest. Dean feels the blood rush back into his hand as the tail holding him loses its grip and the bird makes a loud whoosh sound as it falls to the ground.
The inside of their cabin is a disaster area and Dean isn't going to walk again for months, but he lets out a whoop of joy anyway as he collapses a few feet away from the monster.
Sam puts down the gun and rushes to his side. "Dean," she cries out, taking his head and resting it in her lap. "If I went through all of that to save you and you're just going to die anyway, I swear you will never see my boobs again."
"That's so not okay with me," he mutters, opening his eyes to look at her. "Fuck, my leg hurts worse than the time that buffalo ghost headbutted it."
Sam laughs, low and relieved. "You're such a fucking idiot," she says, kissing him and then kissing him a few more times. "God, you're stupid. How can anyone be as stupid as you are and still manage to make it through the day?"
"I dunno," Dean replies groggily. "I think you kind of like it."
"You scared me, Dean."
"Oh, look who's talking." Dean coughs. "I'm not the one who got kidnapped like a freaking damsel in distress."
"I just rescued you, princess," she replies, lowering her tone to a teasing whisper as she puts her lips on Dean's ear. "Who's the damsel now?"
Dean groans and rolls his eyes. "Dude. Just fix my leg already."
Sam laughs and gets up, carefully laying Dean's head on a pillow she sets on the ground. Then she goes to the bathroom for the first aid kit. Dean props himself up while she's gone, his back against one of their beds and the pillow supporting him.
When she gets back she kneels next to him again and cuts what's left of his jeans off so she can clean the wound and stitch it.
"Desperate to get in my pants, huh Sammy?" Dean says, waggling his eyebrows as she tears the last bits of fabric away.
She rolls her eyes but can't help smiling. "One slip of my hand, Dean, and you lose the family jewels forever."
"Your loss more than mine."
Sam shakes her head.
"How'd you break the spell?" Dean asks. "He said you were-I mean, I saw you. You were a swan and then you were fainting and-"
Her lips thin as she presses a clean towel over the gash on Dean's leg. "Shit really hit the fan when he saw me this morning," she says. "He knew right away. Turns out my plan wasn't really all that well thought through."
Dean reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the black and blue on her face. "He hurt you, Sammy," Dean says, feeling his throat tighten. "Tell me he didn't-I mean, Bobby said sometimes they…" Dean looks to the floor. He can't say it. "Tell me he didn't, Sam."
She puts her hand under his chin and forces him to turn his head and look up at her. "He didn't want me anymore, Dean. He didn't. He hit me, and he called me all kinds of things, but he didn't do that."
"Thank god," he says. "Does it hurt?"
She laughs. "I've gotten much, much worse on plenty of other hunts," she says. Which, okay, true, but still. Something about some guy thinking he has the right to slap her around makes this feel worse. Dean let this happen.
She sighs. "Before you get all self-loathing and start blaming yourself, remember whose leg is going to be out of commission for the next god knows how long."
Dean nods. "I guess."
Sam smiles and leans forward to kiss Dean on the forehead as she sets the cloth aside. "Thank you, by the way."
"For what?" he asks. "Failing to save you so many times you finally had to do it yourself?"
"You broke the spell. Never could have saved either of us if you hadn't."
"I did not," he says.
"Oh, you did." Sam takes a match to her sewing needle to sterilize it, keeps her attention focused on her hands as she speaks. "He was jealous of you, Dean. Furious because I was supposed to love him and instead I-well, you were there."
She puts the match out and looks up, wiggling her eyebrows at Dean. He laughs as much as he can through the pain.
"Medicine?" Sam offers, holding up the bottle of bourbon she'd used to soak the cloth she'd cleaned him with.
Dean takes the bottle, drinking in a deep swig before motioning for Sam to continue her story.
"Right, so. He said you didn't really love me and that his love was the only real love. I was an idiot for choosing someone else. Yadda yadda."
"He mention the part where he was gonna knock you up and then kill you?"
Sam chuckles. "Figured that part out on my own. Anyway, I said you did love me and I didn't really doubt it, so he could say whatever the fuck he wanted. So he decided to prove it to me. That's why he sent Odile." Sam waves her hand at the dead swallow on the floor to clarify. "You were supposed to think she was me and proclaim your love to her, and then I really would have died."
"That was a stupid plan," Dean says, catching his sister's hand between his own and squeezing it. "I was never gonna fall for that."
She smiles softly. "I know, Dean. I told him that, but he was convinced."
"But I saw you faint," Dean says. "He said you were dead."
"And apparently I deserve a goddamn Oscar." She grins. "I was pretending. Figured if I started acting like I was dying the first time she kissed you and then swooned into a heap, maybe he'd just assume his plan worked out and worry more about kicking your ass for stabbing his daughter than about making me suffer. Turns out I was right."
"Clever girl," Dean mutters. He lets both of his eyes close and winces when Sam starts to stitch him together.
"I should get that in writing," she says, passing a hand over Dean's clammy forehead. "Does it really hurt?"
"What do you think?" he replies, opening one eye. "I take back that thing I said about you being clever."
"Loss of blood," she says cheerfully. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Hmm," Dean replies. His brain is not really at its sharpest at this point, and now that the adrenaline is subsiding, he's finally feeling all the stress and exhaustion he's been staving off since Sam first went missing. He's so relieved now he thinks he can sleep right here on the floor, even through the pain.
"Hey, Sam, I'm gonna…" His head feels heavy so he lets it sink back into the mattress behind him.
Dean can hear the warm smile in his sister's response. "Yeah," she says. "I'll finish this and get rid of the bodies. You rest up."
Dean laughs softly to himself. The swallow she can take care of no problem, but the mega-bird is going to need at least two substantial bodies to haul it and the entire bed of Dad's truck to transport it anywhere farther than a few feet from the door of the cottage. Sam's pretty tough, she and Dad can probably do it, but it's pretty fucking hilarious picturing her trying to drag him out on her own.
