Sam snapped into awareness like surfacing from dark water. Everything had been black and peaceful, but now it wasn't. He was disoriented and frightened, but he forced himself to remain still. He didn't know where he was, or how he had gotten here. Dad's training kicked in and he carefully listened to his surroundings before opening his eyes a slit. Slowly he recognized the too familiar sounds and sights of a hospital. As he had been doing his entire life, his eyes instinctively swept the room looking for Dean. He was alone which was unusual. Dean seldom let Sam out of sight when he was injured. Maybe his brother had gone to get a cup of coffee?

It was a struggle to remember recent events. His hand went absently to his chest and suddenly he remembered a searing pain as Michael drove the angel blade deep into his body. Right now, there was no sense of pain, and not even the numbness of medication strong enough to mask that kind of injury. His only ailment was a tightness in his chest when he breathed, like he was getting over a cold. Other than that, he felt good physically, no soreness, bruises or the normal aches and pains he'd acquired over a lifetime of hunting. The only thing that felt off, besides Dean's absence, was that the room appeared a little large, as if his perspective were off somehow. Maybe his brain was fuzzy from a concussion, although those usually came with a crushing headache and a bout of nausea.

As he looked around, he wished Dean were here to help him make sense of things. Where was he? His brain promptly supplied its last memory of his brother and Sam gasped. Dean had been badly hurt, but had been reaching out to him, a look of mingled anguish and love on his face.

Sitting up, Sam realized that the room was not distorted, but rather his point of view was off. His eye line was much lower than usual, which was a strange and concerning sensation. Even more alarming was the wide swath of empty bedding where his legs should be. Quickly, he flipped over the edge of the sheet but was met with the sight of two normal looking, healthy feet. They just happened to be attached to the legs of a child. Reaching down he laid a hand on his knee, fascinated that he could feel the touch and then even more fascinated when he saw his small hand.

Considering and discarding ideas, Sam concentrated for a moment. Last he could remember, he'd been in the bunker with Dean, Cas, Jack, and the two extremely volatile archangels. He remembered Jack killing Lucifer. A small surge of joy leapt through him as recalled the residue of burnt wings across the concrete floor. But after Michael stabbed him, everything was blank. He was obviously in a body that was not his own, a much younger body based on the size of his current hands and feet. That at least explained some of his disorientation. As crazy as it would be for anyone else's life, he genuinely had some prior experience with this phenomenon. What he couldn't seem to figure out was how or why he was in some kid's flesh and bones. This time he just hoped that whoever was wearing his usual form was treating it with a bit more respect than last time.

"Looking for your family, honey?" a kindly voice asked. A middle-aged nurse walked into the room. She gave him a smile, the kind you tend to offer to small children. "Not to worry, sweetie, they're just with Dr. Jhamsheed right now." With a practiced hand, she simultaneously elevated the bed and fussed with the pillows so that he could sit up easier. When she bent over, Sam read her name tag: Nicole Macklin,RN, Pediatrics, Broadview General Hospital. The closest hospital to the Bunker was Smith County Memorial, so he wasn't close to home.

"What state am I in?" he asked, shocked by the light pre-pubescent voice that came out of his mouth. Nurse Macklin frowned at him and brushed hair from his forehead.

"Are you feeling alright, buddy?" she asked.

Quickly he gave her his best smile and a lie. "Sure, it's just that we were travelling before I...," he paused. He didn't know why he was in the hospital, much less whose body he was in.

"Oh honey, I understand. You were a very sick little boy when they first brought you in." She patted his arm with empathy. "You're in Idaho." He nodded his thanks as she tucked the sheet back around him and smoothed it out. She made a few notes on his chart and then left, promising to bring him some Jell-o when she came by next.

Idaho! How the hell did he end up in this mess? Undoing the nurse's good work Sam flipped the sheet back again and with a quick look to be sure no one was watching, he crawled down the bed to check the clipboard that hung on the end.

