So Into You

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: Slash/NC-17 for violence

Year/Length: 2009/ ~8275 words

Pairing: Sam and Dean

Disclaimer: No profit was made off this. The characters belong the originators of Supernatural. Was all in pure fun.

Summary: Sam and Dean switch bodies by accident but it will take a while to get them back. Meanwhile, Bobby, Sam and Dean must conduct a spell to put the spirits of a small town to rest.

Beta: marys_scribbles

Driving into big cities was not one of Dean's favorite things. Traffic jams were enough to drive him almost past road rage, because it was stop and go, stop then go. Wait, and then stop and go all over again. People didn't seem to know how to use the lanes. People talked on their phones, paying more attention to their conversations than what was happening on the road around them. That's why it was Sam Winchester who was behind the wheel of Dean's precious Impala as they drove into Houston.

Sam had taken the Tollway around the City, avoiding most of the traffic, although Dean had grumbled repeatedly about the cost, merely answering that it was better than sitting in traffic. Sadly the traffic they had managed to avoid before suddenly became a fact of life as Sam got off the toll road at Westheimer and started the long drive into the Montrose area.

Dean was taking in the landscape, looking around himself at the City. The place was a mess, broken trees everywhere. "What the hell happened here?" he wondered. "Is the City falling apart?"

"Dude, do you even watch the news? Houston recently went through a hurricane. They lost power for nearly three weeks. Galveston was devastated," Sam answered.

Dean looked at his brother, suddenly worried. "Is the Space Center okay? NASA?" He remembered going there although he knew that Sam didn't.

"What?" Sam looked confused at him.

"Never mind. How long till we get to this magic shop?" Dean shifted in his seat.

"Not long."

Another hour passed, sitting at lights, stop-and-not-going traffic before Sam maneuvered the big car down narrowing streets, turned down what looked like an alleyway and stopped the car. Parking it in a secluded spot, the two of them got out. Dean held a small bag of chips as they walked around the building to the front. "Magic and Wonders." Dean shook his head, "Could have been more original." He walked in, followed by Sam, shoving another chip into his mouth as he went. "Bobby said he knew the owner?"

"Yeah. He said she was an old friend, and would have everything he needed on the shelf." Sam scratched his head. "Margot... he said her name was Margot. I wonder if she's one of Bobby's old flames."

The store front was narrow and had a display of crystals, dragons egg sculptures and other 'new age' paraphernalia in the window. Sam frowned. "Jeez, dude, I hope the inside is a bit more promising than this."

Dean made a face at the dragon eggs. He wiped his hand on his jeans and pulled open the door. The smell that struck him made his eyes water and his throat close up. "Guess not." Incense was heavy in the air. Dean passed some more crystals, remembering how the crystal their mom had given them turned into the tattoos they'd had. He frowned as the memory stirred inside him, making him wish for things that were better forgotten.

"I thought you were into that whole crystal thing?" Dean said as he went up to the counter, digging into his bag of chips and chomping on another.

"Those things will clog your arteries or worse," a woman murmured, stepping forward from the shadows. She appeared to be in her late thirties, and she wore jeans and a tight tee shirt. Her hair was curly and her eye makeup heavy. She had tattoos on her arms and an eyebrow piercing, but what got Dean's attention was the pair of clear blue eyes that seemed to stand out in her otherwise unremarkable face.

"Or worse?" he asked, leaning on the counter.

"Yeah. Could kill ya," she smiled. "What can I do for you? Love potion? Piercing?" She looked at Sam, "You'd look hot with a couple of piercings."

"I don't think so, not today, thank you," said Sam, politely. "Actually, we're here to pick up some stuff for Bobby Singer. He said that you were the only one that would actually have this shit in stock." He fumbled in his pocket and handed her a list that had been handwritten in Bobby's careful script.

"Bobby Singer? There's a name I haven't heard for a while." The woman smiled as she took the paper from Sam's hand. "How is that old rascal?" Unfolding the paper, she glanced down the list, and her eyebrows shot up. "I can see why he didn't just go to the local Wiccan store. This is heavy stuff right here. What on earth is he trying to achieve? There's enough stuff here to lay a battlefield to rest."

"Something like that," Sam nodded, and she laughed.

"Trust Bobby," she said. "Okay, boys, make yourselves at home. I'm going to have to go weigh some of this out. I'll be back as soon as I can." Turning, she went through a door at the back of the counter and was lost to sight.

Dean munched away as the other two spoke together. He turned, still leaning against the counter and saw a girl at the window looking in. She was a cute thing with blonde curly hair, and perky breasts. She was with a couple of other girls, all of them laughing and pointing at the dragon eggs. He made eye contact and winked at her, giving her his usual charming smile before reaching in the bag and getting another chip.

As he was putting it into his mouth and chewing, the girl grabbed her top, lifted it up and showed him her all too perfect breasts. Moments later she was gone, laughing and running away with her girlfriends, but the sight of those breasts had Dean choking on his chip.

