A/N: Just so y'all know, these chapters aren't going to be in any particular chronological order, I'm just going with the flow. The summary will change every time a new chapter is posted, too!

Summary: Preseries, Wee!chester fic. After the fire, Dean lost his voice. While John despairs, Sammy makes it his mission to find it again.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Do I look like I have a receding hairline? (oops, sorry Kripke! That was uncalled for!)

I got this concept from reading extracts of Papa Winchester's diary on the official website. Oh yeah, and a huge thanks to everyone who continues to review! Thanks guys, you're the best!

Lost in translation

Dean sometimes wondered if the fire had stolen his voice.

Fire burnt stuff. Fire destroyed. It was dangerous and hot and scary. And it took Mommy. It swallowed her and she didn't come back. It nearly swallowed Sammy, too. So it made sense, right? That the fire had taken his voice, too?

He didn't want to talk. If he spoke the spell would be broken and Mommy would be gone forever. But if he was good and didn't talk or fuss or be naughty or throw tantrums then maybe she'd forgive him and come back. So he couldn't talk. Not ever again. Not until Mommy came back.

"Okay, Sammy, it's okay, you're okay..."

He watched his father with dull eyes, trying to quiet a screaming Sammy. He didn't flinch at the noise. He was used to it. Sammy cried a lot, like he had a tummy bug. He knew Mommy was gone. This wasn't the worst. It was worse when he just lay still and cried quietly; tears streaming down his pink cheeks and huge eyes wide with sorrow. Sometimes, Dean wished he could cry too.

"Stop crying...please, stop crying...come on kiddo, you're changed, you're fed, what the hell's the matter? God..."

Daddy rocked and shushed and pleaded, but Sammy wouldn't stop. Instead his wail rose an octave, punctuated by gasping sobs which wracked his little body so hard Dean was scared he would fall apart. Or burn away, crumble into ashes, like Mommy. He swallowed, feeling something hot and twisty like fire curl in his gut. He didn't want Sammy to cry anymore.

Daddy?

He went over to Daddy and tugged at his sleeve, peering up at the writhing mass of pink baby-skin and pastel coloured clothes that was his little brother. Sammy.

"Hey Dean. What is it?" Daddy was exhausted, he could tell. His face was wrinkled with a deep aching tiredness and his eyes were shadowed with crescent blemishes. Dean held out his arms for Sammy. He could fix him. He knew how.

"You want to hold him?" He nodded, and swallowed thickly. Mommy had said that to him when he had first met Sammy, in a big white room with a nice clean smell "You sure? He's heavy." Yeah. Sammy was a lot smaller then. Just a little tiny bundle of redness.

Daddy carefully lowered Sammy down into his arms, not letting go until Dean had got a decent grip around the wriggling baby. Sammy's face was scrunched up and raw from crying, and Dean winced as he gathered his little brother carefully against his chest. Sammy waved his little clenched fists about, batting at Dean's shoulders, and Dean lugged Sammy higher and leaned down to put his face so close that he was nose to nose with the baby.

Immediately, Sammy swallowed his wail with a surprised gulp, eyes wide as he stared into his big brother's dark hazel ones. Dean let out a long, slow breath which caressed the baby's apple-red cheeks with cool air, and Dean felt his little brother slowly relax in his arms. Sammy's skin was hot against his own, his body a comforting weight against Dean's aching chest, and he could feel the warmth seeping through his thin night-shirt and deep inside him.

Daddy sighed heavily as the quiet settled, and lightly ruffled Dean's hair. Dean glanced up, and was confused to see a sad glimmer in his Father's eyes "Thanks kiddo."

Dean shrugged, and absently began rocking back and forth on his feet. Sammy blinked pensively up at him with sad eyes and made an odd snuffling sound before burrowing his head into Dean's shoulder. The silence stretched and became uncomfortable.

"You should be asleep, son. What time is it?"

