Disclaimer: I don't own them. Unfortunately.
Dean Winchester was not a happy camper. As he continued trying to navigate the streets of Palo Alto, yet another group of college students seemed to materialize in front of him. Dean cursed and stomped on the brakes with a bit more force than necessary. As the Impala slammed to a stop, Dean heard a soft whimper from the car seat behind him.
Don't wake up, please don't wake up. Dean unconsciously held his breath, eyes focused on the sleeping toddler in the backseat. Ignoring the now-pissed off students yelling at him, he gunned the engine again. Time to get the hell out of Dodge.
Sam was dreaming. That was the only plausible reason for him to be here, in this room. The room was painted some light colour, indistinguishable in the night's gloom, and filled with dark wooden baby furniture. The sole inhabitant of the nursery (besides him) was a curly-haired toddler currently standing in her crib and whimpering pitifully.
The little girl ignored Sam's sudden appearance and continued to fuss, clearly unhappy with the present situation. As her wails began to increase in volume, Sam moved to try and comfort her. But as he reached out to her, he was stunned to find his hand pass through the tiny shoulder.
Sam barely had time to process this new development before an exasperated, and oddly familiar, male voice called from outside. "Okay, okay, Jesus, I hear you."
Sam turned to the door and opened his mouth in shock as the man entered and the child reached for him sobbing. "Dadadadadada…"
"Shh, baby, Daddy's here…"
"Dean?"