Ah, hell.

This wasn’t good. Dean looked at himself in the mirror, touching his grimed up face and the baggy clothes that no longer fit him. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, wondering how he got himself in this situation. He’d only knocked out in bed without showering after a witch hunt and woken up like… this. This. He wondered what you’d say. Or Sam would- no, Sam can’t see him like this.

“Ah, hell.” Dean muttered, green eyes staring at himself in the mirror. Checking himself. Wondering how the hell this happened- that witch, probably. Damned witches. Spraying their bodily fluids and curses everywhere. This was why Dean hated going on hunts, This.

Dean didn’t know how to get himself out of this dilemma. Maybe it would wear off. He hoped so, as he felt himself up, giving himself an experimental pinch on the tiny waist to find out if this was real- yep, it was. Ah, hell. “Sweet Jesus.” He muttered, rubbing his cheek for the loss of his five o’clock shadow.

Dean looked ridiculous.

Dean was a girl.