SPN Fic: The Path We Choose- (6/?)

[tenoko1]

Title: The Path We Choose

Author: Tenoko1

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Takes place after season five with references through season seven

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Sarah

Summary: They tried once before to defy Chuck’s prophecies and failed, but Dean wouldn’t be a Winchester if he was just willing to accept God’s word as final answer.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Note: Comments are love.

 One l Two l Three l Four l Five

Podfic Master Post
Chapter Six Podfic

Chapter Six

            While waiting for Dean to regain consciousness, Sam had run numerous scenarios through his head as to how his brother would react when realizing his current condition. Bobby had opened the door to the house to see Sam standing their holding the limp female wearing Dean’s clothes and had swore as the air seemed to leave his body. Both Sam and Castiel could only offer sheepish expressions as they came into the house. Luckily, Crowley wasn’t there. Dean would kill Sam if the demon was allowed to see the hunter in such a state.

He’d expected anger and outrage, an all out fit like only Dean could throw. Granted, Dean did get mad, but he quickly accepted that nothing could be done about the condition until they could find Gabbie and have her lift the curse, as apparently, that was her payment. Given the style of the curse and the fact that Dean had been the target while Sam was spared had even made both brothers suspect Gabriel was behind the attack, having once again faked his death. Cas had assured them that it was not Gabriel, that the angel no longer existed. He'd never tell Dean, but Sam was a little disappointed learning that. Gabriel they at least kinda knew, and knew he would eventually give in and return his brother to his true form, instead, they were dealing with a wild card. Joy.

            Learning all this, Dean’s anger had sort of died out and he’d stood in the center of Bobby’s study- sleeves rolled up so he could at least see his own hands, his clothes absolutely swallowing his petite frame- arms folded as he frowned at the carpet beneath his feet. Reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear with slim fingers, he’d faltered, frowning in confusion at his hand as though it had acted on its own.

            Now that he’d accepted the curse, Dean was unable to look at any of them, keeping his head ducked, part of his long hair spilling over his shoulder. Snorting, he turned and moved to leave, pausing to look down at his feet as he stumbled. Pointedly, he reached down to pull his pant legs up and easily stepped right out of his shoes, shaking his head and walking from the room. The three of them watched until he disappeared at the top of the stairs.

            “He just needs some time to get his head around it,” said Sam, not sure if he was assuring the other men or himself. “It’s only temporary. We’ll fix this.”

            Cas fixed him with a serious look. “We need to find Gabriella. Did she say where she was going?”

The taller man shook his head, sinking down into the couch and pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean’s resignation was too much like defeat for Sam’s liking and it made guilt gnaw at him, more so because he knew of no way to help his brother.

            “We do have a more immediate concern given Dean’s current condition,” admitted Bobby, coughing lightly. Sam and Cas both looked up curiously. “Boy needs clothes.”  Groaning in defeat, Sam cradled his head in his hands. He hadn’t even thought of that. “Nothing we have is going to remotely fit him. His own clothes looked like he was wearing a circus tent.”

            “Crap, Bobby, I didn’t even- what are we supposed to do?” He shook his head. “I mean, I guess I could take him shopping, but…” he scratched irritantly at the back of his scalp, rubbing his hand over his jaw and scoffing at the ridiculousness of their lives. “He looks like my little sister now. We are gonna draw some serious attention with neither one of us having a clue what we’re doing yet trying to find him clothes… and under stuff. It’s gonna look creepy.”

            Agreeing, Bobby nodded. Leaning back in his chair, he reached up to adjust his cap thoughtfully. “Well… I might could call Jodie. See if she can pick him up some things or something.”

            Pursing his lips, Sam gave a shake of his head. “Mm. I’m not sure Jodie’s the best person for the job. It would probably embarrass Dean.” An idea dawned and he stood. “But Sarah might work. She’s younger, they would look like sisters out on a shopping trip or something.  She wouldn’t make him talk if he doesn’t want to, and she would get the job done.”

