Don't own, don't know, wish I did.

For anyone who was following Faith and Family, that story's been put on hold because it wasn't really going anywhere. Maybe I'll pick it up again later. Until then… tell me what you think of this one please!

Thanks

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Sam squinted at his computer screen and studied his words, then with a sigh of content he clicked print. Once the essay on medieval history was printing he stood up and stretched his back. The small apartment just outside campus was quieter then usual. His girlfriend Jess had gone back to her home in Montana for a few days because of a death in the family. Sam had offered to go with her but his beautiful girlfriend had laughed and said that it was a great aunt she barely knew, she was just going for moral support for her parents.

After a fair bit of convincing and realizing he did have a lot of essay writing to get done, Sam had reluctantly stayed home. So for the time being, he was all alone in the apartment and actually enjoying the freedom. It wasn't that he didn't love having Jess around it was just that every now and then it was nice to just listen to your thoughts without being interrupted.

Coarse, with all the research and writing he'd been doing for the entire two days since Jess had left, there wasn't much thinking going on. Jess wasn't due back for another week so Sam decided he'd just take it easy. Get his essays done in the first two days, a plan he'd failed miserably and take the rest of the time to relax.

He still had two essays left and doubted if they'd get done before Jess got home. But he'd gotten one done at least and now Sam felt as though he deserved a little break. He'd start a new tomorrow and just relax for the rest of the night.

After grabbing himself a beer from the fridge he plopped down in front of the tv and started flipping through the channels. Oddly enough he found himself settling on a movie about the supernatural. He rolled his eyes at how completely wrong everything was but couldn't bring himself to change the channel. Watching these movies always made him nostalgic.

Not for the hunt but for the good times that had been few and far apart before he'd left for Stanford. The odd time when he, Dean and their father would sit down and do something a normal family would do. Like Dean's 20th birthday. Most of the time birthday's went by without so much of a grunt between the Winchesters but this particular time Dean had gotten lucky.

They were hold up in some Podunk nowhere town and their hunt had gone surprisingly well. Sam and his father didn't get into one fight and they managed to kill the black dog before it claimed any lives other then a few cows and some sheep. It had been a good hunt and Dean had come in like the hero saving both John and Sam before the black dog made them it's first human victims.

The next morning when Sam and Dean woke up they were shocked to smell bacon and eggs cooking from the stove of their small rented apartment. The both fought and shoved their way to the kitchen where, wonders that be, John Winchester had prepared a feast. He turned around, smiled (and John never smiled anymore) and said,

"Happy Birthday Dean. Now eat up, we're going shopping."

It wasn't much, hell it was a trip to a mall and a two new changes of clothes for all of them but the smile on his brother's face had lasted for days. Particularly when late that birthday night John had pulled up outside the apartment in a big black truck, then tossed the keys to the Impala to his eldest son.

Sam laughed as he remembered the one moment in the great Dean Winchester's life that he had been rendered totally and utterly speechless. And then he had squealed, actually squealed and run outside to his car.

Dean slept in the Impala's back seat that night and the next morning he looked like he'd just gotten laid.

Maybe he had. Sam heard the car pull out late at night and not return till early morning. Figured Dean would get laid the first night of being a car owner.

Sam was brought out of his revelry when a particularly horrified woman let out a scream on the tv. A 'ghost' was hovering above her asking her for her eyes. Rolling his eyes Sam decided to switch off the tv and just relax. He missed the hunt, the adventures he and his family had gotten up to but what he didn't miss was the pain that came with them.

Physically or emotionally. The days when one of them almost died. The nights spent in dirty run down places stitching one another up praying infection didn't set in. The times when Sam and John had fought so loud that sometimes the cops would be called and they'd have to find another crappy apartment to live in.

Life wasn't supposed to be like that. Sam knew that now and didn't regret heading to Stanford even for a minute. But maybe, just maybe, he regretted leaving his family. Just a little.

It wasn't to say Sam was getting out of practice. Over the passed two years he'd accidentally stumbled across a hunt and would quietly deal with it before anyone got hurt. He didn't go looking for it and he'd never go more then a couple hours from his home but if it came up, he wasn't about to pretend it didn't exist. He knew what lurked in the shadows and he also knew how to handle it.

