Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader (gn)
Warnings: None, Dean being dramatic with another transformation.
Prompt: Dean Winchester gets turned into a dog. Again.
An: Hope you enjoy @prosperousprophet! Thank you for the fun idea! ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა
The first thing Dean noticed was that something was wrong with his face.
He'd woken up slowly, his head pounding like he'd been hit with a truck. The motel room was dark, Sam was snoring in the next bed, and you were a warm weight pressed against his side.
Except his face felt...different. Like something was resting on top of his head that shouldn't be there. And his lower back felt weird, a phantom sensation that he couldn't quite place.
Dean groaned, rolling over and reaching up to rub his eyes.
His hand brushed against something soft and floppy.
"Don't," he whispered to himself. "Don't you dare."
Slowly, he reached up again. His fingers found the thing on his head, the floppy thing, and he realized with dawning horror that it was attached to him. It was warm and soft, and it moved when he touched it.
Ears. Floppy, droopy, dog ears.
Dean sat up so fast he nearly fell off the bed.
"No," he breathed. "No, no, no…"
He scrambled out of bed, his feet hitting the floor, and that's when he felt the tail. Small and soft and wagging slightly despite his best efforts to control it.
Dean made a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a groan.
The bathroom light flicked on. Dean stared at his reflection in the mirror.
There they were. Floppy brown ears that hung down. They looked soft and silky and unmistakably canine. They looked like they belonged on a spaniel or a hound dog. Super unthreatening breed in his opinion.
He'd expected something tough. A shepherd. A pitbull. Hell, even a boxer would've been better than this.
"I look like a golden retriever," he whispered to himself, his tail dropping.
You woke up to the sound of whimpering.
It was barely audible over Sam's snoring, but it was enough to pull you out of sleep. You blinked and realized the sound was coming from the bathroom.
"Dean?" You sat up, rubbing your eyes. "You okay?"
You got up, shuffling across the motel room, and pushed open the bathroom door.
Dean was standing in front of the mirror, his shoulders slumped, his expression utterly defeated. And perched on his head were two very real dog ears.
"Oh," you said. "Oh, Dean."
"I'm a dog again." His voice cracked. "I don't know how, I don't know why, but I'm a dog."
You stepped closer, your hand reaching out instinctively. Dean flinched, but you just gently touched one of his ears.
It was soft. The fur was a rich brown, slightly lighter at the tips. In your eyes, it was actually quite fitting for him. He looked much friendlier despite his frown and narrowed eyes.
"Huh…it’s not like a shepherd," you commenter.
"No, it's not." Dean's voice was flat. "I'm a floppy-eared dog. I look like I should be carrying a stick in my mouth."
You hum, shrugging at the idea of Dean with a stick in his mouth. "You look cute."
"I don't want to be cute, damn it!”
But his tail was wagging. Just enough for you to notice.
Sam woke up to the sound of Dean's tail thumping against the bathroom door.
"Not again," he said, not even opening his eyes.
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Dean's voice was muffled through the wood. "I didn't do anything! I just woke up like this!"
Sam sighed. "We're going to need more research."
The three of you had some experience with this.
The Inuit mind-meld spell that let Dean communicate with animals. That had been a choice, a temporary solution to a case. Dean had barked at the mailman and chased a squirrel.
But this was a little different.
No witch. No spell. No curse. Dean hadn't eaten anything questionable. He hadn't touched any weird artifacts. He'd just...gone to bed human and woken up a dogboy.
"I don't understand," Dean said for the fifth time, pacing the motel room. His ears were flattened against his head, his tail tucked between his legs. He looked like a kicked puppy with his eyes being a little wet. "I didn't do anything, damn it. I didn't do anything!!”
"Maybe it's a residual effect from the last time?" Sam suggested, not looking up from his laptop. He knew that this wasn’t ideal at all, but at least the effects were the most drastic. "The spell might have left something behind. Like a...latent trigger."
"That doesn't make sense."
"None of this makes sense."
You watched Dean pace, your head tilted. "Are you hungry?"
Dean stopped when hearing your voice. His ears perked up. "What?"
"You're pacing a lot. That's usually a bored or hungry thing. When was the last time you ate?"
"I don't know. Yesterday?"
"That was twelve hours ago."
Dean blinked. And then, as if on cue, his stomach growled. Yeah, he needed something in his stomach. It wouldn’t fix this problem but food certainly soothed.
"Okay," he admitted. "Maybe I'm a little hungry."
Luckily, the motel had a continental breakfast. Nothing super special selection wise, there being some sad looking borderline grey eggs, greasy sausage patties, and a couple fruit cups. The only nice, fresh option was waffles due to their being a waffle maker.