He started to cough again and again, his face turning red, and he turned around, desperately trying to stop. Looking around himself for something to drink, he spotted something on the counter that looked like a coke. Grabbing for the glass, he drank it down, still coughing.

Sam had been studying some of the books that were in the locked glass cabinet to the left of the counter, and for a moment it didn't register that Dean was choking. When he heard Dean suddenly start to cough, he turned around, worried. Dean was turning blue, and Sam instantly grabbed at his shoulders to spin him around and perform the Heimlich maneuver.

What happened then was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. The world seemed to fade, and it felt as if his entire body twisted. He felt Dean slipping to the ground, and as everything swam before his eyes, he followed his brother down, blacking out.

Dean blinked as he started to wake, his vision blurred as he opened his eyes. Something didn't feel right, and he hoped he hadn't wet his pants or something. He felt a heavy weight - a body - pressing him down, and he started to push. "Get off me, you big lug."

Then he stopped. Oh, god, something was so not right. Dean could see his own hand, and the first thing he noticed was that it was way too big. Not only that, but he didn't seem to be wearing his ring or his skull bracelet.

He could feel hair in his eyes. Sitting up and brushing it back, he realized right then what had happened. He turned his head, catching his reflection in the case, and even though he had deduced what had transpired, he had to blink when he saw Sam's face reflected there rather than his own. "Oh shit!"

Sam came round a little after Dean, and the first thing he noticed was the fact that, somehow, he was looking at himself.

"Dude?" he murmured. "Please tell me I didn't fall into the mirror universe and am face to face with the evil version of me." He scratched his head, then grabbed. "Oh, fuck! My hair! My voice! What's happened to me? Why am I over there? Dean?" The last words were spoken in a voice that steadily rose in volume until he was almost yelling. "Dean?" he said again, trying to get himself under control and failing miserably.

"Don't wet my pants!" Dean smacked... well actually he smacked himself, although it was Sam in there. "We didn't fall into a mirror you boob." He pushed himself up, up, and up some more. He hadn't really realized just how tall Sam was until now. He looked at his hands, turning them over then over, frowning as Sam got up.

Margot chose that moment to emerge from the back room, looking slightly annoyed. "What was all the noise out here? You two were horsing around, weren't you?"

"What the hell was in that glass?" Dean asked, holding it up.

She looked at it, then at him. "Don't tell me. Let me guess. You drank it, and now you're in there, and he's in here, am I right?" She pointed to each of them in turn as she spoke and tried to suppress the grin that was forming on her face.

"Well, duh!" Dean frowned at her, irritated. Hey, he got to use the pissy Sammy look. So that rocked.

"I was gonna give it to a dickwad client of mine who's been after me for a love potion for sex." She sighed. "It's a swapping spell."

"Well whip something up to switch us back," Dean said, using Sam's voice and rather liking the way it sounded when he was cranky.

"Not that easy, gonna take a while." Margot crossed her arms and grinned. "That's what you get for drinking unidentified liquids."

"I was choking..." Dean was on the defensive now, trying to justify his actions

She held up her hand, "Look, gonna take a while like I said. Come back in a couple of days or you can wait a month till it wears off."

"A MONTH?" Dean exclaimed.

"You've got to be kidding me." Sam had turned pale. "He's so short. I can't even stand the way I have to keep craning my neck to see him."

"Sorry, boys." Margot was trying her hardest not to laugh, but failing miserably as her lips twitched willfully. "Magic takes time, and that was one powerful mojo you just ingested. I'll have to find a recipe for an antidote that doesn't actually involve the taking of a life, too, or you won't be happy."

"You're not serious." Sam looked even more horrified, if that were possible. "Yeah, we don't want any blood spilling to get us back."

Dean looked down at his brother and smirked, for the moment rather enjoying the additional inches. "Now you know my pain. Just don't break anything in my body while you're wearing it. Girls depend on that body for all kinds of things." He looked back at Margot. "Look, just do it as fast as you can, please." He reached over to where Sam was standing and dug in his pocket, pulling his phone out and jotting the number down on a piece of paper. "My cell. Call us the moment you have any news for us, please."

"Sure thing, boys," she smirked. She handed them the bag of stuff Bobby wanted. "Here, and good luck explaining this to Bobby."

Dean gave her one of Sam's most irritated looks, grabbed the bag and held out his hand to Sam. "Keys! I may be in your body but it's still my car."

Grumpily, Sam fumbled for the pocket in his jeans where he would normally keep his keys, and found that they weren't there. "Dude, where the hell do you keep your keys? Up your ass?" he grumbled. Dean indicated the inside pocket of the battered leather jacket his brother was wearing in his place. Still grumpy, Sam fumbled for them and tossed them over to Dean. "And I don't want to wear this damned jacket. It smells like a long-dead goat."

