“Asshole,” Sam cursed Dean as he put another big snag in the stockings as he drew them back on. He shoved his jeans back into his bag damning his brother to hell yet again. Thanks to his new shape, he couldn’t even wear his own freaking jeans, and was stuck with the slinky black dress that Dean had so “kindly” picked out for him. He wondered if there was anywhere in town that would happen to have a pair of jeans in his current size. Unfortunately, he didn’t figure there was much call for clothing for a 6’4” woman in such a small town. Maybe he’d luck out, but the way his life was going, it was highly unlikely. Maybe he’d at least be able to find a pair of sweats or something, though. While those weren’t exactly the best protection for demon hunting, they’d be far better than a short skirt and stockings.

He couldn’t even wear his own shoes, he groused, shoving those back into his bag as well. It seemed that among the many other changes to his body, his feet had narrowed, making his regular shoes too loose. He considered wearing them anyway, but if he should need to fight or anything, they would put him at a disadvantage, and at risk for injuring himself. Begrudgingly he began lacing up the fuckmes again.

At least they would lend themselves well to carrying weapons, should he be forced to hunt before he could wear his own clothes again. In fact, he considered for a moment, he probably should be carrying regardless. He carefully sheathed his favorite blade in his right boot, just in case. He hated being caught with his guard down. 

Only one day, he reminded himself, as he glanced at his only somewhat familiar reflection in the mirror. He looked utterly ridiculous, he assessed miserably. He tried not to let it bother him by telling himself that it didn’t matter; he would be back to normal in the morning. Part of him wanted to just stay in the room and sleep until the normalness happened, but he’d already called Dean, and they had some work to do. He swept his fingers through his hair, purposely smoothing it into his face. The better to hide behind. Not that, being as tall as he was, he wasn’t going to totally stand out anyway, he chided himself sullenly.

With a sigh, he grabbed the key for his room and headed downstairs. Having no pockets, he stopped at the desk and asked if he could just leave it with Shirl. She accepted it and told him just to stop at the desk when he needed let back in. Then he headed outside to wait for Dean. It was a small town, so he had no doubt that even though he hadn’t said where to meet that there’d be no problem finding each other.

He almost turned around and went back inside as he ran into Ben, who was sweeping the sidewalk in front of the inn. Although Ben was nice, and he was certain that under different circumstances he wouldn’t mind being friends with the guy, he wasn’t sure if maybe he’d actually prefer another run-in with the Bumpkins. He definitely felt a lot more in his element fighting them than he did when Ben smiled at him.

“Hey, Samantha,” Ben greeted, propping his broom against the siding and approaching him, flashing the almost dreaded smile again. “I was hoping I’d catch you again this morning.”

Sam smiled back warily. “Hi. You were?” he asked, cautiously.

“Yeah. I just was thinking. There’s not a lot to do around here, but if you want, I could take the day off and kind of show you around.” Sam’s eyes widened and he tried to figure out a good excuse when Ben startled him by reaching up and gently stroking the hair back out of his face again. “You shouldn’t hide your face like that,” Ben said softly. “You have very pretty eyes.”

Sam swallowed hard and had to will himself to not overreact when he felt Ben’s fingers gently stroke his cheek. He wasn’t entirely sure what he should do. He certainly wouldn’t ever go up to a virtual stranger and caress their cheek. So would most girls freak when some guy did this? Even if the guy was nice? Sam knew his heart was racing, but he had no idea what the appropriate response would be other than to stammer, “T-thanks.”

He was pretty sure that he failed to keep the nervousness out of his smile when Ben dropped it and changed back to his offer, “After I show you around, I could help you out with your story. I know all of Annabeth’s friends, and can answer questions. If you want.”

“That would be really great,” Sam lied. It took all his willpower to not bolt as Ben’s smile brightened even more, and once again that hand was lightly brushing his cheek. And was it his imagination or was Ben staring at his lips? Good gods. “But um…” He looked up and was relieved to see the Impala approaching. He didn’t think he’d ever been happier to see his brother, even if he was still extremely pissed at him. “Unfortunately…” He motioned to the car.

The car rolled to a stop at the curb. Dean raised his eyebrows and looked from Sam to Ben, who hastily took a step back away from Sam. Sam gave Ben a falsely apologetic smile and quickly moved around to the passenger side of the car, relieved to have been spared from further awkwardness. He waved to Ben as he climbed in the car.

