Fic Exchange Gift for absenthe_wrae
Recipient: absenthe_wrae
Author: zelda_addict
Artist: amberdreams
Title: Adventures in Deansitting
Summary: After an accident involving a witch and some transformation potions, Dean is in need of constant supervision (but what else is new), Sam has to get a little more in touch with his feminine side, and both brothers are in over their heads.
Characters/Pairings: Dean and Sam mostly, with guest appearances by Castiel and Charlie
Rating: PG for a little language
Warnings/Spoilers (if applicable): Um... Up to present but vague? Seriously, I’m not sure exactly where this would fall continuity-wise, but definitely at least Season 9 or 10 for references. I don’t think I give away anything devastating, though.
Wordcount: 6108 (I am apparently the thing that wouldn’t shut up...)
The things the Winchesters hunted seldom went down without a fight, and despite logic dictating that it ought to make the job harder, it was usually the opposite. The struggle made it easy not to think about the often fatal outcome too much.
Take this case, for instance. Various residents of the town disappeared with some rather strange things appearing in their absence, most notably a teenage girl who insisted she was the missing high school principal--a balding, sixty-year-old man--and a guinea pig stalking the halls of a local dental practice after the doctor vanished.
Clearly, some form of transformative magic was in play, and a bit of investigating had led them to a woman that happened to be a disgruntled witch with a penchant for potions.
The plan had been to destroy her supply of potions and only kill her if they had to do it, but she’d caught them in her basement and gone crazy, throwing small vials of magical concoctions willy-nilly. They couldn’t be sure she even knew what she was hurling at them!
Dean heard shattering glass and a distraught cry from Sam behind him, but there was no time to check on his brother while the witch was still an active threat. He took aim at the woman, but another vial crashed at his own feet. The world swam around him, and his aim was thrown off as the room seemed to rise around him before he closed his eyes tightly. He thought he heard the bullet strike something, but it didn’t sound like flesh. The witch shrieked, but it turned into a strange high gurgle, and then the room went silent.
Dean opened his eyes to find himself looking up at everything from the floor. His body didn’t seem to want to listen to him, and for some reason he was having trouble getting his eyes to focus on anything more than a short distance away.
“Oh no,” he thought to himself, “what am I now?” He whimpered, and it was a high sound, strange to his own ears. With a sense of trepidation, he raised what he hoped was still a right hand in front of his face. On the plus side, it was indeed still a human hand; however, it was a very small, pudgy one.
When he attempted to exclaim his oft expressed “son of a bitch,” it was instead a babble of “summ-bah” in a baby’s voice.
He managed to haul himself to a sitting position so he could better scan the room. There was something on the ground where the witch had been standing, and Dean crawled closer to get a better look. It was a dead goldfish, and Dean found it fitting that she’d gone out a victim of her own magic. However, now he was extra concerned about the fate of his brother and turned to crawl toward the last place he’d seen Sam.
-----
When the potion hit him, the sudden change in his proportions had thrown Sam off balance, and he’d struck his head on one of the basement stairs during the fall. He brought a shaky hand up to rub the lump and hissed. He was definitely going to have a headache for a few days! It didn’t help that there was something making a repeated, high-pitched noise that sounded like “sah sah sah.” Then something patted his leg.
“Sa-muh!” a tiny voice demanded petulantly.
“Whu?” Sam murmured articulately. He sat up and blinked a few times, but the toddler sitting by his feet and practically swimming in a familiar, well-worn tee-shirt was not a hallucination. He scanned the room for his brother and the witch but didn’t see either, which gave him a sinking feeling.
“Dean?” he asked, and then gasped at the sound of his own voice. It was higher pitched than usual, and he initially wondered if he too had simply been turned younger, but then he looked down and gasped again. Though his shirt was considerably looser on his new shape, he clearly had a pair of breasts where none had been before.
“Sah!” baby Dean persisted.
“Where’s the witch?” Sam asked reflexively and then mentally kicked himself because obviously Dean couldn’t really answer. His older--or was it younger now?--brother fixed him with an adorable, scaled-down version of his expression that said “seriously?”
“Deh,” he announced. He pursed his tiny lips in frustration and tried again. “Deh-duh.”