A sudden knock at the apartment door caused Sam to jump. Thinking about the supernatural would do that to him sometimes. People would knock or call and the first thing he would do was dive for the holy water he kept under the bed or grab the silver blade from his dresser drawer.

Tonight however Sam just shook his head and headed for the door. Friends would stop by all the time and he'd been trying to ease off answering the door with a suspicious look in his eye and a weapon behind his back. In his spare time, he'd taken martial arts at the Stanford gym and could handle himself quite well without a weapon. If nothing else, his father's training stuck with him to that day.

As Sam reached for the door he hesitated just a little. It was pouring rain and most of his friends didn't have cars which meant someone would have had to come through the storm to visit him. Most of Sam's friends would sooner tell him to 'F.O.' then actually trek the distance to his apartment.

"Who is it?" Sam asked through the door.

"It's the fucking tooth fairy, open the god damn door." Sam frowned and didn't open the door. The voice sounded a bit familiar but also sounded very high pitch. And as far as Sam could recall, he didn't know any children that could curse like that.

Another pounding on the door brought him out of his wonderment. He looked through the peep hole and saw nothing but the rainy streets but he could hear shuffling. There was definitely a small person outside the door. The question was, what were they doing here alone and at this hour of the night.

Another pounding.

"You're going to rue the day you left me standing out here in the rain Sammy," said the little voice again. This time Sam felt something inside him lurch and somersault, he knew that voice and the way it had said, 'Sammy'…

But he hadn't heard that voice in years not since he was…

Sam opened the door and looked down. His mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out of his head.

"Holy shit," he breathed. There standing in the doorway, looking like a drowned rat, was a mini version of Dean Winchester carrying a blanketed bundle in his arms. The Mini Dean wore Dean's leather jacket which almost reached to the ground and underneath the boy had on what appeared as a gigantic t-shirt that said 'Marines' across the front which was secured around the waist by a belt of shoe laces. Shoes… mini Dean was wearing Dean's boots that clearly must have taken a fair bit of effort to walk around in.

Little Dean did not in the least look amused at the situation.

"Can I come in or are you so keen on your normal life you aren't willing to help you family out?" Dean hissed. Sam shook out of his shocked and stepped out of the way. Mini Dean, looking about the age of seven or eight, trudged into the apartment and all but collapsed into the chair Sam had just vacated.

When he did however the small bundle in his arms started squirming and soon two little arms popped out waving around for attention. Dean looked at the bundle and frowned before looking up at Sam and holding the child out to him.

"You take him," Dean huffed.

Worried for the baby's safety, Sam quickly pulled it into his arms and sat on the couch adjacent the mini version of his brother with out taking his eyes off Dean.

"Dean?" Sam finally found his voice. "It… it is you right?"

"Who the hell else would it be Sammy?" Dean snapped. If Sam hadn't been so completely shocked by the state of his brother, he might actually have laughed at how the little guy huffed and puffed angrily.

"Dean… man what the hell happened? How did you get like this?" Sam asked. Then another thought occurred to him, "And where the hell is dad?" At that question Dean gave him a dirty look as if to say, 'isn't it obvious, moron?' and then he pointed to the bundle in Sam's arms.

Sam, very slowly looked down and was shocked to find two very familiar, very severe brown eyes staring back at him.

"Dad?" he gaped. The baby just blinked at him and worked his tiny jaw before reaching out and grabbing Sam's index finger. Sam looked up incredulously at his little older brother. "Does he… I mean does he know what's happened to him?" he asked.

"How the hell should I know Sam?" Dean spat. "He's to small to talk so there's no way of knowing but I think he's got some sense about this. He doesn't act like a baby would…" Dean paused and threw his small arms up. "Besides I don't even know what happened to us. One day were on the hunt and then bam next morning I wake up and I ain't tall enough to take a piss in the toilet. My only guess is whatever happened, dad was closer to it so he got shrimpified more then I did." Sam took a deep breath and looked down at his baby father in his arms. The babe was still staring at him and clutching his index finger. Sam could only guess what his father's state of mind was but that could wait until later.

"Well what was the hunt about?" Sam asked returning his gaze to his angry brother. It surprised him to see his brother's face morph from one of anger to one of confusion and embarrassment.