Dean shrugged again. Early. Daddy gave him an exasperated look, and ran his hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. Sammy cooed miserably up at Dean. Daddy was always asking him questions. Trying to get him to talk. Daddy didn't understand.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

Sammy's hair was soft and made his nose tickle, and smelt of cleanliness and baby powder. He made sure Sammy was always clean, scrubbing him and scrubbing him and scrubbing himself too, trying to get rid of the acrid smell of flame. It still clung to him. It didn't to Sammy. Sammy was warmth and responsibility and affection. Like Mommy was. Had been.

"Dean? Look at me, I'm talking to you."

Sammy hadn't grown much since then. He laughed less, cried often, and was a bit stronger. His little brother reached up a hand to grab at Dean's nose, then let out a half-hearted giggle. Dean couldn't help but smile back, even though it felt like his face would crack in two, and his breath hitched in his chest.

"Oh, son..." A large hand cupped the back of his head, teased at his hair, then clasped his shoulder. He didn't look up, didn't want to see the disappointment in Daddy's face.

"You can't keep doing this. You've got to talk to me. Understand?" Daddy's face was right up close to his now, Sam's dark eyes peering out from a wrinkled face marred with grief. Dean shuddered and drew back, clutching Sammy tighter to his chest. He would protect Sammy from becoming like Daddy. He'd do anything.

He loved Daddy. Of course he did. But…why couldn't he have done something? Daddy was big, not like Dean. Dean would have saved Mommy, he would. But Daddy had told him to save Sammy. Then gone back to save Mommy. Except Mommy hadn't come back with him. He hated to, but he blamed Daddy. Just a little bit.

Daddy wouldn't even tell him what happened. After he'd run downstairs with Sammy.

"You can't keep all this...inside of you. It's going to kill you." Daddy said, firmly, and Dean shied away. Sammy's face scrunched up and his eyes welled, sensing the misery in the room, and Dean rocked him, made silent shushing noises, his lips a soundless 'o' shape.

Daddy heaved a deep, shaky sigh, and leant against the doorframe.

"Did you eat anything today?"

Dean kept his eyes on Sammy, and shrugged his shoulders a little Couple o' wheeties. He didn't like to eat. Besides, Sammy might run out of food, and then what? Mommy would be angry if she came back to find Sammy all thin.

"Dean."

Yeah. She'd be angry. She would. But Daddy said…Mommy wasn't coming back. But he was wrong. He was joking. Because Mommy wouldn't just leave like that.

"Great." Daddy slammed his fist against the wall, hard, and Dean flinched "Great. Fantastic." He hissed, and Sammy whimpered quietly "Wait right there and watch Sammy. I'll get you some milk and cereal."

Dean shook his head wildly, moved Sammy so he had one hand free, and pointed at his stomach Not hungry.

"You're eating it, and that's final."

I'll be sick. But Daddy had already left, and he and Sammy stood alone, Dean shaking a little. Feeling unsteady on his feet, he stumbled awkwardly over to the motel bed, put Sammy down on the greasy covers, then scrambled up onto it himself. For a moment, he lay quietly, eyes closed, shuddering.

After a moment, he felt hot little fingers probe his cheeks, and peeked open his eyes to see an inquisitive Sammy, head tilted to the side, looking at him inquiringly.

"Deeee." Sammy cooed morosely, and Dean blinked in surprise, and sat up. Huh. Sammy often made noises. In fact, whenever he wasn't crying he tended to babble endlessly, sometimes to Dean, sometimes to nothing in particular. But it never sounded like it was an actual attempt at speech.

Dean crawled closer to his little brother, and flopped down on his stomach, lying flat out on the bed. Sammy eyed him sadly, kicked his legs, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again:

"Dee, Dee." He slurred, then frowned, kicked his legs hard, and said almost demandingly "DEE!"

Seeing the signs of oncoming distress, Dean sat up hastily and pulled Sammy into his lap, lacing his fingers together behind the baby's back to hold him upright. Sammy pouted reproachfully at him, and Dean felt a sudden pressure that had built in his chest slowly fade.

