Set in season five, somewhere after Swap Meat and before Hammer of the Gods. The time doesn't matter too much, but I like to try to work with a point in the timeline where all the characters I need are alive.
Rating: T—most likely will not include anything that wouldn't/couldn't be in an episode.

Why, oh why did I write this? I have other stories to work on…. Guess I just had the urge to write, so here you go.

Wind cut through the trees. The rustling of the leaves sounded violent, ringing in his ears. Soon enough, the noise was masked by his heavy breathing.

"God damn it, Sam! Where are you?" Dean shouted to the night sky as he jumped over another fallen branch. He landed with a squelch as his foot hit the damp foliage blanketing the ground. A yelp escaped him when his foot slipped, throwing him back onto the wet woodland floor.

Scrambling for the branch behind him, the hunter pulled himself against it, just barely peeking over while still trying to remain hidden. There was no way he could hide, but he also didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of outrunning it, either.

Through the darkness, he could faintly see the large shape lumbering towards his spot, slowing now that it could smell that he was near. Once the cloud cover shifted and the full moon peeked out, Dean could clearly discern the mostly-humanoid features of a werewolf, inching towards his spot every second.

Oh, darn. Just the night to forget his spare silver weapons, too. Wait, that's right. He didn't forget them; he gave them to his brother, who, according to said darling brother's brilliant plan, should've showed by now. But no, because why should Dean Winchester ever be removed safely from immediate danger?

It was then that a shot broke the tense sounds of the hunt, followed by pained howls and the crunching steps of a newcomer. After a brief struggle, the wolf fell silent.

Dean instantly relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief as he stood up. "Took you long enough," he told his sasquatch of a sibling.

His brother stood over the creature, wiping blood from his knife onto its lifeless form. "Hey, if you had run for fifty more feet, then I would have picked him off from where I was waiting," Sam countered, sheathing the knife and dragging the corpse behind a tree.

"Have you tried running on wet leaves? It is most definitely not a walk in the park."

"Well, that was refreshing," commented Dean after taking the first swig of his victory beer.

Sam mirrored the action before asking, "What, the beer or the case?"

The elder brother chuckled. "You know I always look forward to a cold one at the end of the day. But I meant that it's nice to get a straightforward, simple, classic case every once in a while." A grin appeared at the memory. "It reminds me that, even though we're the lucky bastards that got promoted to fight the Devil, the average Joe still needs our help with the neighborhood wolf."

"I guess that's true," Sam agreed. "I do occasionally miss the simpler days."

"Mm-hmm."

They leaned back on the couch, each swimming in nostalgia for a few moments before Sam said fondly, "Remember our first encounter with vampires?"

"Man, I thought Dad was screwing with us about them!" Dean laughed. "They're just old news now."

"And can you believe that only a couple of years ago, angels were a complete myth?"

"That was definitely a simpler time." He took another drink from his bottle. "I mean, even the stray demon came up once or twice a year for a crossroads deal or a possession. Angels, though, stayed remote and hidden for millennia. Now it's like we meet a new one every other month."

"It was imperative that we descended to save you from hell and prevent Lucifer's rise."

Both brothers started at the third voice, but once they spotted the familiar angel on the other side of their motel room, they sunk back into the sofa. "Yeah, thanks for that," Dean stated bluntly. "Cas, I know you're an angel and all, but your sudden entrances don't fill me with divine peace and happiness."

Castiel moved towards them, his steps swift with a level of urgency. "I shall improve on that later, but right now, you need to—"

"Howdy boys!"

He stopped with a groan. "Hide from my brother, Gabriel," he finished lamely.

The Winchesters were already on their feet and on the defensive, glaring at the newcomer. Gabriel merely smirked. "Nice to see you again, too."

"What do you want this time?" Sam asked in a sharp tone. He had hoped that the archangel would finally leave them alone after their last encounter only a few months prior.

"Whoa, relax, Samantha!" He held up his hands in peace, but the smile never completely left his lips. "I only came to talk. I think I deserve at least that much after all the effort that went into finding you. I must say," he added, turning toward Castiel, "I never knew my li'l bro was so good at calligraphy! You did a wonderful job on their bones!"