"I… I'm not really sure," he replied. And if Sam could have just picked Dean up and coddled him he would have done it right then and there. He just couldn't remember when Dean had ever looked so sweet and innocent before. But Dean would probably sock him one if he tried to even lay a hand on him. Little or no, Sam had no doubt his brother could make him hurt.

"What do you mean you're not really sure?" Sam asked. "Dean, how could you not be sure of what you're hunting?" Dean shrugged off the much to large jacket and kicked off his giant boots before getting to his feet to pace. Sam could see it was indeed their father's big Marine shirt that Dean wore and by the looks of it… nothing else. Sam did his best not to smile at his naked brother swimming in one of their fathers shirts.

"I mean my memory's a little fuzzy on things," Dean replied as he paced. "Dad and I had hold up in the Motel just outside of Wind Falls, Oregon. Some small no where's ville town and… and from there everything is fuzzy. I mean, I know we were there for a few days and I know we were researching something but I can't remember what or why." When Dean finished talking he just sunk right then and there to the floor and let out a deep breath. Sam, being mindful of the baby in his arms got up and went to his brothers aid.

Dean looked up at him with the biggest, weary green eyes Sam had ever seen before in his life and shrugged.

"I didn't know what to do Sam," he admitted quietly. Then he looked away from Sam to no where in particular, "I didn't know where to go and when I tried to call Bobby he told me to go find my mom and stop making prank phone calls. Wouldn't even hear me out." Sam felt bad for his brother and he could see the situation was taking a toll on the small body. He could understand how frustrating something like losing bits of memory and waking up a child might be.

"You were right to come," Sam reassured.

"Wasn't sure you'd let me in," Dean mumbled. Sam was hurt by the words but chose to ignore them for the time being. He stood up and pulled mini Dean to his feet.

"Come on, you look tired and need to dry off," he said. Dean nodded wearily and allowed himself to be led along to the bedroom.

The next morning Sam woke up to a wailing baby.

Wait… baby?

Sam snapped his eyes open and practically leapt off the couch and ran to the bedroom. He had been hoping his late night visitors had all been some horrible nightmare. But upon opening the bedroom door the hope was quickly dismissed. Dean was still slumbering away while the little baby in a makeshift next on the bed next to him tried desperately to get his attention.

Sam quickly and quietly picked up the baby. Not the moment after he did so, did the child stop. Sam looked at his father's baby face and raised an eyebrow.

"You do understand what's going on don't you?" Sam asked quietly. John just looked up at him and blinked but Sam had a feeling there was a lot more wisdom behind those eyes then was allowed to be displayed.

"Sam?" Dean's little boy hair was sticking up in every which direction as he raised his tired head from the pillow.

"Hey Dean, sorry I didn't mean to wake you. Dad uh… dad was trying to get our attention for something," Sam replied. Dean yawned and sat up then looked at the two of them and scrunched up his face.

"Yeah, that's how he let's you know," Dean said. Sam was confused as he looked from John to Dean.

"Let's me know what?" he asked. Dean developed an amused look on his face.

"That he just took a crap in whatever's wrapped around his ass," he replied. And then the smell hit Sam and he nearly gagged when he felt the extra warmth from the baby's small bum. Thankfully Dean had had the sense to double wrap two towels around John's bottom the night before.

"Oh that's just gross," Sam choked. He put the baby back down on the bed and took a step back. "So what do we do?" he asked.

"What do you do dude," Dean shot right back. "I've paid my dues. I had to jury rig the Impala so I could drive it and I had to make sure the cops didn't find an eight year old driving down the highway. It's your turn." Sam looked at his brother and frowned not quite understanding what was being said.

"My turn for what?" he asked. Dean stood up, still wearing one of Sam's gym shirts that hung off his small body like a potato sack.

"To change the baby," he replied. Sam went wide eyed and looked down at his father who looked up at both his sons. For a moment Sam could swear the baby raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dean… no… no way in hell am I changing my father's diaper," Sam blurted out. Dean put on his best sweet little angel face and looked up at Sam.

"But I'm just an eight year old victim Sammy," he replied. Then he leaned over and gave a disgusted sniff at John. "And little Johnny here needs a big strong adult to take care of him." Sam scowled at his brother.

