Some little girls, when they are four years old, will be given a doll, and told to play house. Those little girls will giggle and smile, and pretend to be mothers.
Marisa Deanna Winchester (once called Miss Dee by her parents) was given her baby brother, and told to run our of the burning nursery. From that day forwards she was more of a mother than any of the other little girls with their dolls.
When Deanna was ten years old, she threw out her last threadbare pink T-shirt, donned a binder and flannel, and insisted that everyone call her Dean.
She spent the next seven years convincing everyone that she was male.
John didn't seem to notice his daughter's transformation, other than to gruffly nod in approval at her shaved head and sturdy boots.
Dean sometimes wondered if her lack of blonde curls was what allowed her father to look her in the eye again; a feat he had not performed since she had turned eight and started to display some features of her mother.
When Bobby discovered her secret, completely by accident thanks to Sammy being a loudmouth, he discreetly took her aside to ask if she had researched the options available to her.
Dean realized where this was going when the old hunter began uncomfortably hinting that he knew some reliable doctors who specialized in helping people through transitions.
She cut him off in the middle of his promises to support emotionally her the whole way.
"Woah, Bobby, I don't want a dick!"
The hunter paused, flustered. "Well, then why are you costumed up like that, boy?"
She wobbled her shoulders (bulked out through hours of pushups, though not as much as she would like). "No one needs Deanna. She can't scare off bullies from her brother, and Dad won't let her go hunting." She met the hunter's eyes earnestly. "But Dean can."
Bobby sighed, something crumbled and sad behind his grudging acceptance.
He still made sure that Deanna found her way to a discreet woman's doctor located in South Dakota.
It wasn't until Dean met Cassidy when she was seventeen that she was once again appreciative of her sex.
"Oh," the teenage boy said, as they were entangled together in a broom closet and he noticed a few absent pieces of anatomy on his partner. "You're trans?"
Dean hesitated for half a heartbeat, drawing back from his lips. "It's easier to be a boy."
Cassidy smiled. "That's cool. I dated this guy once who didn't like to mention anything about plumbing, since he was pre-op, and I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable if we got serious."
They did get serious, and Deanna decided to exchange her binder for a sports bra.
The nomadic life of a hunter was difficult; infinitely more so for a young lady.
When Deanna realized she could make more money than simply hustling pool in a bar, she thought over it for the length of time it took to run out of pb&j. It wasn't like it wasn't something she would have done anyway.
So she packed a knife in her boot and a gun in her waistband, and made a point to steal the guy's wallet afterwards. You know, when they deserved it.
When Sammy left for Stanford, Deanna drove him to the bus stop.
John disapproved, of course, but he had always treated his daughter with either military precision or ambivalence. Only once did John ever berate her for being too emotional. Deanna would have born the diatribe with silence, but Sam had shouted back in her defense that John shouldn't yell at a lady during a hormonally trying part of the month.
Deanna had been mortified, especially since she wasn't on her period, thank you. The stitches just freaking hurt without pain killers.
However, John had clamped his mouth shut, looking all kinds of uncomfortable.
Deanna had hissed at Sammy for being a sexist jerk, but her little brother had only grinned in an enigmatic self satisfied manner.
After that, John never commented about his daughter's perceived weakness. In fact, he hardly ever seemed to see her at all.
It hurt, knowing her father couldn't look her in the eye due to his own emotional hangups, but Deanna enjoyed the perks of being a woman too much to compromise her identity again. She needed Deanna now, and Sam did too.
So, just as her brother was about to step out of the Impala and her life forever, Deanna roughly grabbed him around the neck in equal parts choke hold and hug.
"You call me when you get there," she growled gruffly. "And make sure you keep the damn windows salted."
Sam, anger fraying in the face of his sister's distress, patted her bicep. "I promise," he wheezed.
He didn't call of course, but Deanna knew that was more due to Sammy being Sammy, than him despising her.
Or at least, that was what she told herself.
Deanna liked Jess. In the five minutes she had met her, the girl had made Sam smile no less than three times. Therefore, Jess was golden in Deanna's books.
So, when Sam broke down, trying to smother his sobs in the motel pillow, Deanna simply sat beside him, and carded her fingers through his hair.