            Upstairs, he paused at the door to Dean’s room, watching as his brother sat listlessly in the center of his bed wearing a rock tee and boxer shorts. Dean wore his scowl of concentration,  the serious expression somewhat ruined by the way his full lips pouted out unconsciously in thought.

“Hey,” greeted Sam. Big green eyes trimmed in thick dark lashes swiveled over to him, head angling in question. “Look, we were talking. If this is what Gabbie meant by ‘payment’, then all that’s left is to find her again, get her to reverse it, and then tell us where Chuck is.”

“Then I gank the bitch.” Dean’s voice had a much softer tone as a girl, not nearly so gruff, but not girly either. Small favors.

Sam smiled at him. “Then we’ll gank the bitch. Meanwhile, she’s not going to be easy to find, it’s probably going to take a few days.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“In which case, we may have to hunt down leads in the process…”

Realization dawned in his brother’s eyes and he gave a nod. “And I’ll need clothes.” Sighing he pushed himself off the bed, bare feet meeting hardwood silently. “Okay. Let’s just go by a second hand store then, find something to fit.”

His little brother shook his head. No way was he going to put his brother through that, trying to find clothes that fit his new form in ill-fitting, stretched out, drier shrunk, and ten years out-of-fashion clothing. Dean was clearly already very uncomfortable in this small form, Sam wasn’t going to make it worse.

“Actually…” When Dean met his gaze, Sam was forced to look down. He couldn’t stand feeling his brother was like this when he’d been right there and should have been able to do something to help. “I thought I would call Sarah.”

Dean blinked with a start, opening his mouth to argue, then faltered, considering. Sam waited. After a moment, Dean nodded his consent. “Yeah, alright. But Bobby and Cas gotta clear out ‘fore she gets here.”

Sam cocked his head to the side, confused. “Why?”

Making an angry sound, Dean pivoted to fully face his brother, splaying his hands out. “Because I look absurd! I wanna look like me again, not like some chick wearing my clothes, man! This shirt comes almost to my knees! I’m weak in this body, and if I can’t fix that yet, I want to at least look like a functioning human being capable of properly dressing themselves! Make the damn call!”

Regardless of how much his brother argued with him, Sam insisted on staying with Dean until Sarah showed up, if only so he could personally thank her for instantly coming when they called. She was adjusting the strap of the back pack she wore as he opened the door, smiling at him then letting her gaze shift inquiringly as she stepped across the threshold.

“Thanks for coming.”

She nodded, sliding the bag off and setting against the wall. “No worries.” Her gaze landed on where the elder Winchester stood leaning back against the doorframe, arms folded tightly, a self-defensive posture. “Hey Dean.” He nodded, pushing away from the wall. Sarah’s green eyes flicked to the man beside her. “Beat it, Sam. Three’s a crowd on this one.”

Chuckling, Sam held up his hands and did as told; exiting through the kitchen to go see what Bobby had gotten up to.

As soon as he was gone, Sarah gave Dean a soft smile. “You look miserable.” Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at her, the tightening of his throat and tell-tale prick behind his eyes infuriating him as he bobbed his head soundlessly.  She made a sound, something soft, and stepped forward to embrace him comfortingly, a hand rubbing his back as he immediately hugged her back to his surprise, feeling an overwhelming sense that this was something he’d been wanting without realizing it. “It’ll be okay. You’ll get through this,” she crooned softly. To his shame, Dean sniffed wetly and nodded silently again.

Separating, she kept a hand on his shoulder while he turned his head away, trying to discreetly run a knuckle under his eyes. “Lesson number one as a girl?” He regarded her curiously to find her smiling at him, understanding on her face. “Our emotions are directly hotwired to our tear ducts, some more so than others. Anger and frustration are more likely to cause tears than being sad ever would, and that goes for anyone. Anger, happiness, and sadness all cause girls to cry, it’s just the way we’re built, we don’t do it intentionally. Get use to it and you’ll have an easier time.”

