Bob strolled down the pavement, whistling as he went. He was nearing the end of his shift, and although being a mall's security guard didn't really entitle much work, he'd still be glad to get home, kick back and relax for a few hours. If his wife didn't start her nagging again, that is.
Spending five hours a day dealing with frantic mothers, and try-hard delinquent kids who stole socks and lipsticks for kicks, wasn't exactly what he'd been thinking of when he'd signed up as a guard. But it was better than nothing. Bob thought of what his life would be like without his TV to block out his wife and kids' whinging, and he almost had to sit down.
Wow, it'd be like hell...minus the dying part.
Speaking of hysterical mums, here came one now. Bob sighed and readied himself for the onslaught of information he knew was to come.
Sure enough, the minute the middle-aged, slightly plump woman arrived in front of him, without even pausing to gain her breath, she started talking.
"Hello have you seen my son? He's about this high with short spiky blonde hair and glasses and he was wearing a red Spiderman shirt and three-quarter black pants and runners with a Bob the Builder backpack he's five years old and answers to the name Mikey I was shopping and the next thing I knew he had gone!" she paused, her frantic tirade finally coming to a halt.
Bob waited until she was breathing again, then dealt with her the way he had been taught before he started here.
"Okay, ma'am, I'll send that information through to the help desk, and they'll put a call over the loudspeaker for him to meet you here. If anyone see's him they'll bring him here too," Bob said soothingly, trying to remove the iron-like grip she held him in.
"Okay, thankyou so much, you must think I'm a hopeless parent, but I swear I only looked away for a second! He doesn't cope very well on his own, please hurry!"
Bob finally peeled the last of her fingers off, backing away slowly.
"Yes, ma'am, I'll handle this personally."
He turned around, only to walk straight into a young man, who looked just as frantic as the woman.
Oh no, what now?
The man, who couldn't have been more than twenty-six, had clear green eyes, close cropped hair, and a handsomely chiselled face, with a 3 o'clock shadow. He was about 6'1 tall, and was sporting a leather jacket. Bob eyed it enviously; he'd had one when he was about this man's age; but it didn't fit anymore, not over his recently acquired pot belly.
Bob was pulled out of his reveries as the man clutched his arm, much as the mother had done.
"Please, you have to help me," he gasped, clutching his side, where he obviously had a stitch from running so hard. Bob smiled to himself; finally, he had a chance to prove himself to everyone. Maybe someone had tried to steal something big, or-Bob almost giggled in glee-maybe someone even had a gun!
"Just tell me where the trouble is, son, I'll deal with it personally!" he said professionally. The man looked at him thankfully, before spitting out what he needed to say.
"It's my brother, I went inside to buy some food, come back five seconds later and he was gone. There were no signs of like, attack, so I know he left by himself. Besides, there's not much out there that could take my brother by surprise! I swear though, I'll kill him when I get my hands on him!"
As the man made vaguely threatening motions in the air, Bob felt himself deflate.
"You mean...you're reporting a missing child?" he asked flatly.
The man nodded eagerly, then continued with his descriptions.
"Yeah, he's about this tall," to Bob's surprise the man gestured somewhere above his head.
That can't be right...
"And he's wearing, uh, jeans, and a plain blue t-shirt, with a shirt over the top, not buttoned, and then a hoodie. He has hazel eyes and long brown hair like a girl's." The man stopped, face creased in thought. "Anything else?" he muttered to himself, and the mother, who'd been standing by the whole time, stepped forward.
"His name, dear?" she supplied helpfully, and he grinned winningly at her.
"Yeah, thanks. His name is Sam, doesn't answer to Sammy and definitely not Samuel. Ever. Oh, and he's twenty-three."
Bob and the mother turned to each other simultaneously in confusion as the man's mobile rang. He turned to answer it, muttering a few curt "yup's" before hanging up.
"Never mind, he's been spotted...maybe. Thanks for all your help, officer. Ma'am," he said, nodding politely in the woman's direction.
Then he was gone, as swiftly as he had arrived, leaving the pair standing where they were, baffled.
Bob turned to stare critically at the woman.
"Your missing child is, in fact, a child, isn't he?"