She didn't sing Hey Jude, that wasn't what he needed.
They woke up late the next morning. Sam's eyes were puffy from crying. Deanna had a crick in her neck from sitting upright, and her throat was sore from humming Kansas.
Hunting went as it always did. Monster of the week and a cold trail for their father.
Some stuck out more than others for being frightening, like the scarecrow or Bloody Mary. Others were memorable for just being odd.
Such as the swan diving professor case on that college campus. At the scene of the proverbial crime, the Winchester siblings interviewed their prime witness.
"Were you working that night," Sam asked affably.
"I was the one who found him," the blonde janitor smirked. "I just saw him come up here and..."
"What?" the taller man pressed.
"Well, he wasn't alone."
The Winchester's shard a look.
"You ever see her before or around?" Sam pressed.
"Well, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Mr. Morality brought a lot of girls up here."
Deanna scowled. "Sounds like a real douche."
The janitor wobbled his shoulders indiscriminately. "He got more ass than a toilet seat."
She snorted. "Well, some guys are just full of shit."
Gold eyes alighted on her consideringly, as the janitor chuckled. "You're not the only one who thinks so. There was an inquiry a few months back where some poor girl ended up expelled. Her whole life up in flames."
"Really?" Sam's joviality gained an edge as he considered the possibility of a budding witch's curse.
The janitor nodded. "Last I hear she moved to Alaska."
"I hear the odds are good, but the goods are odd up there," Deanna said.
The blonde smiled winked. "I think it depends on which goods are keeping you warm at night."
"I've always been flannel girl myself."
The janitor laughed again, until his pocket beeped. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. "Sorry, I've got to take this." He apologized, before stepping out of the office.
Sam punched his sister in the shoulder. "Stop flirting with the suspects."
Deanna scowled at him. "What, so not I can't even look at a janitor?"
"Not while I'm in the room."
Later at the motel the siblings attempted to compile their notes, but kept running into roadblocks.
Sam screeched and slammed his laptop closed. "Dee! I thought I told you to stop looking up 'Sexy Business Biweekly' on my laptop!"
His sister poked her head out of the bathroom. "What? I didn't!" her expression changed to thoughtful. "Or, at least, I cleared the history."
"Yeah, well, now my laptop has a virus!" He grimaced. "And is full of dicks."
"Oh, un-bunch your panties, Samantha."
A sharp knock to the motel door stalled any further arguing. Deanna pulled on her flannel and answered it.
An inhumanly cheerful kid in a red bell boy's suit smiled cheerfully at her. "Here's a candy gram for you~"
Deanna blinked slowly as the singing delivery boy thrust a box of chocolates into her arms, before scampering off. She blinked again and looked down t the box. It contained the really expensive liquor filled chocolates imported from some non-English country which Deanna was sure she would never under no circumstances be able to afford normally.
Shrugging, she ripped the delicate wrapping open and stuffed a dark chocolate miracle into her mouth, nearly moaning as pleasure melted over her tongue. Then-
"Bleagh!" she spat out the candy into the trashcan. "Coconut!" She perused the box. "They're all coconut!"
Sam laughed vindictively. "Serve you right."
Then the slow dancing aliens made an appearance, and the Winchesters were left scratching their heads.
They called in Bobby, who upon arrival, promptly whacked the both of them on the back of their heads.
"Idjits," he rumbled. "You're dealing with a Trickster."
Sam ran a hand over his face. "Right, so what do we do?"
A knock rapped against the motel door, interrupting the hunter's planning.
"Here's a candy gram for you~" sang out the red suited bell boy.
"Oh for the love of-" Deanna growled, rounding on the poor delivery boy.
Deanna walked down the theater steps to the slow applause of her prey.
"So, I guess you found me."
"Looks that way," she smirked. "Almost like just deserts for what you've done."
"I don't just pick people on a whim, you know," the Trickster said, tracing his fingers over the amphitheater seat back. "My kind get called when people don't have anything else to pray to. Don't you think that college girl and her baby are happier knowing that daddy dearest won't be putting any other girls in their position? The punishment always fits the crime."
Deanna's face morphed into a glower. "And I suppose the frat boy deserved getting abducted by aliens."
The monster shrugged. "I never said I only answered big complaints."