Dean rolled his eyes and tore off the jacket he was wearing, holding it out to switch with Sam. "You are so prissy." He brushed his hair back from his eyes, "And how do you stand all this hair in your face?"

He climbed into his car, bumping his head as he miscalculated the move and making a sound of great frustration as he sat and rubbed the bruise. "Sorry," he grunted at his brother and started the car.

Parking the Impala outside their hotel room, they spotted Bobby's car in the next space, telling them that the older hunter had finally arrived. Dean just hoped he'd brought a bottle of something with him, because he really could use a drink. Climbing out of the car he bumped his head again, cursed and slammed the door, then felt bad and quickly apologized. "Sorry, baby," he murmured. "It's not your fault my brother's the size of a small European nation."

Walking into the room, Dean called out, "Honey, we're home," as he dropped the bag filled with Bobby's herbs and talismans onto the small table that stood beside the window.

There was a pause, and Bobby emerged from the bathroom. "You're sounding happy today," he said to Dean, grinning a greeting.

Dean glanced over to his brother, in his body, "Not so much so. We had a little, ummm, issue at the shop."

"Oh? She hit on Dean?" Bobby chuckled as he went over to peer into the bag. "Or you?"

"No. More like... I accidentally drank a potion," Dean mumbled, hanging his head.

Bobby looked at Dean or at least the man that he thought was Dean. "Dean, you let him?"

"I said it was accidentally," Dean tried to defend himself.

"You did what?" Bobby came up to standing, eyes wild as he processed the statement. "Sam, what did you drink? That's not the kind of thing I'd expect from you, it's the sort of thing your brother would do."

"It is the sort of thing my brother would do," said Sam, stomping in behind Dean. "He did, and now I'm him, and he's me, and he's going to end up giving me some nasty germ the next time he hooks up with some frisky barfly."

Bobby looked between them then reached up and smacked Dean on the back of the head. "You idjit."

"Ow!" Dean rubbed his head, looking as if he was being persecuted.

Bobby looked over at Sam. "Sorry. That felt strange, smacking you. Dean, why the hell did you do it? What did she say?"

"I was choking on a chip, I thought it was coke..."

Bobby groaned.

"He was doing what he usually does," snarled Sam, running his fingers through Dean's spiky locks. "Goddammit, dude, my neck's cold."

"Yeah, well maybe it'll convince you to get that mop of yours cut," snickered Bobby. "Now that'd be a fine thing to see." He turned away as he reached for the bag full of herbs and other items that the brothers had brought for him. "You got everything?" he asked. "Great. We'll be able to do the ceremony later, when the moon rises."

An evil grin suddenly spread over Dean's face. "Want me to go out and get a haircut real quick?" He looked over at Sam, grinning. Of course, his grin didn't look the way he wanted. His eyes were bright and innocently playful rather than wickedly teasing, and as he caught sight of himself in the mirror beside the door, he allowed the expression to lapse, vowing to work on it if he had to be in this body for any length of time.

"You do that," grinned Sam, looking over at his brother to gauge his sincerity. "Why don't I come with you? I've always wanted to get my dick pierced. It's supposed to enhance sensation amazingly."

"Oh funny," Dean gave his brother a look that would blister paint. "Do that, and I'll kick your ass. When I get my body back that is. You damage me, and I'll damage you later."

"Boys, enough, you're creeping me out. Did she say if she can reverse it?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, give her a few days, she said... or we can wait a month." Dean sat down, clearly frustrated.

"You know, even if you don't enjoy it, maybe it'll teach you tolerance." Bobby was still snickering. "Now settle down, willya? I'm thinking your co-ordination is gonna be completely messed up by this body change thing. You guys are going to need to train to get used to things, because otherwise you're gonna be a danger to yourself and others."

Sam nodded anxiously. "He already smacked my head on the car... twice," he said.

"It's because you are so freakishly tall," Dean complained. "I've got a headache, too."

"Poor baby!" Bobby rolled his eyes, "Aspirins are in the bag there. And that's exactly what I mean when I say that you two are gonna be uncoordinated. You're gonna be tripping over each other."

"We can handle this, Bobby; it's only for a while. We'll get the job done then go see her." Dean protested, stretching his legs out.

"That's what I'm saying, Dean. You can't handle it well enough." Bobby pushed his hat to the back of his head as he studied Dean's forehead. "Your coordination is gonna be shot to hell and gone, and you're gonna stumble, get in the way and likely get one of us killed if it comes to a fight. Get your sweats on. I think it's time to do a little sparring."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam looked outraged. "Just because I'm wearing Dean's body doesn't mean I don't know how to fight." He rose from his seat angrily and promptly fell over his own feet, measuring his length on the rug. "Goddammit, Dean, why d'you have to be so damned short?"

