Supernatural: Can't Have Your Brother and Eat Him, Too
Title: Can’t Have Your Brother and Eat Him, Too
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Bobby (gen)
Genre: Crack
Rating: PG for Mild Language
Word Count: 1,707
Author’s Note: Originally I got this idea for the spnland Metamorphosis Challenge, but I didn’t get it done on time. Then waterofthemoon would allow me no peace until I wrote it anyway. So, Sara-this one’s for you <3. God have mercy on my soul.
Summary: Sam gets turned into a pie. Dean really, really likes pie.
It's not like this is entirely new. Well, this is. But the whole getting-cursed-into-another-species thing, not as much as most people would think. Generally in Sam and Dean's line of work, there's a one-per-person average on the amount of times you will get cursed into a foreign object or animal in a year. Sam and Dean have been through it all: wings, plants, tentacles, birds…and that one time Dean had boobs for a week, though Dean has finally gotten Sam to agree to stop bringing that up, so Dean isn't about to dwell on it.
But this, this one is special. Not special in a good way, special in a short-bus-to-school kind of way. Dean wouldn't be so annoyed if Sam were just a kitten again-hell, he kind of likes the cocker spaniel Sam has been turned into on four separate occasions more than his whiny brother some days. At least Sam could be marginally useful when he wasn't, well...a pastry.
Dean is pretty sure the witch had overheard them at the diner their first night in town and had chosen this particular form for Sam specifically to piss Dean off. Knowing that doesn't change the fact that it's working. The witch may have gotten what was coming to her from the victims she'd been keeping in her dungeon when Dean let them out, but she certainly knew how to make an exit.
Dean isn’t even thinking about the case, or about anything but breakfast, when she approaches him. He'd thought they were done with the job and suddenly some old lady is tapping him on the shoulder, informing him that they burnt a corpse for no reason last night and, by the way, Dean might like to collect his brother off the counter. She smiles sweetly at Dean's confused expression and points to a pie dish. Dean can't help his curiosity, so he goes and grabs it up.
Instantly, something about the pie is off. He looks back at the woman and down at the pie.
"This is...Sammy?"
"Yep, that's him. I'm terribly sorry about that."
She laughs and turns on her heels, leaving the diner. Dean is too dazed to follow her or figure out what the hell just happened. He looks back down at the pie-no, at his brother.
"Sam, goddammit, did you seriously manage to-damn, you smell delicious."
Dean has to be imagining it, because no matter how closely he observes the pie's surface, nothing about it changes. But Dean would bet his life that the thing is making a bitchy face at him.
He leaves a few twenties on the table and heads to the car immediately, putting Sam down in his usual shotgun seat carefully. Rounding the car and getting in, Dean looks over and scrubs a hand on the back of his neck.
"We should figure out how to change you back, huh?"
"..." the pie replies, because pies don't talk, and there's no reason Dean should be understanding what it's saying anyway.
"Right, yeah. Better, umm. Find out where she lives and fix the case up. Hopefully I can get her to agree to undo this."
"..." is the response from the other side of the car, but it sounds more like How do you plan to do that, moron? Asking nicely?
"Oh, shut up," Dean tells the pie before he realizes he's having a conversation with a pie.
As it turns out, Dean doesn't get a chance to talk to the witch about Sam's condition. When she's finally agreeing to come out and fix things in exchange for Dean not planting a bullet in her withered excuse for a heart, one of the prisoners jumps her with a knife from the kitchen and puts her out of commission. Dean is annoyed, but he can't really blame the guy. There were some victims who didn't get out before Sam and Dean caught word of this case and apparently, one of them was this guy's best friend. But now Dean panics, because Sam is still stuck and Dean doesn’t function well in these circumstances. He almost didn't leave the pie behind in the car, just because leaving Sam sitting in the Impala during a hunt felt weird-pie or not.
"So, I have some good news and some bad news," Dean says as soon as he gets back to the car. "Which do you want first?"
"..." Sam says calmly.
"Well, the good news is that ding dong the witch is dead. The bad news is that...umm...well, she's dead and you're still a pie."
"..." Sam yells, or at least he would be yelling if he could say anything. Dean hears all of it and has to admit that maybe this time, Sam's in the right.