The celestials watched each other for a moment. Castiel held the teasing gaze, half daring his brother to give him a reason to start a fight, but he said nothing, knowing he could not stand against an archangel.

Eventually, Dean snapped, "If you're going to talk, then you better do it fast, before I find a reason to gank your ass."

"Kinky, Dean-o, but not why I'm here." His expression quickly hardened and his suave voice dropped. "I've been thinking about what you said before, that I'm afraid to stand up to my family, and before I tell you what I've decided, try to see it from my point of view:

"I have been on Earth for nearly your whole existence, and I wouldn't still be here if I didn't like you. We archangels have it pretty good in terms of general power upstairs." Sighing, Gabriel looked upward, probably past the ceiling. "I think we're the perfect pack of siblings, but they insist on fighting, and in terms of power among the archangels, I'm just the little brother. I only ever wanted to enjoy myself and be happy, so I carved out my own little paradise here. And now, after millennia of brooding in their respective corners, Michael and Lucifer are going to destroy everything in their feud without giving me any consideration."

"Now you're conflicted over what to do next," Sam offered, slightly rising out of his stance. He was sure that he hated the trickster angel more than his brother, but he was also more empathetic.

With a grimace, Gabriel looked back at the Winchesters. He seemed lost, unsure of where to turn. "I like you guys. I really do. But the truth of the matter is that you're only human, and to me, your lifetimes will pass by in the metaphorical blink of an eye. Even if I save your lives, you'll still die within the century, whereas Michael and Lucifer are immortal."

Dean scoffed. "Like I said before," the hunter concluded indifferently, "you're just a coward, afraid to face your own brothers."

"Maybe I am," he retaliated, indignant, "but thanks to you, I don't have much time to think over my next plan of action. That holy oil trick kinda clued in every otherworldly observer to my identity, and now I'm going to be forced to take sides."

In a flutter of wings, Castiel appeared next to his friends, protectively standing somewhat between them and the archangel. "I don't like your implications, Gabriel."

"Chill, bro," he said with the wave of his hand. "I just need something to distract the God Squad and hell's angel with while I work out this 'conflict' that Sammy mentioned."

"Yeah?" asked Dean in mock concern. "Good for you. Find a different distraction." He turned away to end the conversation, going back for the beer on the coffee table.

At least, he tried to turn away. He remained where he was, feet stuck to the cheap motel carpet.

He tried again, struggling against whatever force held his legs in place. He failed again, and judging by Sam's alarm, he was stuck in place, too.

On his other side, the elder sibling caught Castiel shooting his own brother a threatening glare; he wasn't moving either. "Screw you, jackass," Dean hissed.

"You see," their captor drawled, "I have an idea that will benefit all three sides." He strolled toward them. A smile once again adorned his face, this time feral and mischievous. "You, me, and them: My brothers will think I'm acting out of devotion to the family and will leave me alone; I'll get some much needed enjoyment out of messing with your lives; and you will get to live without any really permanent harm."

Both Winchesters wanted to punch the archangel in the face just to get rid of his expression, but Gabriel carefully remained out of reach. "I was only going to use you two knuckleheads, but since your good buddy Castiel's here—" He paused, grinning just a bit more. "It'll make things…more interesting. Hell, you might even learn something about each other when all's said and done!"

He waved. "Have fun, boys! See ya when your Friday's done!"

And with a snap of his fingers, the world went black.

Sam groaned, slowly drifting toward consciousness.

He felt groggy, as is he was still half asleep. His other half considered lazily going back to sleep, but when he rolled over on the bed, a bright sliver of sunlight attacked his face.

He hissed, trying to squeeze his eyes shut even more in order to block out the painful light, but at least it had sharpened his senses.

After a minute, the hunter blinked, peeking through the curtains in front of the window at a bright, sunny day.

Sitting up, Sam blinked a few more times and stifled a yawn, following his usual morning routine. I don't remember falling asleep last night, he thought. He was feeling off, and he couldn't put his finger on why.

