Sam and Dean were running. For once they weren't running to a job or from the law, so some would say the change was nice. Sam and Dean would disagree. Because running from angels was harder.
They'd finally paused to sleep in a small city some distance away from Miami. It was sweltering hot in their hotel room, but they were both so exhausted they didn't even consider going out for drinks. Dean flopped exhaustedly down on one of the beds, throwing his arm over his face, while Sam went about drawing angel banishing sigils on the walls. Finally, he, too, went to sleep.
They'd planned to get a move on early the next morning, but, as was becoming worryingly normal, the brothers woke up to find Zachariah watching them sleep.
"Leave us alone," Sam growled. "We won't have any part in this."
Zachariah merely raised an eyebrow.
Dean jumped towards the angel banishing sigil just out of his reach, only to find that his arm shrunk as he reached, becoming smaller and fatter. He heard Sam shouting something and had to force himself to tune in.
"-the hell have you done to him?! Fix him!"
Zachariah chuckled. "Would you like to say yes to Michael, Dean?" he cooed.
Dean smiled at the big man who was nice to him and nodded.
"Dean, no!" came a voice from his left. "Don't!"
Dean turned his head to see another man. This one was younger and nicer looking. He reminded him of his little brother, Sammy, who—wasn't here. "Sammy?" he asked frantically. "Where's Sammy?"
They young, nicer man got up and slowly made his way over to Dean. He took both of Dean's little hands in one of his big ones and touched the side of his face gently with the other. "He's safe. I promise you, he's safe."
Dean found himself trusting the man and nodded slightly. "Can I see him?"
"Not yet. It's too dangerous , for both of you. You'll see him again, I promise. But you can't ever say yes to Michael, okay? Because then you won't be able to. It would be dangerous," Sam said, quickly, ignoring the raising noise level from where Zachariah was standing at the foot of the bed.
Dean nodded in understanding. "Okay."
Sam slammed his hand onto the angel sigil above Dean's head and it glowed for a moment while Zachariah disappeared from the room. Sam moved about the room, packing their things up quickly before grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him out to the Impala. They had to get away as quickly as possible before Zachariah came back.
Dean stopped dead at the sight of the Impala. "That's my dad's car. Why do you have my dad's car?"
Sam knelt in front of his five-year-old brother. "Yeah, that's your dad's car. His last hunt went badly and he had to get you and Sammy out of there. You were both sleeping so he gave me the car as a show of good faith for you."
"Where are they?" Dean asked.
"At Bobby's house," Sam said patiently.
"Who are you? Why am I with you and not them?"
"My name is Sam. Just like your brother. We were working together, your dad and I, and when we had to run we split up but we didn't know who they'd follow so we each took one of you," Sam improvised.
"When did we meet?"
"A few years ago." It had been, for Dean, anyway.
Dean finally nodded and walked around to the passenger side of the car. He'd started to get in the back when Sam stopped him. "Sit in front."
Dean paused and looked at him. "But I always sit in back, with Sammy. Dad says I have to be older to sit in front."
Sam smiled. "Yes, but these things that are after us—you saw one earlier—they can just appear anywhere. Including the back seat. They're after you. I can't let you out of my sight."
Dean nodded and sat in the front. Sam got in the driver's seat, unused to sitting in the driver's seat again now that Dean was back.
They got on the highway and Sam simply drove, going nowhere in particular, just away from the last place Zachariah caught up with them. Sam checked the rearview mirror repeatedly, looking for angel activity. It was a bit weird with his five-year-old brother with him, but Dean was a dream. He watched absently out the window, seeing the landscape go by.
Stopping for their brunch was a little weird. Sam got looks from everyone because he had a five-year-old with him. People seemed to assume he was irresponsible. Some looked at him doubtfully, as though suspicious he'd kidnapped Dean or something. Sam did his best to look like he knew how to handle kids to stave off the rather inevitable questions, but Dean's abnormally serious behavior for a five-year-old counteracted all of his work. Finally, a woman approached him.
"He your son?" she asked, though her tone was nasty and she glared at him.
"No," said Sam. "He's my nephew."
"I don't believe you," the woman said meanly, though there was a slight doubt in her voice.
"He is. My sister, Mary, died six months ago and John needs a break every now and then. I help out as best I can, try to lift Dean's mood."
Instantly, the woman's face softened. "My apologies," she said contritely, "I must be watching too many missing persons programs on TV."
Sam nodded and smiled, watching Dean where he'd wandered over to an old jukebox in the corner, "It's quite all right," he said.
The woman walked back over to her friends and must have reported on her findings, because suddenly the whole place became more warm and welcoming. Nonetheless, Sam and Dean left as soon as possible.
It was a few days later that Sam once again woke up to see Zachariah watching them. "Fix him," Sam hissed.
"Not until he says yes," said Zachariah smugly.
"Now listen," said Sam, "I am Lucifer's vessel, and if you don't fix him right this instant and leave him alone, I'll pray a yes to Lucifer and let him in with the conditions that he fix Dean and destroy every last one of you that ever threatened us."
Zachariah burst out laughing. "He's Lucifer, he's not going to agree to that!"
Sam grinned. "He's been asking me to let him in, not manipulating me. Do you think he'd see any decency in what you're doing? Do you think he'd let you live, knowing you're the ones who left him shut up in Hell and don't even do the kindness to your vessels that you'll let their decisions stand? Do you think he'd find any redeeming qualities in you? I don't. I don't see any. Why should he? Your sins against him are even greater. Plus, he's an archangel. He could rip you to shreds easily." Sam chuckled. "Fix him, Zachariah, and then leave us alone."
Zachariah had been growing paler and paler as Sam spoke, and when he finished, Zachariah snapped his fingers to return Dean to full size and unlock all the memories he'd hidden. He disappeared without a word.
Dean looked at Sam. "Oh my god."
"What?" Sam asked warily.
"Hey Uncle Sam! At least you don't wear a giant red, white, and blue hat and insist I join the army."
Sam groaned. "I think I liked you better five."