It made sense. He wasn’t sad so much as frustrated and angry, like she said, and then her hugging him had brought a wash of relief like he didn’t know how to describe, tears instantly welling up in his eyes.

She gave a sharp nod, then stepped back to let her eyes sweep over him, assessing. Wordlessly, she reached out to grip his shirt under his arms, causing it to put tight across his chest, then immediately released him, turning to retrieve her bag.

She held it out to him. “Jogging suit, socks, shoes, panties, and two different bras. One regular, one sports. Take your pick.” When he took the bag, she maneuvered him around and shoved him toward the downstairs bathroom. “Go get changed.”

Later, she gave him a satisfied nod when he’d glanced at her uncertainly, tugging at the hem of his shirt self-consciously. Digging a hair brush and a ponytail holder out of one of the bag’s pockets, she turned him around again and made quick work of running the brush through his long hair and then sweeping it up into a loose, off center pony tail so that it fell over his shoulder. She even took a lock of hair and wrapped it around the elastic band, securing it with a bobby pin.

Her shoes were actually too big on his feet, but he didn’t say anything. They were a size eight, pretty normal. He just had tiny feet now. He hated it.

He didn’t say anything to her again until they were shopping for clothes. Sarah was the only one doing any real shopping, Dean idly pushed clothes around on the racks not knowing what in God’s name he was doing or what he was looking for. Sarah did, though, and he let her work, watching as she occasionally held something out toward him like she were visualizing it on him, then she’d either add it to the clothes in the buggy or discard it.

“How did you know your clothes would fit me?” questioned Dean, glancing at her across the rack.

She pulled another shirt out and added it to the growing pile. “I took what you looked like as a guy, your build and proportion in comparison to other men, then I just pictured you in the exact same equivalent as a girl. That would make you my size or thereabout.”

“Or thereabout,” grumbled the hunter. Her clothes were a little too big, a little too long, and that wasn’t saying anything at all against Sarah’s size or shape. She had a cute, fit body. Dean was just smaller, like he was her little sister, forget he was older than she was. He hated it.

Smiling reassuringly, she grabbed one last shirt and maneuvered them over to the dressing room. Whenever Dean had wanted an insider’s look in the ladies’ dressing room, this was not what he’d had in mind.

God love Sarah, though, because the clothes she picked out she’d done taking his previous wardrobe and personality into account. It was the same except for girls. T-shirts were traded for camisoles and paired with plaid shirts that followed the curves of his new body. At one point, he looked in the mirror and realized it looked as though he’d raided Jo’s closet. The thought made him sick for different reasons. One which wasn’t directly related to his current problem, just that were she still alive, it would probably be her or Ellen helping him shop for clothes for until they found a cure, that or either Jo would just loan him some of hers.

He would admit he looked cute, like what he imagined his and Sam’s little sister would look like if they had one, reminding him that their mother had wanted a daughter and never got the chance. Look at me now, he thought sourly. He’d left a life in suburbia with Lisa and Ben for this?

When they got back to Bobby’s, bags in hand, both he and Sarah stopped as all three men stopped what they were doing to look up.

“Stop staring,” barked Dean, except it didn’t sound gruff and harsh like he wanted. It didn’t sound like a growl, in fact, was a pitch higher than his new speaking voice. Angry he turned to take his bags upstairs, hearing Sarah behind him.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook from our work out, Sam Winchester. Your butt is mine now, why aren’t you dressed?  I don’t have all day.”

Despite the past twenty-four hours, Dean allowed himself a smirk. Yep, Sammy definitely needed to marry that girl.

He blinked in surprise when he turned the corner into the room he was using to see Cas standing in the corner.

“You could have just walked up the stairs after me,” he groused, setting the bags on the bed and pulling each item out to rip the tags off of so he could wash them. He’d wait till Cas left before he started in on the undergarments. It would be too bizarre on top of mortifying.