“Who’s that?” Dean asked.

“Just drive,” Sam spoke through his smile, giving Ben a little wave.

Dean smirked a little, and did as he was told.

There really wasn’t much of Main Street, so he just headed out of town, figuring that they could discuss Sam’s findings, come up with a plan, and then head back. “So you said you had a lead?”

“I think so.” Sam proceeded to fill him in, telling him about the trouble with Brady and Kyle and about Ben and Annabeth, and the other missing girls.

“So wait. Back up a second. You’re telling me that you’re going out on a date with this guy?” Dean asked, his eyebrows raised high enough that Sam wondered inanely if he hit just right if they’d be knocked right off his head. He was also certain, now, that calling Dean was a mistake. He should have just stayed on his own, handled this job himself.

“No,” Sam snapped. “It’s not a date. We’re having a friendly dinner so he can tell me what he knows about the missing girls. That’s all.”

“And you fell for that?” Dean asked incredulously.

Sam glared at him. “Not every guy is a total sleaze. I’ve gone out for dinner with girls without it being a date. Or even a wannabe date.” Dean simply shook his head in amusement, as though only Sam would possibly come up with such a concept. “Shut up.”

“Not saying a word,” Dean said, though the expression on his face said it all for him. “Here, I got you this,” he said, pulling a large cup of coffee from the cup holder and handing it to Sam as a peace offering.

Sam accepted the cup gratefully, having still not had his morning caffeine. It still felt pretty hot, though, so he settled for just inhaling the scent and relaxing for a moment.

Literally a moment.

“You do know, that guy thinks you’re totally hot, though right?” Dean couldn’t help but tease his brother. He laughed at the murderous look Sam flashed him. “You know, you are cute when you’re angry.”

Sam fumed silently, not believing that Dean still thought this was somehow funny. He’d have thought that his getting attacked not just once, but twice, by the Bumpkin Brothers would maybe clue Dean in that perhaps his little ‘prank’ was anything but humorous. And he wasn’t about to forget any time soon that in order to pull it off, Dean had to have drugged him or something. Probably when he’d so kindly offered to buy Sam’s soda.

Sam eyed the coffee in his hands; it somehow no longer seemed so appealing. He carefully set it back in the cup holder.

“Okay, so six girls all came through town and all have since disappeared. Did they disappear from here or like did they come through here, get to their destinations, and then disappear?” Dean asked, getting back to business and giving his brother time to simmer down.

“I don’t know. Annabeth Rochester was last seen here in town, I guess. But it seems that she may have actually packed up her bags and left town. But then she’s never been seen or heard from again, so it’s possible that she was going to leave, but didn’t actually make it. She didn’t leave a note to say goodbye or tell anyone where she was going.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, so we see if we can find any sign of her after she left here. Do we know how she left town? Did she have a car or anything?”

Sam shook his head, “I don’t know, but we can maybe see if we can get in and look through her public records. It’s probably not related, but we’ll also want to check out an accident on Route 10 about a year before she disappeared. Both of her parents were killed.”

“An orphan,” Dean mulled it over a little. “Any brothers and sisters?”

“Don’t know. Possibly, but I doubt it. She stayed in a room at the inn. Shirl didn’t mention anyone staying with her.”

“So no real attachments.”

“Except Ben.”

“Ah yes. Ben!” Dean swooned as he smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

Sam grit his teeth, but otherwise did his best to ignore Dean’s mocking. “We also need to see if we can find out about the other missing girls. Prairieville is probably too small to have much of a library, so we should maybe try heading up to Jackson, they’ll have a better archive of regional news.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, but we should probably hurry.” Sam looked questioningly over at his brother. “Hey, we’ve got to get you back in time for your date.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, hey heeey. Watch the language; there’s a lady present.”

That was it. “Pull over.”

Dean rolled his eyes and kept driving. Damn but Sam could be oversensitive sometimes!

“I mean it. Pull over, now,” Sam ground out. “Pull over or I swear I will take a dive,” he threatened, reaching for the door handle. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, but he also knew that Dean wouldn’t take the chance.