And Dean happily stood in front of the waffle maker, his eyes fixed on the batter dispenser. His ears were perked forward, tracking every sound in the room: the coffee machine, the toast popping up, the lady with the chihuahua in the corner.
"Dean." You touched his arm. "You're staring."
"I'm not staring. I'm observing."
"It's the dog instincts," he muttered. "I can't control it."
The chihuahua was a problem.
Dean had been doing fine, eating his loaded up waffles, keeping his tail still, pretending everything was normal, until the lady with the chihuahua walked past their table.
Dean's ears perked up. His tail started wagging. His whole body tensed like he was about to-
"Dean." You grabbed his arm. "Don't even think about it."
"What-? I'm not thinking about anything."
"I can't control my tail!"
Dean yipped immediately back.
Sam buried his face in his hands. You stared at Dean, your expression mixed with horror and amusement at the fact Dean yipped. Like an actual puppy. And Dean looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
"I'm gonna kill myself," he announced.
"Don't do that," you said while Sam tried to muffle his laughter. "You'd leave a mess."
The protectiveness started almost immediately.
Dean had always been protective; it was part of who he was, part of being a Winchester. But this was different. He couldn't help himself.
It started when a guy at the motel front desk looked at you for too long. His eyes lingered on your figure for the most part. Dean's ears flattened. His tail stopped wagging. A low growl rumbled in his chest.
"Dean," you said quietly. "Stop."
"I'm not growling. I'm…" He looked down at himself.
Dean forced himself to relax, but he didn't stop watching the guy. His eyes stayed on him across, ready to intervene if necessary.
"He was looking at you weirdly," Dean muttered.
"He was looking at me. Nothing to worry about."
You just sighed at his insistence, squeezing his hand. "Come on. Let's go back to the room."
Dean had always been affectionate, with casual touches, shoulder bumps, and many kisses when no one was watching. He couldn’t keep his hands off you honestly, they were always drawn to you.
But this only intensified that itch of his. Now he was always in your space. Leaning against you on the motel bed. Resting his head on your shoulder. Pressing his whole body against your side like he was trying to melt into you.
"You're warm," he said, not looking up from your lap.
"Dean. Sam is right there."
Sam looked up from his laptop, one eyebrow raised. "You realize you're acting like a dog, right?"
"I'm just comfortable, Sammy." He rolled his eyes. “Nothing worked with that.”
"You're literally resting your head on their lap like a golden retriever."
Dean's ears flattened, scoffing. "I hate you."
But he didn't move. And his tail was wagging, just a little, happy against the motel blanket.
The scratching was a thing, too.
Dean's new ears itched. Like a lot. He couldn't stop scratching at them, his hand reaching up every few minutes to rub at the base of his ears like he was trying to dislodge something.
"Stop doing that," you said.
"I can't, babe. They itch, kind of hard to ignore."
"You're going to damage them or something from how rough you’re being.”
"They're attached to your head. You need those."
Dean made a frustrated sound, his hand falling away. But the second you looked away, he was scratching again.
You sighed, reaching over and gently pulling his hand away. "Let me."
"I'm going to help." You reached up, your fingers finding the base of his ear, and started scratching gently. "Better?"
Dean's eyes slid half-closed. His tail started wagging. A sound escaped his throat, something between a groan and a happy little whine. This was practically therapy.
The research phase of you guys took a little longer this time.
Sam and you dug through every book, every lore database, every weird supernatural website he could find. Nothing. No spells, no curses, no artifacts that matched Dean's symptoms. It was like the transformation had just...happened.
"I'm starting to think this is just a thing now," Sam admitted on the third day. "Like a weird, spontaneous dog thing."
Dean groaned, dropping his head onto the motel table. "I don't want this to be a thing."
"You had a dog spell before. Maybe it messed with your DNA or something."
Dean lifted his head, ears flat, tail tucked. "I don't want to be part-dog forever."
"You won't be. There is a chance it might fade like the spell."
And Sam was correct with that theory. The transformation faded after a few days.
Dean woke up without ears an a tail, without the overwhelming urge to protect his pack. He sat up slowly, touching his head, and let out a breath of relief.
"Thank God," he muttered.
"You're human again?" You were already awake, watching him from your bed.
"Gone." He paused. "I think."
You sat up, stretching. "That was...weird."
"That's one word for it."
"I thought it was kind of cute. It was a nice feature for you to have.” You smile, having a puppy version of your boyfriend wasn’t something you realized you liked so much.
Dean's head snapped toward you. "What?"
"Cute. The whole thing. The ears, the tail, the protectiveness." You smiled at him. "It was adorable."
"I was not adorable. I was…" He paused, searching for the right word.
"You barked at another dog and a little old lady."
"That was a damn warning towards that thing."
Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Then he just sighed, shaking his head. "I hate you."
His tail might have been gone, but you could swear he almost wagged ꨄ︎
