Disclaimer: The lovely and indomitable Eric Kripke is the proud owner of our Winchester boys. I can only wish wistfully that it were I.

Don't You Dare Pee in the Impala!

By: Vanessa Sgroi

Dean Winchester pushed open the door to Room 24 of the Camelot Motel and wearily trudged inside. His brother, Sam, followed on his heels. Slapping on the light, he blinked at the sudden glare and glanced around the room.

"Whoa, dude, this is one of the creepiest rooms we've ever stayed in," Dean breathed out in a hushed voice.

Sam's eyes darted from corner to corner, and he found himself nodding in agreement. "Man, I think you're right."

All the walls were a painted landscape with lifelike flora and fauna, resembling the dark depths of an enchanted forest. Interspersed throughout were all manner of whimsical and fantastical creatures. Unicorns frolicked, ogres and trolls growled, fairies and more flitted from flower to flower. It was like a little girl's room on heavy-duty anabolic steroids.

Dean grimaced. "Good thing I'm too tired to care much."

"Yeah, and it IS only for one night. Won't see much of it through closed lids," replied Sam with a half smile.

Dropping his duffle on the first bed, Dean mumbled, "Want the first shower?"

Surprised at the unexpected offer and conscious of how sticky he was with sweat and grime, Sam offered a happy, "Really?"

Cocking an eyebrow, Dean comically mimicked, "Yes, really."

"Sweet!" Sam deposited his duffle bag on his bed and rooted around for clean boxes and t-shirt to sleep in, hurrying to grab any needed items and get to the bathroom before Dean changed his mind.

"Just hurry!" the elder Winchester called out as the bathroom door banged shut.

A half hour later found both Winchester's showered and settled down in their respective beds. Sam yawned and knuckled his eyes, rolling onto his right side. "'night, Dean. See ya in the morning."

"Yeah. Just not freakishly early," grumbled Dean good-naturedly. He snapped off the lamp and wiggled around to get comfortable. In the first few seconds of silence, the older hunter thought he heard soft rustling sounds coming from the creatures on the walls. "Damn freaky room," he muttered under his breath. He slid his hand under his pillow making sure his knife was right where it was supposed to be. Reassured, he let himself drift off into slumber.

(SN) (SN) (SN)

In four days time

it will be done,

return will he

into mother's son.

Dean awoke suddenly with those strange whispery words, accompanied by an odd ethereal giggle, echoing in his mind. Puzzled, he remained still for several moments trying to figure out if he'd merely been dreaming. It was then he realized he heard panting—panting?—coming from Sam's bed.

"Sam, what the hell you doin' over there?" Dean growled and then paused as a wayward and rather horrifying thought struck. "Wait a minute—you're not—Sammy, you wouldn't—not with me right here in the ro—" Dean's sentence stammered to an awkward end and he held his breath, listening.

"I'm turning on the light, Sam. You just better not be . . ."

Pushing back the scratchy sheet and comforter, the elder Winchester sat up and flipped on the light, his gaze riveted on Sam's bed. What he saw pulled a slight gasp from his lips. Sam's bed was empty. Well, not really empty—a humongous, floppy, brown dog lay sprawled—happily sprawled—smack in the middle of the bed where Sam had been when Dean had drifted off. Eyes searching the room, he called out, "Sam?"

WOOF

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Dean yelled again, "Sam, where are you?"

WOOF

More than a little worried now, Dean stood and stalked to the bathroom. A quick glance inside was enough to prove it empty. He next hurried to the room door, yanked it open, and visually searched the parking lot and surrounding area for some sign of his brother. He noted with relief that the Impala was still parked in the slot he pulled into hours earlier.

Closing the door with a bang, he spun around; half expecting to see Sam's familiar freakishly tall and gangly form flopped out on the bed. Instead the dog gazed back at him with an almost quizzical expression on its face.

"What the hell is going on? Damn it, Sam, where could you have gone?" Dean was beating himself up for not salting the door and windows last night even though they were between hunts and he'd no reason to expect anything bad happening.

WOOF

It was then Dean noticed a wispy, silvery piece of paper fluttering on the corner of Sam's bed. He quickly marched over and grabbed it, noticing an iridescent, glimmering, gritty dust sprinkled liberally on the paper. It coated his fingertips as he held it up to read the words printed there.

In four days time

it will be done,

return will he

into mother's son.

Reading those words—the very words echoing in his head earlier—sent a shiver tripping down Dean's spine. He looked at the dog and finally noticed the same iridescent, glimmering, gritty dust gleaming on the dog's warm brown fur.

"Sammy?"

WOOF

Dropping down on the edge of the bed, disbelief written all over his handsome face, Dean moaned, "Holy shit, Sam. I can't believe this. You've been turned into a dog!"

WOOF

TBC . . .