"If you weren't tiny, I'd kick your ass you know that?" he hissed.

"Sammy don't use language in front of the baby!" Dean smirked. After delivery another snarl to his brother Sam picked up his father and headed for the bathroom.

Sixty minutes, two showers and two burned and exorcised towels later, John sat propped up in the living room chair sucking on a piece of cheese good as new. Sam had just emerged from the bathroom to see his father sucking away and Dean munching on a bowl of Lucky Charms.

"We need to go back to Oregon, figure out what in the hell happened to you two," Sam said. Dean looked up at him and then back to the tv where cartoons were keeping him entertained.

"Sure you can take the time away from your precious schooling Sammy?" he asked.

"Don't start with me Dean," Sam shot back. "You came to me for help and I'm trying to do that." Dean clicked off the tv and looked up at his little brother and sighed.

"Yeah I know… and I'm… well… uh…" Sam smiled, the Winchester's had a defect in their brains that simply seemed to render them unable to apologize for anything.

"S'alright Dean," Sam said. Dean looked extremely grateful he didn't have to go on.

"I was thinking Bobby might know something to help us out or maybe Josh but I gave up calling Dad's contacts when Bobby shot me down," Dean admitted. Then he looked down at himself and frowned. "We seriously need to get me something to wear," he muttered. Then he looked over at John, "And diapers."

"Amen to that," Sam snorted. "I'm traumatized for life after what I witnessed in that towel this morning." Dean laughed a childish laugh and shook his head.

"Dad always said don't do anything if you aren't going to do it well," he smirked. Sam joined his brother in laughter but was suddenly cut off when there was a knock at the door. All three Winchester's stilled, even baby John spat out his half gummed soft cheese and glared at the door.

Giving Dean a cautious glance Sam walked over to the door and looked through the peep hole. A Colgate smile that could only be rivaled by his brother greeted Sam's eyes. Sam stepped back from the peep hole and sighed.

"Who is it?" Dean whispered moving protectively toward his father.

"The Major," Sam replied. When his brother raised an eyebrow Sam shook his head and reached for the door handle. "Just play child, Dean."

Greg Masters looked like he could have popped straight out of a recruiting poster for the Army. He was a lean six foot two, had buzzed black hair, sharp blue eyes and a square all American jaw line. Greg was an ROTC student taking pre law just like Sam, it was the reason why everyone called him 'The Major' or 'Major'. The man just looked like an officer with his confident smile and mischievously intelligent eyes.

Sam had first met Greg during a game of football that had started up on campus. There was something about Major that reminded Sam a lot of Dean which was probably the reason why he and Greg had become such good friends.

"You ready?" Greg asked. Sam cocked his head to one side.

"Ready for what?" he asked. Greg laughed and shook his head.

"Come on Winchester, you're not pussying out on me now," he replied. "Remember my uncle? The range? You said you wanted to come with me and fire off a few rounds with your .45." Out of the corner of Sam's eye he saw Dean's little brow furrow but couldn't decide if it was anger or concern.

"Oh right… uh listen Major I uh… well something's kind of… uh… come up and I…" Sam tried to think of a reasonable excuse but never got the chance.

"Horse shit Winchester," Greg smiled. Then he raised an eyebrow, "Or do you have a special someone in there that Jess isn't supposed to know about?"

"NO!" Sam exclaimed. "Christ no!" Without even a warning, Greg shoved Sam out of the way and walked into the apartment. The moment he saw Dean and John he stopped dead.

"Chester you holding out on me?" Greg asked. He looked from the kids back to Sam. "You spawned?" Unseen to Greg, Dean glared a ferocious look at the man but thankfully kept his mouth shut.

"They aren't mine," Sam replied, still trying to think up a logical excuse.

"Then who's are they? You're not some psycho kidnapper are you?" Greg joked. Sam rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to reply but before he did, Dean walked up to him and clutched his pant leg putting on his best little kid impersonation.

"Uncle Sam is taking care of us for a few days," Dean said. Greg looked down at him and a look of recognition came across his face.

"Oh these are your brother's kids huh?" he asked. Sam nodded, relieved that Greg seemed to ready to accept the story.

"Yeah, my brother got into an accident and needs me to look after them for a bit," Sam added.