“Great.” Sam sighed and pulled himself to his feet. “Guess there’s no chance of getting her to change us back. We’d better see if we can find a spell book or something.”
Dean turned away and began crawling back across the basement floor toward the shelves where some of the potion bottles had been stored, and Sam cringed at the thought of a baby crawling across all the broken glass with magical residue riddling the space. He scooped Dean up and perched him on one hip, ignoring the infant’s indignant whine.
“Dow,” Dean commanded, wriggling in Sam’s uncertain grip.
“No, there’s glass on the floor.”
“Duh,” Dean agreed with a roll of his big, green eyes.
“So, I’m not putting you back down. Deal with it.” He readjusted his grip on Dean and picked his way across the floor and began scanning the shelves for any books.
Sam could feel Dean snuggling closer as he searched, but he remained focused on the task at hand. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any texts of any kind. That either meant the woman had been gifted with a fantastic memory, or she had been getting her potions from someone else.
“Crap!” he vented aloud, and he felt Dean startle. He glanced over to find Dean rubbing one eye with a chubby fist. “Were you asleep?”
“No!” Dean denied, but his eyelids were already drooping again.
After making certain any remaining potions were destroyed, he turned to the toddler.
“Let’s get out of here,” Sam suggested, heading back to the stairs. There weren’t any further clues here, and he wanted his laptop. “Looks like I get to drive,” he teased his older brother, who just frowned at him grumpily. It didn’t occur to him until they were almost to the car that they didn’t have a carseat.
“Crap!” he repeated.
-----
Fortunately, there was a shopping center near to the witch’s house. They got a lot of weird looks as Sam found them all the necessities they would need, but by the end of it, they at least had a couple of outfits each that actually fit, a carseat, and a packed diaper bag.
“Did you see all the pockets in this thing?” Sam marveled over the bag. “And it’s not all girly, so we could totally keep using this later.”
Dean snorted skeptically and tugged at the straps of his tiny overalls. “Ugh.” It was just as effective a sign of disgust as a toddler.
“They don’t make your usual style in tiny size,” Sam explained for about the millionth time. Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true; there were little pairs of jeans and even classic rock band tee-shirts, but Sam found he couldn’t resist some of the cutesy options, and Dean couldn’t really protest at the moment. Plus, future blackmail fodder! Hey, he wasn’t likely to live the girl thing down any time soon, so he had to be able to fight back.
As he carried his brother and their new loot into the motel room, Sam felt himself already slipping into research mode. It was only as he was looking for somewhere to set Dean down that he realized again that Dean wasn’t going to be much help.
“What am I going to do with you?” he mumbled aloud as he stared at the toddler. Dean made grabby hands at the weapons bag. He usually cleaned all the guns directly after a hunt.
“Are you insane?” Sam protested. “I’m not letting a baby handle guns and knives! You can barely control your hands enough to even grip anything.” Dean retaliated by glaring and pulling Sam’s hair--he’d show him a grip!
Sam dumped his grouchy, baby-fied sibling in the room’s armchair in front of the television and turned his focus to the computer, trusting his brother to entertain himself without too dire of consequences.
Sam had a few new bumps and bruises from adjusting to both his new, shorter height, and the fact that his center of balance was now in a whole new area. It was like going through his growth spurt again, only kind of in reverse...
Once their original research had narrowed down their suspect pool to the witch, they’d stopped digging, since they hadn’t anticipated needing to know much more. Sam went back over their notes about known movements of the woman in the days before the Winchesters rolled into town. She had known, unpleasant contact with all of the victims as well as multiple visits to the office of a legal consultant. They’d assumed she’d resorted to magic after she couldn’t solve her disagreements through legal channels, but now that Sam looked again, the name of the consultant seemed familiar. The witch was a widower, though not under suspicious circumstances, and when Sam checked her maiden name...
“Yahtzee!” he declared with a grin. “Hey, Dean, it looks like the ‘legal consultant’ is her brother, and we may have found our actual potion maker!” Sam looked over to the chair, only to find it vacant. “Dean?”
He had a moment of panic, thinking of all the things that could happen to Dean in his currently vulnerable state.
“Yeah?” a little voice asked, and Sam looked over to see Dean sitting on the floor by his duffel, trying without success to open the wrapper on a candy bar. His little tummy let out a surprisingly loud gurgle.