"Wait," he says through a yawn. "Wait until Dad gets here to do the bodies. He shouldn't be more than a few hours."
Dean doesn't hear if Sam responds after that, but he feels her lips on his forehead and the steady, sure work of her hands as she closes him up.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: girl!Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit (Het) Sexual Content, Underage (Sam is 17), Some Violence, and Language
Word Count: 8,797
Author’s Note: Written for spn_cinema where I claimed the prompt The Swan Princess, because Sam Winchester is the prettiest princess, the end. Thanks to ordinaryink for watching this with me one day and then putting this plotbunny I didn't actually want in my head as she so often does, but it's okay because I got revenge by making her draw me pretty stuff as I so often do. Thank you also to my beta, morganoconner, the spn_cinema mods, and, of course, I'd like to thank the Academy. I stole the title from some Pink Floyd song because I was stuck for a title and it seemed like the Dean Winchester thing to do. Obligatory Howard McGillin reference goes here. Can you tell I wrote these author's notes at 7 in the morning? No, but seriously. Google Howard McGillin. I wanna put my dick in that man's voice. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: After a long day at work, all Dean wants is a warm shower and his little sister's company. Unfortunately, things don't really go that way. Dean returns to find Sam missing and discovers that she's been kidnapped and cursed to turn into a swan every morning when the sun comes up.
ART
The letter is in Sam's hand, words scrawled in the cursive she uses when she's in a hurry. It's neat and legible despite the rush it was obviously written in, and Dean chuckles, remembering the messy way she wrote when she was first learning cursive, copying it onto lined paper from the book Dean bought her one summer to keep her entertained. Back then, always having his sister to worry about was embarrassing and frustrating, and it's weird to think of that now that she's the thing Dean's been waiting all day to see.
Look for a bird is all it says.
It's a weird fucking message, unnecessarily cryptic, and Dean shakes his head, thinking she's trying to mess with him or something. There are books open all over the kitchen table. Her laptop is there too, though it's on screensaver mode. It's clear she was doing research for his job at some point, but she's left it abandoned out here with nothing Dean can use except this stupid hint.
It's a quarter to five and she's not home. Dean's a little disappointed to be perfectly honest; he'd been hoping to come home covered in car grease and sweat, smelling like oil after a long day working on cars, and find Sam doing her homework, pretending she's not waiting for him and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on the table for him made itself.
She loves the smell of him after a day at the garage, however much she may try to say otherwise, and Dean thought he might convince her to follow him into the shower. He could use a good scrub and maybe a massage and his baby sister's pretty mouth wrapped around him as the water beats on his back. But apparently she's gone out with a friend or something, and instead of telling Dean when she'd be home, all she did was give him more work to puzzle over.
One goddamn night off. That's all Dean wants.
He walks into their room, letting the door close a little too loudly behind him. Sam's bed is made and Dean's is still a mess of sheets and blankets because when she got up for school this morning, she apparently didn't feel like fixing the mess she made.
He sighs and heads for the phone he left in the pocket of his other pants this morning, trying her cell. It rings until it goes to voicemail, so Dean figures she must be at the movies with a friend or something. She's been doing that kind of shit too often lately. Dean oughta say something to her before Dad gets back and notices it and it becomes an issue, but every time he resolves to say something, Sam finds a way to distract him.
What? Dean likes boobs, okay? Sam's got a glorious pair. It's an unfair advantage.
"Hey, brat," he says to her message machine. "You better call me back the second you get this and tell me where you are." He sits for a few seconds, thinking things over. She's just a kid, and she just wants a little space sometimes. Dean knows she has the right to that, even if he doesn't really like it. He continues in a softer tone, "I'll pick you up when you want to come home. Just give me a call."
He hangs up and tosses his phone aside, watching as it lands in a lump of sheets and disappears behind the line of the blanket. He might as well shower now. No use waiting until god knows when. Dean feels gross and probably doesn't smell any better.
He feels much less annoyed when he gets out of the shower. He takes his time getting dressed, pretending Sam's continued absence isn't making him feel antsy, and then goes to his phone to see if she called while he was in the bathroom.
Dean has 15 missed calls, and when he checks the call log, his stomach falls as he scrolls through the timestamps and realizes they're all from before he left his message. While he was at work and his phone was lying here forgotten in their bedroom. Sam could be in trouble, and Dean sure took his sweet ass time figuring it out.
His fingers are shaking as he dials voicemail. She left four, and Dean can hear her getting more and more panicked as they progress. Something huge, she says, is pecking at the window. At first she laughs a little, making it sound like she finds her own fear irrational and stupid and she's just calling Dean to be safe.
It's probably just a bird, she says in a high-pitched, self-deprecating way. I don’t know why it's freaking me out so much, but I can't focus on my homework, and I would just really like if you came home, okay?
By the third one she's nearly hysterical, describing exactly what's happening. It's trying to get in-she's sure of it-it's trying to get her. She's back under control by the fourth one, but Dean doesn't feel any better when he hears why.
She says she's going outside to hunt it. She's going outside to face a monster on her own and now she's missing, and the facts of the case all flash in front of Dean's eyes. He should be killed for even bringing his sister into this now that he thinks of it. The victims have all been virgins between the ages of 15 and 19. Sam, at 17 years old, still technically fits the profile. Dean dragged Sam into a town where she was practically bait and then left her alone.
He runs his fingers through his wet hair, taking a deep breath and telling himself to get a grip. He can't panic yet. That won't help Sam. She's a capable girl, maybe she's getting rid of the body. Or out celebrating the kill. Or at the garage trying to tell Dean she finished the job for him without even trying to.
He picks up his phone again and pushes her number on speed dial. Just like before, it rings until it goes to voicemail. So Dean tries again. And again.
Finally he hears something. Sam's ringtone. Dean follows the sound, his heart pounding wildly against his chest. The ringing is outside, right under the living room window from the sound of it. Dean rushes through the door and rounds the house, sees a lump lying in the grass. He tries not to wonder if the lump is his sister as he runs to get a closer look.