Hey Sammy. Whadd'ya want? He found that it was easier to talk to Sammy. Sammy looked at him without judgement, without demand, and always listened, and that was a comfort. Sometimes, he was sure that Sammy could understand him, even though he didn't speak aloud.

"Adaee?" Sam cooed questioningly, gently batting his hands against Dean's chest. Dean was under the distinct question the baby had just asked him a question, and expected an answer.

A million words rose in his throat, got stuck, and were swallowed. He shook his head, his throat stinging, his head feeling heavy and thick. He wondered vaguely if all the words he'd lost had somehow gotten into Sammy, making him talk instead.

M'sorry, Sammy. That I don't talk. Daddy didn't mean it, y'know. Don't be mad.

Sammy blinked twice, then raised his arms with obvious meaning. Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother and tugged him up onto his shoulder. He drew a deep breath, and sniffed a little. I don't wanna eat, Sammy. My tummy gets all twisty. I can't swallow. An' I can't talk to nobody, my throat gets prickly and stuck.

Sammy made a sympathetic noise, which rumbled in his little chest and vibrated against Dean's shoulder. It was oddly comforting.

Cept you. You understand, don' you? Even if it's in my head.

"Dee, ummy…" The baby drew back from Dean's shoulder and gazed into his brother's face, expression comically serious "ada mee mee?"

Dean stared in surprise. That almost counted as an actual question, with different words and everything. Too bad it was gobbledegook Sammy-speak.

Hey, you're actually talkin' to me, aren't you? He chucked Sammy under the chin fondly, and the baby giggled and squirmed in delight at the tickly sensation You're a silly baby, Sammy.

"Mee no…see-lee!" Sammy squawked indignantly, and Dean frowned. From the other room came the sound of clattering footsteps, cupboards opening and closing, milk being poured. Rustling. His stomach ached suddenly, and he wished desperately that Daddy would just listen to him. Would understand.

Mommy would know what to do. Wha' should I do, Sammy?

"Adaee…dee…"

Sammy's face suddenly twisted in determination, and he scrambled up Dean's shoulder. Dean stared in fascination as Sammy hesitantly pressed his palms against Dean's lips, his large dark eyes huge in his round face.

"Shhh shhh Dee. Shhhh shhhhh." The baby squirted the noise between his lips, evidently trying to say something important, but Dean shook his head despairingly.

Sorry, Sammy. I don' understand you. Dean blinked, suddenly aware that he had mouthed the words without meaning to. Sammy was staring hard at Dean's mouth, features scrunched up in concentration.

"Smmeee…?" He mimicked, uncertainly, and nibbled at the tips of his fingers before Dean gently pulled them away. Sammy had teeth now, and wasn't entirely aware of how dangerous they could be.

"Sss…sa…sa?" Sammy pursed his lips, and bounced nervously up and down in Dean's arms, repeating the syllable over and over.

Dean opened his mouth, and the silent words moved his lips like a puppeteer What are you trying to say, Sammy?

"Sa-meee." Sam jabbed his curled fists against his own chest, and Dean understood, and the smallest of smiles curled his thin lips. He nodded and flicked his little brother's nose to a squeal of delight Yeah. That's your name, that's you. You're Sammy.

"Sa-mee an Dee." The baby gurgled proudly, wriggling about while Dean simply sat still and waited.

"Ada." Sammy said eventually, and waved sticky fingers towards the room where Daddy was. Dean nodded, smiled a little. Sammy grinned his baby grin and waved his arms at the ceiling enthusiastically "Mo-meee."

Dean froze. A cold feeling curled itself in his chest and filled his stomach with a leaden, icy feeling. Sammy's face fell as Dean bit down on his lip, hard, and shook his head violently No, Sammy. Mommy's gone. She's...

Suddenly, he was shaking. His chest grew tight and he found to his horror that he couldn't breathe. The bed tilted violently beneath him and black spots swam before his eyes. Sammy slipped from his arms with a surprised squeak as he pitched heavily sideways, his entire body convulsing uncontrollably.