“You know what? Let’s take a dinner break.”
-----
If anyone at the local diner recognized the Impala, no one said anything. Sam wrestled Dean into a highchair, insisting he had to play along so they wouldn’t draw unnecessary attention.
The waitress cooed over the “cute little fella’” before turning to Sam for his order.
“I’ll have the grilled chicken salad and an iced tea, and um, do you have anything he could manage?” Sam gestured to Dean, who was studiously attempting to undo the buckle of the strap keeping him in the chair.
The waitress frowned. “You mean, you didn’t bring any food for him?”
It had honestly never occurred to Sam that people would bring their own baby food when they went out to eat, but now that it did, of course restaurants didn’t have baby menus!
“Uh...” Sam frantically tried to think of an explanation before this woman decided to report him for being an unfit parent. “Dean is my nephew. His mom had to leave him with me at the last minute because of a family emergency, and I haven’t had a chance to go shopping and don’t know that much about kids.” Sam prayed that his puppy dog eyes worked just as well as a woman.
“Well,” the waitress began after some consideration, “we’ve got mashed potatoes, and we could also throw in some steamed peas and carrots. Does he handle semisolids okay, yet?”
Sam gave his brother a pleading look and an almost imperceptible shrug. Dean opened his mouth wide to display the presence of several tiny teeth and nodded.
“I think he can work with that--thank you so much!”
After their server bustled away, Dean rolled his eyes at Sam.
“Shut up,” Sam grumbled, even thought his brother hadn’t actually said anything. “I’d like to see how you would have handled that, mister wise guy.”
When the food arrived, Dean wasn’t quite coordinated enough to use a spoon himself, and they were a bit large for his mouth anyway, but he refused to let Sam feed him. He settled for using his hands instead, and Sam was pretty sure at least as much food was getting on his face as was going in his mouth.
“At least now you’re an appropriate age for your sloppy eating style,” Sam teased.
Dean gave him a wicked grin and tossed a handful of food at him.
“Why you little-” Sam caught himself before swearing at Dean, knowing without looking that there were eyes on him. He forced a smile, but he was gritting his teeth so hard he was afraid one might crack. “You little dickens, you.”
Dean giggled. “Dickens...”
After picking potatoes out of his hair, Sam turned his focus back to his salad, deciding that ignoring Dean was the lesser of two evils. It was working out pretty well until a truly awful smell wafted over to him. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he looked up at his brother.
Dean fidgeted and wouldn’t make eye contact.
“Do you, um, need to be changed?” Dean squirmed around some more but didn’t respond.
Dean usually refused assistance except in cases of grave injury, and then only if he was really miserable, so Sam just collected the diaper bag and his brother and headed for the restrooms. He almost walked into the men’s room before he caught himself.
There was a flimsy, fold-down changing table, but Sam supposed it was better than nothing. Dean put up a token protest, but Sam was stronger than him and determined to get this over with. He scowled down at the soiled diaper once he had it open.
“Dean... How long were you sitting in this? Is it even all from just now?”
Dean huffed and continued his apparent attempt to glare holes in the wall.
“Look, I know you can’t control it, okay?” Sam sighed and finished up the change. “Sitting in it can’t be healthy, though, so let me know.”
When they returned to the table, the waitress had brought Dean a small bowl of tapioca pudding and a sliced banana, free of charge. Apparently, he could charm the ladies at any age.
Having just cleaned off the toddler’s face and hands after the diaper change, Sam insisted on spoon-feeding Dean his pudding. They were only about halfway through the dessert when Dean’s head started to droop.
Given Dean’s reaction to having his sleepiness pointed out previously, Sam casually announced, “Well, I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”
Dean narrowed his eyes at him, obviously knowing exactly what he was doing, but then he just gave a small shrug, unbuckled the highchair belt, and held his arms up for Sam to lift him.
Sam was so busy thinking ahead about how to handle their situation, he almost ran into the man that had suddenly stepped in front of him, blocking the door.
“Sounds like your nephew’s quite a handful, huh?” the man asked in a flirty tone.
Sam immediately tensed up at the idea of this stranger listening in on Sam’s conversation with the waitress. “We’re fine,” he responded dismissively. “In fact, I need to go put Dean to bed, so if you’ll excuse me...”