The name on the chart read Noah Farlow, aged 10. Parents were listed as Abraham and Damaris Farlow. He had been admitted with an extremely advanced case of pneumonia, slipping into a coma shortly after he arrived. If Sam was reading it correctly, the records indicated that he had been admitted on Tuesday, September 11th, 2018. Today was Thursday, likely early evening judging by the quality of light from the nearby window. It had been just after 8 pm when Michael had arrived, so he hadn't lost any time. Thank goodness. Switching bodies was a big enough problem, without adding in time travel. Before he could compile a mental list of what to do next, a young girl skipped into his room and then skidded to a halt.

"Noah!" she cried. "You're awake!" Her long dark braids streamed behind her as she scampered up onto the bed, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely. After a moment's pause, he hugged her back tentatively. Clearly, the girl knew the boy he was inhabiting, and it was best to play along until he figured things out. Besides, it kind of felt nice to have a little human affection considering how freaked out he was feeling.

"Leah, get down from there, and leave your brother alone," ordered a scolding voice and the girl broke away and obediently scrambled down. A woman entered the room. She was about 30 or so, rake thin and dressed in a long patchwork skirt. Her ashy blonde hair was in a single long braid down her back. Most prominent about her was the large cross that hung from a cord around her neck to rest against the placket of her shirt. "When will you learn to behave with decency and order?" She shook her head disdainfully as she crossed the room. The girl hung her head and smoothed down her own long skirt.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she intoned in a way that was far too mature for a child her age. If Sam had truly been a 10-year-old boy, he would have found the woman intimidating, instead he was both curious and anxious. He knew nothing about this family. It was going to be difficult to pretend to be her son long enough to get to a phone and contact Dean or Cas.

"You gave Father and I quite a scare," she said. It wasn't exactly an admonishment, but it was hardly the fond warmth Sam would expect from a mother with a sick child. Of course, he didn't have much experience with mothers. Mary hadn't been around all that much since she'd been resurrected. It was a fact that he tried not to be bitter about. After all, she didn't really know him very well either. Dean had been both father and mother to him in all the ways that mattered and maybe Mom could tell that he didn't need her as much as Dean did. However, the strange woman's comment was just an opener, so Sam put away his musings to listen.

"Do you have any idea how much this hospital costs?" Sam stayed quiet. He assumed the question was rhetorical since a child wouldn't likely know such a thing. "Already they are beginning to ask for payment." She sneered at the busy nurses in the hallway as if they were personally offending her. Clutching the large cross she was wearing she intoned, "A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, and favor is better than silver or gold." Sam recognized the passage from Proverbs but was confused.

"Mother," Leah spoke up, catching her mom's attention. "Who's that lady?" Pointing, the girl identified a tired looking woman in a pantsuit speaking with one of the nurses. Sam had fled too many hospitals as a child and pegged the woman as a social worker, likely from Child Protective Services. Dean had drilled into him from the earliest age that any contact with CPS would be disastrous for the Winchester family, so although he had no reason to be concerned, Sam's heart started to pound.

"Hush, girl!" the woman chided harshly. She went to the small closet and pulled out a bag of clothing, thrusting it at Sam's chest urgently. "Since you're feeling better, get dressed. Your father will get the car. Leah, come with me." Left holding the bag, Sam blinked in surprise. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but after Leah and her mother left the room, he dutifully pulled on some faded slacks, a blue dress shirt and brown loafers. The clothes were a little formal for a kid Noah's age, but Sam was just happy to have something to wear that wasn't a hospital gown with a jungle animal print and an open back.

A little out of breath from getting dressed, he nevertheless considered taking this opportunity to search for a phone. Inconveniently, the nurses' station was right outside his door. With all the activity there, it would be next to impossible to slip past without being seen. Before he could come up with a way to create a distraction, one was created for him. A scream from the other end of the hallway was high pitched enough to make Sam wince and drew every eye in that direction. He caught a glimpse of Leah, red-faced and howling as her mother flapped around her helplessly. Several nurses left their post and hurried over to try and quell the commotion. Now was his chance, but before he could take more than a few steps, a tall man with a long beard appeared in his way.

