#menustration

nausea bubbles up in jack's stomach, making his surroundings spin a bit before he gets the general message that he should get to a toilet or something a little easier to clean vomit off of than the cold cement that was the kitchen floor. he barely makes it to the toilet in time, kneeling on the cold tile, feeling like a knife had carved sigils into his abdomen. this couldn't be normal, could it?

it's another minute before jack wipes his mouth and flushes the toilet, his nausea having worn off for now as he unbuttons his jeans to take pressure off of his stomach. why did it hurt so bad? what was wrong with him? his hands are shaking, massaging his stomach as if that will do something, calling out for help in a wrecked voice that cracks every other word.

he hears footsteps in response and then he's stumbling to stand up, his eyes catching on red. red blood smeared on the tile where he was just sitting, panic flashing through his entire being. he rushes to check his jeans, see where his injury is, pulling them off and finding them bloodstained, his boxers ruined underneath them, and then he's screaming, shouting for help, footsteps growing more frantic.

sam makes it to him first, taking one look at jack's sobbing figure before wrapping him in his arms and pressing jack's face to his chest. "what happened?" sam asks, his voice shaking from the adrenaline, "where does it hurt?"

"my stomach," jack cries, "and i'm bleeding and i threw up and my stomach hurts so bad, please,"

sam nods frantically and pulls back, holding his hand out. "tell me where it hurts, okay?" he places his hand over jack's stomach, right below his ribs, but jack shakes his head.

"lower," he mumbles, "it hurts in my belly."

sam just nods and lowers his hand over jack's belly button, but jack shakes his head, and sam moves his hand lower, cradling the spot just above jack's waistband. jack nods harshly and sam's eyes flick downward for just a second before he sighs and wraps jack in another hug.

"you're gonna be alright, jack, i promise," sam says, "this is, well, it's normal. plenty normal. it hurts but we'll all help, we'll figure something out. you'll be alright in a week." sam reaches for his phone, dialing dean before he pulls back from the hug and stands up, walking just outside the bathroom.

jack only catches every other word being muttered, something about blood and cramps and i thought his grace would stop it? before groaning and snapping at dean, "just get pain meds and pads, will you?"

when sam bends back down to help jack, he's calmer, more collected, but how could he be when jack was in pain, bleeding out?

"sam, it hurts," jack groans, "make it stop, please make it stop."

sam pauses at that, his eyes fixed on jack before looking away. he picks up jack's bloody jeans and throws them into the bathroom sink before he speaks again, still not looking at jack. "dean's getting supplies now. i'm sorry, jack, i'm really sorry this is happening, but we'll explain later, i promise you're gonna be alright. you just have to trust me," he says, but how can jack trust him if he won't tell him what's going on?

it takes a couple minutes for sam to coax jack off the bathroom floor and into a warm bath, looking away as jack climbs into the bath and sighs in relief. he lets jack rest, attempting to scrub the bloodstains out of jack's jeans and boxers, but abandoning it after a few minutes.

there's a knock on the door and dean cranes his head in, waving to jack gingerly before whispering something unintelligible to sam. he sets a box down on the counter, big purple letters spelling out maxi-pads, count 24, and then sam is leaving the room, taking jack's ruined clothes with him.

"hey, jack," dean says, an olive branch, "how're you doing?"

he can't speak, he's exhausted, he doesn't know what's going on, and so he sighs, trying to convey everything bubbling up inside of him with just one sound.

dean laughs. "sounds about right. so, uh, sammy's gonna grab you some new clothes and then we're gonna have a chat. it's gonna be different, somethin' we didn't think we'd have to talk about for a while with you, but hey, life is a bit unexpected," dean chuckles uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at jack. he rubs the back of his neck and sighs, "y'know, i know what you're going through, bud. i've had 'em before, hurts like a bitch, and i'm real sorry it's happening to you. cas said," dean pauses, "well, cas has said a lotta stuff about you."

jack swallows thickly, turning his head to look at dean. the water in the bathtub moves around him, little waves crashing against his neck, barely above the warm water. "he told you?" jack asks, tears welling in his eyes. he's so tired, he just wants to go to sleep, never wake up, he's exhausted,

"no," dean admits, "but i kinda figured about fifteen minutes ago when sammy called me outta the blue sayin' we needed pads. haven't bought those since 2007," he laughs, but it's not funny.

"what are those?"

dean's silent.

"what have they got to do with you and me?" jack rephrases, and dean exhales heavily.

"you want me to explain it? it's gonna be uncomfortable, i'm guessin', you sure you don't want sam or cas to explain it to you?" there's a hurt in dean's eyes for a second, but jack nods and it dissipates, newfound commitment showing instead. "well, if it's gonna be me, i should explain something.

"i ripped up my birth certificate when i was thirteen. y'know, the piece of paper that says your legal name and that you exist and if you're a boy or a girl. well, the one i ripped up said my name was deanna. said i was a girl."

jack furrows his eyebrows. "but that's wrong. your name is dean. sam calls you dean, so does cas. and, and you're a boy, you're sam's brother," jack says, and dean laughs.

"yeah, they do call me dean, and i am sam's brother," he says, "you're right about that. but there's this thing, transgender, which basically means that i was born with girly bits but i'm a boy 'cause i say so. and i was workin' on bein' a real boy, pumping myself full of testosterone when i died and cas rebuilt me. gave me boy parts an' all."

