Title: Hey Little World!
Characters: Ensemble, focus on Dean. No pairings.
Summary: God has a weird sense of humor. Post-apocalypse, Team Free Will gets a reward: an all-expenses-paid trip to the world of Harry Potter! As ten year old. Damn it.

Warnings: Crack, deaging, weird-ass version of God, Adam has a potty-mouth, you know the drill.
Disclaimer
: Don't own Supernatural, Harry Potter, Pokemon, or Batman. I totally own pancakes, though.
Notes
: So, yeah. Generally best not to ask. Chapter titles all come from my favorites playlist, because I'm lame like that. This chapter, Jimmy Buffet!


I Don't Know and I Don't Care


It was a featureless void, or at least it was until a man suddenly appeared – no flash, no noise, he was just there. And he looked disturbingly like a cross between Moses from that one Monty Python sketch, and Morgan Freeman.

Moses Freeman beamed happily, and spoke. "Hello there! Welcome to the world of magic! My name is God! People call me God!"

He stared blankly, but the man – God, apparently, – continued cheerfully. "This world is inhabited by people called wizards! For some people, wizards are evil. Others use their powers for good. Myself... I don't exist in this world. First, what's your name?"

There was more blank staring, but God was still smiling at him blankly, awaiting a response. "Uh, Dean. Dean Winchester."

"Right! So your name is Dean Winchester! Dean! Your very own magical legend is about to unfold! A world of dreams and adventures with wizards awaits! Let's go!"


The first thing Dean thought when he woke up was, 'I gotta lay off the tacos at midnight.' The second was, 'I knew God would look like Morgan Freeman!' The third thought came as he lifted up a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, and it went like this: 'What the hell's wrong with my han- WHAT THE FUCK, I SHRUNK!'

That last bit also came out of his mouth, at quite a loud volume.

Dean threw off the covers and leaped to his feet – or, rather, he tried to do that, but his brain wasn't used to moving this new configuration of limbs, and he wound up tangled in the sheets and hit the floor with a loud thud that echoed for a few seconds before the airwaves filled instead with muffled cursing and flailing as Dean fought his way free of the blankets.

Upon surfacing and blowing a few strands of hair out of his eyes, Dean took a wary glance around the room, wondering if this was another messed up Freaky Friday switch like Sam and that Gary kid. If it was, he had to admit that the kid had good taste – the sheets that had so viciously attacked him were very cool Batman sheets, and there were a number of action figures and car models on the shelves near the bed. In fact, the one closest to the bed was a model of a '67 Impala that looked lovingly taken care of. There was no mirror in the room that he saw, though, so he decided to brave the rest of the currently quiet house.

The bathroom door was open down the hallway, although three other doors were also closed. Dean ignored them for now, focused on the bathroom.

He hadn't really been expecting what he saw in the mirror. What he had been expecting, he didn't know, but it wasn't his ten year old self staring back through shaggy brown hair (had it seriously been this long when he was a kid for real? He needed scissors), clad in flannel Batman pajamas.

"Dean?" a voice squeaked from behind him.

Dean whirled around, almost slipping on the tile floor, to see Sammy... Ten year old Sammy. Who really had been incredibly short until he hit that huge three-year-long growth spurt at fifteen, which made it almost impossible to think of him as 'Sam' instead of 'Sammy'.

Sammy's pajamas were Superman, which Dean automatically smirked at – everybody knew Batman was better. Then his memories clicked into gear, and he grabbed Sammy in as big a bear hug as possible. "Sam! How-?" Dean left the sentence hanging, not entirely sure how to phrase his question.

Sam hugged him back briefly. "I don't know, man," he said, voice still squeaking. "One minute I fell into the pit, the next I woke up in that room," pointing over his shoulder to a now-open door beyond which a number of bookshelves could be found. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes – typical Sammy.

"You guys are really fucking loud," a sweet little voice whined from behind them, on the other end of the hallway. Dean and Sam quickly turned around, both reaching for weapons that were definitely not hidden on their superhero pajama-clad bodies. There was a little boy – a boy around their apparent age, Dean pointed out to himself – with a cherubic little face and buzz cut dirty-blond hair. And also a very impressive scowl for someone with his eyes half closed and arms crossed over the chest of his Batman pajamas.