"Noah, come with me now." The imposing man had a deep sonorous voice. Sam's first instinct was to resist, but the man latched onto his slim shoulder tightly, ushering him in the opposite direction from the ongoing shrieking. "Your mother and sister will be along shortly." With that clue Sam deduced that this was Abraham Farlow, Noah's father and not some child abductor. Just as they cleared the door into the stairwell, the screaming stopped, but Abraham kept them moving at a quick pace. This was not the first time Sam had fled out a back door of a hospital. As he suspected, the stairs exited out into a parking lot. Almost dragging him along, Mr. Farlow quickly led them to a grey van.

Out of instinct, Sam memorised the license plate as they passed it. The side of the van also had a faded image of a large cross on a hill bathed in painted sunlight. At one point there had been lettering beneath the image, but it had been peeled off and now road dirt obscured the remaining impression. Opening the side door, he was swiftly ushered inside and deposited onto a wide bench seat that spanned the van. Abraham patted Sam's knee. "You are proof of God's favour. He has blessed me with a miracle in bringing back my son. There could be no more powerful witness that we are following His will. Praise God!" The dark eyed man smiled at him kindly although something in his eyes chilled Sam. "You will have to wait a little longer for the glories of Heaven, my boy," he said fervently before sliding the door shut with a clunk.

As Mr. Farlow walked around to the driver's side of the van, the passenger door opened, and Leah's dark head appeared. She had tear tracks on her face, but a broad smile. Scrambling between the seats, she joined him in the back seat. Damaris Farlow climbed into the vehicle. "Next time child, you do exactly as I say. You were to provide a distraction, not make a complete spectacle of yourself. You're lucky that we weren't detained by that social worker."

"Yes, Mother" Leah said submissively although she gave Sam a cheeky wink while her mother turned to close the door. "It worked though, didn't it?" she whispered to him as her father began to drive. Sam couldn't help but smile back at her. She appeared to be a sweet child, with a mischievous streak that her solemn parents struggled to contain.

Sam had been on the road for much of his life and although the van sounded very different from the Impala's beloved growl, the hum of tires on the highway was comfortingly familiar. As the night grew darker, Sam curled further against the small window and tried to order his thoughts. He remembered the fight with Lucifer and Michael, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't recall much of anything after Michael stabbed him. Without additional information, he would not be able to figure out how he got into Noah's body, so he resolved to put that mystery aside for now. What was more urgent right now, was to figure out how to contact his brother, so they could figure out how to reverse whatever had happened.

He didn't know where the Farlows were taking him, but at some point, they would have to stop for the night. Then he would try to slip away and find a phone. And some food. His stomach rumbled loudly, and he rubbed it although he was really more thirsty than hungry. Maybe he should ask Noah's parents for some water? Leah slid closer to him. Despite her earlier good nature, now she was almost shy.

"What was it like?" she asked in a whisper low enough not to carry to the front seat. She peered up at him, her eyes reflecting the light from passing cars. "Almost dying," she clarified. Sam didn't know what to tell her. Dying was something he'd had too much experience doing, but that was hardly something to share with a child. He shrugged and opened his mouth to ask a few questions of his own. His voice was an almost non-existent rasp and he tried to clear his dry throat. The girl dug into a bag at their feet and produced a juice box which she offered to him.

"Here. You had a tube down your throat. It was gross." She made a face but was content to watch as Sam greedily drank the juice. It was warm, but deliciously sweet and helped soothe his throat. When the box was empty, he turned to the watching girl.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. She tilted her head, openly staring at him. It made him uncomfortable. He didn't belong in this body, and he wasn't this girl's brother. Sam didn't like the idea of lying to a child, so he searched for a distraction. Years of being cooped up in the back of the Impala with Dean provided some inspiration. Leaning closer to keep his voice from carrying, Sam asked. "Do you want to play a game?" Leah, eager but also surprised, bounced in her seat.

"Really? Yes, I'd like that!" The spark he had seen in her earlier returned and she listened attentively while he explained the simple rules.