---

"Dammit, Sammy, pick up pick up pick up!" Dean grumbled into his phone as he slid into the Impala, slamming the door as gently as he could, while still getting the same 'I'm-pissed-as-hell' effect.
He threw the mobile into the passenger seat as it remained un-responsive, putting the car into gear and backing out of the supermarket's parking lot.
It had literally only been a few minutes, but the minute he'd gotten back, Sam was gone.
I guess it was my fault, Dean thought sadly. I should've known better to leave him alone, what with the mood he was in and everything.
It had been a bit weird, to be honest. They had just completed a run-of-the-mill, salt-and-burn job, when Sam had suddenly sunk into this blue funk that Dean had been unable to pull him out of.
Maybe it's the time of the year?
It was nearing Halloween, and Dean knew that was one of the last times Sam had spent any time with his girlfriend, Jessica.
That must be it, he thought, satisfied that he'd figured his brother out.
Dean cruised down the road slowly, deciding on the best course of action; something he usually had Sam do for him.
Suddenly he noticed all of Sam's possessions; his wallet, jacket and bags, sitting in the passenger seat. Dean braked sharply, chest heaving as the tires squealed against the gravel road, the smell of burnt rubber penetrating the air.
Sammy would never have run off without his stuff...something supernatural is definitely up.
Dean drove off again, a grim smile on his face, heading for Ellen's road house, where the call had come from.

---

"Hey, Dean, wait up!"
Sam slowed his jog to a halt, watching in disbelief as Dean pulled out of the shop's parking lot, heading down the road. He started running again as Dean braked suddenly, new hope coursing through him.
Of course, he's just trying to get me worried. Nice prank, Dean, but I'll get you back...
But then the car was up and running again, speeding down the road as if its life depended on it.
Not that cars are alive...although I'm pretty sure Dean would disagree with me on that one.
Speaking of...Sam turned and kicked a rock frustratedly. Why would Dean strand him in the middle of some back water country town? Was he trying to get back at Sam for something?
Sam wracked his brains, and came up with nothing.
Suddenly he remembered his mobile; he'd stuffed that in his pocket just before he'd gotten out of the car. After being cooped up in the Impala for an hour while Dean went shopping, Sam had decided to go for a short walk, get the blood rushing again. Dean had said he'd be five minutes, but he'd obviously meant sixty. Obviously...
Sam had come back, five minutes later, to find Dean driving away, leaving him standing stupidly, coughing in the cloud of dust the cloud had produced.
Sam pulled his mobile out and dialled Dean's number furiously, preparing an angry retribution for his older brother.
And met nothing but a dial tone. The phone was busy.
Sam angrily slammed his phone shut, then realised Dean might've been trying to call him. He eagerly punched in the number for his message box, tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg as he waited.
Finally! One new message...
"Sammy, it's me." A moment's pause as Dean realised he wasn't being entirely specific. "Uh, Dean. Your brother." Sam listened as Dean fell silent, wondering what his brother was waiting for.
He's not waiting for a response is he? It's a message, Dean, as in; one way!
"Anyway...I just want you to know, when you get this, that I'm trying to track down the demon this very minute. I won't let him get away with taking you from under my nose, that stupid sunnova-" Dean cursed under his breath; the action was a bit pointless as Sam could hear every inhalation through the phone.
What demon is he talking about? I didn't know we were on a hunt...
"If you manage to get free, I'm heading for Ellen's place. What the he-" There was a rustling noise, and Sam guessed that Dean had dropped the mobile. "Uh, Sammy, you there? Anyway, she called and said she had news on a new demon. Coincidence? I think not..." Dean chuckled, for some reason, then cleared his throat and hung up with a curt 'bye'.
Sam sat back and stared musingly at his mobile for a second, as if it could explain everything.
Hey, don't look at me, it seemed to tell him, looking somehow indignant. I'm just the messenger.
It only took Sam another minute to put two and two together, and realised that Dean thought he'd been kidnapped by some demon.
Growling under his breath, he dialled Ellen's number.
Maybe she'll be able to talk some sense into him...and convince him to come pick me up.
Sam glanced over at a truckie with a big pot belly, who was eyeing him with a little more interest than everyday politeness required.
And none too soon, too...