It's the sling bag she takes to school. Inside are a couple of her favorite guns and knives, though one of them is lying a couple of feet away in a patch of grass. Dean doesn't have to check to know it's been fired. There's a few drops of blood right in front of it, but not nearly enough to have killed whatever she was shooting at.
The phone is there, too, ringing and ringing until finally Dean hears his sister's voice telling him she isn't available and to leave a message after the tone. He hangs up, falls to his knees, and punches the ground so hard he knows his knuckles will bruise.
As soon as Dean has pulled himself together enough, he gets into the Impala and heads straight to his witnesses. He doesn't know how else to go about finding Sam. All he's got are some missing person's reports, a scrap of paper and voicemails with nearly useless advice, and a crushing sense of guilt so strong rescuing Sam is the only thing keeping Dean in one piece.
The interviews lead nowhere. All the grieving mothers blink at him like he's lost his fucking mind when he tells them some new evidence has cropped up and he needs to know if their daughters said anything about birds before their disappearance, except for Amy Chaswick, mom to the third from last victim. Her eyes brighten at the question, and Dean thinks he's finally going to get lucky.
"Susie had a parrot," she says, nodding her head enthusiastically.
Dean tries to smile and pretend that's helpful information. It's not easy when his little sister is missing and he's just officially run out of ideas.
It's night by then. Dean knows the chances he'll find anything before sunrise are slim and he'd probably serve Sam best by getting some rest so he's more alert tomorrow, but the idea of going home and sleeping while Sam is in trouble makes him sick.
He drives in circles around the town a little while longer until finally he gives up, goes home terrified and defeated and hoping it's just some nightmare and he'll wake up tomorrow with Sam's curves pressing against him.
He lies in bed for a long time, trying to think over the facts of the case, find something he missed. Nothing comes up. He finally falls asleep somewhere around 3 am, his face pushed into the spot on his pillow where he can still smell Sam's shampoo.
He dreams of that first time on the couch, six months and eight towns back. The night he dozed off with his arm draped over his sister and the TV set to a quiet buzz. He woke up a couple of hours later with Sam's hair in his face, the smell sweet and fruity, and her ass pressed against his dick.
Dean thinks of how long it had taken him to realize what woke him up. He still remembers exactly the way his breath caught in his throat when he figured out what was causing the shaking.
Sam's hand, arm caught under the weight of Dean's, was tucked into the boxers she was wearing, and he could feel her body rocking as-Jesus. Sam was fingering herself and Dean was right there.
"Sammy," he'd muttered, brain and voice still trying to catch up. "What're you doing?"
The movement stopped when she heard his voice, but she didn't answer him. He could hear her panting breath, and then her hand was on top of his, her wet fingers guiding him down.
"Dean," she moaned, slipping his hand under the elastic and letting him rest over the thin fabric of her underwear. She was soaking through, so, so fucking wet, and Dean was so turned on by it he thrust forward, dick rubbing against her ass through layers of fabric. He didn't want to do that, or rather he didn’t want to want it. Just like he didn't want to push the cotton aside and press two fingers into her, but god, it was right there and it was Sam, and he did it anyway.
She responded with a gasp, her body trying to make more room for him to move inside her at the awkward angle. Dean's other hand came up from under her body, took one of her breasts-big like everything about her and brand new, impossible for Dean to ignore these last few months-and squeezed it, feeling her body jerk in response.
Her heart was hammering out of control; he could feel the beat of it under his fingers as he held her, even with the wifebeater she was wearing between him and her skin.
"This okay, Sammy?" he'd muttered as his fingers had fucked into her, and she'd nodded her head, breathing out an 'uhuh' before turning her mouth to kiss Dean.
Later, when he had finished her off and licked her clean off both of their fingers, Dad had come home and said something about them being too old to share a couch like that. He could have arrived while Dean was still inside of her, could have told Dean how disgusting he is for violating her like that, as if Dean didn't know on his own. His cheeks had flushed hot with shame.
He wakes up the next morning shaking and sweaty and hard and nearly laughs at the irony. Dean never in a million years thought the day would come when he would wish he'd done more than that. When he'd actually think it would have been the more responsible decision to take her up one of the times since then she's asked for cock when Dean's fingers or tongue were inside of her. He was proud of his restraint-but if he'd done that Sam wouldn't be a virgin. She wouldn't have been taken; she could be here lying in bed with him.
He should have crawled on top of her and marked his territory when he had the chance.
Dean rolls out of bed, wiping his hands over his face, and stumbles his way into a very cold shower. He doesn't bother calling out of work. He's going to solve this goddamn case today and then he's getting his sister the fuck out of this town and never coming back.
The day starts off as useless as the night before had ended. Dean has had zero brilliant flashes of inspiration, which leaves him with no leads and no one left to talk to. But he watches the sky, birds the only thing he knows to look out for, and by noon he's picked up on something.
There's a swan following him. At a distance at first, but closer and closer as the hours tick by. He pretends not to notice it, hoping it might do something useful, but finally he loses his temper, parks the Impala and gets out.
The bird is huge and graceful, and Dean will admit it's kind of beautiful. He was expecting something a little more badass-a hawk or an eagle, or maybe a mythical flying thing that could be mistaken for a bird, like a griffon. But no. Sam got abducted by a fucking swan.
When he gets her back and safe, he's going to tease her about that to the ends of the Earth. She deserves it after giving him this scare.
He aims right for its chest, but the swan flies fast, dodging the bullet. It gets closer, opening its beak, but retreats too quickly when Dean shoots again. For a moment he fears it's going to flee, fly up so high he loses sight of it, but it stops at a safe distance and looks back at Dean over its shoulder.
Dean doesn't want to say it's a wild goose chase after that, but well. The shoe fits. It's like the bird is leading him somewhere-a trap, no doubt-but what choice does Dean have but to fall into it? The damned thing has Sam.