(For a second, Dean felt like pointing out that two Batmans beat one Superman, and sticking his tongue out at Sam, but he successfully fought back the urge.)

"Who-" Sam started to ask, but Dean had a pretty good idea of where this was going, and spoke over him. "Adam?"

The scowling kid rolled his eyes. "Do you want a cookie?" he asked sarcastically. "Or at least to get out of the way of the bathroom?"

Wordlessly, Dean and Sam moved aside, and Adam quickly entered the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"What do you think happened?" Sam asked after they took a few steps further down the hallway (because it was just creepy to stand right outside the bathroom when somebody was using it).

Dean shrugged. "Before I saw you – and Adam – I was thinking it was a reverse-manwitch thing," he said, referring to the incident a few months earlier where he had wound up being an elderly man for what was far too long, in his opinion. "But that wouldn't explain-"

"Why I'm here, or Adam, or why we have rooms that are apparently ours," Sam finished the thought.

They both got their brood on as they thought through the possibilities. "A djinn?" Sam offered up after a moment.

"Nah," they said together, Dean adding, "We wouldn't remember everything like this."

"Maybe a Trickster – you know, a real one, not the dead archangel one," Dean suggested.

"Maybe…" Sam sounded doubtful.

"Move," came a pissed-off hiss. Caught up in their thinking, they had completely missed the flush of the toilet, sound of the sink, and opening of the door, and now Adam was waiting rather impatiently for them to stop blocking the middle of the hallway. Dean did move, taking point suspiciously and forcing Adam and Sam to both stay behind him (much to their grumbling).

Despite his wariness, there wasn't anything suspicious at the least about the downstairs, other than a shuffling coming from behind the door to what he assumed was the kitchen. Dean made quick shushing motions to his brothers (the youngest of whom merely rolled his still half-closed eyes), and snuck forward, pushing the kitchen door open just a crack.

"Bobby?" he said incredulously, pushing the door the rest of the way open and abandoning the sneaky atmosphere.

The be-hatted man at the table looked up from a folder he was looking through, and yeah, it was Bobby. It was a Bobby who was a good fifteen to twenty years younger than he had been last time Dean saw him, but still Bobby – scruffy scowl and all.

Sammy looked relieved, and sat down at the table opposite the older man. "Bobby, do you know what happened?" he asked, one hand gesturing to… well, the general situation.

"Not sure yet," Bobby grunted, picking the folder back up. "These were on the table when I came down. This one's got fake birth certificates for all of us," he added, closing the folder and handing it to Sammy. Well, Dean thought, that explained why he hadn't been too surprised to see Sam or Adam (or maybe he was just used to the children of John Winchester refusing to stay dead. Either way).

Sam looked through the papers, frowning, as Bobby moved onto another paper – one which Dean could plainly see, even from his angle, read in big letters, READ ME FIRST! Five exclamation points probably weren't necessary there, but who was Dean to argue?

Both of the other real grown-ups occupied, Dean turned his attention to his half-asleep littlest brother (it was the Batman pajama bonding, he was sure). Adam was… filling his arms up with a variety of things from the fridge? "What're you doing, Adam?"

"Makin' some mother-fuckin pancakes," was the muffled response as the boy dropped the supplies on the counter and then slammed a pan on the stove.

"Uh, are you supposed to do that with your eyes closed?" Dean asked sarcastically, practicing an eyebrow raise that felt weird on his much younger face.

His response was a simple raised middle finger that didn't falter even as the back door banged open and the other three jumped to their feet, grabbing again for weapons they didn't have.

They were met with the sight of what was undoubtedly a rather pissed off Ellen Harvelle, frog-marching a squirming curly-haired boy through the doorway. Two more kids followed her, a boy with almost black hair and a girl with blonde hair in pigtails.