"Hey, I'm average height, like normal people," Dean got up. He went over and grabbed Sam's bag, rooting through it to find a pair of sweats. "I think it's ridiculous as well, Sam, but clearly nothing's gonna happen 'til Bobby gets his way. And I for one am not gonna argue with him." He pulled Sam's shirts off to pull the tee shirt over. He thought, this might be a good time to get Sam some good fitting clothing.

Sam had made for the same duffel bag, feeling outraged for a moment as Dean rooted through his stuff, before suddenly realizing that he'd forgotten the predicament he was in. Sighing morosely, he went to Dean's stuff and pulled out a ratty pair of sweats and a T-shirt that had seen better days.

"Dude, these things are way past their sell-by date. Why d'you keep them around?" The T-shirt fitted his brawny form snugly, and Sam, used to baggy layers, wondered if Dean actually enjoyed being strangled by his clothing. "Okay, Bobby, it's your show. What do you want us to do?"

Dean was tying his shoes when he stood back up, "Dude, my clothing is perfectly fine. They are functional. I go for wearability. No metrosexual look for me." He turned to Bobby, "Okay, like he said, what is up?"

"Your reach is different, boys. You're gonna miss what you want to hit, and that isn't a good thing. C'mere, Dean. Let me show you what I mean." Bobby rose to his feet and went to stand in the center of the room. "Go on, take a swing at me."

Dean hesitated a moment, "C'mon, Bobby, I can't hit you. You know that." He gave the man a look and winced when he saw Bobby was serious. Dean cringed but, of course, it was a Sammy cringe, so it looked cute when he swung at the man and overreached, paying for it when Bobby grabbed his arm and threw him to the floor. "FUDGE!" Dean landed on his back and looked up at them, frustrated.

"See what I'm talking about?" asked Bobby, just as Sam peered down at Dean with a smirk on his face.

"Dude, you said 'fudge'. What the hell is fudge?" He started to chuckle, but lost his grin when Bobby turned on him.

"Sam, you're no better." Bobby eyed Dean's compact body doubtfully. "You're gonna come up short and not give it your best, and the person you hit is gonna get right back up and kill you."

Dean looked up at Sam grouchily. "And you better not get my body killed, you fudge brownie." He grabbed at Sam, jerking him to the floor, wrapping his legs around him and pinning him.

"I won't get your body killed, man. I happen to like your body." Sam smirked, and tried to flip Dean, totally misjudging the amount of leverage necessary and falling on his face with a growl of frustration. "How the hell do you even manage to do anything with it?' he asked, flopping onto his back.

Dean smirked, using that 'ha, got you this time' look Sam sometimes gave to him, usually when his intelligence was on display. "It's because I'm just that good." Dean crawled across to straddle his own body, successfully pinning Sam down, and in a way, showing his brother just how intimidating his own body could be.

"Get off me, you freakin' sasquatch," growled Sam, looking up at himself. "You're too heavy, and you haven't learned how to favor the poor unsuspecting person you're sitting on. And for heavens' sake, will you quit flaring your nostrils at me. I don't wanna see every booger you possess."

Bobby laughed. "Now you see what I was talking about?"

Dean leaned down to Sam, "It's your nostrils, and your freakish body. And if any boogers land on you, they are yours too. And, personally, now you know how I feel." Dean rolled off him and looked over at Bobby. Of the two brothers, Dean was going to be the fastest to adapt. He'd always had that knack, even when he was a kid. Sam had been a clumsy kid for a while, until he'd gotten used to his body and become accustomed to his growth spurt.

"Okay, so you made your point. But really, Bobby," Dean sat on the floor, one arm resting on his knee. "I'm not sure we have time to do this. We really need to get out there and get this spell going soon. I read in the paper this morning about another death - another guilt-ridden person spooked by a long lost love."

Frowning, Bobby nodded. "I hate it, but you're right. We can't let it keep killing folk; we don't have much time if we don't want to let it make another kill. I guess we can go take the thing out, but you two will have to stay back if there's any action. I can't let you put yourselves in danger."

"Bobby, we put ourselves in danger every day. Just tell us what you want us to do, and we'll make sure that we don't screw up." Sam rolled Dean's body to its feet, and, if he stumbled a little getting up, nobody was going to comment.

Dean pushed himself up to his feet, too. "Bobby, that's why they make guns." He smiled at Bobby and wiggled his eyebrows, but it didn't have the same effect as it would have done in his own body. Unlike Dean, Sam was really not the gun-loving type. "Don't make me whip out these puppy dog eyes!"

Giving a crack of laughter, Bobby reached to clip Dean around the back of the head. "Man, I'd know that was you in there even if you hadn't told me," he said, still grinning.

Dean rubbed the back of his head. He made a face at Bobby. "Okay, so what do we need to do?" Dean asked as he made his way over to sit down beside Sam, studying him with raised eyebrows.

"It's a ritual," said Bobby. "Something has brought the spirits back to the cemetery and tied them to their bodies, which means we have to lay them to rest. Not only that, but we have to draw the one that cast the spell to do this back to the cemetery so we can deal with him - or her."