She sneered. "I bet you just get off on is."
"Well," he tilted his head to the side, eyes like liquid gold. "We can't all be perfectly built like you, sweet cheeks."
The sound of a gun cocking. "Don't try anything."
"You know, Sam was right," the Trickster said, "You really shouldn't have come alone."
Deanna smiled as the theater door banged open. "I didn't."
Much, much later, she found a box of chocolates under her pillow. She didn't tell Sam. They were caramel liquor.
Ted the reaper was nice, Deanna decided. Too bad she wouldn't remember him when she woke up from her coma.
When Sam asked her what she saw in the Djynn's dream, Deanna brushed the comment off.
She did not mention the dark haired man, who looked suspiciously like Dr. Sexy MD, nor the white picket fence house.
She did not mention the auto body shop she owned, nor the taste of her mother's apple pie.
Deanna couldn't even bring herself to voice the three children, who crowded around her waist and called her mother.
After a while he stopped asking.
Only then did the hunter feel herself free to weep onto the Impala's steering wheel.
Deanna pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. He was her brother; she practically raised the kid since she could walk.
How could she not give everything she had to save him?
Really, what was a soul compared to her brother?
Deanna would have liked the chance to get to know Ben better.
His father, the bendy yoga instructor Elijah, didn't comment past a vague non-committal answer, when Deanna asked about Ben's mother. She knew enough not to push, though she gathered that it hadn't ended well.
The hunter entertained vague fantasies of living in the little picket fence neighborhood with her old flame. Elijah made one sexy single dad, but she caught the sidelong glances he cast at her, and would bet money he wouldn't mind a feminine influence in his son's life.
Then the changelings reared their creepy heads, and Deanna was reminded of the ugly truths of the world, and the paved road to hell creeping closer to her with every day.
So when Elijah asked her to stay, she looked into his dark eyes, held his face between her palms, and kissed him chastely.
"I can't. It's complicated, I'm sorry."
Sam glowered through his fingers at the disgusting display of affection taking place across the diner table.
This was the, he paused to compute, the fifty second time they had made it to the Mystery Spot diner without incident. The handsome golden eyed waiter spilt a glass of water over Deanna's shirt, as per schedule, prompting an exchanging of numbers, and increasingly transparent innuendo.
Sam contemplated just letting Deanna run off with the guy for the evening (she usually survived when out of his sight, ironically enough. Perhaps whatever was causing this wanted him to have to watch his sister's demise) but decided against it.
"Sorry for spilling soda on your shirt miss," the waiter was saying.
"Well, I suppose you could always apologize by helping me out of it-"
Sam's thoughts ground to a halt. Wait- soda?
He lunged across the table, grabbing the waiter by the throat.
"Sammy!" Deanna squawked, still daubing at her shirt with napkins.
"Woah buddy! I wasn't gonna actually-"
Sam didn't listen as he hauled the man out of the restaurant and pinned him against the chain link fence. "You! Who are you?"
The waiter's features morphed into a familiar Trickster's.
Sam snarled, but the monster snapped its fingers. The next thing the hunter knew, he was snapping awake back in his motel room.
"Rise and shine, Sammy-kins!" his sister crowed from the bathroom, mouth dripping toothpaste. "We should head out, you know, since you assaulted that hot waiter yesterday, and I doubt they will let us back in the diner."
He sighed, burying his face back in his pillow. It was Wednesday, finally. What could possibly go wrong now?
I wanted to write a girl!Dean story that wasn't revolving around the sexy times with Cas.
Deanna's first name is Marisa, because John's mother's name was Missy. I see he and Mary splitting how to name their children; Mary picks the boys's first names, John the girls'.
In cannon, Dean was raised to be very stoic by John. Here, he tried that once, and Sam capitalized on his father's inability to deal with women and their problems in order to save his elder sister getting yelled at. John does not know how to handle raising a daughter. This causes him to balk at Deanna expressing femininity and default to treating her as he would a son, until he is uncomfortably reminded of her gender.
Sam is more protective of his older sister than he would be of his older brother in cannon. Also, Deanna is more allowing of 'chick flick moments' than her counterpart.
Also, yes, I totally am hinting Gabriel is flirting/has a crush on her. Why? Because it entertains me to do so.