"Bang up job you're doing of it Chester," Greg snorted. "You forget to pack them clothes?" Sam blushed slightly realizing how bad it looked that the two children in his care were dressed in towels and large t-shirts.

"I set our stuff on fire last night," Dean piped up. He put on a twisted smile as he looked at Greg. "I like to burn things… wanna see?" Sam gave Dean a death glare as if to say, 'don't make things worse,' to which Dean replied with a look of, 'who me?' Greg however thought it was the funniest thing in the world as he laughed and knelt down in front of Dean.

"So you got a name runt or do I just call you Pyro?" he asked. Both Sam and Dean were stunned for a moment that Greg had taken the comment so well.

"Uh…" Dean replied. "I'm Dean, same as my dad. That's my uh… brother John."

"Well Dean, how about we go get you some real clothes before Chester here starts thinking it'd be a good idea to just let you run around naked?" Greg asked. Once again Sam was shocked, he had no idea Greg of all people would know anything in the least about children.

"Um… yeah sure," Dean replied. Greg stood up and walked over to John. In one scoop he picked up the baby and held him expertly in his arms. Sam just gaped.

"When the hell did you learn anything about kids Major?" he blurted out. Greg suddenly frowned.

"Sam, don't swear in front of the kids," he replied. Dean laughed and Sam had to restrain himself from smacking his brother. "And besides, I was the oldest of six kids not to mention two of my younger sisters have runts of their own. I'm great with kids… you have to be if you want to pick up hot chicks." Sam smacked his forehead as the look of pure delight crossed Dean's face.

"Uncle Sam's a boring guy," Dean piped up. "Doesn't know the true potential of having a kid like me around." At this Greg raised an eyebrow at Dean but then smiled.

"You and I are going to get along just fine smart guy," he said. Then with John in his arms he headed for the door. "Come on Sam, let's get these kids taken care of."

When Sam was sure Greg was out of ear shot he glowered at Dean.

"What the hell are you doing? I was going to get rid of him," Sam snapped. Dean shrugged pulling on his leather jacket.

"We need some help with Dad, Sammy," he replied. "And I need clothes that fit. We get picked up by Child Services we are done for okay? This guy seems to know what he's doing so I say we let him for today. Then you me and dad head back to Oregon and sort things out. Besides… at least now you can get him to change dad." Sam groaned as he followed his brother out the door, this could not get any worse.

The headed to a nearby mall and after a quick clothing stop, Dean and John were looking much more… well kid like then they had before. Dean wore a plain white t-shirt with jean overalls, red sneakers and a cammo patterned kids jacket. John was now the proud owner of a one piece sleeper and thankfully, a nice fresh diaper. The diapers had been a god send in Sam's eyes and in some way, Greg had been as well. Greg was so natural with kids that Sam could have sworn Dean was actually enjoying the attention of being a child.

Soon after a quick lunch at McDonalds they headed back to Sam's apartment. Just as they returned to the living room Greg snapped his fingers.

"Damn forgot something… I'll be right back," he said. He jogged out the door and Sam turned to Dean with John in his arms.

"I don't think you've ever had a chance to actually be a normal kid Dean," he smiled. Dean scowled at him.

"This ain't normal Sammy," he replied. "I'm twenty four years old and I had to order a kids meal today."

"Could be worse," Sam shrugged. Dean threw his small hands up in the air.

"How could this be worse Sam?" he exclaimed. "I've hunted demons, poltergeists, witches, warlocks, skin walkers, black dogs, ware wolves… almost everything out there supernatural I've killed and nothing like this has ever, ever happened before! Dad's a baby, I'm a kid and barely have the strength to lift a shot gun and I can't even remember what the hell we were hunting when this happened!"

"I know Dean," Sam sighed. "And well figure this out, we always do okay? Now let's just…" At that moment Sam turned looked up and paled. Greg stood in the door way with a bag dangling from his hands and looking like someone had just put a few thousand volts through him. Dean snapped his head toward the door and went wide eyed.

"How much did you hear?" Dean snapped. At the moment, the middle Winchester probably forgot that he was an eight year old kid.

"Twenty four?" Greg asked. Sam quickly walked over to his friend and closed the door behind him.

"Greg there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this," he urged.

