Dean has always lived a physical life, channeling his doubts, fears and temper into training, killing monsters and getting laid. It’s sure as shit more satisfying than talking about his feelings, that's for damn sure. So he feels better as they drive away from the pawnshop with name in hand. The incident with Pawn Shop twerp has cleared his head, helped him to settle, to feel a little more at home and a little less awkward in this new, temporary skin. This day is still sucking hard but at least this body did what he wanted it to and he got to kick a little ass. It’s…comforting. And now they’ve got a name and they’re making progress, they’re getting close, Dean can feel it in his altered bones. In the end, this is just like any other hunt (except for the part where he’s a freaking girl); you find the bad thing, you kill the bad thing, you go have a beer.

As they head towards the address Pawn Shop Guy gave them, they discuss strategies.

“Kick in the door and threaten them?” Dean suggests, only half joking.

Sam shoots him a mildly censuring stare from beneath shaggy bangs. “Why don’t we try talking to the woman? This Lilah Ellison bought the ring back and she told the Pawn Shop guy it was a family heirloom so maybe she knows what it does and how to reverse it.”

“And maybe she’s evil and goes around turning innocent guys into chicks all the time. Maybe it’s her evil thing.”

Sam shoots him a skeptical look. “Her evil thing? Dude, please. Besides,” he offers his brother a raised brow of sincere inquiry, “under what possible circumstances could you ever be described as innocent?”

“What are you talking about? I’m a fucking angel,” Dean returns in complete seriousness.

Sam’s snort of mirth is answer enough.

They reach a tentative compromise of a plan as they pull up to the address. They’ll say they saw the ring in the pawnshop yesterday, went back today to buy it and found out it was sold. They’ll say they talked the pawn shop guy into giving this address so they could find out if the owners were willing to part with it.

Sam figures the owner’s reaction should tell them a lot. Dean figures if the owner’s reaction is evil he’s going to rain some serious ass kicking on their curse loving evil asses.

They pull into a nice neighborhood with green lawns, leafy, shade providing trees and brick houses that have some individuality instead of being cookie cutter copies of each other. Getting out they head up the driveway towards an elegant old two story and climb the steps to the front porch where Dean impatiently leans on the doorbell and then knock/pounds a few times on the door causing Sam to frown. “Dude, chill.”

Dean just shoots Sam a ‘bite me’ glare and lifts his fist to pound on the door again.

Then the door opens and Dean is momentarily distracted from his woes by the vision of complete and total hotness standing, frowning, before them. Letting his gaze wonder up and down in good natured lechery, Dean reacts from pure habit and reflex, flashing a blinding smile pumped with equal parts charm, admiration and a ‘why yes I’ll take you into the nearest room and fuck you blind if you really want me to honey’ leer.

The woman, mid-thirties, raven haired, pale skinned and striking takes in Dean’s reaction and groans. “Oh, great, I was too late.”

Startled the two brothers look at each other.

“Uh, what do you mean?” Sam asks warily.

“The ring was only in that stupid pawnshop for two days,” she mutters, almost to herself. “I was hoping it hadn’t had time to bless anyone.”

“Bless anyone?” Dean asks incredulously, his smile fading at this ridiculous statement. “Lady that ring isn’t a freaking blessing. It’s an evil, evil…” Dean actually starts sputtering, too irritated by the woman’s incredibly inaccurate use of the word ‘blessing’ to come up with anything besides ‘evil.’

“Wait, are you saying you know there’s a spell on your ring?” Sam asks, shooting his brother a wary gaze. If Dean attacks the woman she might a) refuse to help them and b) if she’s a witch cause even more of a headache but so far Dean is still working on regaining the power of coherent speech.

“Yes, I know there’s a spell on the ring,” the woman sighs, running a hand through her hair in a harassed gesture. “One of my ancestors enchanted it.”

“An evil ancestor,” Dean snaps out, apparently having regained the power of speech.

“She was not an evil ancestor,” the woman snaps back, looking annoyed now.

“The ring turned me into a freaking chick! How is that not an evil spell?” Dean shouts angrily.

The woman looks like she’s about to yell back and then visibly restrains herself, features turning a little sympathetic. “Okay, look. I can understand why you’d be upset but the reasons for creating the ring weren’t evil. They were…” she sighs, “oh you might as well come in.” Opening the door wider, she gestures for the brothers to come in.

As they enter Sam leans down and hisses in Dean’s ear. “Just try to be cool man. We need her cooperation.” He ignores the angry mutters that are Dean’s response and concentrates on smiling winningly at the woman. “I’m Sam by the way. And this,” he indicates with a wry smile as they follow the woman into a parlor “is my brother Dean.”