"So, we go back and forth and have to come up with a proper name, a place and a mode of transportation for each letter." She nodded and immediately stuck her tongue between her teeth, thinking hard. "I'll go first," Sam offered. "Hi, my name is Albert, and I come from Alabama in an airplane." Leah giggled quietly.

"Hi, my name is Barnabas, and I come from Bethlehem on a bicycle." Her beaming smile was so broad that Sam couldn't resist smiling back at her.

"Good job," he praised before taking his turn.

xxxxxx

Without a watch or a phone, Sam wasn't quite sure of the time, but judging by the position of the moon, it was very late when Abraham pulled off into a roadside rest area. Leah had fallen asleep a while ago, and Sam had tucked a blanket he had found on the floor around her small form. He had been hoping for a gas station or a restaurant where he could slip away, find a phone and get in touch with Dean. Worried about his brother's injuries, he needed to make sure that Dean knew that the inhabitant of Sam's body was not really him. And if Dean had already figured that out, he would be frantic, trying to find Sam and neglecting his own health. Big brother was nothing if not protective. Sam loved him dearly for it but hated how Dean always put himself last.

Unfortunately, the rest stop was dark and deserted with only a few old sodium-vapor lights casting an orange glow over the hut that held the bathrooms. When Leah's parents opened their doors, Sam climbed out too, moving as noiselessly as possible to avoid waking the girl. His legs were stiff from sitting so long and the September night was refreshingly cool against his skin. Scanning the area, he looked for a payphone, but beyond the small building and a broken vending machine, the only other object was a kiosk with a large, faded map. Sam squinted up at the legend, and despite the coating of grime and cobwebs, was able to figure out that they were somewhere just outside of Blackfoot, Idaho. He sighed. That was a lot farther from home than he had hoped. Abraham exited the washroom and appeared at his side.

"We still have a ways yet to travel tonight, so go use the facilities. I have made sure that it's safe." The bearded man gave him a little shove towards the door and Sam reluctantly did as he was instructed.

Hands as clean as he could get them in the grubby bathroom, Sam considered his options. He could run away. The Farlows would never find him in the dark. But he was already hungry, he had no weapon, no transportation and only the stamina and strength of a 10 years old. If he wanted to get back home, he was going to have to play along for a bit longer. Making his way back to the van, Noah's mother motioned him over to a nearby table.

Abraham had seated himself and was waiting placidly while his wife and daughter covered the rough wooden surface with a tablecloth and began laying out a meal of sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, cut fruit and vegetables. Leah was making trips back and forth from the van to the table, so Sam went over to lend a hand. She was struggling to carry a large jug of water and some assorted plastic cups; he took the heavy container from her. With a free hand now, she grabbed his sleeve to stop him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, suspiciously. Sam was confused.

"I'm uh, just trying to help, it looks heavy."

"You're not supposed to." she said, blowing a stray hair out of her face. "Father says that if I am going to serve as a helpmeet for my future husband, then I need lots of practice." Leah looked down at her feet as if ashamed.

"Well, you don't have to serve me," Sam declared, almost offended at the idea. Without giving her a chance to argue, he took the jug to the table. Damaris took it from him evenly, but he caught the sour glance she gave to Leah who had followed more slowly with the cups. Abraham just chuckled and looked fondly at Sam.

"For who is the greater, one who reclines at table or one who serves? Thank you, Noah, now take your place." He should have been thanking Leah or his wife who had done the lion's share of the work. Sam found it difficult to ignore the irony in Abraham's quotation, but he nodded and sat down where Abraham pointed. Once they were all seated, Abraham led them in a long-winded prayer, praising himself as much as he did God. Sam had to squirm a bit when he spoke about Noah being "God's favored." Undoubtedly Chuck would have had something snarky to say about that. Eventually, Mr. Farlow was done, and they began to eat. It was strange to be picnicking in the middle of the night, but he and Dean had shared meals in far stranger circumstances. Regardless of the situation, Sam was extremely hungry and the food was delicious.

AN: In case it's unclear, Damaris had Leah throw a temper tantrum to act as a diversion so that they could sneak out without paying the medical bill.