"Yeah Greg," Dean said. "I uh… I watch a lot of tv and I…" Greg shook his head and slumped into a chair before looking to baby John and then to Sam and Dean. Sam could see a turmoil look on his friends face but couldn't decipher what the emotions were.

"We were just joking around Major," Sam tried. "It wasn't what it sounded like…"

"No?" Greg said sitting up. His face was unreadable. "Demons, werewolves… poltergeists, Chester?" Sam suddenly realized that his little slice of normal was being stripped away from him and tried to think desperately for something, anything to save his friendship. Greg stood up and walked over to the kitchen doorway with his back to the Winchesters.

"Greg I…" Sam started but couldn't think of an excuse. He looked at Dean for help but Dean just shrugged as though it really didn't matter to him. Looking back up Sam saw his friend was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We need to talk Winchester," Greg's low voice finally said. Sam raised an eyebrow, beside him Dean cocked his head slightly.

"Talk?" Sam echoed. His friend turned around with a surprisingly calm look.

"Yeah," he said. "If that really is your dad and brother, chances are they ran across a forest fairy otherwise known as an Inshara…" Sam's eyes were almost as wide as Deans as Greg calmly walked over and took John from Sam's arms. "…and if they did, we're going to have to track down the exact Inshara they pissed off before the next full moon." Sam felt his knees go weak but somehow managed to stay on his feet.

"Why next full moon?" Dean asked. Greg looked at him.

"Because small fry, after that, you're going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe," he replied. "Can't reverse what's permanent." Finally Sam seemed to find his voice as he collapsed back into a chair.

"You're a hunter?" he breathed. Greg took a deep breath and looked at John in his arms.

"Not a hunter…" he said quietly. Then he looked back up to the brothers, "…the hunted." With that, the little bundle in Greg's arms promptly bopped him in the nose with a tiny angry fist.

Dean's reflexes seemed to be as fast as they always were as he whipped a small blade out from behind his back and raised it toward Greg. Sam tensed and stepped protectively in front of his brother.

"Hand over John or I make your death slow and painful," Dean snarled. Greg simply rolled his eyes and weaved around another tiny fisted punch before placing John down on the couch.

"Sam listen to me," Greg said. His voice was low and pleading. "I'm not dangerous. You know me, I'd never hurt anyone."

"I don't know what the hell you are," Sam replied. "So why don't you tell me before I let Dean hear show you just how good he is with that knife." Greg sighed.

"He wouldn't be able to kill me anyway," he replied. Then he shook his head, "believe me I've tried… been trying since I figured it out. Sam… I was born in 1778." This time Dean surprisingly took a step behind Sam.

"A Shtriga?" he asked warily. Sam cast a confused glance, he'd never head of a 'Shtriga' before but he was pretty sure he didn't like the sound of it. Especially the way his brother seemed to cower at the very name.

"No," Greg said shaking his head. "An immortal," he replied.

"Immortal?" Sam asked. Even baby John turned his pudgy little head to one side curiously. Greg nodded and then pulled out a pen from his pocket.

"I've been through so much history it would make your head spin. I learned a long time ago that hunters see that as a threat," he replied.

"I thought you said your parents were dead," Sam remembered. Greg uncapped the pen and looked at it.

"Hunters back in the 1842 found out about them, put them in an iron box and dropped them into the deepest parts of the pacific," he explained. "They are dead and then they live and then they die and then they live and then they… well you get the point. I never knew where they were dropped so I couldn't try and save them."

"I'm a little confused here," Dean said shaking his small head. "You can't die?"

"I can die," Greg replied. "And I have… I can't tell you how many times and how many different ways one of you hunters have killed me." Sam's world had been upside down… apparently his brother and father being miniaturized could be topped in the category of 'what's worse.'

"So, what?" Dean asked, ever the inquisitive fellow, "You just… come back to life?" he asked.

"Yep," Greg nodded. Then without so much as a warning, jammed the pen in his hand right into his carotid artery and pulled it out. The man was dead before Sam had time to even process what had happened.

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TBC…

So, don't know if Stanford even has ROTC, don't know how it works in the States. Hope I'll be forgiven for assuming it does!

Read and review please. Tell me if this story is worth continuing with.

Thanks!