The angel dared venture a step forward. “Dean. I wanted to apologize.”

“Saw that coming.”

“As your parabatai, I should have been with you. The way it is, I didn’t even attempt to protect you. I failed you and I’m sorry.”

Arching a brow, Dean glanced at him, actually smirking in amusement at the angel’s distress. “Dude. You can’t be with me every minute of every day. It would get awkward. Not to mention- wait. You called me parabatai?”

“It means-“

“I know what it means. Latin for ‘brothers in arms, a pair of warriors with an incomparable bond, closer than brothers’.” He turned to face the angel. “That’s the sigil you put on me? Marked me as your parabatai?”

Glancing away, Cas gave a shrug, such a human response it made the hunter smile. “That is the closest word in the human language for it, but even still does not fully cover the layers of meaning. Most of the meaning cannot be vocalized. Saying parabatai is better than simply calling you mine because there is no word to be used.” He shook his head, snapping those blue eyes back to where Dean stood wearing the new clothes Sarah had bought for him, jeans and green plaid shirt over a white lace camisole. “I should have been with you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and returned back to removing clothes and popping tags. “Don’t be dumb, Cas. Sam was there and it still happened and it wasn’t his fault either. I’m not hurt, just inconvenienced, so it’s not a tragedy, yet. You can’t blame yourself for everything that ever happens to me, that’s a ridiculous self-expectation. We’re cool.”

“But-“

“Dude.” He turned his head to glare at the angel. “We’re cool. Drop it.”

The other man nodded, moving to leave. Though Dean’s back was to him, in his mind’s eye he could see Cas falter even as he heard the pause in step, saw the way Cas looked at him, mouth opened like he wanted to say something else, then shut it and raised a hand, letting it hover indecisively over Dean’s shoulder. Dean couldn’t see him, but he knew the mental image was taking place regardless.

“You can,” he said softly just as the angel’s hand began to fall away. The other man blinked with a start, realization dawning. He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving away and walking from the room. To his surprise, Dean missed the touch the moment it was gone, the heat and comfort of it searing through him, and leaving him cold in its absence.

The realization made him blush furiously, causing him to hate his female body more than ever. It was too damn responsive.

----

As a gag gift, Sarah had shown up a few days later with a bag full of black and white comic volumes for Dean. Something she called ‘manga’. They all looked like the same title, just various volumes. She’d grinned and winked at him, saying she thought he’d be able to appreciate the story more than most and it might give him a few ideas how to use his female body to his advantage.

Dean could totally sympathize with Ranma Saotome. At least Dean’s life had been crazy enough that genderswitching wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him. Reading the manga had addressed several issues Dean had already noticed for himself with some disdain. Like his arms and legs were shorter. It almost felt like something was wrong with his depth perception; he’d swatted at Sammy in annoyance one morning, but the only thing that happened was that the tips of Dean’s nails barely brushed the hunter’s arm, forget actually making contact.

He knew they noticed. He knew they noticed every time he had to climb on the counters to get something out of the cabinets or had to stand on a stack of books to get a book of the top shelf. One of them offered to help when Dean couldn’t get the lid off a jar in the fridge, earning them a furious glare for what he saw as practical blasphemy. Being a girl didn’t take away his male pride. Girls were raised that if they couldn’t do something, they could hand it off without it being thought twice of. Dean didn’t know how to do that and would be damned before he’d allow himself to.

Every time one of them offered to help him all they got for their efforts was a glare and furious snarl.

They’d stopped staring at him for the most part, having gotten use to his new appearance, but that didn’t mean any of his sudden self-awareness and self-conscious insecurity had diminished. Which was stupid. Dean Winchester was not insecure. Except for in this body. Maybe because he knew they had every reason to stare: he was a guy in a girl body for starters. Second, the body was so unfamiliar to him; he couldn’t maneuver it like he did in his old body, had to learn how to make this body move and do the way he wanted it to. And his depth perception was all off. He would think he was either closer to something and miss it completely or the opposite would happen and he’d end up tripping horribly.

