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A few months ago, the Winchester brothers came across a shapeshifter. Not on a hunt, but by complete coincidence. That night Sam had dragged his brother along on a supply run, sick of always being to get the stuff for them both. The second they got out of the car, Dean elbowed him and made a comment about a “hot chick” rushing down the sidewalk across the street. And only two more seconds later, the untrained eyes wouldn’t have seen the woman shift into something else on a dark alley, but of course they did.
The brothers looked at each other with surprise and Sam gestured with his head toward the alley, as if asking a question. Dean nodded.
“Go ahead first, I’ll get my silver bullets in the trunk”
“seriously?” Sam scoffed
“what? I’ve only got the salt ones with me now” Dean excused and Sam rolled his eyes. Heading toward the alley, where he couldn't see anything. Almost stumbled on the shedded skin the creature left. Quickly he realized it was a dead end, so there’s nowhere else it could've gone. He gripped his knife behind his pants.
“Hey, let’s just have a talk” He called out. “You uh, looked nice. But I can’t see anything right now…” He went on. This was a terrible excuse. What else could he say? If he pointed a flashlight around this soon the shifter would know he had intentions to harm, and Sam could say he didn’t just yet. He knew Dean would be straight-foward for the both of them. Sam turned around to see if he was coming, adjusting his sight to the clearer view. Yeah, no Dean in sight yet. When he turned back around, the thing was right in front of him, pushing him immediately against the wall.
“What is it that you want?” It screamed, voice scratching as a few drops of greenish goo still streamed down its face, covering the main features. Probably was in the middle of shifting again when Sam arrived. Its grip was firm, but not that firm that Sam couldn’t get away from, and it didn’t look like it had any weapons. If anything, it looked kind of… Scared? “Spit it!” It pushed Sam again, harder, his head hitting the wall. Sam instinctively reached for his knife.
“Wait, no, you’re a hunter, aren’t you?” Now it really looked scared. “I swear I do no one no harm”
“It’s okay, let’s just-”
“It’s not. you’re armed.”
“Well, of course. How can I know you don’t want to kill me?”
“I could have and I didn't.” There was a puddle of goo forming beneath it.
“Not sure about that…” he considered
“Listen, I'm just trying to live my life. The best way I can.” It dragged a hand across its face, cleaning itself and waving off the ooze ”But I will fight if I have to”
Now Sam's eyes have adapted and the substance was mostly off the thing, he could see more clearly; And the creature looked just like him – but different. It was like Sam but also like a woman that looked like a man that looked like Sam? Maybe just Sam indeed but a little shorter, darker hair and with softer features. But still potentially Sam. You just could not tell it’s gender. A level of androgyny that Sam had never seen. And honestly? Quite a beautiful version of him. Sam was almost jealous. Almost. He tried to say something but nothing came out of his mouth. The sight had sent him into a frozen awe and he smiled while frowning, staring at that face. That really, really nice face. The sifter stared back, looking wary and quite surprised.
What kind of strange mirror was he looking at? What strange envy and relatability was that? Why was he even-
That’s when the sound of a trigger pushed them both back to reality.
“Wait, Dean-”
“Motherfucker!” The creature ducked from the gun and sweep kicked Dean in a single movement. Dean shot its stomach and it hissed.
“Dean!”
“What?” He barked. “Don’t just stand there!”
“she uh- he- shifter’s no harm”
“oh and how do you know that, had a heart to heart?” He got up in a jump before the shifter, still hissing, could run away, and pushed it down to the ground. Gun on its head.
“What did you do to the girl you were mimicking right now?”
“I just thought she looked pretty, I’m not faking her identity! I even changed a few things!”
Sam wondered if that’s what it did to him.
“Yeah, right. No second intentions, just fuckin’ around.”
“Dean. It is possible.”