The guy actually leaned in closer. “How about slipping away for a little fun after the kid’s asleep?”
“I don’t think so,” Sam insisted firmly. Sam wasn’t even remotely interested, and even if he had been, did this guy really think he’d leave a baby unattended to get up to who even knew what with this idiot?
“Go,” Dean broke into the conversation, pointing at the door with a whine. It’s not like Sam wasn’t trying; he just didn’t want to make a scene!
“Look, I’m not interested, okay?” Sam announced bluntly, hoping losing any politeness would get through to this stubborn jerk.
“Are you sure?” the stranger insisted, daring to reach out and actually lay a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam suppressed a growl. He started looking for somewhere to set down his brother since it looked like this might have to get physical. Sam wasn’t at all worried about the man being taller or heavier than he was in this female body. Sam hadn’t hit a major growth spurt until his junior year of high school, and both Dean and their father had made certain Sam knew how to hold his own against a larger opponent.
However, before he could act, Dean leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of mystery jerk’s shirt. The guy obligingly leaned forward. “What is it, little guy?” he asked condescendingly.
Dean glowered at him and took a deep, preparatory breath. “Go away,” he said slowly and very clearly, “douchebag.”
The man was so shocked, he gawked and took a couple of steps backward. Sam seized the opportunity to make a break for the door, calling back over his shoulder with a smirk, “Yeah, what he said.”
“Thanks for backing me up in there,” he told Dean as he strapped him into the carseat. “I was afraid I was gonna have to get rough.”
“Douchebag,” Dean repeated crankily, but his eyes were already drifting closed again. He was out only a few minutes after Sam started the engine.
Back at the motel, Sam laid his brother on the bed and barricaded him in with all the spare pillows, just in case he tried to roll. He should have been making plans for the next day or at the very least looking up the brother’s office hours, but he found himself watching Dean sleep.
Dean had always been larger than life to Sam, so it was always strange to see his brother clearly shown to be vulnerable, and he was fairly sure he’d never seen the man more helpless than he was now. Both brothers had always done their level best to protect one another, but the need was even more real and urgent for Sam right now.
It occurred to him that his older brother could remember when Sam was actually this young. It was no wonder Dean had trouble seeing Sam as a capable adult--Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look at his brother the same after this.
Sam drifted off watching the gentle rise and fall of Dean’s tiny chest, face more peaceful than it ever was when he was awake.
-----
The next morning, Sam had a small crisis deciding how to dress. He was seriously regretting falling asleep in a bra, and he was now thoroughly convinced they were really torture devices. However, the real debate was to go casual or more formal.
Sam had purchased jeans and a casual top as well as a pair of dress slacks and a blouse. He felt like he ought to wear some kind of makeup if he was getting fancy, and he’d bought some cheap makeup, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. He looked down at the cosmetics, up to his own reflection, and then over at Dean, who shrugged as if to say, “How should I know?”
“How hard could it be?” Sam mumbled aloud.
Hard. It was very hard.
How could it be so hard to stay within the outline of his own lips with the lipstick without getting any on his teeth? His mouth was mostly the same, even if his lips were a little fuller. Why did it hurt so bad to poke yourself in the eye with a mascara brush? And perhaps most perplexing, why couldn’t he manage eyeshadow that didn’t make him look like a clown? He shuddered.
“Screw it!” Sam declared after scrubbing his face clean for about the fifth time. “I’m going casual.” He had a newfound respect for the amount of time it used to take Jess to get ready to go out.
Then, the brothers made their way to the office of the suspected potion brewer, a Mr. Bryant.
“I’m sure that’s where he keeps his potions,” Sam had explained to Dean on the drive over. “His sister never visited his home, but she always stopped by his office before one of the victims was changed.”
At first glance, everything seemed very normal. The was a receptionist at a desk and a small waiting area complete with random magazines and a few toys for children. The door leading back to the man’s office had an electronic latch unlocked by a button at the receptionist’s desk.
The man wasn’t currently present when they showed up, which meant they weren’t likely to get a look around his personal office.
“Could I make an appointment?” Sam asked, trying to lean so he could get a look at the digital planner on the receptionist’s computer monitor.
“This week is pretty booked,” the woman replied apologetically. “Mr. Bryant has been out of town for the last two weeks, and he’s been trying to catch up with other clients. How about next week?”