"So how do you want us to do that?" Sam was looking intrigued.

"You got the herbs and stuff. We have to surround the whole place with salt, mercury, and the mix that you brought back for me. Then we have to go in and light the special candles you brought back and read the exorcism. After that, we find a suitable grave and set a calling spell on it. You don't need to worry about that; I'll take care of it."

Dean frowned at Bobby, "You know, nothing is ever that easy. You seen that place? We'll need a hell of a lot of salt and mercury. I mean, it's huge. And with the recent hurricane that went through, are we even gonna get lucky and find the thing that did this?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Bobby. “We've got enough salt. The mercury needs to go at certain points around the place, and there's plenty of the mix. We should get going if we want to be prepared before dark.

Dean rose to his feet. "Okay, well, let's get going then." He fished the keys out of his jacket and made for the car as the other two gathered together what they needed. The drive didn't take long. Dean had made sure to bring flowers to make it look as though they were visiting a grave. Going back to the rear of the cemetery in the hopes that they wouldn't be noticed, they scouted around. Salting the back was going to be easy, but the front was right out in the midst of the traffic, and traffic here never seemed to die.

Dean pulled a bag of herbs out. "This is so not gonna be easy."

"It never is," growled Sam, producing his own bag of salt and starting to distribute the grains around the perimeter of the graveyard.

The ground was uneven, and it was covered in debris from the recent storm. Sam found himself clambering over a fallen tree, and having to retrace his steps a dozen or more times to refill his reservoir with salt.

Bobby circled the place, following behind Dean, setting little cups of mercury down at intervals and inscribing complicated symbols onto the ground around each cup. By the time they were done the dusk was coming down, and their faces glimmered pale in the slowly fading light. Sam caught sight of himself as Dean came towards him, and felt an unexpected pang of loneliness. He knew he looked okay, but Dean was so much more beautiful to his eyes. Now he was in Dean's body and no longer got to see the jaunty strut, the smile, or the frown and the lustrous eyes of his handsome brother. He missed that sight more with each passing minute.

When Bobby finally returned to them, there was no mercury and none of the herb mix left, and only a tiny amount of the salt. "I think that does it 'til full dark, guys. I made some sandwiches for us, if you wanna eat."

"Man," Dean wiped the sweat from his brow, "I could eat." He glanced over to his brother and found it strange to be looking at himself. He was only used to seeing himself in a mirror. He noticed the slightly melancholy look on the face Sam was wearing, and he frowned, wondering why his brother had that look. Sam couldn't hide his expressions as well as he could.

Dean felt his lips twitch in a smile designed to make Sam feel better. "C'mon, you need to put food into me."

Watching as Dean inspected the food Bobby had brought, Sam felt his body aching from the unaccustomed need to climb over stuff he'd normally have stepped over or even jumped. He knew that Dean was fit, but he had to admit Bobby was right, and he just wasn't used to this body. He went to see what kind of sandwiches there were and ended up with a salami and cheese one that smelled strongly of garlic. Dean's taste buds were salivating, and he wondered just how Dean would enjoy food while riding in his body. For whatever reason, everything smelled so much better in Dean's, and when he bit into the sandwich, the flavors exploded on his tongue, so that he moaned softly in pleasure.

Dean found himself disappointed in his selection, and he hated it. He wanted that sandwich Sam had but the body he was in didn't want anything to do with it. Dean picked through the food and finally found one that looked all right. Tuna. He took hold of it and sat down on the hood of the car to eat. Damn but he was finding it hard to get comfortable.

Dean brushed his hair back from his face. "Okay so we do this spell, and it should be over?"

"We wait for it to get dark, so that we're less likely to get the locals hot and bothered. Once we get started, we can't stop for anything." Bobby looked stern - or at least as stern as he could with a mouth full of egg salad sandwich. "I'll do the incantation, and I'll be outside the cemetery. You boys will be inside, and when I give you the nod, you're going to light the candles and then get out of there as fast as you can. You think you can do that?"

"Yeah," nodded Sam, reaching for another sandwich and not even caring what kind. All of a sudden, food was fun. He was going to experience it as much as he could before he gave Dean's body back to him.

Dean chowed down on his sandwich, wiping his hands upon his jeans. Some things seemed to have carried over, and Dean was enjoying this as much as Sam, relishing the look that Sam gave him. "Yeah, I think we can handle that. Besides, I don't think the locals are going to notice us compared with what's happened here already."

"Oh, they'll notice, unless they're blind." Bobby allowed himself a smirk. "What I'm doing is an Aramaic ritual that ought to bind the spirits to the earth and then burn the place down. Once all the candles are lit, the whole cemetery will go up on flames, so like I said, you've got to get out of there as fast as you can. Don't want either of you boys to go up in flames."

