Dean woke up to the sound of crying. Not just any crying. A baby was shrieking, screaming, and pitching a complete fit. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. I hate hotels. The high-pitched yells only increased in volume as he yearned for sleep so he determined the solution: alcohol. Dean believed that alcohol could pretty much fix any problem, especially ones relevant to sleep. He had downed many beers in his time with the goal of erasing his nightmares.

He crawled out of the hotel bed and tiredly walked to the mini fridge packed with beers he had bought with Sam earlier that day. God, why isn't a parent trying to shut the kid up? It's fucking 2 AM.

A knock on the door distracted him from his beer. He hurriedly ran to the door and found the manager- an overweight man in his 40's.

"Is there a… problem?"

"You didn't mention a kid, asshole." The manager looked at Dean's beer with a disgusted expression.

"Kid? What kid?" Dean asked. His eyebrows burrowed together. He was too tired for this.

"Don't try and pull that. Everyone within a damn mile can hear your kid crying. Do something before I ask you to leave," the manager demanded before leaving. Dean mumbled a few choice words as he fumbled for the door, before walking over to the bed Sam was sleeping in. He chugged his beer, drowning the cries partially.

"How are you possibly sleeping?" he pulled back the thin, beige blanket found in every cheap hotel in America from the bed. His heart dropped immediately. The familiar sight of his ludicrously large brother was absent, and replaced with a naked creature ten times smaller.

"Sammy!" he yelled hoarsely. "I am not in the mood for games!" The tantrum continued and Sam didn't come out from the corner laughing. He set down the beer shakily as he cautiously leaned over the baby, who stopped crying and reached its tiny hands out to the perturbed Dean. He stumbled backwards and pulled a bottle of holy water from the desk drawer between the two beds, where he always kept a weapon of some sort. He dribbled water over the baby, causing no reaction whatsoever.

"Okay… so… you're human. Good. I guess," he said, mostly to himself. The baby was a boy not even a year old. Dean wrapped him up in towels and created a safety barrier around him with pillows, so he wouldn't fall off the bed. Unsure of what to do, Dean lay down on the other bed and fell asleep.

"Dean, wake up."

Dean's eyes fluttered open and met the piercing blue ones of Cas. As usual, Cas was leaning over Dean just a little too closely. Dean's heart sped up rapidly and he felt wide-awake instantly.
"Oh, hi, hey, Cas. Um, what's up?" he greeted as casually as he could as he pulled himself up and wiped drool from his chin.

"It's come to my attention that your brother has been changed into, er, a much more previous form. I cared for him so you could sleep."
"Wait- what happened to Sammy?"

"He's been changed into a more previous form," Cas stated patiently in his rough voice.

"Yeah, I heard. I just don't know what the hell you mean."

"Dean, Sam has been turned into a young child."

"You mean," Dean pointed at the baby in the makeshift cradle, "That's Sammy?"

"Yes. I'm sorry," Castiel said as he awkwardly patted Dean's shoulder.

"Who the fuck would do that?"

"I'm not sure what the cause is yet, but I'm working on it. In the meantime, I acquired products that are necessary for childcare." Dean looked around the room and saw for the first time dozens of diaper boxes, sanitary wipes, breast milk, and various things he vaguely recognized from when Sammy was little and from television.

"You did all this?" he asked quietly. Cas looked down at his feet. "When you said you 'cared for Sammy' while I slept- what did you mean?"

"I rocked him and sang him lullabies whenever he became restless," Cas replied. Everything in Dean felt warm at the thought of Cas rocking a baby while singing. He wondered what his singing sounded like.

"Thanks, man," he chuckled.