Sam and Dean exchanged a pointed look. Waiting that long just wasn’t an option. Sam watched Dean scan the desk, looking for a diversion. The woman had lots of small ceramic cat figurines and a large, decorative frame with a picture of herself holding two cats perched on the edge of the desk opposite from the corner where the monitor sat.
“Cat!” Dean declared leaning forward and making grabby hands at the photograph.
“Careful, sweetie!” the woman moved to block him.
“Sorry,” Sam said, pouring on the fake sincerity, “Dean just loves cats.”
“That’s so cute,” the lady gushed. “I bet I have some more pictures I could show him.” The woman pulled a smartphone from her purse and began scrolling through an album. Dean carefully angled himself so he and the receptionist were both facing away from the computer.
Sam nudged the flatscreen monitor a tad so he could read the schedule. It looked like the “consultant” was expected back around lunchtime, but he had blocked out several hours for “research.”
Sam glanced over to see if he had time to snoop a little more.
“What does a kitty say?” the receptionist was asking Dean.
“Meow,” he obliged, batting his eyes and smiling cherubically.
Sam rolled his own eyes and turned back to the screen. There really was a solid block of appointments scheduled the rest of the week. He pushed the screen back where it had been.
“You know,” Sam interrupted kitty time, “I’m really not certain whether I want to make an appointment or not. I’d really like to meet Mr. Bryant in person, even if it’s just for a minute, before I decide if he’s the person I want to help with my problem. When will he be returning today?”
“He should be back in a little over an hour, if you’d like to come back,” the woman suggested.
“Would it bother you if I wait here?” Sam asked.
“Suit yourself. Let me know if you need anything.” She returned to the task she’d been consumed in before Sam and Dean entered.
There was a chance they might be able to speak to the suspected potion maker and get a look at his office if they played their cards right. Sam carried Dean over to the waiting area.
The door with the electronic lock was set out slightly from the rest of the wall, creating an area of the waiting room that was not in the receptionist’s direct line of sight. Dean immediately toddled over to check it out while Sam scanned the magazines.
He fell into a chair and froze when he heard a disapproving gasp from the receptionist, who was looking scandalized. Sam wasn’t sure why until he noticed he’d was in his usual sprawl that wasn’t weird for a guy, but it certainly wasn’t ladylike! He sat up, pulled his knees together, and hid behind a housekeeping magazine.
Sam was just debating whether he was bored enough to read an article about “Twelve Ways to Spice Up Your Casseroles!” when he felt Dean tug on his pant leg.
“What is it?” he asked quietly enough that it shouldn’t carry over to the receptionist.
Dean pointed to the base of the wall in answer, and Sam saw he meant a large ventilation grate. Even with his older brother unable to fully articulate, Sam knew what he was thinking. The office was on the other side of the wall, only a few feet away. Dean might not be able to enter, but he could get a look, maybe enough recon for Sam to sneak back in after hours, but...
“No, Dean,” Sam hissed in a low tone. “I’m not sending a baby on a spy mission.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Besides, who knows how much dust and bugs and who knows what else is in there?”
“So?” Dean countered.
“So, I won’t let you,” Sam declared decisively.
Dean narrowed his eyes and cocked one eyebrow before heading back over to the small collection of toys. Sam thought that was the end of it until he heard a soft clang. He looked up to see Dean nowhere in sight, the grating off, and a toy, plastic screwdriver left in the culprit’s wake.
Sam shot a glance at the receptionist, but it appeared she hadn’t heard anything. All Sam could do was wait, if he didn’t want to get them busted.
-----
In retrospect, Dean had to admit that the inside of the ventilation shaft was pretty gross, but it wasn’t anything that wouldn’t wash off. He was pretty darn proud of himself for actually managing to access the space behind the grate, but let it never be said he wasn’t resourceful when he put his mind to it!
He was just the right size to crawl easily down the metal tunnel, and he watched carefully for a grate on the opposite side, finally seeing dim light filtering in from the mysterious office.
Dean squinted through the slats of the grate. The office had only one, small window, set high in the far wall, and his distance vision wasn’t that great at the moment. There was a large desk and shelves with legal looking tomes like any stereotypical law office Dean had ever seen in person or on television. There was a large wooden cabinet, more like a wardrobe really, against one wall to the side, and Dean couldn’t see all of it, but he could see enough.