"Dee?" Came a highly distressed voice, and Dean could feel hands anxiously patting his face "Dee! Dee-dee-dee!" Dean forced his eyes open just as Sammy opened his mouth wide and began to wail loudly with his big brother. Dean was horrified to feel hot tears streaming down his own face.

I'm scaring Sammy.

It was this revelation that finally snapped him back to his senses. He drew in a deep, whooping breath of air and gasped, choking on it. His baby brother continued to cry miserably, his face screwed up in terror and shock.

Once the shaking had subsided a little, Dean reached out and unsteadily gathered Sammy back into his lap, and the baby curled himself next to Dean's stomach and clenched handfuls of Dean's shirt in his chubby fists. After a moment Dean realised his baby brother was trembling, and he feel Sammy's heart fluttering a mile a minute against his abdomen. He swallowed, and tugged Sammy closer to him, mouthing wordlessly. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

For long minutes they simply sat, gulping down air, until they eventually descended into exhausted quiet.

"Deeeeeeee." Came a muffled whimper from somewhere below him, and Dean put a hand on his brother's hair and closed his eyes.

S'okay Sammy. You're okay. We'll be okay. I'm gonna look after you like Daddy said.

The baby stared mournfully up at him, before scrambling up so he was sitting on Dean's legs "Dee kay?"

M' better. A little. Sorry I scared you, little guy. Dean nodded absently, and held out his little fingers so Sammy could play the grabbing game. To his surprise, the baby simply curled his fingers around Dean's and held on instead of playing the usual 'snatch and miss' fiasco.

"Dee-ee." Sammy made an odd noise, a noise that was all at once contented, relieved, affectionate and somehow comforting "Dee an Sa-mee kay."

Thanks, Sammy.

"Dee."

I...love you too.

The door creaked open, and Daddy came stumbling in, milk sloshing over the edge of a grubby breakfast bowl he held "Are you boys alright?" Dean considered, watched Sammy tentatively nibble on the tip of his little finger, and gently pulled the digit from the baby's grasp. He wiped his hand on the bed cover and nodded.

"Good." Daddy said, simply, and put the breakfast bowl down on the bedside table. Dean glared at it, Sammy made an inquisitive noise and Daddy fluffed the pillow at the top of the bed and drew the covers back "Dean, sit up here."

Dean found he couldn't move. Daddy sighed, leant down and picked him up like he was still a baby. He wriggled indignantly, but found when Daddy deposited him against the pillow and pulled the covers up over his legs, he didn't want him to let go.

"Get under the covers. There." Daddy muttered, and picked up the ugly breakfast bowl and balanced it carefully in Dean's lap. He wrinkled his nose and pushed it away, and Daddy shot him a warning look.

"Careful with it, you'll spill it." Sammy, having had enough of being ignored, rolled onto his tummy and crawled his way across the planes of the covers like an intrepid explorer. He plonked himself down next to his big brother on the bed and reached for the bowl. Daddy shook his head and pulled it out of reach "No, squirt, this is for your brother. No eating, okay?"

Sammy tilted his head to the side, then said solemnly "Kay ada."

Daddy looked surprised, then tiredly pleased, and ruffled Sammy's hair "That's my boy." Then he glanced up at Dean.

Dean eyed the contents of the bowl with unveiled distaste. The wheeties were soaked in milk which gave off a sour smell, and trapped air bubbled unpleasantly around the flaking edges of the hoop-shaped cereal. His stomach turned over and he winced, twisting his fingers in the bed sheets.

"Dean, do you need some help?" Daddy moved to pick up the spoon, but both he and Dean were surprised when Sammy snatched it first, a silly, beaming smile plastered across his face. Before Daddy could bark a reprimand the baby exclaimed:

"Sa-mee elp!"