Dean looked over at Sam and nodded, "We'll get out of there. No problem. I've no desire to end up as a crispy critter." He took another bite of his sandwich and was about to say more when the familiar glow of red and blue lights started bouncing off headstones. Dean turned his head, mouth still open as he saw a couple of police cars. "Oh shit."

Looking up, Sam suddenly felt his blood run cold. Dean was wanted for murder, and as far as the world was concerned, he was Dean. He wondered if he could disguise himself as a clump of grass or maybe a headstone, and regretfully decided that wasn't on the cards today. Sighing, he turned to Bobby. "Listen, Bobby, will you be our dad? We're out here watching for... for a lesser spotted gosselskwark. One has been seen in the vicinity, and we thought it was extinct since the hurricane of... of... whenever it was, so we're here to see if it's still extinct."

The cops were walking over, flashlights in hand. "Hey you three, can you come over here for a moment?"

Dean looked at the other two then got up. "Can we help you, officers?" Like Sam, Dean raised his hands and innocently moved over.

"What are you three doing out there? This place is closed." The one officer spoke as another was looking around. The one officer was looking inside the car and he saw the spell book and reached in pulled it out.

"We were having a picnic," murmured Sam. "You know, sandwiches and stuff? Been watching for this bird..." He smiled in a self deprecating way and spread his hands, palms up as if to show that he had no weapons. All the while he was praying that they wouldn't want to look in the trunk where their arsenal was kept. "My brother here's a white witch," he babbled, improvising because the officer was looking at his spell book. "He was going to... to summon it."

"Okay, why don't you three turn around, hands on the car." the officer motioned.

"Oh, c'mon, we didn't do anything," Dean whined, and suddenly realized just how whiny Sam could sound when he set his mind to it. He looked over at Sam as he placed his hands upon the car. "Don't struggle in the cuffs, they cut into your skin, dude." Dean all knew about cuffs. He'd been arrested way too many times, and, well, let's not forget that they were also good for some of his wilder sex adventures.

Sam didn't answer. He turned around and did as he was told with a shrug. "Was just eating a sandwich, dude. I didn't even finish. There's a ham on rye in there that I wanted to get outside of."

"Sam," growled Bobby. He didn't have to say anything further. The fierce look Bobby was giving him quelled him at once.

The three of them were thrown into the back of the police car. The League City jail was small. All three were placed in separate rooms, and someone came in to talk to Dean, tossing down the spell book and asking him if it meant anything to him. Dean just looked at the guy, asking sweetly if the police handbook meant anything to him.

The same question was asked of each one. In the end, Bobby knew, they couldn't hold them.

When at last they were released, they found that they would have to walk back to the cemetery and their vehicles.

Dusk was already upon them, and it was quite a distance to go, but Sam was reluctant to ask for a ride in case the cops took it upon themselves to search the Impala's trunk. It would be somewhat embarrassing to have to explain the flame throwers and claymores they were packing, let alone the sawn-off shotguns. Grumbling, he turned to Dean. "Think we should borrow a car?" he asked. "Once we're out of sight?"

Dean was already thinking about it. He glanced at Bobby, "We don't have much time, boy," Bobby informed him. Dean nodded and looked around for a likely vehicle. Finally coming across a Dodge in a nice, secluded place, he wedged his tall body underneath to get the car started, while Sam picked the lock. "Yahtzee!" he called. Climbing in with the others, he pointed the car back towards the graveyard.

Sam fretted and fumed all the way back to the cemetery, and, once there, made a beeline for the sandwich he'd been jonesing for.

"Sam, what the hell?" growled Bobby.

"I can't help it. Food just tastes so much better today." Sam looked apologetically at his mentor. "I always thought Dean was greedy, but that isn't it at all. Food just tastes incredible to him. I'm jealous."

"Just hurry up and get over the damned wall," murmured Bobby, waving his hands as if to shepherd him. "We're gonna be in deep doodoo, if the spirits cotton on to what we're doing."

"Hee hee, you said doodoo." Dean chuckled but assumed a solemn face when Bobby shot him a stony glare. Sighing, Dean grabbed Sam's sandwich and tossed it aside. It hurt him inside to do so, but this was work. Even he didn't crave food that strongly. Okay that might not be completely true but still. He pushed Sam toward the wall, "Get over." He pulled his lighter from his pocket and followed his brother over the wall.

For a moment, Sam pouted, but it didn't seem to be working as well as when he could use his own face. He concluded that Dean couldn't make the puppy eyes of doom and shrugged. He'd catch up with that sandwich - or one even bigger and juicier, once he was through with this gig.

Moving to hop over the wall, he found himself missing and crashing to earth on the same side. Muttering to himself, he tried again, and this time he made it with great difficulty, hoping that neither of the other two had seen him.

Dean was about to laugh when he realized he would be laughing at himself and, well, couldn't have that no matter how funny it all was. So he bit his tongue and looked at his brother. "I am so taking inventory when we get back to normal. For every bruise I find I'm putting one on you."