So follow he does. For hours. Through the hottest part of the day, the late-May sun beating down on him, until finally Dean has to stop for rest and hope he can find it again. The swan stops, too. Whatever this trap is, it must be good.
Dean gets back on his feet. They're aching and undoubtedly covered in blisters after so much walking, but Dean doesn't have time to worry about that. The sun is starting to set, and Dean is not turning around and going back to the car without Sam, but once the sun's light is gone, he's going to be stranded in these unfamiliar woods with no way to see.
Okay, Dean probably just figured out the trap.
"Goddamn swan," he mutters to himself, picking up his pace when the bird flies higher into the sky, circling around something excitedly.
He breaks through a wall of bushes and sees what the swan was circling. It's still flying around the lake, but it's lowering itself with each rotation. Dean makes it to the water's edge as the swan's wings are grazing the water.
Then it stops flying, resting its body on the surface of the lake. It's facing Dean, Dean has a perfect shot. He raises his gun, locking aim on the monster, but then he sees its eyes. For half a second, the creature stares back at him, its expression fiercely intelligent, its eyes warm hazel and almost familiar.
A shiver goes through Dean and his hand shakes. The animal opens its mouth, making a loud, threatening sound. Dean's finger begins to tighten on the trigger, and then the moonlight on the lake reaches the feathers on the tip of the bird's outstretched wings, and the water begins to rise in a curtain around it.
Dean watches, too shocked to shoot, terrified of what will be standing there when the veil subsides and the monster shows itself again.
"Dean," he hears from behind the water. It's his sister's voice. "Dean, don't shoot."
The wall of water falls back into the lake with a splash. Sam is standing there, held up by nothing. Dean blinks in shock as she takes a step toward him, her feet resting on top of the lake as if it were as solid as concrete.
"Jesus," Dean mutters.
Sam smiles just a bit and looks down at her feet. "Pretty cool, huh?"
Dean tries to march out to the middle of the lake to meet her, but he just ends up treading water. Sam laughs. "Hold on, I'm coming," she says. "I'll be right there, Dean."
Dean goes back to the shore to wait for her and watches as Sam carefully makes her way across. As soon as she's within arm's reach, he grabs her and pulls her into his arms, squeezing tight.
"Sammy, thank god," he says. "You scared the shit out of me. I could kill you."
Sam hugs him back, but she lets go way before Dean is ready to let her breathe.
"Come on," he says, trying to lead her back the way they came. "You can explain what the fuck just happened on the way back to the car. I trust you know how to get there since you're the one who led me out here."
Sam doesn't move with him, though, and when Dean turns to look at her, she shakes her head. "I can't leave here," she says. "I have to stay by the lake or I'll turn back into a swan."
"That's one of the top ten most ridiculous things either of us has ever said."
"I know," she says, letting out a shaky laugh. "This whole mess is ridiculous."
"What whole mess is this?" Dean takes a closer look at her now that he's checked her over for injuries and assured himself she doesn’t have any. "And what the fuck are you wearing?"
Sam is wearing a long, white dress with blue trimming. It's nice-really nice, like something out of another century. Her hair is hanging down around her waist instead of up in the sloppy bun or ponytail she usually keeps it in, and if Dean didn't know better, he'd think she was wearing makeup. It suits her about as well as the dress, which is to say not at all.
Sam looks down and back up, rolling her eyes. "Isn't it awful?" she says. "I look like such an idiot in this thing."
She's almost a stranger to Dean like this. Even with her angular, boyish features, she looks beautiful in a straightforward way that makes Dean's breath get caught in his throat. Sam's always gorgeous, but her shyness and the baggy hand-me-down boys' clothes she usually has to wear keep that hidden away so only Dean can see it. Like this, anyone could. Dean doesn't like it. If everyone can see Sam the way he does, he'll never be able to keep her. He's got nothing to offer.
"Yeah," he says in a thin voice. "You do. Totally stupid, not attractive at all."
She slaps his shoulder. "I think that's the worst part of the whole thing," she says, taking Dean's hand and leading him to a large rock by the water. She sits down and makes room so Dean can sit too. "Flying is kind of cool, but the clothing. Ick."
Dean laughs, tugging her in and kissing the top of her head. "God, Sammy, I'm so glad you're alright."
"I'm alright," she confirms, giving his thigh a reassuring pat and waiting for him to let her sit back up. "Seriously, Dean, it's not that bad."
"Tell me," he says. "What's going on?"
Sam shrugs. "It was so weird," she says. "I got home and started doing my homework and after a while I heard this tapping at the window. I'm sure you got the voicemail play-by-play by now."
Dean nods.
"Well, anyway, I finally saw the thing through the window. I thought it was a griffon at first, but it was more birdlike than that."
"That's when you wrote me the note?"
She nods. "Then I went outside to try and kill it-"
"You shouldn't have done that, Sam."
She snorts. "Well, I know that now."
"What is it?"
Sam shakes her head. "I don't know, Dean. I still don't know. I've never seen it before, whatever it is. Not even in Bobby's books."
"Tell me what it's like," he says. "I'll call Bobby and Dad tomorrow and explain."
"It shifts," she tells him.
"Okay, some kind of shifter."
"I guess." She smoothes her hand over the silky fabric of her dress. "He's terrifying as a bird, Dean. So big. He spread his wings and blocked out the sun and then he grabbed me up in his talons and flew me back here."
"Fuck."
She nods. "Pretty much, yeah."
"When it changes?"
"It's a guy. Just a regular guy." She looks up at Dean. "Young, or young-looking at least. Tall, blonde, blue eyes. Muscles on his muscles. He's kind of, well. Gorgeous." Dean glares, and Sam laughs and she leans forward and kisses him. "Just reporting the facts," she says as she pulls away. "You wanted to know what to look for, right?"
"Could've left out the bulging muscles and good looks."
Sam ignores him and continues, "He's a prince. Or so he says. Lives in a castle kind of mansion nearby. He owns all this land, including the lake."
"What does he want with you?" Dean asks. "Where are the other girls?"