The cabinet was dark wood, intricately carved in a border around the doors. To the untrained eye, it was just a fanciful motif, but to anyone familiar with magic, it was a carefully warded vault.
Dean leaned in to try and get a better look, but his outstretched hand brushed the grate and hidden runes began to glow on the surface, and he felt a jolt like strong static. He backed away quickly, eyes widening as the glow was suddenly doused, and the darkness seemed to take a concentrated from near him. A tendril of darkness swept forward to grab his ankle, but he managed to pull away and scramble back down the shaft as quickly as he could.
He tumbled headlong into the waiting room, thinking only of escaping the blackness behind him.
-----
Sam could only gawk in horror as Dean fell out of the hole in the wall, head over heels, sobbing and shaking. Sam could make out a vague, black form close behind him, but it withdrew from the light of the main room.
He dove forward and scooped Dean into his arms, mumbling some kind of comforting nonsense, he was sure. He could feels Dean’s heart racing in his chest, and his own was no better.
The commotion was enough to draw the receptionist over. “Is everything oka-”
“No,” Sam snapped, “it isn’t.” For the first time, he really understood every mama bear analogy he had ever heard. He almost lost Dean, mostly through his own fault, but he wanted to lash out.
He wanted nothing more than to keep his brother safely bundled in his arms, but he pulled away enough to give him a quick check. There were no obvious injuries, but he was covered in dust and still shaking like a leaf.
The woman looked very confused, but Sam couldn’t be bothered to explain. He stood and headed for the door, only to come face to face with a man on his way inside in a hurry.
“Mr. Bryant?” the receptionist asked. “You’re back early.”
“I...had a feeling I forgot something important.” Sam suspected Bryant had been alerted by some kind of magical alarm.
His eyes flicked from Sam and the filthy Dean to the open grate and back again. He looked horrified and guilty for moment before his eyes widened briefly and then narrowed. He had no idea how it was possible, but Sam was certain Bryant knew they were not in their proper forms.
Sam shoved past the man and hurried back to the motel. By the time they made it into the room, Dean had stopped crying, but he still snuggled close as Sam held him.
“He’s seen both our faces,” Sam mused aloud, “and I’m sure he knows we’re not what we seem. I think we’re going to need help on this one--probably should have asked before now.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when there was the sound of rustling wings and Castiel appeared before them.
“Ah,” he observed with only the slightest outward display of surprise. “Now Dean’s odd prayer makes a bit more sense.”
Sam blinked. “You can still understand him?”
Castiel nodded. “His thoughts are still very much the same, and I can read them, but it’s usually not polite to do so. In this case...”
“It’s an exception,” Sam agreed.
Castiel noted Dean’s continued distress. “I could put him to sleep?” the angel offered, but Dean shook his head.
“I see,” Castiel responded to something Sam, not being a mindreader, couldn’t hear.
“What?”
“Dean wants to share what he saw of the office.”
Castiel helpfully repeated the layout aloud as Dean thought it at him, and they sketched a drawing of the floor plan.
“We’ll want to check his home, too,” Sam mused, “but we definitely have to get into that office and into that cabinet. I’ll also give Charlie a call and see if she can wipe his computers for us.”
“I should have no problem getting inside the office,” Castiel insisted. “Especially if it isn’t warded against angels.”
Sam left the angel and his brother to silently converse about whatever and made the call to Charlie.
“Sure!” had been the redhead’s enthusiastic response. “I can probably even do it remotely, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll wait to switch back until I can see--I’ve been meaning to pay you guys another visit.”
“I make no promises,” Sam replied. If the opportunity for a quick change back presented itself, he was going to jump on it like Dean on a bacon cheeseburger with extra onions.
They waited until evening for Cas to make his move so they could be certain the office was empty.
“Watch out for magical booby traps and alarms,” Sam cautioned as the angel prepared to leave.
“I will return shortly,” Castiel promised, and with a flutter of wings, he was gone.
Dean reached toward Sam in a request to be held, snuggling into Sam’s arms when he complied. The cuddling was an unusual display of affection from his brother, but Sam didn’t say anything about it--he was worried, too. All they could do now was wait.