Proving him right, Dean slowed and pulled to the side of the road, though not without a long-suffering sigh. “You are such a drama queen,” he muttered, without even meaning to make another dig at Sam’s temporary gender reassignment. He didn’t get a chance to apologize, though, because Sam had the door open and was out of the car before it even came to a complete stop.

Dean waited, allowing Sam to have some time to cool down a little and perhaps reconsider that they were at least ten miles out of town. He watched Sam in the side mirror as the younger man stubbornly stalked back toward town. He sat up straighter, though, as he saw Sam crossing the road and walking backward as though…as though…

Oh hell no.

His brother couldn’t possibly be that dumb. No way was he hitchhiking. Not with that body, not in that dress. Dean suddenly really regretted his choice of outfits. He should have gone with something much more conservative, he realized. Of course he hadn’t been thinking of safety at all when he’d picked it, only how funny it would be to make Sam wear something so ridiculously inappropriate. Suddenly, though, the situation wasn’t nearly as funny as it was when he’d come up with the idea. He really hadn’t counted on just how pissed Sam would be about the whole deal--a critical error on his part, he now realized.

He threw the Impala into reverse and started backing after his brother.

“Sam, get in the car,” Dean demanded, trying not to let on that he was more than a little freaked out by this new development. Damn, if Sam got picked up by some creep out there, if he got hurt, it would be entirely Dean’s fault. He winced as Sam kept walking, not responding at all to his order. “So help me if you don’t get in the car now, I am going to kick your ass,” he called out, in disguised desperation.

Sam made no attempt to move toward the car, just kept walking backward. He smiled smugly as he saw a convertible rounding the bend, headed toward them. He cocked his head to the side, his eyes locked with Dean’s. He raised an eyebrow as if challenging Dean to stop him. In reality, he no more wanted to get into a stranger’s car than he wanted to be drawn and quartered. While he had hitchhiked many times without batting an eye, he knew that it was different now. He had no real intention of actually doing it; he just wanted to make Dean sweat a bit, maybe rethink how funny this wasn’t.

He wasn’t so sure that it was a good idea to play with fire, though, as the convertible slowed to a stop between him and the Impala. The way the driver looked over at him made him extremely uneasy. He glanced back at Dean, who was now stopped just on the other side of the convertible.

“This guy bothering you, Honey?” the convertible driver asked, his eyes traveling slowly down Sam’s astoundingly long legs, making Sam feel slightly ill.

“No. I’m fine, thanks anyway,” he answered, dismissing the guy. He stepped back, away from the edge of the road.

Unfortunately, the guy did not take the hint and instead leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. Even when Sam didn’t make any move toward the waiting car, the guy didn’t take the hint. “Well, come on, Sweetheart,” he called and patted the seat. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

Sam forced a smile. “Thanks, but I think I’m just going to walk. Really…thanks, though.”

“Aw, come on, Honey, don’t be like that,” the guy spoke silkily.

“I believe she said she didn’t want a ride,” Dean said testily.

“You just butt out of this,” the guy snapped back, his eyes not leaving Sam.

Dean pursed his lips and glared past the guy at Sam. This could have been avoided if Sam had just gotten back in the damn car. He reached over and popped the glove compartment, retrieving a pistol. It was currently unloaded, but he made a show of drawing it out anyway. “I believe my wife said she didn’t want a ride,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous.

Sam almost burst out laughing at the expression on the guy’s face. For a moment, he was certain the guy was going to piss his pants right there. The guy scrambled to close the door even while stepping on the gas.

“Your wife?” Sam couldn’t contain his amusement once the other vehicle was out of range.

“Saved your ass, didn’t it? Now get in the car.”

Sam hesitated for a few moments. The edge had once again worn off his anger, but he wasn’t yet ready to forgive. Still, they were out in the middle of nowhere, and he wasn’t likely to be able to get out to Jackson and back to Prairieville on his own. He looked toward the retreating tail lights of the convertible. Another bullet dodged.

“Okay, dude, but one word about wifely duties and I’m taking you for everything you’ve got,” he joked shrewdly as he returned to the passenger seat.

The corners of Dean’s lips curved upward as he started back on the road to Jackson. Just that small bit of humor assured him that after all was said and done, the two of them were going to be okay. “Don’t worry, Sammi. You’re really not my type.”