He headed for the center, where they needed to be, finding that he had to stoop to keep from being noticed too much. He hit his head on a branch, normally he would have cleared it easily, but, damn it, with Sam being so freakishly tall ... "Sorry," he muttered back at his brother as he rubbed his forehead.

"Jeez, Dean," growled Sam, laughing unwillingly. "All I'm saying is that you'd better be on hand to help me back over that friggin' wall, or it'll be your buns that get toasted."

They each found a set of candles that Bobby had laid out and paused, ready to do his bidding when he gave the signal. Sam had dialed Bobby's cell, and now they waited as the long strings of ancient Aramaic came to them over the wall.

It seemed to go on forever, and the sound of it was lulling Sam into a stupor. He was jolted out of it by a manifestation right in front of him. The girl was dressed in white, and around her neck was a rope.

"They killed me," she said.

Dean jumped as the woman appeared, but he took a moment to look her over. It was clear she was from older times, a pretty black girl, dressed in white. He guessed she'd died long before civil rights had swept the country. "Yeah, well, nice to know. You'll be at rest soon," was all he could say as her raised the shot gun full of rock salt to make her vanish.

There were other spirits visible now, wandering the graveyard. Some of them seemed confused. One little boy sat on a headstone and cried for his mother. Sam was starting to feel creeped out when at last Bobby gave the signal to light the candles. One by one they set the little flames alight, circling the cemetery as they went. There were only two left when Sam saw it. The thick, black smoke came boiling from a mausoleum in the center of the graveyard and began to swirl in their direction. "Dean, hurry," Sam yelled and lit his candle, running for the wall and safety as fast as he could.

Dean lit the last candle and hoped that they would all stay alight. He started to run after Sam. "Go, go, go," he shouted to his brother as they ran. He tried to ignore the children crying and rushed through the poor souls who were wandering about, helpless. They were almost clear when he saw the black smoke again. Fuck! That said demon. Bad mojo.

Dean reached the wall and when Sam was nearly over it, he reached up and shoved him over the rest of the way. He backed up and took a running jump at the wall, but he was jerked back down. A black tendril of smokey ectoplasm had reached his leg, and he turned, reaching into his pocket for those packets of salt he usually carried, but this was Sam, not him. "Sam! I need some salt."

"Dude!" Sam was at a loss. He fumbled through the pockets of Dean's leather jacket, finding a few little packets of table salt. From his vantage point on the top of the wall, he reached them down to Dean, then screamed as a wall of fire seemed to erupt from the center of the graveyard, flashing outward like a gathering storm-cloud.

Reaching down to grab Dean by the only thing he could reach - his long, floppy hair, he took hold and hung on, hauling his brother up and away from the menacing flames. "Come on, man. Don't leave me. Not like this."

Dean had the salt in his hands, and he tore the packets open, throwing the grains at the blackness. He could feel Sam pulling his hair, and he winced in pain as he grabbed the edge of the wall and pulled himself up, using Sam's strong muscles to do so. Damn! His brother was fitter than he'd thought, and he threw himself up and over, hitting Sam and knocking him down when he swung his legs over, sending them both safely down on the other side.

Dean looked over to Sam, "Dude, that was so not cool."

"Fucking hot, if you ask me," growled Sam. "And I'm gonna have a headache when I get my body back, aren't I?"

There was a wall of flame on the inside of the wall now, and the sound of cries and yells was almost overwhelming. Sam could see faces in the flames, old faces, young ones, all of them crying out as though in terrible agony. "Jesus," he whispered. "You think they'll be at peace now? They don't look it."

Bobby had come puffing up to them. "Guys, we need to be out of here ahead of the cops. Get the lead out, willya?"

Dean turned his body, watching as well, and something hit him inside. A memory of past adventures. Adventures Sam shouldn't remember. He looked at Sam, and saw the light dancing off the face that had been his. He could see why Sam stared at him all the time. He'd been about to move closer and give Sam a kiss when Bobby had come running up.

Nodding his agreement, Dean led the way back to the Impala. "Let's get out of here," he said, glad to be back in his own car.

As they peeled off and headed away from the cemetery, they could hear the sirens approaching once more. Sam called Bobby, whose truck was tailing them. "Hey there?" he murmured. "Is that fire going to last for long? Will the whole place be wrecked afterwards?"

"Search me," was the response, and he could hear Bobby chuckle as he turned off the approach onto the freeway. "I never had cause to do that spell before. Wild, wasn't it? Tell the truth, I wasn't completely sure it would work."

"So where do you want us to head? Out of Texas as fast as we can?" Sam was grinning, impatient to share the joke with Dean. "What about us getting our bodies back? We need to do that before this big oaf of a brother of mine does me a permanent injury."

Dean glanced at Sam, smirking. "You know you're insulting yourself?" He turned the car back toward the shop that had caused the problems, eager to see if the 'witch' had their potion ready. "And what is so funny? You know that phone has a speaker on it, doofus."