---

"Look, I said I'm sorry Sammy!" Dean grumbled, glancing over at Sam, who was driving. After all that had happened, Dean had thought it would be best if he got on Sam's better side and let him drive the Impala, which Sam knew was a privilege.
But the effect seemed to be wasted on his little brother, as Sam glared over the steering wheel, peering furiously at the road. Dean winced as Sam roughly changed gear.
I'm sorry baby, it'll only be a little longer. Then I'll kick his ungrateful butt back into the passenger seat and we can be together again...
Sam glanced over at Dean as the older man ran his hand lovingly over the leather seat, and sighed.
"You're thinking dirty thoughts about the car again, aren't you Dean?"
Dean looked affronted, then submissive.
"No, I-okay, so I was."
Sam shook his head, some of his old anger returning as he saw Dean look at him hopefully. His brother obviously thought he had forgiven him.
No way is that gonna happen any time soon...
"Calling me 'Sammy' isn't going to help you much," Sam said stiffly, bringing the subject up again, knowing there was no way he could lose any argument Dean brought up, because he was on the higher moral ground.
He glanced at Dean, annoyed, as this failed to elicit a response from him.
"You know what your problem is, Dean?" he tried again. Dean turned to look at him, a mocking response about to trip off his tongue, but changed his mind at the last minute. He was interested to see where this was going to go...
"It's that you're too busy treating me like a child to see I'm not," Sam finished quietly. Dean stared at him, stunned.
"What? That's a load of bull, Sammy! I know you can make your own choices, you showed us that when you walked out on me and dad. I let you be, and it was your own choice to follow me when I asked you to help find dad! Then it was your choice to continue when he died."
Sam opened his mouth, paused, then shut it again.
"I'm just saying, you don't have to think the worst every time I go missing," he muttered darkly.
Dean ignored him, and the brothers drove on towards Ellen's road house in silence.

---

"So...these people get their wishes granted...but in a bad way?" Sam asked dubiously. Dean sipped his beer slowly, then set it on the table before grinning.
"So it's like...some kind of bad-ass, vengeful fairy?" Dean's face fell as everyone glared at him. "Too soon? It's too soon, isn't it. Okay."
Sam rolled his eyes at Ellen, who hid a grin at the boy's reaction to his older brother's antics.
"Dean, three people have died."
Dean snorted into his drink.
"Well, that's their fault for wasting their wishes, isn't it?"
Ellen intervened before Sam could throttle his brother.
"Boys, you need to cooperate on this one, okay? We've traced the, uh," she choked on the word; the notion was so ludicrous, "Fairy to a place in Australia. So, you're gonna have to fly there."
Sam grinned as Dean blanched.
"Didn't Dean tell you, Ellen? He doesn't like flying."
Ellen sighed as Dean punched Sam in the arm, who scowled as he rubbed the sore spot.
"Sam, don't tease your brother." Dean laughed and stuck his tongue out at Sam, and Ellen glared at him.
"And you, Dean. Don't...just don't."
Dean downed his drink, standing up while grabbing his jacket, a manoeuvre he had practised and perfected in front of the mirror as a kid.
"Why can't a hunter in Australia do it?"
Ellen rolled her eyes.
"Because, Dean, we need the best." Ellen paused as the brothers' grinned gleefully at each other, then interrupted their silent celebration. "And, seeing as we can't have that, we'll settle for you guys."

