Plot Bunny, Part 2

[barkinmad.livejournal.com]

Title:Plot Bunny
Author:sitrow or barkinmad
Rating: PG (sorry guys, I'm tame)
Pairing: Sam and Dean
Disclaimer: Although I wouldn't mind having a bunny as a pet, I think Dean would be a little to much to handle. Therefore, I own neither Dean nor Sam (though I wish!) nor anything affiliated with Supernatural, Donnie Darko, or Heroes.
Description: Bunny!Dean, so crack!
Author Notes: Inspired by a conversation I had with evolia. The first crack!idea I've ever come up with, and it's all thanks to her :).

First part is here


Now they were in a café, it was sufficiently awkward enough when Dean insisted that he had his own seat, and was in a high chair, chewing on a baby burger.

Sam had also discovered that apparently, he was the only one who was able to understand Dean and was a bit relieved because although he appeared to be crazy, at least he wasn’t causing a ruckus. That was what mattered.

Well, until he found that the whole scene he had scripted out between Donnie Darko and Peter Petrelli had slide through the floorboards of his mind. Now, he was just staring at a blank piece of paper, hoping for all the world that the words would fill I themselves. They didn’t.

“Ya know,” Dean said, pawing more ketchup onto the bottom of his patty, “not that I mind being furry and miniature-sized, but I was hoping we could find a way out of this. I don’t like you driving the Impala.”

Sam looked up from his paper, and then looked right back down, because he had just remembered something but it flitted out of his mind again and airily as it had come in.

“We don’t even know what turned you, dude. How’re we supposed to fix it?”

“I know what turned me,” Dean said indignantly. Although it was a little hard to seriously call Dean indignant because his ears had recently started flopping back and forth.

“Yeah? What?”

“That witch back in D.C.”

“Just because she didn’t jump on you doesn’t mean she was a witch, Dean.”

“No, but the fact that she practically jumped on you probably means that she is. Seriously, who’d rather talk about Bill Maher over Queen?”

“Washingtonians.”

“Anyway, we have to get back to her and find out how she changed me.”

“I really don’t think she’s a witch.”

“Sam. We left the bar, woke up the next morning, and I was a little lump at the foot of your bed. There’s no more proof that you need. She must have had a charm-resistant spell or something.”

“Give up. Anyway, we don’t have to go back to D.C.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve got the anti-spell right here. Dad’s journal, page 245.”

“You knew all along and you didn’t tell me?”

“You never asked.”

“Such a little bitch.”

“But I have to say,” Sam said, thumbing through the pages and landing on the transfiguration one. “the anti-spell is a little risqué. And I think your transformation was a little different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when was the last time I wrote you a story?”

“Oh. You think I did that?”

Sam nodded, and Dean pushed himself up in his high chair and hopped down to the table. The dishes rattled a bit, but they settled as soon as Dean had leaped on to Sam’s lap.

“Dean…this is a little uncomfortable.”
“I want to see Dad’s journal.”

“Let’s just pay, get out of here, and then you can see it. We’re still in a public place. And I’m sick of thinking up different ways for Sylar and Mohinder to work it out.”

*****
“The first thing we need is something to wrap you in.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Sam said, keying the automatic lock to the door. He stepped inside and was greeted by room full of singing fishes. Why does Dean pick these places? He ran over to the refrigerator, searched for a bit, and then pulled out something from one of the compartments. “This’ll do.”

“No way.”

“C’mon, you have to. For the sake of becoming human again,” Sam guessed the length of Dean’s waist, and then split off a piece of ham. “The book says that you have to have some sort of meat on you. It’s not that bad, just wrap it around your stomach.”

Dean did so grudgingly. Sam came over to the bed where Dean was standing (on his hind legs) and sat down in a chair across from him.

“Now dance.”

Dean gave Sam a Look, but then started to hop a bit from left paw to right paw. The bed was a bit bouncy, so Dean kept going higher and higher, until he cooled down and resorted to wagging his tail a bit and jiggling around.

“Sam, what does this have to do with reversing the spell?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see if you could shake your tail.” The ham hit him square in the face. “It’s really only a short spell,” Sam said, carefully removing the meat from his face and throwing it in the disposal. “It was just a nice day, and you just never asked.”

“That’s because bunnies are stupid.”

“Bunnies?”

“Shut up. I can’t think well. I mean, I can. But it’s like most of my emotions are cut off or something. I feel stupid.”

“Are you trying to start a ‘hug and kiss’ session?”

“Stop trying to be me, it doesn’t look good on you. Just do the damn spell.”
Sam picked up the leather bound book. Right before he started, he glanced over to his newly appointed writing journal filled with furiously scribbled passages. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to write that way again. Especially since they were probably going to hit the road tonight, and not stop for God knows how long. But he took a deep breath and started to chant anyway. Leave the fanfic to the professionals.

“The powers of once and the powers that be
Have held you in captivity
Once as a man and once as a mammal
Turn it back to flesh and flannel.”

“Dude, weird poem.”