Dean watched, slightly nonplussed, as Sammy picked out a dripping wheetie with elaborate care and dropped it into the pit of the spoon. He then held it out to Dean, who simply sat, dumbstruck. When he got no reaction the baby pouted, then, seemingly struck by an idea, slowly popped the spoon into his mouth and swallowed, all the while keeping eye contact with his big brother. He then smacked his lips together loudly, grinned, and rubbed his tummy with his free hand.

"See Dee? Yee-um um!" He cooed, waving the spoon about for emphasis. Daddy winced as flecks of milk went flying, but for some reason, didn't try to stop Sammy. Dean couldn't help the smile that curled his lips.

Encouraged by his brother's reaction, Sammy excitedly loaded another wheetie into the spoon, and clambered to his knees with great care not to spill any more milk, a comical frown on his face. Then he grinned, and held the spoon to Dean's lips, uttering an encouraging "Aaaaah!"

Mommy used to do that. Make the funny 'aaah' sound to get Dean to open his mouth and swallow. He had thought it was silly, would laugh, and while his mouth was open Mommy would sneakily put the food in his mouth.

Dean smiled a little, looked at his little brother's smiling yet slightly anxious face, holding the food out to him like a gift. The cool metal of the spoon felt soothing against his lips, and without thinking, he opened his mouth and let it slip inside. He looked at Daddy, who was smiling sadly, eyes over-bright. He looked at Sammy, saw the concern and apprehension in the baby's face.

He swallowed, winced a little as the slush slid down his throat, but found to his surprise that he didn't choke it up.

Sammy made a little whooping sound and clapped his hands together in disjointed applause, bouncing excitedly up and down and making the bed jiggle. Dean felt an odd, cool relief fill him and a damn burst, and he found himself laughing shakily despite the tightness in his stomach. No, an ache. Hungry. He felt…hungry.

He gently took the spoon from Sammy and silently began to eat, wheetie after wheetie passing unhindered into his mouth. It got easier to swallow with every spoon, and soon he found himself going faster, swallowing and spooning in a quick successive rhythm. Daddy sat down on the bed, wiped at his face and made a weird choking sound somewhere between laughter and tears.

Sammy simply sat and watched his brother eat attentively, an expression of content and slight smugness lighting up his young face. Minutes passed in comfortable silence, and eventually, the spoon clanged hollowly against an empty bowl, and Dean's stomach felt pleasantly filled.

Daddy ruffled his hair affectionately "Great work, Dean. I'm...real proud of you."

Dean blinked in surprise, went to nod, then stopped. He felt…lighter. His chest felt warm, his throat was free and unobstructed. He breathed slowly and easily, and for the first time in six months, felt safe.

Hesitantly, he opened his mouth, took a breath, tried to force it up, and choked a little. Then, an entirely foreign voice, a voice he had not heard in six months, broke the silence:

"D..ad?"

He shakily held up the empty bowl to his dumbfounded Father, while Sammy sat very still, awestruck, waiting.

"C-can I...have some...m-more?" He stuttered out, breathlessly, his throat feeling sore from this sudden exertion.

Sammy squealed loudly in delight and clapped his hands furiously, kicking his legs in celebration.

"Dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, DEE!" The baby abruptly half-tackled his big brother, diving into Dean's lap, still giggling madly. Dean smiled back, caught Sammy's wildly waving hands in his own, sure that his little brother would throw himself off the bed in his jubilance.

Daddy took the bowl, smiling a true smile, a genuine happiness filling his face and making him look years younger "Sure, son."

Absorbed with a lapful of excited little brother, Dean didn't notice the slight falter in his Father's step as he headed towards the door, or the way his face fell. John Winchester glanced over his shoulder, watched Dean's drawn, pinched face light up as Sammy bounced excitedly in his lap.

John could save Dean from the peril of a burning building; carry him away and shield him from the world. But only Sammy could stop Dean from destroying himself.

A/N: Wow, that was a quick update, even for me! I hope everyone enjoyed the season finale the other night! I've only seen bits of it, unfortunately. Thanks for reading, please review!