---

24 hours and three paper bags of Dean's stomach contents later, (wow, try saying that five times quickly thought Sam) and the brothers were standing in Melbourne's airport, bags in hand, awed by the bustle of the crowd.
"Look at everyone," Dean said slowly. Sam waited patiently for more, then prodded his brother in frustration as he just stood, gaping.
"And, Dean?"
Dean started, looking around, surprised.
"What? Oh, it's just so...overwhelming. Everything's so...bustling!"
"Have you been reading the dictionary again Dean?"
Dean scowled.
"Shuddup Sammy. C'mon, we have a job to do. Let's get it done and get out of here ASAP. Now...where do you think you hire the kangaroos?"
"The what, Dean?"
"You know, the big hopping animals they ride around here instead of cars or horses. Geez, College Boy, don't you know anything?!"

---

Sam and Dean stood back to back in the middle of the door, guns raised and ready to shoot. Sam's eyes flickered over the entryways as Dean searched the roof and floor.
"Nothing," he grunted. "We've salted all the entryways. There's no where it could've gone."
"She," Sam said distractedly. They had entered the apartment ten minutes ago, Dean dramatically kicking the door in, and scaring the living daylight out of the man inside. They had backed out apologetically, only to run in again as the man screamed in agony.
There, before their very eyes, he had turned into a statue of living gold. In a matter of minutes he had died from suffocation.
There had nothing they could do but search for the perpetrator; the fairy. And they had come across hr a minute later, as she materialised in a corner of the room, clapping her hands delightedly as she viewed the results of her handiwork.
"Oh, this is too good to be true!" she'd squealed, walking round the statue, admiring the result of her cursed wish.
Suddenly she had seen Sam and Dean; rather, she'd heard them fire their guns. Luckily for her it was just rock salt. She glanced down and squealed in anger, then she disappeared.
Which left Sam and Dean in the predicament they were in now; not knowing where she was, not daring to leave the safety of the room.
"Dean...do you s'pose she's gone?" Sam asked tentatively. Dean just grunted in response, his eyes squinting suspiciously at the far wall. Sam followed his gaze, and as he did he noticed a girl-shaped patch, a little more 3D than the rest of the wall.
He looked at Dean, who nodded curtly, raising the gun and pointing it at the fairy.
"On the count of three," he muttered, without moving his lips.
Sam nodded in acknowledgement, readjusting his grip on the sweaty handle of the gun.
"One. Two. Thr-"
"Don't shoot!" cried the fairy, dropping her guise and unmerging with the wall.
Sam shot on reflex, hitting the wall beside her head, and she cowered. Dean, who had a little more experience in these things, managed to hold his gun in check.
"There's no way around this," he informed the girl grimly. She looked around his age; twenty five maybe, with long straight blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. Her ears were slightly pointed, as was her nose, and when she titled her head he could just catch a glimpse of feathery wings.
"Aw, c'mon, Dean," she crooned, completely ignoring Sam, who shifted on his feet, annoyed at being forgotten.
Not that being the centre of an insane fairy's attention is a good thing.
"It doesn't have to be this way," she continued, and Dean stared fixatedly into her eyes. He could feel his mind slipping, giving into her mesmerising stare. He blinked and shook himself roughly, angry at himself for slipping up.
She's gonna try trick you Dean, but you can't let her.
"I could grant you your greatest desire," she whispered, and it became so hard for Dean to block that voice out, the voice that told him to go ahead and wish, say the magic words...I wish...
No! Dean felt someone slap him lightly, and he looked up to see Sam peering worriedly down at him, while still keeping an eye on the now-smirking fairy.
"Dean, you just...collapsed," he informed his brother worriedly. Dean shook Sam off, glaring angrily at the fairy.
"What did you do to me?!" he demanded. She grinned evilly back, eyes now pure black.
"I didn't do anything you didn't want done, Dean," she whispered cryptically.
Dean felt a grip as cold as ice clench his heart, and he gulped.
"I didn't say the words, it doesn't matter. You can't do anything to me."
She threw her head back and laughed dementedly. Sam shivered, and Dean shook his head.
"Man, could you stop that? It's just plain creepy."
She stopped laughing immediately, looking decidedly angrier.
"It doesn't matter Dean. You may not have said the words out loud, but I heard them in your heart. I heard them, and had no choice but to grant it. Your wish will come true, Dean," she cried dramatically, her voice raising in pitch. "In the worst possible way you could've imagined. And when it does, there is nothing you can do to hurt me. I am protected by the very wish you requested!"
With one last 'creepy laugh' she dematerialised, leaving the boys standing together in the room.
They were silent for a minute, then Sam turned to Dean.
"Dean," he said slowly, his eyes filled with purpose. "I'm not going to ask you this twice. What. Did. You. Wish. For."
Dean avoided the taller man's eyes, looking sheepishly at his feet.
"I'm not sure, I was thinking a lot of things at the time, and I never said nay out loud."
Sam sighed, frustrated, running a hand through his long brown hair.
"Yeah, but only one of them would've started with 'I wish'."
Dean finally looked up to meet Sam's eyes, his green ones filled with an unusual amount of emotion.
Guilt. Regret. And...hope.
"It was an accident Sammy, I swear. But...I wished that...you needed me as much as I needed you."