“I only shift into whoever the appearance relates to how I feel, and make it a little more me. I’m just trying to get by. Be who I wanna be. I don't have any reason to hurt anybody”
“How sweet.” Dean deadpans, preparing the gun again. And Sam gets so incredibly pissed that he actually grips his brother by the shoulders and gets him off the creature. Who runs off in a beat.
“Dude! What was that about?” Dean shouts. “I had it!”
“Why do you always act like this? You always do this every single time and never believe me.”
“Do what?”
“Just assume every monster is evil and goes head first into killing and never listens”
“To the monster?”
“To me!” Sam’s yelling “You never listen when I say we should double check intentions, or that the thing looks clean, and honestly to anything I say even when I’m right!”
“Now that’s an exaggeration-”
“No! Cause I’ve told you a million times and you always go around killing even when it’s an ethical community or whatever, like that one vampire nest that was restricted to cow blood –”
“Fighting monsters is what we do, in case you forgot.”
“ – and shapeshifters don’t even feed on anything human like vampires! Every single time I say we should analyze the whole picture but you never change your mind because you never change, do you? These ideals in your head of what’s right and wrong and normal and weird it’s all written on stone because of dad, isn’t it? And you cannot listen to anything that’s not it, even to me, and can’t change! Because you don’t want to, so you’ll never change, will you? You’ll never make an effort to try to understand anything before immediately judging. You’ll never make an effort to practice empathy, not even with me? That’s just who you grew to be? You’re the second most hard-headed person I know after dad, and he’s dead so you may as well be the first! Congratulations!”
Sam can hear his heartbeat in his head. Panting and red-faced. Dean looks astounded. Like he felt stricken but was mostly just confused.
“...What?”
Fuck you, Sam thinks, and goes straight to the car without looking at him.
The following day, Dean had asked him where all that was coming from, and Sam couldn't start to count. So he just shrugged. I mean, yeah, maybe he overreacted and said a few things that weren’t strictly related to the incident but guess there was just a lot of repressed anger about Dean being so hard-headed and reckless. Dean making assumption no one could contradict. Dean making jokes out of everyone. Dean calling him gay all the time as an insult. Dean on hunts acting like Sam needed training wheels after everything. Dean being so fucking right of himself and so fucking irritating.
As a way to cool down his anger, he opened his laptop and spent some time researching about shapeshifter’s behaviours. Beyond hunting tips like the ones in dad’s journal. There was a lot about different myths from different cultures that he already knew, but something about the duality of human wishes caught his eye. He remembered something the creature said, too, about shifting into what felt like him. Turns out the shapeshifter's myth was partially created, in most cultures, as a way to explain the inconsistent human desires to look like something else. To be something else.
That night, when Sam looked into the mirror, he reflected on how the years have made his face sharper, his shoulders wider, and so he frowned. Then he realized he understood exactly what that lore meant.
He was barely able to sleep, thinking about his reflection and the perception of other people on it. Thinking about how the shapesifter reflected it. That softer, shorter Sam. It was him. Ultimately. It looked more like him than he’d like to admit. Like what he looked like in his head sometimes, but quickly shoved away. Like he’d like to look.
Dean seemed to have noticed the sleep deprivation, because Sam was functioning very poorly in the morning, but didn’t say anything. He offered Sam a cup of coffee and went on with his life. In the afternoon, he read more about lore. Often people who held this desire were people marginalized by their society, or those who experience prejudice or hatred or those who simply wish they were happier. It was a way to step out of their skin and out of their dilemmas, even if only in their imagination. The sources of dissatisfaction with one’s self could come from many places, and Sam contemplated on that too. He came across the term dysphoria. And there were a lot of types of dysphoria too. He dived deeper into what it means to feel dysphoric than he should have.
He did not want to say he was relating. After all, he didn’t think he was ugly or anything. And he was not trangender. He couldn’t really imagine himself as a woman. So it was pointless, all this carving into the web, like he was going to find an answer to a question that he doesn’t even know what is.