Just when he was beginning to relax into this new body he was currently stuck with, he ended up embarrassing himself by tripping on the edge of the rug, the only thing keeping him from landing hard on the floor was Cas’ firm arm catching him around the waist, then righting him again.

Sam had tried to tease him about it, called him clumsy and blonde. Furious, Dean had pointed at his brother, opening his mouth to let the verbal whiplash fly… and stopped. He could feel himself trembling with anger and humiliation, his eyes pricking with tears, reminding him of what Sarah had said that first day about emotions being hotwired to his tear ducts and that he would have to relearn to control it and never would fully be able to. To make it even worse, he was hyperly aware of the heat rolling off Cas’ body, the solid presence by his side, not quite touching him. The hint of cologne that never faded.

Clamping his mouth shut, Dean straighten, swallowing thickly and trying desperately to get all the rage and frustration and disappointment and aggravation under control before he burst into tears. Apparently, it showed on his face, because Sam’s face shifted like Dean had punched him in the stomach. Whirling, Dean turned and stormed off, fighting to not break into a run and actually flee until after he’d gotten outside.

To his credit, he didn’t start to cry until after he’d made it to the warehouse and slammed the door shut behind him, backing away from it like he was expecting it to be ripped open at any moment. When no one followed him and the silence settled in heavily around him, his wall became to splitter and crumbled. His mounting frustration and anger bubbled over in a sob as he sunk to the dirt floor, one hand finding purchase in his hair, the other covering his mouth as if to hold back to tears.

This was not what he’d wanted. Yes, he’d wanted back into the hunter life, back into the crazy, violent, unpredictable world that would probably land him in an early grave, yet he called it home. He did not, however, want to do it trapped in this body. He didn’t want to have others having to protect him, dammit. It was his job to look after Sam, was one of the few things he did with great pride.

He wanted to help, to do his job, he wanted to be a valuable part of the team, not a liability or a distraction. He didn’t want them worried about him, regardless of the fact he was worried about them. In Dean’s mind, that was his calling, his purpose, all roads leading to the same place. How could he protect those he cared about and loved more than anything else when he couldn’t even safely walk across the room under his own power or throw a punch at his brother and make purchase?

“This is so frustrating!” he raged, slamming his fists down on the compact dirt as the last of his tears subsided, exhaustion sweeping in to take its place.

Dude, never again would he hold it against a girl that she was moody. They damn well couldn’t freaking help it. He felt like he had MPD or like somebody else was calling the shots on his body besides him, because this constant insecurity was the worst. It was miserable feeling like everyone was always watching you, putting on a fake smile that everything would be alright when damn well knew yourself that if the problem didn’t get fixed you were seriously humped.

It was part of the reason he couldn’t meet Castiel’s gaze. Probably the reason Cas couldn’t seem to meet his either. The angel had put his faith in Dean- The Righteous Man, the man that would defy Heaven and Hell and march out on his own to protect the planet and the right to free will, the man that held his own in a fight against any manner of creature that walked or haunted the earth. It felt like he’d let him down by having gotten himself into this mess.

It gave him a new appreciation for how Bobby must have felt when he was suddenly restricted to a chair.

Dean just didn’t know how he was suppose to do the one thing he knew he was good at, the one thing he felt called to do, if other people were going to have to constantly be looking out for him instead. It wasn’t misogynistic, it was basic biology. Girls were smaller, more fragile, and lacked the physical strength of a man. That put him on the back seat as a bench warmer. Dean Winchester was no fraggin bench warmer.

The side door opened softly, Sam stepping into the warehouse and shutting it behind him. “Dean?”

Refusing to look up- he knew he probably had tear tracks all down his face- Dean idly doodled sigils in the dirt with his finger. “Go away, Sam.” His voice sounded flat and tired. Weary.

