For BHJ, who should know by now, not to give me ideas. :P

"Do you think we should...get him something to drink?" Dean asks.

"Like what? Cream?" Sam whispers back.

"Well...yeah..." Dean shrugs.

They're both sitting on the second of two beds in the motel room, watching Castiel retch over the basket on the other bed.

"I just think we should be doing...something." Dean says.

"I'm trying to find the witches, it's just taking some time." Sam says, looking down at his laptop again, and scrolling through the list of abandoned churches. They must still be somewhere local.

Dean catches a flash of grey out of the corner of his eye, and moves a little further from it. "It's all right for you, you're not the freaking saviour all of a sudden."

"I think you're over stating it."

"Really? They're in my shoes man. This morning there were three in my shirt."

"That's not too bad..."

"I was wearing it, Sam." Dean thunders.

Castiel coughs, and they watch as a tiny ball of black fluffy falls from his mouth, hits the bedspread, and uncurls into a small kitten.

"Welcome to the world, number 89." Sam sighs.

Castiel lies down and closes his eyes. "I think they're getting bigger."

"Maybe they're just...fluffier." Sam wonders aloud.

Castiel groans.


Dean feels tiny little claws tugging at his jeans, looking down he sees fourteen kittens crowded around him. Grey, black, white, stripy, orange, spotty – but all with huge, expectant blue eyes.

The one in the middle mews, a little squeaky sound. The rest nod in agreement, squeaking as they start to climb his legs.

"Sam?" Dean hisses. "They're mobilising."

"Just...go let them climb on you – they like it." Sam says, waving his hands.

"Come on guys." Dean pleads. "Go back to 'Daddy' over there."

"I'm not even going to analyse that." Sam mutters.

Dean inches upright, three kittens clinging to his jeans, two more on his shoes. He steps carefully over the crowd of mewling kittens, and climbs up onto the other bed.

"Fine." He sighs, lying down next to Castiel. "Snuggle away."

The kittens, all 89 of them, climb the bedspread and come prowling over the bed. They waddle on their little kitten legs, squeaking and waving this little tails, pudgy, clumsy bodies stumbling towards him.

Dean will totally deny it if asked, but the littly guys are actually kind of cute.

Eventually they cover him, patting out little beds on his stomach, curling up in piles on his chest, snuggling into the spaces around him, their fur tickling his face and hands. Then they all start purring, and it's like magic fingers in stereo.

Dean sighs, and Castiel coughs up another tabby kitten, which clambers over its 89 brothers to lie across Dean's face. Dean turns carefully, and pats Castiel's hand. "Come on then, Cat-man."

Sam rolls his eyes, and opens his fiftieth game of minesweeper. There's no point trying to tell them that the spell is just externalising Cas's warm snugly feelings. Dean would probably kill him if he tried, anything to make himself a little less girly, covered in Castiel's little-angel-feelings.

Castiel snuggles up to Dean, surrounded by his kittens, several of which are squirming their way into Dean's pockets. He thinks, this is definitely preferable to eating raw ground beef.

Dean thinks it's the best curse ever.

But he isn't going to say.

The kittens would get to big for their boots.