“I’m Lilah,” the woman responded, offering an equally wry smile back at Sam. “And I am sorry that you were caught in the spell,” she tells Dean, shooting an honestly apologetic look at her. “I know it must have been a big shock to wake up like,” she waves at Dean, “that.”

Sam can practically feel Dean restraining herself, finally settling on only a modestly sarcastic, narrow eyed response of “Yes. Yes it was.”

Sam and Dean sit down on rose shaded couch while Lilah sits down in the matching chair.

“You said the ring’s spell isn’t evil?” Sam asks, interested in spite of himself.

Lilah shakes her head emphatically. “No, it was intended as a blessing.”

Seeing the boys’ skeptical looks she explains. “Okay, look, the ring belonged to one of my ancestors in England, a practicing witch in the 1800’s. She had a twin brother who was…well, a female soul trapped in a man’s body.” She shrugs. “Not the safest time and place to be a practicing transvestite if you know what I mean. So my ancestor, Morgana spelled a blessing into the ring for her brother. When he placed the ring on his finger, after falling asleep, he would wake up a female version of himself. In this case because they were twins, he ended up looking exactly like Morgana. It let her brother spend time with his lover who pretended to be courting her.”

Sam leans in, clearly fascinated. “That’s amazing. She must have been a very powerful witch to be able to alter her brother at the genetic level like that. Do you know what type of spell she would have used…”

“Let’s focus here Sammy,” Dean cuts him off sharply. “That’s really nice and all that she helped her brother like that but me, I like being a guy. I’d like to go back to being a guy as soon as possible. What do I do to end the spell?”

Lilah shrugs. “You’ve already done it. You took the ring off. The spell needs to be renewed at least every third day. So as long as you don’t put the ring back on you’ll wake up after the third night as a guy again.”

Dean sits back, almost feeling disappointed. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Lilah confirms.

“Oh. That’s…that’s great,” Dean says, although crushing that God Damn ring into dust would have been more satisfying…and then it really hits him. Of fuck, that is fucking great. He breaks out into a relieved, beaming smile and Lilah gives him a funny look. “What?” he asks warily. Maybe there’s some weird side effect she hasn’t told him about.

“Nothing,” Lilah responds, shooting him another look, this time bemused. “It’s just…you must be a really pretty guy.”

“You have no idea,” Sam mutters as Dean’s own smile turns into a cocky grin as he remembers just how much he likes brunettes. “I’d be happy to show you in three days, sweetheart.”

They make it out of there without being turned into a newt or a bat or whatever witches these days are dishing out when they’re annoyed because Sam’s sure Lilah’s a witch just as much as her ancestor was; there’s just this aura about her. Of course, Sam realizes almost immediately that using the word ‘aura’ is a huge mistake, but by then its too late as evidenced by Dean’s incredulous snort and use of the nickname ‘aura boy’ all the way back to the hotel which, damn, Sam really wants to hit Dean but he can’t hit a girl so he just grits his teeth and swears to himself that when Dean turns back he’s going to hold this over his brother’s head for fucking ever. And underneath the annoyance is pure relief that Dean is going to turn back soon. Because this day? Has shown him that he is really, really grateful he never had a sister. And underneath that? Is the deeper relief that his big brother, the one constant in his life, will be back to his normal, irritating constant self again in three days.

Not that Dean isn’t just as capable of being annoying in her current state as she smugly rubs in the fact that she talked Lilah into a date in three days.

“It’s not a date, you ass,” Sam rolls his eyes. “She just wants to make sure the reversal goes okay.”

Lilah seems on the level and pretty normal, except, Sam points out to Dean, that she seemed a little too susceptible to his bullshit pick up lines.

“Just means she’s a woman of good taste Sammy.”

“The name’s Sam, Deanna.”

This earns him a death glare from girl-Dean. “I can still kick your ass Sammy boy. A twisty chromosome will not fucking change that.”

“Actually,” Sam smirks at his sister, “we have the same training and now I have what? Fifty, sixty pounds on you at least, not to mention you’re now the size of a bug. I could take you blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back.”

Dean merely smiles back; a dangerous gleam entering leaf green eyes. “Training's not everything Sammy. It’s hunter’s instincts. And I’m still your big brother which means I will always be able to kick your ass.”

Dean really does looks dangerous at that moment but then again, Sam’s grown up around Dean looking dangerous and Dean’s never, ever been dangerous to him, so he just snorts. “Uh, I think actually right now you’re my big sister, Deanna.” He’s half-expecting it and sees the fist coming from his peripheral vision but it still slips past his automatic block, making him see stars. Fuck yeah, Dean’s still got his speed, he thinks in annoyance, as he shakes his head. “Hello! Driving here asshole!”

Dean just settles back smirking against the front seat. Hell yeah he can still kick Sammy’s ass.