Sam shakes her head. "I tried looking for them, Dean. I get to be human during the day as long as I stay inside. I looked everywhere I could yesterday, but I think they're gone." Sam swallows hard. "Anyway, I decided I like it better out here, swan or not."
"What's with the swan thing anyway?"
"Whatever he is, he calls himself a protector of birds. He cast some kind of spell on me as soon as he got me here and now I can only be human while the moon is on this lake. If I step off his property, regardless of time, I turn into a swan. If I'm not on the lake when the moon first touches it, I don't get to change until the next night, and then only if I'm on the lake at the right time. He said it's not a punishment, he just wants to make sure I'm safe for him."
"I was making sure you were safe just fine," Dean mutters.
Sam reaches out, hand running through his hair. "I'm so glad you found me, Dean."
"Me too," he responds, his voice almost a whisper. "Has he hurt you?"
She shakes her head but looks away.
"Sam, you can tell me."
"He doesn't hurt me. It's so much weirder than that."
"Tell me."
"He says he's in love with me," Sam says, words rushing out. "Yesterday and this morning, he proposed to me and he said he would do it every day until I say yes. And he promises me all these riches and says I'll be his princess and, god, Dean, it's fucking creepy. I don’t even know him and he says all these things." She hides her face against his shoulder, and Dean can hear her letting her guard down. "I'm scared," she says. "Dean, I'm scared. I don't know what he wants from me or what he's gonna do to me and he's so gentle, but I wish he wouldn't be. I just wanna go home."
Dean strokes a hand through her hair. "Shh, Sammy, it's okay," he says. "I'll go there right now. I'll kill him. We'll get out of here. You're safe now, baby."
She shakes her head, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Dean, I shot him pointblank. Regular bullets don't kill him. We have to know what does before you go after him. And anyway, I don't know how to break the spell if he doesn't do it."
"So what, I'm supposed to leave you here when the sun comes up or something?"
Sam nods sadly. "You can come visit me at night. Maybe do some research during the day."
"No way. No fucking chance you’re staying with some creep who-"
"He'll kill you, Dean," she says. "And then I don’t know what he'll do to me. We have to figure out what to do and surprise him. Please, just this one time don't rush in half-cocked. He's not hurting me. He's good to me, as much as I hate it. I can survive a while longer."
Dean frowns. "I don't like it."
"I do miss you," she says, smiling fondly and kissing Dean again. "Stay with me until I have to change again. Then call Dad and Bobby and sleep a bit, do some research. I'll poke around the mansion and we can exchange info tomorrow night."
"Sammy, can't I stay? I'll hide and watch, just to make sure he doesn’t try anything."
Sam shakes her head. "He watches me pretty closely during the day. It's too risky. Besides, you've hardly eaten since I went missing."
"Stalker."
Sam grins. "You know it."
They sit together for the rest of the night, Sam's head resting on Dean shoulder as she tells him what it's like to be a swan. They watch the sunrise until Sam sprouts feathers again, and Dean runs back the way he came as a man's voice calls out for Sam.
Bobby's got nothing, but he promises to look into it and let Dean know if he finds anything. Dad's got nothing except reprimands Dean knows he deserves for letting Sam out of his sight. He looks into shape-shifting bird monsters, but all the lore he finds doesn't fit what Sam told him about her kidnapper.
He goes back the next night with no info or help to offer Sam. She seems less panicked now that she's had more time to get used to what's going on, or maybe she's just acting that way to make Dean feel better. Either way it works. They joke around more, and Sam gets Dean to lie in the grass by her lake, looking up at the stars. She tells him about the girl who takes care of her, how she makes Sam sit while she brushes her hair out and does her makeup. From what Sam has surmised, she's the monster's daughter from some other girl who must have said yes to his proposals, but who is no longer around to tell Sam why she would do something so stupid.
They establish a pattern. Dean researches through the day, slowly making progress, and learns how close to the lake he can drive the Impala before the road runs out. Sam meets him there in swan form about an hour before nightfall every day and leads him back to the lake. He brings bread and sprinkles it into the water, even though Rothbart (because apparently that's the prince-bird-monster-thing's name, and that's way too good for Dean to pass up) makes sure she has a feast every night.
Sam doesn't eat the bread crumbs and makes a point of reminding Dean she's not a damn animal, but the bitchface she gives him even in bird form is as close as he gets to having his sister for that hour, so Dean persists.
"He's got me on a goddamn pedestal," Sam says, laughing as she rolls over onto her side to face Dean. "You should hear the way he talks to me, Dean. It's rich. Thinks I'm the Virgin Mary or something."
"I should just let him keep your annoying ass," Dean mutters. "Apparently he likes you more than I do."
"I will hurt you," she says, sitting up. The moon is shining bright silver over her shoulder, making the fabric of the white dress she's holding over her chest shimmer.
"Yeah?" Dean asks. "A sweet, innocent creature like you?"
"Pure," she says. "That's his favorite."
"Where'd he get an idea like that?" Dean asks, reaching up to tug her hand down. She lets the dress slip from her grasp, and Dean cups one breast as he looks at all that newly exposed skin. He bites his bottom lip and tips his head up, waiting for her to duck down and kiss him. She doesn't disappoint.
"Mmm," she says, moaning and grinding against Dean's leg. "'Cause I'm a virgin."
"Yeah, maybe," he mutters, his hand slipping up her bunched skirt and resting high on her thigh. "You tried telling him how much you love your big brother's dick yet, Saint Samantha?"
She lets out a breathy laugh. "Somehow don't think that'd go over so well."
Dean shrugs, kissing her harder, and then she sits up again. "Do you think he'll lose interest in me if I go back there tomorrow and I'm not?"
"Not what?" he asks. "A virgin?"
"Yeah," she says. She puts her hand over Dean's on her thigh and meets his eyes. "You have a condom in your wallet, don't you? From the ol' waitress and drunk bar girl days?"
"You're crazy."