"girly bits?" jack repeats, clearly confused, "boy parts?"

"well," dean says, looking away, "there's your mom. she's a girl. and there's eileen, also a girl. they've got, y'know," dean gestures to his chest, "boobs, tits, breasts, whatever you wanna call 'em. point is, they've also got, ah," dean stutters, "vaginas. things that make babies. that's how your mom made you.

"then there's boys like sam. they get real tall and have big muscles and jawlines and shit," he continues, "they don't usually have vaginas. they have dicks, er, penises, i mean. they can't have babies, they just kinda," dean stutters, "they have the instructions for making babies. they help girls make them."

"oh," jack says, "i don't get it. you're a boy, so how did they confuse you for a girl?"

sighing, dean rubs his hands up and down his face. "well, like i said, i was born with girly bits. had a girly name and everything. but i didn't feel like a girl, and i told sammy, and he started callin' me dean, sayin' i was his brother. felt right, good, and then i wanted to look like a boy. cas rebuilt my body, did he tell you about that?" dean pauses before shaking his head, continuing, "well, when he did, he gave me boy parts instead of the girl parts i used to have. so when i was born, i was supposed to be a mom, carry babies, and now i have the instructions for makin' 'em, but i was a boy before that, you understand that?"

jack nods. "yeah, i get that. like, if i called sam something not-sam, he'd be confused, 'cause he likes being called sam. you didn't like deanna so calling you that would be mean. you like being called dean and a boy, so people should call you that."

dean smiles and nods, raising his eyebrows. "that's right, kid, and it works that way for everyone. you too," he says. the room falls quiet and dean looks away, mumbling, "you feel better?"

jack nods slightly. "the bath is helping."

dean nods, sighing. "jack, you're having a period."

"what?"

"a period," dean repeats, "it's a thing that happens once a month. 'cause you don't have a baby in you, your vagina starts bleeding, like it's mad you don't have a baby, i guess. for most people, it hurts pretty bad, and there's a lotta blood, and you usually bleed for about a week before it goes away."

jack furrows his eyebrows. "but girls have those, and i'm a boy. i don't have a vagina."

"apparently, you do."

it hits jack like a freight train, tears welling up in his eyes, pain searing through his chest, this time not a pain he understood, not a pain he could explain. it was like it was all wrong, everything was wrong, he was wrong, he can't do it, can't be,

"hey, hey, jack," dean coaxes, "breathe, breathe, you're gonna be fine. i used to get 'em, pain in the ass, and i'm still a boy, right? even if i had 'em, you'd still call me dean, right?"

jack's eyes snap open to look at dean, words spilling out of his mouth. "of course! you're dean, dean, you're dean!"

dean laughs lightly, "see? so if i'm still dean, and i'm still a boy, and i used to have the same equipment you have, then you're still jack, and you're still a boy, so there's nothin' to worry about, is there, bud?"

"well, i don't," jack stutters, "i don't like it, it hurts, and it feels wrong, and,"

"hey, hey," dean interrupts, "we'll figure something out, and yeah, it sucks. but it's gonna be alright in the long run, 'kay?"

jack nods. "okay."

"yeah," dean nods, "i think sammy left some new clothes outside the door, so i'm gonna grab 'em, and then i'm gonna show you how to use a pad. it's a bit trickier in boxers, but it works," he mutters, reaching for jack's new clothes.

jack watches as dean demonstrates for him, sticking the pad in place before folding over the wings and setting jack's boxers down. "dry off, don't worry about getting the towel bloody, 'cause we got plenty, and put those on, and then get dressed like normal. i'll be waitin' in the kitchen with something to help the pain, alright?"

jack nods, and dean shuts the bathroom door softly, letting jack sit with his feelings. dean said they would figure something out, that all of them would figure something out, and that it would only last a week. jack could stomach a week of this, if there was less pain, and then it would go away. it would go away and never ever come back, because they'd figure something out.

that's the only thing motivating him to dry off, dress up, and wander out to the kitchen, pain in his belly starting again, curling up inside of him.

cas is there, not dean, and he's got little pink pills sitting in front of him, a glass of water to his left. jack sits down, looking at the pills, refusing to take his eyes off of them. he thought they had magic to help, not just some stupid medication.

"why didn't you tell me?" jack asks, not really to anyone, but cas answers, filling the space in the air.

"i saw you as a baby, heard kelly name you jacqueline, and i didn't think much of it. but then you were big, looked like you were a seventeen year old boy, and i assumed you changed everything to look like a boy. you liked the name jack and we stuck with it. you liked looking like me and dean and sam, you liked being a boy, and i didn't tell anyone. i didn't tell sam or dean because i didn't want them looking at you or treating you differently."

"but you knew dean used to have girl parts." it's a statement, not a question.

"yes," cas says, "and i could have told him. but i wasn't sure you had 'girl parts' anymore, and you were so happy being a normal boy, and we had so many other things going on," he rambles, pausing, "forgive me. i shouldn't have let this fall on you like this. i can't imagine how you feel."

jack sighs, reaching for the pills. "i feel bad. it hurts and then it's worse than just hurt because it feels wrong, like my body isn't supposed to do this, like i'm not a real boy."

"jack," castiel says, voice stern, "you are a boy, and no one can take that away from you. you are my son, and i love you, and i am so, so sorry. please do not ever doubt that you are what you feel you are."