Work Text:
“What the fuck is happening?” Dean reached to clutch at his throat, surprised by the thinness of it, swallowing on grated vocal cords as he looked down and found a body that wasn’t his.
Long, delicate fingers pulled at the lapels of a tan trench coat, ran over the scratchy polyester of a blue tie turned backward. Oh god, Dean thought, reaching up to touch his face and nearly poked himself in the eye because it wasn’t where it normally was, his brow heavier. He licked his lips and was suddenly aware of how thirsty he was.
“Dean.”
Dean looked up at the sound of his own voice and was startled to see himself staring back at him but this wasn’t a mirror. He was where he’d been standing moments ago except it wasn’t him, couldn’t be because he was here. Plus he was holding himself funny, his shoulders back and straight, head held at a high angle. Even his legs were straight, their usual casual bow locked at the knee.
Dean shifted uncomfortably, reaching to loosen the tie at his throat but it was already loose, picked up his feet and put them back down again, wiggling his toes but they had plenty of room in his shoes. He turned his head trying to crack his neck and felt the tenseness in the muscles. He tried to relax them but received a muscle spasm for his trouble.
His body was shifting, moving its arms and looking at his hands, touching the scar on his right middle knuckle, wincing as he picked up his right knee and bent it experimentally. Dean mimicked the movement himself and marveled at how he could do it with no pain. Dean’s face was settled into a frown as he rubbed at his sore knee. Did he really pout his lips like that all the time?
“You hurt all over.” Dean’s voice said and this was too surreal. He couldn’t do this. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I guess I was just used to it,” Dean touched his throat again. “I don’t sound like you.”
Dean’s body rolled its eyes and Dean couldn’t get over it, how distinctly other he looked with Cas at the wheel. “I always thought if I spoke at a normal timbre it hurt your ears.”
Dean blinked and looked at Castiel (himself?), canting his head to the side. “Why would you think that?”
“When we first met you told me to lower the volume.”
Dean went to rub his face and it felt all wrong. He tried to roll his shoulders. “Man you need a massage. Why are you so goddamn tense?”
“We need to find, Sam,” Castiel said, looking left and immediately wincing. Dean forgot he’d had a crick in his neck from sleeping in the car. “Where is he?”
“How should I know?” Dean shrugged his shoulders and jumped, spinning around to look behind him. “What the fuck was that?”
“What was what?” Castiel was feeling around in Dean’s pockets.
Dean thought he caught something out of the corner of his eyes but he couldn’t see very well like he was wearing sunglasses or something. “Nothing.” He rubbed his eyes.
Castiel pulled out a wad of money, coins falling to the concrete and he canted his head, looking down at them.
“Pick those up. That’s gas money!” Dean watched himself bend over at the waist and then stop, standing up again, wincing in pain.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice sounded panicked somewhere down the hall and Dean sighed, feeling himself unfurl a bit. Sam would know what to do.
His brother appeared in the doorway, a look of relief on his face. Dean felt himself smile, beginning to open his arms as Sam rushed forward but he didn’t come for him, he went to his body instead. And judging by Castiel’s expression on his face, he was not expecting to be spun around and bundled up in a crushing hug. Dean watched him lift a hand to awkwardly pat between Sam’s shoulder blades
“What’s wrong are you okay?” Sam grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and watched Castiel wince; it was the sore one that got wrenched by a wraith last week.
“Sammy,” Dean said in that strange not-Cas voice just as Sam flung himself back, drawing his gun.
“What have you done with my brother?” Sam barked, eyes flicking over then he did a double-take. “Did you just call me Sammy?”
“He calls you that often,” Castiel said and Sam’s brow creased further.
“Sam. It’s me.” Dean opened his arms and gave a little shrug.
“There’s been a bit of a mix-up,” Castiel said and Dean wanted to tell him to stop talking like that, he made Dean sound like a dork.
Sam peered at Castiel for a long moment before stowage away his gun. He looked over Dean. His eyebrows rose. “D-Dean?”
Dean let his arms fall. “Yep. We really fucked this one up good.”
“How… how…”
“Dunno-“
“The witch channeled her spell through me and it separated our consciousness from our vessels-”
“Hey buddy, that ain’t a vessel. That’s me.”
“-and they landed in the wrong ones.”
Sam was squinting at Castiel, marveling at how he was Dean but looked nothing like Dean somehow. It was really starting to freak him out. He looked over at Dean. “Can you fix it?”
“What’re you askin’ me for?” Dean said with creased brows and Sam shook his head, having clearly meant to address Castiel, and looked back at the man wearing Dean’s meat suit.
“Can you fix it, Cas?”
Dean snorted at the look of exasperated arrogance on his own face. He really was a pretty mother fucker. “Of course but not in this.” Castiel lifted the lapels of Dean’s jacket giving a huff of annoyance. He looked at Dean. “He can.”
“I can?” Dean’s eyebrows rose.
Sam gave an astonished laugh. “Dean… you’re… you’re an angel.”
“Oh Sammy, always with the compliments,” Dean teased to cover up the rush a fear that came with the realization.
“No, Dean I’m serious. You… you have… wow.” Sam shook his head, a look of wonder on his face.