With a sigh, he resigned to ask Dean about it when he woke up. He ran a hand through his hair, planning to go grab a couple coffees from the motel lobby before—

A startling revelation dawned on him. My hair's too short.

Panicked, Sam quickly ruffled his hair, lacing the short strands between his fingers. It was at least five times shorter than it was last night. Dean, you jerk! he mentally shouted, already picking out colorful language that would best express his anger. When a light snore pulled him from his thoughts, he glared at his older brother in the bed next to his.

Except…it wasn't Dean. Lying on the other motel bed was Castiel.

The younger Winchester stared for a moment before softening his gaze with a sigh. Castiel would never have a reason or desire to cut his hair in the night; he would be spared the earthly wrath of a tired human. As he heard another snore come from the sleeping form, his irritation was replaced with confusion. As far as he knew, angels didn't need to sleep….

What is with this morning? Sam rubbed his eyes in an attempt to further wake up. Upon trailing his fingers over a too-sharp jaw line with too much stubble, another alarm bell went off in his mind. He repeated the action, beginning to worry when he once again felt foreign skin under his palms.

He examined his hands, turning them over and looking for something familiar, all the while thinking, Oh no, not again, please not again...!

He looked at his hands hundreds of times a day, so it didn't take long to conclude that they weren't his hands. They were too rough, a bit smaller, and stained a couple tones darker. They were familiar, alright. Dean's hands.

"Ah, Dean, you're awake."

Startled, Sam whipped his head around. Another person had come in through the front door, and when he saw who it was, his stomach dropped.

Sam had hoped it wasn't true, but he saw himself close the door and move to stand by the side of the bed. He wore such an alien yet recognizable expression: serious, straightforward, and deadpan.

"I'm sorry about this," he told Sam in a slightly embarrassed tone. Sam was trying not to pale at the discomfort of the metaphysical experience. "I don't know how it happened, but I seemed to have left my vessel and possessed Sam."

The real Sam watched what was definitely a stiff and awkward angel in his body for a moment before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He crossed his arms over his knees as he tried to come to terms with how weird his voice was going to sound.

"No, Cas, I don't think you possessed me." Yep. It was so uncomfortable to talk with his brother's voice. "Wearing my skin, maybe, but I'm not exactly myself today either."

Castiel tilted his head in his usual puzzled fashion. When Sam's long hair fell in his face, he quickly brushed it back, obviously mildly irritated. Maybe Cas would have a reason to cut his hair after all…. "Sam?"

"Sort of, yeah."

"For a human, you don't seem very surprised at occupying a different body."

The hunter laughed; Castiel made Sam look and sound like an android. "Well, this isn't exactly my first Freaky Friday."

His confused expression returned. "I hope that is another reference that I don't understand, because today isn't—"

"Wait, wait…!" Sam interrupted, waving a hand. Friday. Friday reminded him of something…of last night, or the hunt—planning! A plan with the angels; with the archangels. Specifically Gabriel. Messing with the Winchesters yet again.

"It's a trick. A game." He groaned, already tired of the situation. "Your dick of a brother threw us into 'musical meat suits,' and he said he'll be back 'when our Friday's done.'"

They had just gotten back to a normal life, with domestic cases and a relative lack of apocalyptic catastrophes. Now he's stuck in his brother's body. It can't ever be simple. Just can't.

With a sardonic laugh, Sam shouted, "Gabriel, you son of a bitch, that reference was terrible!"

Cue title card.

So…this happened. I was reading something (can't remember what) when this idea struck me. I thought, Why don't I finally write a Supernatural fanfiction?

I'm going to say this right now: I have no idea where this is going. I only had the idea for this chapter. Now what? Should this actually be a story that will one day have an ending? Or should I just leave this here so that I can add oneshot extensions to it every now and then? Probably a combination of the two: A story with some misadventures strewn in every now and then.

Oh, and I really like how the episodes are often named after songs, so this title comes from Dream of Mirrors by Iron Maiden. Just the title; this'll be nothing like the song. Great song, but a bit too serious for my writing style.

Now I'll just leave this here and see what happens. Enjoy n.n

~S