When it was nearing dusk, Dean found them a case. Only a few miles away, which meant they could sleep in a motel there instead of in the car. Real nice, since he’d been feeling kind of awkward since he exploded with Dean. And it was in fact nice, except for the fact that, in the silence, he paid attention to the vocals of every record he played. And it was supposed to distract him from his own thoughts, but instead it made him too conscious of the different range of tones the singers had and his own voice. Not that he has anything against his voice. In his self-consciousness he couldn’t help but do some wondering, and it made him a little sad, though he couldn't tell why.
When they arrived at the motel, his open tabs on dysphoria led to some research on gender. Now, he already knew that man and woman weren’t the only genders, but he never gave it much thought. After all, it was never a thing that mattered in his life and he never really remembered it. But as he read about the subject, he found it very enlightening. It wasn’t a binary as a lot tend to think (one thing or another), and it’s also not exactly like a form that you can mark man, woman, or secret third option. Gender is a complicated thing and only you can tell what it is and how it behaves or how you’ll express it. It’s almost like its own creature, except it’s a part of you. The terms under the non-binary umbrella, however, were a little confusing. Were a lot. All this information made him a little dizzy.
It was a lot to digest. A lot of words thrown to his face that he’s trying to make sense out of, they for some reason feel enlightening.
So he spent a few weeks in pure spiraling, wondering and wishing and getting frustrated over and over again in an endless cycle and he was sick of it. Why is it so important? What is he gonna do about it? Even if he isn’t really a cis man, what does it matter? He’s not planning on dressing any different and he likes his name as it is. And he’s not upset by pronouns whatsoever, sure, he wouldn’t hate to be called other pronouns, but “he/him” was totally okay!
So if he’s good as he is, why should he be bothered after all? And why does it keep bothering him? It's so, so stupid, cause even if he wanted to try a more androgynous look for a while, what would that even be? He’d look so stupid. He’s still a 6 foot 4 broad-shouldered giant with a sharp jawline. Growing his hair out helped a little, cause he’s always done that, but he knew that he was perceived as a quite manly man by everyone. Maybe not by Dean because he loved to call him gay, but it was only a joke.
He wished he could be a totally neutral human being. Act like whatever and be perceived outside the stakes of masculinity. Letting more of his feminine side too, but not to be perceived as feminine. Just to be perceived as… As what? He’d probably just be perceived as a gay man, which he isn’t. Either. So again, no use. And again, why does it matter? Why does it hurt?
Dean walked through the motel door while Sam stared at the ceiling and spiralled.
“Hey” Dean threw a bag (with what smelled like a burger) on his stomach “Have something to eat, you’ve been on planet mars the whole day.”
“oh!” He blinked a few times before sitting up.“ um, thanks”
Dean took a bite of his own burger and sat by the edge of Sam’s bed. They stared at each other. For quite a moment.
“what?” Sam asked
“What’s going on, Sam?”
“What do you mean?” He focused his eyes on the plastic, unwrapping his burger. Full of salad. Thoughtful.
“Come on, you’ve been acting more distant than you usually do” He raised his eyebrows, but the question didn’t sound intrusive or bratty. “Let’s get it out of the way already. You’re upset with me?”
“No.” he said, honestly.
“Seriously?” Dean was being sarcastic.
“seriously.”
“Then what got your head on the clouds?” He felt Dean staring, waiting for an answer, for several moments. “you’re gonna get yourself killed if you stay that unfocused”
Sam scoffed.
“Sam,” Dean said, softer. “say something. Talk”
Sam finally took courage to look up at Dean again. It was so, so stupid. His brother was right there, looking worried and why? Because Sam was having a stupid full-on gender crisis which he failed to repress. It was a hundred times ridiculous and Dean would never understand. He was right there, right in front of him, ready to laugh when Sam told him the truth. Even if he only said a half-truth, he could already anticipate the joke. What kind of joke would it be this time? Is feeling this sad about himself a gay behaviour? Jesus, Sam can you get gayer? I always knew you were a sissy, but not literally! What line is it gonna be? Why can’t Sam open his mouth to say anything? Why are you still staring? Can you see right through me? What’s it gonna be? Say it already! Say it!
