"Mm hmm. Yep. Ok, I'll tell him. Yeah, I'll remember. Uh huh. Merry Christmas to you, too. Yeah, I said I'd tell him. You know, I'm starting to think that you don't trust me. Ha ha, very funny. No. Yeah. All right, bye."
Sam walked into the kitchen just in time to see his brother hang up the phone. "Who was that?"
Dean spun around quickly, shocked to see the older man up so early in the morning. "Um," he said slowly, as if pondering his answer, "dad. Who else would call at six?"
"What's he want?" Sam asked, knowing that his brother had a valid point.
"To say Merry Christmas. He told me to tell you."
"He just called to send us good tidings? Since when has dad ever done that?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe he felt bad about missing Christmas?"
"Again, since when has dad ever done that?"
"Well, it wasn't the only reason he called. He, uh, wanted to tell us that he," Dean paused, a blank look crossing his face. Sam was starting to think that his father had been smart to not trust the boy to remember any important details relayed over the phone. "He, uh, found the gypsy band. They're hanging out up in, um, rural Minnesota. He wants us to, uh, go up and wait for him there. He said we could stay in Pastor Jim's old cabin until he comes for us."
"Minnesota?" Sam asked, "why can't the gypsies just fix it while we stay here?"
"They don't have a good enough long-distance plan?" Dean guessed. "Dude, I don't know. Dad doesn't always share all of the details with me, ok?"
"Do you at least know when he wants us there?"
"That much, yeah. ASAP. I say we leave right after breakfast. Fill up on everything but coffee. It's gonna be a long ride."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Dean whined as he maneuvered the Impala into the dusty parking lot in front of the old wooden building. At least he'd finally finished griping about the lack of snow in the area. "Dad's expecting us-"
"To be there when he gets there, which could take a while. Besides," the now-older man said as he slid out of the car and stretched his legs, "we need a break. I can't feel my legs."
"That just means you need to toughen up," Dean quipped, falling out of the car as he stiff legs protested the sudden motion.
"Oh, yeah," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes, "I'm the weak one."
"What are we even doing here?" the teenager asked, dusting himself off as he stood up and gazed at the aging bar.
"We're gonna drop in on some friends, maybe see if they know anything useful about gypsies and curses, have a beer or two, then hit the road.
"Whatever," Dean muttered, clomping up toward the door, "just so long as we don't stay the night."
Sam wasn't sure what he'd expected to find upon entering Harvelle's Roadhouse, but it certainly hadn't involved a ten-year-old girl with long, blonde pigtails. The girl took one look at the two strangers and bolted into the back room, yelling for her mother, who promptly burst through the door with a loaded handgun.
The brothers both instinctively raised their hands, bodies stiffening at the sight of the weapon. "Ellen?" Sam asked, never taking his eyes from the gun.
"Who wants to know?" the woman asked as Jo peeked out from behind her legs.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
He heard the safety clock off. "Start talking."
"I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean."
"Sam and Dean?" she asked, "Winchester?"
Dean nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Sam couldn't help but crack a smile. The words were nice enough, but the tone was threatening. Obviously, Dean didn't know who he was dealing with.
"That's impossible," Ellen said, letting Dean's reply go unnoticed and un-reprimanded. Her eyes fell on Sam and narrowed. "You're too old."
"That's what you think," Dean muttered.
"Excuse me?" The boy stiffened visibly as the gun turned solely to him.
"What do you know about gypsy curses?" Sam asked quickly, stepping between his brother and Ellen with one fluid motion.
"Enough. Why?"
"We think that's what did this to me. I went to sleep in 2007 and woke up in '95. Dad took out a werewolf tied to a gypsy tribe a few days before that. We think there's a connection."
"Your dad sent you?" Ellen asked, narrowing her eyes and lower the gun a bit as Jo continued to cower in the background.
"You know our dad?" Dean asked, shoving his way out from behind his brother before Sam even had a chance to answer.
"Take that as a 'no,'" Ellen muttered, clicking the safety back on and tucking the gun into the waistband of her jeans. She turned and smiled at Jo, who slunk out from the shadows, still clutching her mother's legs in a death-grip. "So, gypsies, huh?"
Sam shrugged, letting himself relax in the familiar, safe atmosphere that the bar provided. "Gypsies."
"You're lucky, you know that? Time warp's like a slap on the wrist when you think about the other possibilities."
"Yeah, Dean filled me in on that."
"So, you boys just stopping by to ask some questions, or is there something else you want?" As if on cue, Dean's stomach let out a rumbling growl. The bar owner laughed. "Right. Gotcha." She headed back into the room she'd come from, leaving the boys alone with Jo.