“Yeah, yeah knock it off. So Cas how do I fix it.”
Castiel squinted at Dean. “You just… do.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s helpful. Thank you sensei.”
“I’m sorry Dean,” Castiel turned his palms outward. “It’s inherent to me.”
“Well, usually you do the two-finger boop to the forehead, right? Let’s try that.”
“Hold on,” Sam held out a warding hand, stepping in front of Castiel and Dean pursed his lips in annoyance. Didn’t Sam know he wasn’t protecting Dean by stopping him from getting to his meat suit? “You don’t know what you’re doing. You could make it worse.”
“Not sure how it could get much worse here, Sammy,” Dean held out his hands and Castiel frowned.
“No Sam’s right. You wield immense power in this realm. You could cause major damage to both of us.”
“Great,” Dean sighed reaching up to rub his face. “So what do we do? We can’t just stay like this.” Dean rolled his shoulders. “Being you is uncomfortable as hell. I feel like my shoes are too tight.” Dean picked up his feet and put them down again.
Castiel nodded. “It’s the vessel. It’s limiting.”
Dean blinked and realized that he did feel too big for his body, like he was in some kind of sensory deprivation chamber, all senses muted. He looked at Castiel and suddenly felt a rush of sympathy. It must be hell to feel like this all the time.
“Okay,” Sam held out his hands and Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s I-Have-A-Plan face. “We’re going to table this discussion until we get to Bobby’s. Then he’s gonna help us figure out how to get you two switched back. In the meantime,” Sam turned to look at Castiel. “You’re gonna think about how to teach my brother how to be an angel.”
Dean snorted. “Buddy, greater women have tried.”
Dean watched as Castiel canted his head to the side and it was weird to see that expression on his own face. “I don’t understand that reference but I’ll do my best.” He squinted then sucked in a deep breath. “Dean. Can you feel your- well my wings?”
Dean’s eyebrows rose, eyes going wide as he looked at his brother who was staring back eyes just as wide, his phone balanced in his hand, Bobby’s number pulled up but not dialed. Dean looked down at himself and touched his chest - jeez Cas was kind of ripped - and then reached over his shoulder, patting at his shoulder blades.
“No?”
Castiel stepped closer. “Think about flying. Think about stretching high over your head.”
Dean blinked and watched himself give an assuring nod. Dean found himself nodding back. He planted his feet, squared his shoulders, and closed his eyes, bowing his head. He thought back to that first night in the barn, terrified out of his mind and not able to believe his own eyes as two massive black shadows flared on a barn wall behind a small dorky guy in a trench coat. He imagined being that guy.
Thunder rumbled and the lights in the warehouse started to flicker as Dean’s thoughts turned inward, flexing his shoulders and suddenly there was something else, something other, attached like extra limbs but not just two, many. It was hard to wrap his head around having an extra set of arms and as he started to count he realized it wasn’t just an extra set but three extra sets.
He opened his eyes and the look on his brother’s face was pure awe. Castiel was squinting as if what he was looking at was too bright for him to keep his eyes open and Dean could feel power radiating through this frail husk that housed him. It was electric and Dean remembered how Jimmy Novak had compared it to being strapped to a comet but this, Dean was the comet.
Dean rolled his shoulders and felt the ripple effect through the many limbs, felt the delicious stretch of muscles unused for quite some time and Sam held up a hand to cover his eyes followed immediately by Castiel doing the same. Dean didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to know what they saw.
Bulbs were beginning to burst now, the rafters shaking and Castiel stepped forward, head tucking as he tried to look into Dean’s face but seemingly couldn’t. “Pull back!” He yelled over the roar of the wind. “Pull back! You’ll take the whole building down!”
Dean didn’t want to. For the first time in his life, Dean wanted to soar, longed for it so deeply but the look on his brother’s face tethered him to the ground. Terror, real terror, the kind of look he had as a kid the first time Dad wanted Dean to go on a solo hunt and leave Sam behind. It was the fear Sam would never see him again.
Dean sucked in a deep breath and shut it down, all of it, wrapping his arms around himself and marveled at how it didn’t really hurt at all when his knees hit the concrete. This form, it was just a vessel and whatever bruises were starting to form were already starting to heal. Nothing on this plane could hurt him. Not really.
Sam rushed forward, crouching down and Dean watched as Castiel struggled to do the same. Goddamn, that old trick knee. Dean reached out, fingers brushing Castiel’s jaw feeling the day's worth of stubble there before cupping his cheek. It was instinctual, this desire to touch him, the longing to be near this human thing that he’d rebuilt. He could feel every ache, every twinge of pain and before he could even realize what he was doing he felt something flow out of him, soothing like cool water. Castiel’s eyes widened as every ache and pain dissolved, even the small knick on his chin where Dean had cut himself shaving that morning.
“What happened?” Sam’s voice felt far away, one of his hands on each of their shoulders as Dean stared into his own eyes but saw Castiel clearly, his own soul clearly. Something he couldn’t name fluttered in his chest.
“Nothin’,” Dean said, shying away from his brother’s touch, dropping his eyes.
“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was low, a register Dean himself had never used.
“Let’s go see Bobby.” Dean swallowed hard, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “He’ll know what to do.”