"Maybe he'll let me go," she says, like this is some brilliant idea. "He only wants me for my purity, so maybe he'll just-"
"Sam, when do the bad guys ever just let people go?"
She shrugs. "Well, even if he doesn't. Why not?" She smiles wickedly. "I could use a pick-me-up."
"Christ, Sammy. We're lying on the bank of a lake and you're going to turn into a bird in a few hours, are you seriously asking me to deflower you?"
"Oh, wow. This conversation was so worth it just to hear you say 'deflower' seriously."
Dean digs his hands into her smartass sides, tickling her until she collapses down on top of the puddle of her dress, laughing hysterically. At some point they start making out and before long they've freed Sam of the stupid outfit and her hair is the sloppy mess Dean is used to, and fuck, he's so glad to have his sister back he stops thinking clearly.
"Dean," she says after a while. "Please. I was serious. I want it. I've wanted it. And I'm so lonely when you're not-"
Dean kisses her, shutting her up, and lets her have her way when she starts to undo the buttons on his jeans. "How do you want to, Sammy?"
She smiles, pushing him back onto the ground. She's already wet and open, Dean's been touching her for hours. She leans over him to get his wallet out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans and takes out the condom. By now they're both naked, lying on top of the excess fabric of Sam's stupidly long dress as if it were a picnic blanket. It's going to be stained by grass and dirt tomorrow, and Dean likes that just fine.
She fights with the condom package for about half a minute before Dean takes it out of her hand and opens it himself, and he helps her slide it on. Then she surprises him, climbs on top of him and lowers herself slow and nervous but damn well determined. She lets out a gasp of pain as she sinks down all the way, taking him, and Dean groans. It's been way too long since he's fucked someone.
He doesn't move, though. He doesn't have much experience with virgins, doesn't even remember what it was like to be one himself, but he knows fucking Sam's brains out will have to wait until they've done this a few times.
He puts his hand flat over her pelvis and moves it down until his thumb is putting pressure on her clit. "You okay?" he asks. "Wanna stop?"
"No," she says. "I'm good. That's so good, Dean. Just gotta-"
She puts her hands out on the ground then and leans over Dean so she has a little leverage. He holds her up with the hand he isn't using on her, and she starts to move up.
At first Dean can tell it's still hurting her, so he kisses her, his hand getting trapped between them as he keeps rubbing her. She touches his face, her hand smelling like rich earth, and gasps out his name, starting to roll her hips a little faster.
"It's okay, Sammy," he whispers, breaking from their kiss to press his lips to her chest and collar bone and neck and wherever the fuck else his mouth lands as he showers her. "Got you, baby. I've got you."
"Dean," she says. It's all she says, but it fills Dean's ears and he'd be happy to never hear anything but his sister calling out to him like this.
It's a long time before it's over. Dean's not surprised considering she's just getting used to it, but after a while she tells him it's good and she wants him on top of her, and he rolls her over and takes care of her like he always will. Like no one the fuck else is ever going to, swan spell or not. Sam is his.
Finally she makes a surprised sound, wraps her long, long legs around Dean and starts to fuck up against him as he thrusts down into her. She doesn't have to tell him, he feels her cunt clenching tight around his cock and kisses the low, panting sounds she makes as she comes. Dean loses it pretty soon after that, because he's been going crazy keeping himself from finishing inside of her before she got her turn.
He pulls out quickly after, kissing her shoulder and stroking her skin, and Sam smiles this warm little smile that makes Dean's heart do all kinds of ridiculous, clichéd things he'll never actually admit to. He reaches out, pushing the matted hair off her neck and getting a grip on her collarbone. "You like that, sweetheart?"
Sam laughs. "I'm not your sweetheart," she replies half-heartedly. "But I definitely liked it."
"Next time we do it," he says, "I'll make you feel so good you won't care what I call you."
"I'll hold you to that," she replies darkly.
They rinse off in the lake, splashing each other and swimming and actually having a pretty good time until the sun comes up and takes Dean's sister away again.
"The fuck kind of name for a monster is a ziz?" Dean asks.
"I didn't name the damn thing," Bobby says. "I'm just trying to save your sister's ass. But if you don't want my help-"
"Alright, alright," Dean says, scrubbing his hand over his face. "I get the point. What's the lore?"
"Says it's a bird protection spirit, comes from Hebrew legends mostly," Bobby starts.
"Yeah, Sam mentioned the protect-y thing. So what's the sonofabitch's MO?"
"Likes virgins, apparently. Kidnaps them and makes them into birds in order to keep them safe and pure. Then they try to marry the girl. If she says yes they do that, mate, wait for her to give birth and then, well, you know. Same ending as every other monster."
"Sam won't be doing that," Dean says. "What if she says no?"
Bobby stays quiet on the other end of the line.
"Bobby," Dean says sharply.
"Well, it says eventually the thing stops being patient and courting her. Forces her, then loses interest because she's not pure anymore and kills her."
"Jesus," Dean mutters. "That's one way to show your love."
"Apparently the thing really does love the girls, though. Crazy, over passionate kind of love. Scarier than hate if you've ever seen that kind of thing."
Yeah, Dean knows all about that kind of thing. He clears his throat. "What does the lore say about girls who, uh-what if she goes with someone who's not the ziz while under his spell?"
"Lore didn't mention that. Probably keep 'em too well guarded for that to happen. Can't imagine it'd be pretty, though." Dean can practically hear Bobby shrug over the phone. "Anyway, you don't really have time to worry about theoreticals right now."
"Right," Dean says, pointedly avoiding the subject. "All I wanna worry about right now is breaking the spell and killing it. How do I do that?"
"I'm still working on how to break the spell," Bobby replies. "Silver bullets should kill it, though. It's still from the same bloodline as most shifters."
"Thanks, Bobby," Dean says. "I'll keep you updated."
Bobby says his goodbyes, and Dean hangs up, his stomach in knots. He doesn't want to kill this thing before the spell is lifted, but if it comes down to that, he'll do it. Sam being cursed Dean can deal with. No goddamn bird monster is raping his little sister.