His eyes were full of tears before he could stop himself.
“hey…” Dean moved across the bed to give him a hug. It was the softest and most reassuring hug and it caught him by surprise. Tears finally falling, against his will. “It’s okay, Sammy” Sam hugged back, tight. These were the arms that held him when he was a baby and John left them alone on crappy motels. This was his brother. Would he still be so kind if he knew what this was about?
They kept hugging for a while, till Sam’s eyes stopped leaking and he felt calm enough not to start crying again. Dean gave him a reassuring smile as Sam wiped off his face and made no more questions.
Sam could say now, for a fact, that ignorance is indeed a gift. Cause he’d rather not know exactly the reason why he doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror sometimes. Why he doesn’t like when random people act like he’s the muscle macho man, and why he often wished he looked softer. But now he knew. So what is he supposed to do with that? What’s the next step?
During an eventless day, Cas came over just to hang out. It was unusual, but since he’s kind of friends with him and Dean now, maybe that’d become more common. Him and Dean seemed to be having a discussion about angel biology, and Dean was acting all-knowing, as always.
“Don’t you get angry that can’t have wings on the material plane?”
“Not really”
“That's not possible! It’d look so cool”
“How would you know? You’re not an angel”
“Yeah but I've seen angels in a lot of movies and wings are sick!”
“My wings are very healthy for your information”
“I know it’d burn my eyes, but I can’t even touch them?”
“no.”
“Would I explode or something?”
Cas rolled his eyes.
“Do you really want to know more than me, a literal angel?”
“If I have angel contact for long enough maybe I wouldn’t explode? Come on, we’re winchesters, we’re pretty familiar with the supernatural. Is there really no way?”
“Sure, the righteous man and his… ” Cas looked at Sam for maybe the first time in the conversation. Scanning him up and down like he saw something different. “sibling” he continued “are not going to be affected by angel grace just because they’re winchesters.”
“I should have never told you about sarcasm” Dean got up “party pooper” and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving Sam and Cas alone.
“Hey cas,” Sam begun, quite awkwardly “why did you call me Dean’s sibling?”
Cas frowned.
“Are you not?”
“No yeah, I am. But why not brother?”
Cas frowned even more.
“I thought you’d like the word sibling. It’s gender neutral.”
And all the words escaped Sam’s mind. His body froze. What? How did he-
“You humans have a very telling aura. We can kind of feel things such as strong emotions, physical discomforts…” He paused “...Gender…”
“oh” It’s all Sam managed.
“If you want to be treated any differently, you should say.” Sam blinked, still frozen. “Do you?”
“I don’t know”
“That’s common I guess” Cas considered “You humans love to complicate things so much. In heaven we’re all just angels. No such thing as gender. It’s rather nice.” Sam smiled.
“Thanks, Cas. Really. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about it. I’ve been very anxious about telling Dean-”
“Oh, he knows.”
What.
Sam froze again.
What?
Was Dean really able to see right through him like that? Was he that transparent?
“He went through your laptop’s search history”
Of course. Nevermind. That’s Dean we’re talking about.
But then if he knew all along, was he just okay with it? No questions, no jokes? No crooked looks?
“He told me it matched your “hippie ideals”, and that it made sense” He was literally making air quotes and Sam wanted to smack his face. “He said you’ve always had a “different in-between way of being” and I doubt he’s gonna bring it up,so that’s why you should say If you want to be treated any differently”
“Okay” Sam nodded “Noted. Thanks”
Cas did a thumbs up. He almost looked human.
The bathroom door slammed open. Dean had his eyes blindfolded
“Show me what you’ve got, angel! If Sam dies, Sam dies!”
Cas rolled his eyes and flew away. Sam laughed out loud.