"Okay kid, now you get to tell us all what you did," Ellen snapped as she dropped the struggling boy into a chair and put her hands on her hips. Dean was too stunned by the reappearance of Ellen – and Jo, if he was right about who the little girl was, and the way things were going he probably was – to say anything before the curly-haired boy started to speak.

"Look, guys, I swear to my Dad that whatever it is, I didn't do it this time!" he said, hands going into an automatic 'calm down' warding gesture. "I mean, for one, would I be stupid enough to add myself in? It's a lot more fun to laugh at people from the sidelines, and it also usually ends with less stakes to the heart, if you get my drift."

Dean ignored Adam's sudden giggling fit over by the stove in favor of letting his few non-stunned synapses fire. "Gabriel?"

The former arch-angel pouted. "No need to sound so shocked, Dean-o. Not like I'm the only one back from the dead around here," he said, gesturing to the room at large.

"Yeah, but I actually like the others."

They had progressed to the point of making faces at each other, when Bobby suddenly cursed. Loudly. "Son of a bitch!"

"My poor virgin ears!" Gabriel cried, swooning melodramatically into the dark haired boy, whose head titled and looked vaguely confused. Dean ignored him, and leaned over Bobby's shoulder to read the paper that caused him to continue to curse under his breath.

Congratulations! If you're reading this, it means that the trans-dimensional barrier didn't turn you all into gelatinous goo, which I think we can all agree is a plus. Anyhoodles, I thought 'Team Free Will' here deserved a reward after the whole 'apocalypse' thing (my bad, really guys), so have fun in your new demon and angel free universe! I should let you know that there's magic here, but don't worry! It's good clean fun magic! No demon-deals here, nosiree!

Love, God.

P.S. These folders contain all the papers for your new identities. Birth certificates, medical records, bank account information, deeds to the houses, et cetera et cetera. Have fun! And try not to die early!

Suddenly his dream made a lot more sense (well, comparatively). "I knew God looked like Morgan Freeman!" Dean said victoriously.

Everyone stopped to stare at him for a moment. Even Adam bothered to open up his eyes all the way just to give him a serious 'what the hell' look. Dean shuffled his feet a little. "So, uh, what do the other papers say?" he asked Bobby, hoping for a distraction.

It was Ellen who answered him, since she had rather efficiently taken the files and organized them while Bobby had his minor foul-mouthed breakdown. "Apparently, Dean, you and Sam are twins, and Adam's your half-brother. Bobby's been your foster dad for the last six years. Joanna and Cassidy Harvelle are also twins, and their brother Gabriel is ten months older than them and, sadly, my problem." With that, she glared at the curly headed arch-angel who, the moment attention was taken off of him, abandoned his chair and made his way to the stove where he and Adam were apparently in a duel to the death over the pancake batter.

Jo rolled her eyes, walked over while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Boys,", and quickly threaded her fingers into the curls and pulled. Yelping, Gabriel was dragged away from the stove and made to sit down again, this time with a scrawny pigtailed girl standing over him with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Wisely, Gabriel did not move.

"So, what? Are we supposed to believe this is actually from God?" Dean asked.

The dark-haired boy – Cas, Dean reminded himself – tilted his head and solemnly examined the paper, before nodding. "It is indeed authentic," he said.

"Yep, it's Pop's handiwork alright," Gabriel added in his usual unhelpful way.

The kitchen lapsed into silence, except for the area near the stove, which was sizzling and occasionally accompanied by mumblings that sounded half like a song and half like cursing. Apparently Adam? Was not a morning person.

A sudden torrent of screeching split the air, and Dean once again jumped for his gun. Damn, did he hate that ten year olds probably couldn't get revolvers. In a quick few seconds, the room was filled with owls – owls apparently dropping off letters, because the morning hadn't been surreal enough at that point. (Well, except the owl that headed for Adam, who hissed cross-eyed at the creature until it decided to drop the letter on the counter, as far from Adam as possible without hitting the floor.)

Just as quickly, the room cleared of the feathered menaces.

Sammy (of course) was the first to open one of the thick letters. "Dear Mr. Winchester," he read aloud, "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry…"