---

Sam lay back in the bed of the motel room they'd rented. There was only one room left, with a single, and Dean had volunteered for the couch. Sam wasn't surprised; he knew his brother was feeling guilty for stuffing up the hunt. Even though he hadn't done it purposefully. But Sam wasn't going to let up the chance of a good night's sleep; not after having slept for the past few weeks in the passenger seat of the Impala, his long legs cramped in the small space.
"Dean, what do you think she's going to do about it?"
The question surprised Dean; Sam had stayed quiet for so long. He'd been wondering the same thing, to be honest.
"I dunno Sammy. I...just don't know."
Sam sighed loudly and hopelessly, the sound cutting through Dean like a knife. All he'd wanted to do was protect his brother, and look what he'd gotten them into!
"I'm gonna go to sleep now, Dean," Sam muttered, switching off his bedside light. Dean did the same with the big one, crawling under the thick blanket he'd laid on the couch.
"Night, Sammy."

---

"Deeeeeeeaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!"
Dean sat up as if he had been shocked, trying to untangle himself from the blankets, ending up on the floor with the blanket on top of him.
He finally freed himself, only tripping once on his way to his younger brother's bed.
Much, much younger.
"Sammy," he gasped, his usually tanned face white with shock. "What, what happened to you?!"
Sam sat in a sea of blankets, which had once barely covered his body, and now swathed him like a cocoon.
"You tell me," the little seven year old said darkly, glowering at Dean from under his long fringe.
Dean stepped back in shock, staring at the little boy in confusion.
That young face, that bony little body...it can't be Sammy, it can't.
But the minute the kid looked up at Dean, he knew it was; the little guy was wearing Sam's signature puppy dog eyes, pouting lip look.
"Dean, she turned me into a freakin' child! Look at me!" he wailed.
Dean couldn't help but grin. Hearing the miniature Sam swear like that...priceless.
"Watch your language, kid," he said mock-sternly, and Sam stared at him in astonishment.
"You...you actually think this is funny, don't you?!" Sam cried, standing up defiantly. The effect was ruined as his shirt, which fitted snugly on Sam's twenty-three year old buff body, hung to this tiny scrap of a kid's knees. Sam's eyes widened as he wobbled around, unused to the shortness of his limbs, until he slowly tipped off the bed. Dean leapt forward in alarm, smoothly catching the boy in his arms. He grinned at his brother, expecting a chorus of praise and gratitude,
Instead, he got a swift yet weak punch in the face, accompanied by a growled;
"I am going to kill you Dean."
Dean just laughed.
"Sammy, that is such a weak threat. Do you realise you sound like a girl? I guess your voice hasn't broken yet!"
Another punch. Dean doubled over, eyes bulging, coming eye to eye with a satisfied Sam.
"Don't call me Sammy."

---