"I didn't do it, man! Fuck, will you calm down? I'll just take you to Bobby and he'll know what to do, okay?"
"..." Sam would be pouting and looking out the window, and Dean still insists the pie is making faces at him.
The ride to Bobby's isn't a short one and Dean is simultaneously relieved and horror-struck when, twelve hours into the drive (a day and a half into having his brother sit in a hot car in pie form), Dean can't stop his stomach from grumbling and every time he looks over, Sam looks better than he had five minutes ago. Sam should be starting to smell pretty gross by now, but apparently, sentient pies never go bad.
Dean lowers the window, blasts music, tries to distract himself. He stops to eat three times, and leaves Sam in the car when he passes a diner advertising fresh pie. Dean doesn't want to offend Sam, but he needs some goddamn pie pretty soon, or Sam will have a whole lot more to bitch about once he's human again. Like missing limbs, for instance.
Still, it takes a lot of self-control. Dean thinks maybe this was part of the curse, because he eats and eats and eats and Sam doesn't stop being appetizing.
Dean's pretty sure it would be overkill to get Sam his own room, but when they stop in a ratty motel room, Sam's aroma immediately fills the room and Dean can't sleep he's so damn hungry.
"Hey, Sam," he finally says into the room. There's no response. Of course there's no response. There's no one there except for Dean and an apple pie. Dean starts to wonder if maybe the witch was playing a joke on him, if he's imagining the instant rush of Sammy he feels every time he picks the pie up and Sam is really sitting in a diner in Nebraska right now, wondering where the hell Dean went. "What do you think would happen if I just had some whipped cream?"
"..."
"No, you're probably right," Dean grudgingly admits, turning back over and falling into a fitful sleep. Dean will deny it to the grave that he dreamed about pies or anything even remotely pie related.
By the time Dean gets to Bobby's, he's pretty sure he's certifiable. It's been a long few days and Dean has been having increasingly complicated conversations with his dessert and he's starting to worry about Sam and he's starting to worry about his ability to not eat Sam.
Bobby is obviously surprised when he opens the door to a frazzled Dean and has a pie shoved into his hands immediately. Dean hadn't called to tell him he was coming-Dean is pretty sure Bobby would have just called him an idgit, not believed him, and hung up.
"Awfully thoughtful of you to come all this way to give me pie," Bobby says slowly, confusion clear in his tone.
"It's Sam."
"Oh, are you morons fighting again? What's he done this time?"
"No." Dean points an accusing finger at the pie. "That. Is Sam."
"This pie?"
"Yes."
"Is your brother?"
"Yes."
Silence reigns for about a minute, or at least it would be silent if Dean couldn't hear his brother's wordless lecturing.
"Why is your brother a pie, Dean?"
"I messed up. Tiny, itty-bitty little hiccup. Accident. It's not important."
"What happened?" Bobby is clearly not going to let Dean off the hook for this one.
"I don't know. I wasn't really present when it happened. But this witch in Nebraska-we were working a case and I maybe torched her husband's corpse by accident, and she wasn't too thrilled, and long story short, Sam is a pie."
Bobby looks down at the pie. "How do you know this is Sam if you weren't there?"
Dean looks away and swallows hard. He knows how stupid his next words are going to sound, but he has nothing better to offer and he doesn't have any doubts, not serious ones at least, that he knows his little brother when he sees him.
"I just know."
For a moment, Bobby looks like he's going to argue, but then he just nods. "Alright, Dean. I'm going to call up a witch I know a few towns over. She owes me a favor. Get your brother to this address," Bobby pauses to search a slip of paper out of his desk and jots down the location from memory, "and never mention that you did something this stupid to me again, okay?"
"Deal," Dean says, happy to put this behind him as soon as possible.
He carries Sam back out to the car, silently praying that "a few towns over" isn't too long a drive. Dean hates navigating the road map alone-he's gotten too used to Sam's help-but Sam is lacking all of the basic parts that make reading directions possible right now. On top of that, Sam would still taste good enough to bring about world peace-Dean knows quality pie when he sees it.
"You owe me so much pie when I get this straightened out, bitch," Dean tells his brother as he closes the door and makes his way around the car.