"Bobby says he has no idea what effects the spell will have when the fire dies down." Sam was chuckling. "And I'm not insulting your meat suit, dude. I'm insulting the jerk wearing it." He reached out his hand to lay it tenderly on Dean's leg, petting it. "Seriously, man, thanks for the help over the wall. I don't know if I'd have made it without you."

Dean glanced at him, "Don't get mushy in my meat suit, dude." He smirked as he caught sight of their destination. "It sounds like Bobby. I swear only you and I come up with shit he hasn't tried, and doesn't know if it will work. I think we're gonna give him a lot more gray hairs." He pulled up to the store and pushed open the car door. He went up to the store just as the woman inside was about to flip the closed sign over.

"I was wondering about you two." She murmured, wrinkling her nose, as they walked past her. "You two stink."

"Got the potion?" Dean asked.

"You must be the impatient one." She motioned them inside and locked the door behind them. "Got it. You two are lucky that I had everything I needed." She moved around the counter and disappeared into the back, returning with a bottle. "But first, you two have to buy something." She smiled.

"Okay," said Sam. "What do you suggest we buy?" He smirked at Dean and turned back to her. "You got anything to alleviate a headache? Healing potion, or that kind of thing?"

"Try a pharmacist," she said, rolling her eyes. "I hear that there's this brand new drug called aspirin that works really well on headaches."

Dean looked around impatiently until he spotted something. Walking over, he picked up a pendant. He glanced over at Sam, who was currently wearing Dean's necklace, and then picked it up. He came back and placed it upon the counter. "How about this?"

The woman looked at it, then at Dean, over to Sam then back. The Stars were considered the original seals of Solomon. There was great meaning behind it and protection as well. She rang it up, at a very low price, "Here," she murmured threading it onto a rope like Dean's. "And your potion."

"Good," Dean studied the pendant for a moment and then placed it around his neck. This was going to be Sam's.

Sam examined it carefully and then gave Dean a little smile. "Thanks, dude," he murmured. "That means a lot."

Dean tucked it under his overshirt and then turned back to the woman, who was watching the two of them with great interest. "Okay, are there any instructions that go with this potion stuff? Are we gonna experience side effects, or will we just switch back?"

"You," she looked to Sam, "Must drink it, since it started with that body. And like before, you two have to touch. That is all. And yes, just that simple. What, you maybe thought I was gonna ask for your soul or to go bleed a virgin?" She gave a laugh.

Dean gave an uncomfortable laugh in return. "Thanks." He turned, smacking Sam on the arm and heading out, back to the Impala. Climbing into the car on the passenger's side, he murmured, "Okay," and looked over at Sam. "Bottoms up, dude."

Nodding, Sam gave his brother a grin. ""Yeah. I'll be glad to get my long legs back, stumpy." He looked at the flask containing the potion, and then shrugged, unscrewed the cap and knocked it back. It tasted surprisingly good.

Turning to Dean, he slid his fingers into long, waving hair and leaned up to kiss him gently. "Come on back, bro," he whispered.

Dean watched, worrying. Fearing it wouldn't work. But then Sam was kissing him, with his own mouth, and it felt strange as he returned the kiss. And then he felt dizzy. Opening his eyes, he saw his brother's face and sat for a moment admiring his moles, the long lashes over closed eyes, the thick, dark hair and his own fingers buried in it.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke softly, hearing his own voice rather than Sam's. He was back in his own body, thank god.

"Yeah, it's me," murmured Sam, nibbling at Dean's lower lip before kissing the corner of his mouth and releasing him. "And not a moment before time. I think you got my underwear cross-threaded." He chuckled and pulled Dean closer to him. "It was an interesting feeling, but I'd rather be in here and look at you than be you and have to look at me."

Dean gave Sam a long, loving look and then pushed away, "Dude, chick flick moment. What did I tell you about those." He smirked. "Call Bobby and tell him things are right again. So right. God, it's good to be back in my own body." He paused a moment then twisted in the seat and reached back to his bag, pulling out a bottle of aspirins to hand to Sam, "Here, you are gonna have a headache. Sorry." Shrugging, he turned back, starting his car and cranking up the radio.

Grinning, Sam punched his brother's shoulder. "Maybe you need some for your ass, where I fell on it," he snickered.

Fumbling in his pocket, he found his phone and called Bobby as he'd been bidden. "Yeah, Bobby, it's Sam, and I'm back to being tall, dark and handsome again," he announced. "Feels damned fine, I gotta tell you."

Dropping his phone back, he turned to Dean. "Okay, dude, where to now? We gonna get out of Houston before they catch us for setting the cemetery on fire?"

Dean glanced over at his brother again, making a gagging sound as Sam told Bobby he was handsome. Pulling away, he made for the highway. "I was thinking west coast," he said with a smile.

"Works for me," grinned Sam as the car surged forward. "Let's go west, young man!"

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