The little blonde ambled up to Dean, staring up at the teenager with wide eyes. "Wanna have a tea party?"
Dean looked up at his brother with an expression that mirrored Jo's, begging for help. Sam smiled. "Only if he gets to dress up," the older hunter offered, "he really likes to do that."
"Ok," the girl said, grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him toward the back of the bar, where a small plastic table and two chairs had been set up. The teen was able to throw one threatening glance over his shoulder at his brother before being pushed into a chair.
Sam slid onto a barstool and watched as Jo wrapped a large, pink feather boa around his brother's neck before placing a sparkly Little Mermaid tiara on his head. What he wouldn't have given for a camera at that moment, just for the blackmail capabilities.
The door to the back room opened and Ellen walked out, carrying two steaming bowls. "Chili's fresh," she explained, setting the bowls down in front of Sam and placing two spoons beside them. She glanced over at the table in the corner and smiled. "And I can reheat it for your brother if he needs me to."
"Thanks. So, um, gypsies…"
She nodded, moving around the counter to sit beside him. "Gypsies," she said slowly, "are not a group of people you want to mess with. They mess right back at you, and with some serious magic."
"Yeah," Sam said, gesturing at himself, "got that."
"Right. Well, I don't know what to tell you, Sam. These curses are all different for different reasons. You can't just get any gypsy to lift it. It's gotta be the one who cast it. He's the only one who knows the true motive."
"But if we could find him…"
"And convince him that you've learned your lesson, then, yeah, he might help you out. Or she."
"A lesson?"
"These people are smart and they believe in justice. You ever read Thinner? Guy's wife was giving him a hand job as he was driving, he hit a gypsy woman, and he got cursed because the judge let him off easy. Judge got cursed, too, and so did one of the cops. It's all about justice in its basest form."
"Then why go after me? Why pull me back in time if dad did something wrong?"
Ellen shrugged, looking up at him, and he realized for the first time how much younger she looked. For a moment, he was glad that he'd been the one sent back, because he was sure Dean would have been all over the pretty redhead that sat beside him.
"Maybe," she said slowly, pulling Sam from his thoughts, "this was his punishment. Having his little boy grow up so fast." She looked back at the plastic table in the corner, smiling sadly. "Because kids do. You blink and you miss it. Can't believe she's ten already. And I'm always here. Your daddy leaves you boys alone for long stretches of time, doesn't even bother to call. It's a wonder he even recognizes you when he gets back. He misses so much."
Sam followed her gaze over to the table. Dean had slipped the tiara off of his own head and placed it on Jo's. He was smiling warmly, engaged in conversation with the tiny blonde, as she helped guide his hand over a piece of paper, keeping the crayon he was holding safely within the lines, obviously very pleased with herself for being able to help a big kid.
Maybe Sam wasn't the only one who had grown up too fast. After all, he couldn't recall any memories from his past that involved Dean acting like a child. There were plenty from his present, sure, but none from a time when Dean had actually been a kid. Again, he was astonished that he had ever missed that fact before.
"You're right," he replied softly, turning to look into his bowl of chili, "can't believe I didn't see it before."
Ellen nodded. "Like I said, some things are easy to miss."
Sighing, Sam picked up his spoon and started to eat.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"We're never gonna talk about this again, got it?" Dean mumbled as he stalked out to the car, his scuffed boots kicking up dust, shoulders slumped against the cool winter wind that was blowing through the leafless trees that surrounded the property.
"What, you didn't have fun playing tea party with Jo?"
"She's so annoying. Even worse than you at that age." Sam was pretty sure his brother's sudden shudder didn't have anything to do with the breeze.
"Huh. Guess some things never change."
Dean grumbled something incoherent and pulled open the car door. He glanced nervously up at the sun, which was starting its descent. "You set us back a couple of hours here, Sammy."
"Time well wasted," the older man defended, sliding into the old car, "besides, we found out a little bit."
"I guess." Dean backed the car up, turned it around, and headed out of the parking lot. "So, how come dad never mentioned this place before? He scared the demon-child might emasculate us or something?"
"No. It's nothing. I think he just wanted to keep us out of the life as long as possible."
Dean shot him a skeptical glance. "Have you met our father?"
Sam shook his head. "Just drive, ok? It's not important."
"Fine," Dean shrugged, "but, you know, I kinda liked that Ellen chick. She was nice." He smirked. "Pretty easy on the eyes, too."
"Drive."