Tonight when he goes to the lake, he decides, he's gonna march up to Rothbart's door and plant silver in the bastard's heart for ever daring to take Sam.
A knock on the door startles Dean out of his thoughts. It must be Dad. John had been pretty far when Dean called, but he'd told Dean he'd leave right away. He hadn't expected to see his father this soon, but he's relieved. Dad will save Sam.
He opens the door, expecting to see his father, but instead Sam is standing there, fully human despite the fact that it's only 5 o'clock and the sun is still up.
"Sam?" he asks. "What-how are you here?"
She smiles, pushing him aside and waltzing into the room. "He let me go," she says, sounding smug. "Just like I guessed. He didn't want me anymore because he could tell I wasn't a virgin, so he sent me packing."
Dean feels his eyebrows draw together. It seems way too easy and like a trick, especially after what Bobby just told him about this monster, but at least Sam is here and safe and maybe the spell is lifted. "You sure it was that easy?"
"Well, I mean, I got an earful about what a dirty slut I am if you'd like to hear about that."
Dean flinches, closing the door and taking Sam into his arms. "I'll teach him to talk to you like that. I'm gonna make him pay for all of this."
"My hero," she says in high-pitched voice. She rises to her toes and grazes his lips with her own.
"Your dress changed," Dean observes. It looks exactly like the white one she's been wearing only now it's black with red trimming instead of white and blue.
She smiles, shrugging. "Well, we damn well ruined the other one, right?" She laughs. "This is the dress that bad girls wear." She twirls. "I think it suits me, don't you?"
Dean frowns, not loving that she's making light of this, but he lets it slide. "Put some comfortable clothes on and let's go hunting, huh Sammy?"
Sam stops twirling and faces Dean, a dark look in her eyes. "Maybe later," she says. "I just want to stay here with you for a while."
She walks toward him slowly, letting her dress sway so it's almost hypnotic. She really does look pretty good, and Dean could go for some relieved you're-not-a-swan-anymore sex. Or any sex, if he's being honest. She loops her arms around Dean's neck and hangs off him. "I really missed you, Dean," she says.
"You too, Sam," he says, letting her kiss him again. He gets carried away for a few minutes before he remembers to focus. He pushes Sam back and holds her at arm's length. "Sam, let's take care of the hunt first, okay? I don't want him kidnapping anyone else."
"That's what I love about you," she tells him, reaching out for him again. "Always such a hero."
There's a pecking sound at the window, and Dean tries to look and see if it's the monster. That's how it started when he came for Sam. Maybe he's back, trying to get her attention again. Dean knew it couldn't be over. "Sammy, I think he's outside-"
"Oh, worry about him later," she says, yanking his head in for a kiss. Like she's trying to distract him. "Tell me how much you love me, Dean."
The whole thing is just the slightest bit off. Dean's sister knows how he feels-she doesn't really need to hear it. It's just not the way they do things.
It's not actually hard to figure out. Dean's pretty sure he knew that this wasn't Sam from the moment he opened the door. "Sam, why'd he let you go?"
"I told you," she says, voice growing annoyed. "He could tell I loved someone else. You. You love me too, don't you?"
"Oh, I love Sam," Dean says. He pulls her in close, pretending he's about to kiss her and reaching out for the silver knife he set on his bed instead. "Problem is, sweetheart, you ain't her."
Dean drives the knife into the creature's back, hears a birdlike cry immediately. He feels relief rush through him at the confirmation that he was right. Not that Dean wouldn't know Sam or would have stabbed this thing without being sure, but still.
He looks out the window in time to see Sam, the swan version of her, looking in on them, but then she faints, falling toward the floor and out of his line of vision. Dean drops the monster's body, looking down to see a common swallow bleeding at his feet.
The door of the cottage they've been staying in falls to the floor with a loud bang, and Dean sees the outline of a man standing in the doorway.
"That was my daughter," the man says, stepping into the light. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Muscles on his muscles. Dean picks up the gun on his bed. He's going to enjoy this.
"Rothbart, buddy, I've been waiting to meet you."
"Don't get cocky with me," he says darkly. "You killed my baby."
"You kinda asked for it sending her here," Dean replies. "Where's Sam?"
"Your whore is dead," he says with a smile so cruel Dean can't help believing it. "Just like you'll be in a moment."
"I don't think so," Dean says, aiming and pulling the trigger.
The man lets out a savage growl, and Dean watches as he jumps into the air and stays there, turning into a bird so huge its wings cut dents onto the walls on both sides of the cabin. The bullet hits the wall by the door, and suddenly there's a long, thin tail wrapped around Dean's hand, knocking his gun away.
Shit. Dean feels a thick talon slice into his leg and is pretty sure it's game over. But, well, unless the thing was lying about Sam, Dean's really not all that keen to live, anyway. He'd really like to waste this fucking thing first though, that's his regret.
He's pretty much ready to give up when he sees something moving in the doorway. Sam is there in her stained dress, her hair a mess. She's got a thick bruise under her eye that makes Dean's heart sink, but aside from that she seems okay.
She holds a finger up to her lips, signaling to Dean not to let on that she's there, and her eyes are shining bright with mischief.
Dean's little sister fucking rocks.
"Wait!" Dean says, holding his hands up to shield his face before the bird can peck his head off.
The monster pauses, looking confused, which gives Sam just enough time to dig into Dean's duffle and come back up with a gun and few silver bullets. All he needs is a few more seconds while she loads it.
"I was going to tell you why you shouldn't kill me," Dean says thoughtfully. "But I forgot my reason. Carry on."
The bird tilts its head in confusion and figures out what Dean is up to a moment too late. He turns to face Sam just in time to catch one bullet in the eye and three in the chest. Dean feels the blood rush back into his hand as the tail holding him loses its grip and the bird makes a loud whoosh sound as it falls to the ground.
The inside of their cabin is a disaster area and Dean isn't going to walk again for months, but he lets out a whoop of joy anyway as he collapses a few feet away from the monster.
