A/N: Okay, I really tried to stay true to the actual storyline and when I started this I had pictured it happening during the first few seasons when it was just monster hunts and reconnecting. Some ideas crept up on me and before I knew it I had thrown out my original plot completely. This is just to let my readers know that I'm twisting things a little to include more awesome characters =)
A few days had passed and they weren't any closer to fixing things. There wasn't one damn lead and no one even knew where to start. They had checked into any and all crime committed in the last few months, looked in the obituaries for any strange deaths, looked into any missing persons and checked out anyone new to the area in the last year. Nothing seemed out of place.
"Dean, I think you should call Cas. We haven't gotten anywhere and I really don't know what else to do," said Bobby. He was sitting back in the desk chair, eyes red and overworked with black circles beneath adding ten more years to his face. "Besides, you're really starting to wear on my nerves," he huffed.
"Thanks Bobby," Dean said sarcastically. "But I guess you're right," he sighed. He paced the floor for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose as he collected his thoughts. "Why don't you head home and see what else you can come up with and we'll stay here and call Cas," Dean instructed.
Sam helped Bobby to gather his things. When they had finished he stood by the door to say his goodbyes, looking down at Dean, those bright innocent eyes burning right through him. A few days earlier, when he'd first laid eyes on the boy, it felt like he'd been punched in the gut…like the wind had been knocked right out of him. Dean was a mirror image of his former child-self, aside from his haircut, and the sight of him that way caused Bobby's thoughts to flood with distant memories. He had tucked that boy into bed at night, fed him supper too many times to count and he'd even taught him the proper way to clean a gun…it felt like just yesterday.
Bobby gave Sam a firm pat on the shoulder, "You take care of him now and call me as soon as you know anything." Sam nodded and Bobby turned his attention to Dean, patting him as well and knocking him off balance. "We'll fix this," he told Dean, looking him straight in the eyes before turning to leave.
"Cas…uh...we have a bit of a situation here," said Dean into his cell phone.
...'Click'...Silence...Cas had hung up on him.
Dean called back, "What the fuck man? I need your help."
"Who is this?" questioned Cas, voice gravely and low.
"It's the freaking Keebler elf, who the hell else do you think would call you from Dean's phone?"
...Silence...
"It's Dean!" he shrieked into the mouthpiece, his patience wearing thin.
"Dean? You don't sound like yourself," growled Cas.
"Yeah…well, that's kinda what we need your help with. We're still at…" he was cut off.
"Dean?" questioned Cas from across the room, eyes big with shock.
"Afraid so," sighed Sam. Castiel just stood there staring, phone still to his ear and lips pursed tight. Both brothers watched as the angel's head slowly cocked to the side and his brows wrinkled in that all too familiar expression of confusion.
"So, can you fix me or not Tinkerbelle?" quipped Dean. Cas didn't respond. Dean walked up to the angel, grabbing his trench coat in both tiny fists. "Sprinkle some fairy dust on me…hit me with some angel mojo! Please tell me you can," he begged, face scrunching up with emotion.
"I-I'm sorry," Cas said as he met Dean's eyes, cold blue waters dancing over a deep forest green. Dean lost it. He kicked the angel in the shin and started throwing little rabbit punches, making contact with any body part in reach. Cas remained stoic, grabbing Dean by the shoulders and holding him back as he fought furiously with the air. Sam ran over and grabbed his brother by the waist, lifting him off the ground, but Dean wriggled free, dropping himself to the floor, legs and arms flailing wildly, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"I hate this! I hate you all…fuck…damn it…Christ!" he shrieked, followed by several other inaudible exclamations and profanities of what one can only assume was hate. Cas and Sam just stood over him, mouths gaped open in shock.
After a few minutes Dean had gone hoarse and tired himself out. He curled into a ball and the screams turned to long, heart-breaking sobs. He whimpered and gasped for air, hot tears pouring freely from bloodshot eyes. Sam kneeled down beside his brother, scooping him up into his arms and carrying him over to the bed. He held him close to his chest, warm and nurturing as he rubbed a hand through Dean's sweat-soaked hair.
"Shhhhh…" Sam soothed into his ear, rocking back and forth as though he were an infant. Dean buried his face into Sam's chest and wrapped little arms snugly around his waist, his shoulders shaking with each gasped breath. Castiel watched from across the room, head tilting again, crystal blue eyes brimming with curiosity and intrigue. Dean fell asleep in his brother's arms.
"So…any idea what we should do?" Sam asked Cas while carefully shifting the boy onto the bed. He covered him with the scratchy motel comforter and gently tucked the blanket in around him.
"Well," Cas began, "this seems to be a curse. I might not be able to cure Dean myself but I think we could figure something out."
"A curse? Are you sure?" asked Sam, sticking his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders as he walked towards the angel.
"I wasn't sure at first," he explained, "but when I saw that your brother not only looked like a child but was harboring the emotional capacity of one as well then I knew it had to be."