Dean takes Sam's silence as consent and, in order to distract himself during the ride, Dean begins memorizing every diner they pass that advertises pie, trying to decide which one to make Sam take him to first.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, Bobby (gen)
Genre: Crack
Rating: PG for Mild Language
Word Count: 1,707
Author’s Note: Originally I got this idea for the spnland Metamorphosis Challenge, but I didn’t get it done on time. Then waterofthemoon would allow me no peace until I wrote it anyway. So, Sara-this one’s for you <3. God have mercy on my soul.
Summary: Sam gets turned into a pie. Dean really, really likes pie.
It's not like this is entirely new. Well, this is. But the whole getting-cursed-into-another-species thing, not as much as most people would think. Generally in Sam and Dean's line of work, there's a one-per-person average on the amount of times you will get cursed into a foreign object or animal in a year. Sam and Dean have been through it all: wings, plants, tentacles, birds…and that one time Dean had boobs for a week, though Dean has finally gotten Sam to agree to stop bringing that up, so Dean isn't about to dwell on it.
But this, this one is special. Not special in a good way, special in a short-bus-to-school kind of way. Dean wouldn't be so annoyed if Sam were just a kitten again-hell, he kind of likes the cocker spaniel Sam has been turned into on four separate occasions more than his whiny brother some days. At least Sam could be marginally useful when he wasn't, well...a pastry.
Dean is pretty sure the witch had overheard them at the diner their first night in town and had chosen this particular form for Sam specifically to piss Dean off. Knowing that doesn't change the fact that it's working. The witch may have gotten what was coming to her from the victims she'd been keeping in her dungeon when Dean let them out, but she certainly knew how to make an exit.
Dean isn’t even thinking about the case, or about anything but breakfast, when she approaches him. He'd thought they were done with the job and suddenly some old lady is tapping him on the shoulder, informing him that they burnt a corpse for no reason last night and, by the way, Dean might like to collect his brother off the counter. She smiles sweetly at Dean's confused expression and points to a pie dish. Dean can't help his curiosity, so he goes and grabs it up.
Instantly, something about the pie is off. He looks back at the woman and down at the pie.
"This is...Sammy?"
"Yep, that's him. I'm terribly sorry about that."
She laughs and turns on her heels, leaving the diner. Dean is too dazed to follow her or figure out what the hell just happened. He looks back down at the pie-no, at his brother.
"Sam, goddammit, did you seriously manage to-damn, you smell delicious."
Dean has to be imagining it, because no matter how closely he observes the pie's surface, nothing about it changes. But Dean would bet his life that the thing is making a bitchy face at him.
He leaves a few twenties on the table and heads to the car immediately, putting Sam down in his usual shotgun seat carefully. Rounding the car and getting in, Dean looks over and scrubs a hand on the back of his neck.
"We should figure out how to change you back, huh?"
"..." the pie replies, because pies don't talk, and there's no reason Dean should be understanding what it's saying anyway.
"Right, yeah. Better, umm. Find out where she lives and fix the case up. Hopefully I can get her to agree to undo this."
"..." is the response from the other side of the car, but it sounds more like How do you plan to do that, moron? Asking nicely?
"Oh, shut up," Dean tells the pie before he realizes he's having a conversation with a pie.
As it turns out, Dean doesn't get a chance to talk to the witch about Sam's condition. When she's finally agreeing to come out and fix things in exchange for Dean not planting a bullet in her withered excuse for a heart, one of the prisoners jumps her with a knife from the kitchen and puts her out of commission. Dean is annoyed, but he can't really blame the guy. There were some victims who didn't get out before Sam and Dean caught word of this case and apparently, one of them was this guy's best friend. But now Dean panics, because Sam is still stuck and Dean doesn’t function well in these circumstances. He almost didn't leave the pie behind in the car, just because leaving Sam sitting in the Impala during a hunt felt weird-pie or not.
"So, I have some good news and some bad news," Dean says as soon as he gets back to the car. "Which do you want first?"
"..." Sam says calmly.
"Well, the good news is that ding dong the witch is dead. The bad news is that...umm...well, she's dead and you're still a pie."
"..." Sam yells, or at least he would be yelling if he could say anything. Dean hears all of it and has to admit that maybe this time, Sam's in the right.
"I didn't do it, man! Fuck, will you calm down? I'll just take you to Bobby and he'll know what to do, okay?"