Sam puts down the gun and rushes to his side. "Dean," she cries out, taking his head and resting it in her lap. "If I went through all of that to save you and you're just going to die anyway, I swear you will never see my boobs again."
"That's so not okay with me," he mutters, opening his eyes to look at her. "Fuck, my leg hurts worse than the time that buffalo ghost headbutted it."
Sam laughs, low and relieved. "You're such a fucking idiot," she says, kissing him and then kissing him a few more times. "God, you're stupid. How can anyone be as stupid as you are and still manage to make it through the day?"
"I dunno," Dean replies groggily. "I think you kind of like it."
"You scared me, Dean."
"Oh, look who's talking." Dean coughs. "I'm not the one who got kidnapped like a freaking damsel in distress."
"I just rescued you, princess," she replies, lowering her tone to a teasing whisper as she puts her lips on Dean's ear. "Who's the damsel now?"
Dean groans and rolls his eyes. "Dude. Just fix my leg already."
Sam laughs and gets up, carefully laying Dean's head on a pillow she sets on the ground. Then she goes to the bathroom for the first aid kit. Dean props himself up while she's gone, his back against one of their beds and the pillow supporting him.
When she gets back she kneels next to him again and cuts what's left of his jeans off so she can clean the wound and stitch it.
"Desperate to get in my pants, huh Sammy?" Dean says, waggling his eyebrows as she tears the last bits of fabric away.
She rolls her eyes but can't help smiling. "One slip of my hand, Dean, and you lose the family jewels forever."
"Your loss more than mine."
Sam shakes her head.
"How'd you break the spell?" Dean asks. "He said you were-I mean, I saw you. You were a swan and then you were fainting and-"
Her lips thin as she presses a clean towel over the gash on Dean's leg. "Shit really hit the fan when he saw me this morning," she says. "He knew right away. Turns out my plan wasn't really all that well thought through."
Dean reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the black and blue on her face. "He hurt you, Sammy," Dean says, feeling his throat tighten. "Tell me he didn't-I mean, Bobby said sometimes they…" Dean looks to the floor. He can't say it. "Tell me he didn't, Sam."
She puts her hand under his chin and forces him to turn his head and look up at her. "He didn't want me anymore, Dean. He didn't. He hit me, and he called me all kinds of things, but he didn't do that."
"Thank god," he says. "Does it hurt?"
She laughs. "I've gotten much, much worse on plenty of other hunts," she says. Which, okay, true, but still. Something about some guy thinking he has the right to slap her around makes this feel worse. Dean let this happen.
She sighs. "Before you get all self-loathing and start blaming yourself, remember whose leg is going to be out of commission for the next god knows how long."
Dean nods. "I guess."
Sam smiles and leans forward to kiss Dean on the forehead as she sets the cloth aside. "Thank you, by the way."
"For what?" he asks. "Failing to save you so many times you finally had to do it yourself?"
"You broke the spell. Never could have saved either of us if you hadn't."
"I did not," he says.
"Oh, you did." Sam takes a match to her sewing needle to sterilize it, keeps her attention focused on her hands as she speaks. "He was jealous of you, Dean. Furious because I was supposed to love him and instead I-well, you were there."
She puts the match out and looks up, wiggling her eyebrows at Dean. He laughs as much as he can through the pain.
"Medicine?" Sam offers, holding up the bottle of bourbon she'd used to soak the cloth she'd cleaned him with.
Dean takes the bottle, drinking in a deep swig before motioning for Sam to continue her story.
"Right, so. He said you didn't really love me and that his love was the only real love. I was an idiot for choosing someone else. Yadda yadda."
"He mention the part where he was gonna knock you up and then kill you?"
Sam chuckles. "Figured that part out on my own. Anyway, I said you did love me and I didn't really doubt it, so he could say whatever the fuck he wanted. So he decided to prove it to me. That's why he sent Odile." Sam waves her hand at the dead swallow on the floor to clarify. "You were supposed to think she was me and proclaim your love to her, and then I really would have died."
"That was a stupid plan," Dean says, catching his sister's hand between his own and squeezing it. "I was never gonna fall for that."
She smiles softly. "I know, Dean. I told him that, but he was convinced."
"But I saw you faint," Dean says. "He said you were dead."
"And apparently I deserve a goddamn Oscar." She grins. "I was pretending. Figured if I started acting like I was dying the first time she kissed you and then swooned into a heap, maybe he'd just assume his plan worked out and worry more about kicking your ass for stabbing his daughter than about making me suffer. Turns out I was right."
"Clever girl," Dean mutters. He lets both of his eyes close and winces when Sam starts to stitch him together.
"I should get that in writing," she says, passing a hand over Dean's clammy forehead. "Does it really hurt?"
"What do you think?" he replies, opening one eye. "I take back that thing I said about you being clever."
"Loss of blood," she says cheerfully. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Hmm," Dean replies. His brain is not really at its sharpest at this point, and now that the adrenaline is subsiding, he's finally feeling all the stress and exhaustion he's been staving off since Sam first went missing. He's so relieved now he thinks he can sleep right here on the floor, even through the pain.
"Hey, Sam, I'm gonna…" His head feels heavy so he lets it sink back into the mattress behind him.
Dean can hear the warm smile in his sister's response. "Yeah," she says. "I'll finish this and get rid of the bodies. You rest up."
Dean laughs softly to himself. The swallow she can take care of no problem, but the mega-bird is going to need at least two substantial bodies to haul it and the entire bed of Dad's truck to transport it anywhere farther than a few feet from the door of the cottage. Sam's pretty tough, she and Dad can probably do it, but it's pretty fucking hilarious picturing her trying to drag him out on her own.
"Wait," he says through a yawn. "Wait until Dad gets here to do the bodies. He shouldn't be more than a few hours."
Dean doesn't hear if Sam responds after that, but he feels her lips on his forehead and the steady, sure work of her hands as she closes him up.