“No.” The elder brother scoffed, not the least bit surprised, but wishing for once Sam would not do the helpful thing in this instance. Instead, the towering male lowered himself into a sitting position in front of his brother. “Look, I get this is hard on you-“

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Sam.”

“And I can understand that you are frustrated-“

“Drop it, Sammy.”

“But this is temporary, Dean. We’ll find a way to fix it-“

Dean launched himself forward, catching them both off guard, and end up pining his little brother to the ground and straddling him. “Shut. Up.” He heard the threat of tears in his own voice again and rebelled wildly against it, lashing out verbally instead. “You think you understand? You think you know about frustration? I feel like I am losing my mind in this body, Sam! I have no control over my emotions, my moods, or hell, even my own body! I feel like everyone is judging me for having gotten myself in this mess, that they’re thinking of all the ways I’ll bring the team down, give us a weak spot, put us at a disadvantage! That’s the people that love me! What about the people that want me dead, because they are no shortage in number, let me tell you! I feel like the target sign on all of us just got that much bigger and I can’t do my job as your brother and protect you like this! Cas made me his parabatai, but how am I suppose to watch his back when even a damn area rug sends me sprawling? What if I’m stuck like this? What if we can’t find Gabriella; she’s not exactly going to want to be found. What then? I live like this from now on?” He jerked Sam forward by his shirt and slammed him back down, practically shouting now. “Now tell me you know about my frustration!”

Soft sobs escaped Dean and he covered his face with his hands in shame. “And Sarah was right,” he sniffed, voice muffled. “Being pissed off is hotwired to my eyes and I can’t control it. Girls aren’t crazy; they just can’t help it.”

“Dean…”

“No!” snapped Dean, lowering his hands to glare furiously at his brother. Tears hung thickly on the ends of his lashes. “Do not take that tone of voice with me! Don’t you dare! I am not a chick, dude, don’t you dare treat me like one or I will stick my size six shoes so far up your ass you choke on them!”

Chuckling lightly even in the face of his brother’s anger, Sam smirked, honest eyes locking with his brother’s. “Dude. I’m not treating you like a chick. I’m treating you like my brother. My brother who is backed into a corner and seriously freaking out about it. Now get off of me and let’s talk.”

Removing himself from his sibling, Dean scuttled backward into his previous spot, sitting with his legs drawn up and elbows resting on his knees, fingers hanging and interlaced. “Talk, then.”

The taller male pushed himself back up into a sitting position with a sigh, folding his legs as he regarded his brother.

“I don’t know how to fight against you, either,” he said finally. The other hunter blinked in surprise. “Think about it, Dean. We’ve never had to fight against girls before and the two that we did kicked our asses embarrassingly fast. We both stood toe to toe with the Devil and never backed down, but a single look from Ellen Harvelle could have us back up into a wall stammering. We underestimate girls because of their gender and because there aren’t very many female hunters, but you and I both know Jo could have kicked our asses any day of the week had she chosen to.”

Snorting, Dean nodded with a fond smile, thinking of the first time he’d met the blonde. Good times.

Sam continued, head angled to the side as he regarded his brother, “I figure it’s like me having to relearn to use my body all over again; you’ll have to relearn yours for the time you’re stuck like this. You can start by training with me every day and doing Tai Chi to learn control, then we’ll move up to sparring. This body is smaller and with your reflexes, probably inhumanly fast. I can’t hurt you if I can’t even hit you, now can I? And I can’t keep you from taking me out if I can’t even get ahold of you. It’s just about adjusting your game plan to the cards in your hand, Dean, but we’ll get through this and it will be okay, I promise.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Dean finally consented, dropping his gaze to nod in agreement. “Yeah, okay.”

Sam nodded. “Good. So we’ll start in the morning, then.” Dean nodded. His little brother glanced around before his face twisted into confusion and he regarded Dean again. “Cas made you his parabatai?”

Chapter Seven