"..." Sam would be pouting and looking out the window, and Dean still insists the pie is making faces at him.
The ride to Bobby's isn't a short one and Dean is simultaneously relieved and horror-struck when, twelve hours into the drive (a day and a half into having his brother sit in a hot car in pie form), Dean can't stop his stomach from grumbling and every time he looks over, Sam looks better than he had five minutes ago. Sam should be starting to smell pretty gross by now, but apparently, sentient pies never go bad.
Dean lowers the window, blasts music, tries to distract himself. He stops to eat three times, and leaves Sam in the car when he passes a diner advertising fresh pie. Dean doesn't want to offend Sam, but he needs some goddamn pie pretty soon, or Sam will have a whole lot more to bitch about once he's human again. Like missing limbs, for instance.
Still, it takes a lot of self-control. Dean thinks maybe this was part of the curse, because he eats and eats and eats and Sam doesn't stop being appetizing.
Dean's pretty sure it would be overkill to get Sam his own room, but when they stop in a ratty motel room, Sam's aroma immediately fills the room and Dean can't sleep he's so damn hungry.
"Hey, Sam," he finally says into the room. There's no response. Of course there's no response. There's no one there except for Dean and an apple pie. Dean starts to wonder if maybe the witch was playing a joke on him, if he's imagining the instant rush of Sammy he feels every time he picks the pie up and Sam is really sitting in a diner in Nebraska right now, wondering where the hell Dean went. "What do you think would happen if I just had some whipped cream?"
"..."
"No, you're probably right," Dean grudgingly admits, turning back over and falling into a fitful sleep. Dean will deny it to the grave that he dreamed about pies or anything even remotely pie related.
By the time Dean gets to Bobby's, he's pretty sure he's certifiable. It's been a long few days and Dean has been having increasingly complicated conversations with his dessert and he's starting to worry about Sam and he's starting to worry about his ability to not eat Sam.
Bobby is obviously surprised when he opens the door to a frazzled Dean and has a pie shoved into his hands immediately. Dean hadn't called to tell him he was coming-Dean is pretty sure Bobby would have just called him an idgit, not believed him, and hung up.
"Awfully thoughtful of you to come all this way to give me pie," Bobby says slowly, confusion clear in his tone.
"It's Sam."
"Oh, are you morons fighting again? What's he done this time?"
"No." Dean points an accusing finger at the pie. "That. Is Sam."
"This pie?"
"Yes."
"Is your brother?"
"Yes."
Silence reigns for about a minute, or at least it would be silent if Dean couldn't hear his brother's wordless lecturing.
"Why is your brother a pie, Dean?"
"I messed up. Tiny, itty-bitty little hiccup. Accident. It's not important."
"What happened?" Bobby is clearly not going to let Dean off the hook for this one.
"I don't know. I wasn't really present when it happened. But this witch in Nebraska-we were working a case and I maybe torched her husband's corpse by accident, and she wasn't too thrilled, and long story short, Sam is a pie."
Bobby looks down at the pie. "How do you know this is Sam if you weren't there?"
Dean looks away and swallows hard. He knows how stupid his next words are going to sound, but he has nothing better to offer and he doesn't have any doubts, not serious ones at least, that he knows his little brother when he sees him.
"I just know."
For a moment, Bobby looks like he's going to argue, but then he just nods. "Alright, Dean. I'm going to call up a witch I know a few towns over. She owes me a favor. Get your brother to this address," Bobby pauses to search a slip of paper out of his desk and jots down the location from memory, "and never mention that you did something this stupid to me again, okay?"
"Deal," Dean says, happy to put this behind him as soon as possible.
He carries Sam back out to the car, silently praying that "a few towns over" isn't too long a drive. Dean hates navigating the road map alone-he's gotten too used to Sam's help-but Sam is lacking all of the basic parts that make reading directions possible right now. On top of that, Sam would still taste good enough to bring about world peace-Dean knows quality pie when he sees it.
"You owe me so much pie when I get this straightened out, bitch," Dean tells his brother as he closes the door and makes his way around the car.
Dean takes Sam's silence as consent and, in order to distract himself during the ride, Dean begins memorizing every diner they pass that advertises pie, trying to decide which one to make Sam take him to first.