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Asking the Witch

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“I hate witches, Sam! I really, really hate them!” Dean punched the steering wheel with the palm of his hand and then winced as pain shot through it. “Ow!”

“Careful there, you’re more delicate than you used to be.”

Dean hoped the glare he threw his brother’s way was as effective with his face like this as it should be. “This better not be permanent. I swear, it better not be permanent!” He shifted in his seat and things did not feel the way they should down there, not at all.

“I dunno, you’re kinda cute, in a mannish way.”

He caught himself looking in the rearview mirror before he thought about it. He tossed another glare Sam’s way. “Knock that off. We have to get this undone. Make some calls, find someone that can undo this!”

“We should find the witch that cast it,” Sam replied. “Or did you gack her?”

“I didn’t, the demon did, right after she cast this stupid spell.” He waved a hand down at his... boobs.

Pulling out his worn notebook, Sam started flipping pages. “We’re about an hour outside Sunnydale, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean’s voice sounded all wrong to his own ears. “Whatcha got? Please tell me you’ve got something? Wait, did you say Sunnydale?”

“I did.”

“I hate Sunnydale. Bad things happen in Sunnydale.”

Sam shrugged. “The girls are there, and the magic shop.”

“Better than nothing,” Dean replied. “I do NOT enjoy being a girl!”



Dean followed Sam through the door to the Magic Shop. The redhead lounging in a chair with a book took one look at them and burst out in giggles. Pointing a warning finger at her and glaring only made her laugh harder. She dropped her book and bent over double laughing.

“Hello, welcome to the Magic Shop... Oh dear, what happened to you?” A blonde behind the counter asked, looking around Sam to stare at Dean.

“Hi Willow,” Sam said to the hysterical redhead. “My brother got in the middle of an argument. We were hoping maybe someone could help break the curse.”

“I dunno, I think he’s cuter this way,. I love the butch hair,” Willow replied, wiping her eyes as she stood up and walked over and around Dean, who glared at her. “Her attitude hasn’t changed.”

“HIS ATTITUDE!” Dean shouted.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, even hell couldn’t shake that loose, can you help?”

Willow stopped in front of Dean. “Say please.”

Dean pressed his lips together and looked to Sam, who replied, “Please.”

“Not him, you,” Willow said, poking Dean in the chest. He winced and rubbed at his breast. Then realized what he was doing and immediately dropped his hand to his side.

After a few moments, he ground out an insincere, “Please, Willow.”

“See, now did that kill you, Hunter-boy... uh Hunter-girl? Nope! Still alive.” She spun away and went to search through various shelves, collecting ingredients as she went, humming to herself. “Hey, Anya, you have any hibiscus?”

“I’ll get it,” the blonde gave Dean a last suspicious glance then walked off.

Willow returned and piled her collection on a table in the corner. “What did you do to piss off the witch, Winchester?” she asked cheerily. It had been a while since they had been in California and Dean had forgotten that about her, she was always so damned chipper. When he didn’t answer the question, she sighed. “You tried to kill her, didn’t you?”

“I was aiming for the demon!”

“What demon?” Anya demanded, coming back and holding out a jar of dried flowers to Willow.

“The one that was turning folks into people pot pies and eating them over in Pasadena,” Dean replied stiffly.

Anya’s mouth dropped open. She looked accusingly at Dean then at Sam and hissed, “You killed Hustace?”

“He was eating people!” Sam replied, stepping away from Anya and eying her oddly.

“Maybe he deserves to stay a girl!” Anya said, pointing to Dean. “Teach him a lesson. Poor Hustace.”

“Uh, I don’t think the world is ready for that,” Willow replied as she mixed ingredients in a bowl. After a few minutes she struck a match and held it over the bowl. “Okay, come and give me a kiss,” she said to Dean.

Reluctantly, he sidled over and gave her a quick peck on the lips. She shook her head when he pulled back and caught him behind the head and pulled him in for a deeper kiss as she dropped the match into the bowl.

“What’s the kiss do?” Sam asked. He’d picked up the spellbook Willow had used and was flipping the page back and forth, looking at it in confusion when he didn’t find mention of a kiss as part of the proceedings.

She grinned. “Satisfies my curiosity. And the world is better off with him as a guy.” She muttered a few words and the ingredients in the bowl burst into flame.

Dean would have said something snarky, but he was enveloped by smoke and ethereal flame. He dropped to his knees and then fell onto the floor, writhing in agony as the spell changed him back. As the smoke dissipated, he sagged limply on the tiles and passed out.




He opened his eyes and was staring at the ceiling of the Magic Shop. The blonde with demonic sympathies was leaning over him, staring at him with wide eyes.

“He’s awake!” she shouted.

Dean’s hand immediately slid down to his fly.

“Oh, everything’s there, don’t worry,” she assured him. “I checked.”

“You what?!?” His voice was back to normal.

He heard the heavy clomping of his brother’s boots and Sam appeared over him. “She did not. I did. You’re fine.” Sam extended a hand and hauled him up to his feet.

Willow sauntered over, her nose in a book. Dean cleared his throat and reluctantly conveyed his gratitude. To a witch. For casting a spell. “Thank you, Willow.”

She pressed a hand to her throat and blinked at him. She moved her hand to her forehead and did a little mock-swoon. “The world might be ending. Anya, go outside and check, is it another apocalypse? Dean Winchester said thank you to me.”

“We owe you one, Willow,” Sam said and Dean gave a stiff nod of agreement.

She smiled. “Oh, well, now that you mention it, we’ve been having this little problem...”

As they walked out to the Impala, Dean crumpled the list in his hand and tossed it to Sam. “You figure out where we’re going. I’m the driver. I don’t do witches shopping lists.”


The End