-----
With a good understanding of the location, Castiel could enter the office without having to bother picking any locks.
He walked quickly up to the cabinet and examined the wards. Bryant appeared to have only used magic aimed at keeping others out on the perimeter of his office. The warding on the cabinet was designed for containing what was inside it.
Castiel opened the doors to reveal shelves of tiny vials in a multitude of colors. Each shelf was labeled on the right front edge. The top shelf was marked “Persuasion,” the one below it was “Memory Alteration,” and the third shelf, almost entirely empty, was marked “Transformation.” Castiel didn’t bother reading any of the other labels, instead holding out his right hand, palm forward and smiting all of the contents to nothing but component atoms.
“You’re not a regular hunter,” a voice behind him observed, and Castiel whirled to see a man standing at the door of the office--Bryant he presumed.
“No,” he answered simply, “I’m not.”
“I don’t suppose it would do me any good to explain?” Bryant sighed resignedly and his shoulders slumped.
Castiel knew the Winchesters, Dean almost certainly, would have probably already shot the witch, but he asked, “You have an explanation?”
“Well, there’s certainly no excuse, is there?” He sighed again and took a seat in the chair at his desk. “I won’t deny that I specialize in potions, and there are a great many I have brewed that I shouldn’t have, but I never intended to use any of the dangerous ones. I use mild ones here and there for my clients, just to smooth the way for their legal means, but I couldn’t resist trying out some of the more complex variations...”
“It would seem your sister couldn’t resist, either.”
“I know.” Bryant truly looked remorseful. “I shouldn’t have trusted her after she asked me for a potion to use against her neighbor, but I thought I had talked her down. Then I had to go out of town for business, and she took advantage.”
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t destroy you anyway?” Castiel asked, beginning to raise his hand again.
“Haven’t I been punished enough? My sister is dead! Besides, I can help your friends. Even though you destroyed my entire potion supply, the universal antidote is a formula I’ve had memorized from the very beginning. I’ll give it to you, if you let me live.”
“How do I know it’s not a bluff?”
Bryant chuckled wryly. “I suspect you’d have little trouble finding me again. I will warn you that it has to steep for twenty-four hours before use, though.”
He grabbed a legal pad and a pen from the desk and wrote down a list of ingredients and other instructions. He offered it to Castiel with a pleading look in his eyes.
The angel pocketed the formula and reached forward, placing two fingers on Bryant’s forehead. He let him live, but he erased all memory of anything to do with potions.
-----
Charlie was practically squealing with glee as Sam let her in and she flew down the stairs to get a look at baby Dean, who was watching “Dr. Sexy, MD” on DVD with Cas.
“He’s adorable!” she cooed. Dean grudgingly allowed her to hold him and give him a hug before he was placed back in Castiel’s lap.
“You’re not bad yourself, Sam,” Charlie added with a grin and a playful punch to the younger brother’s arm. “How long are you still stuck?”
“Just a few more hours, thankfully,” Sam told her. “Not that I have anything against women, but it’ll be nice to be back in my own body.”
Charlie’s hyper joy evaporated suddenly, and she looked at Sam hesitantly. “Hey, Sam, can I ask you something?”
“Um... Sure?” Sam hoped things weren’t about to get even more awkward. Did his female body ooze pheromones or something?
“Can I play with your hair?”
Sam blinked. “What?”
“I mean, I have fun with mine, but it’s not the same as styling someone else’s, and I don’t really have any girl friends that aren’t y’know girlfriends, or in another world, or something.”
Sam glanced over to the couch to see Dean smirking at him, no doubt wishing he could make a comment about someone finally getting to braid his hair. Castiel was still engrossed in the “medical” drama. Sam sighed heavily. “Fine, but you can’t do anything that’ll look weird after I change back.”
“I promise!” She hurried off toward his room, manic grin in place once again.
Sam was still a little hesitant to leave Dean alone right now, but he supposed he had an angel watching over him at the moment.
He still couldn’t wait for this ordeal to be over and done with, but it had certainly been an eye-opening experience he would never forget!
As long as he was letting Charlie play... He hurried down the hall after her, making sure he was out of hearing range from Dean before he asked, “Hey, Charlie? Just in case this kind of situation comes up again, do you think you could explain makeup?”
Charlie just grinned.