Brother´s role

Supernatural fan fiction

by

Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 4

Dean watched his brother until the car took off. He knew Sam would call their father, damn, he wanted to call him himself. Wouldn´t it be funny, to see his dad´s face upon hearing his older son´s childish voice? Definitely worth a moment. Dean smirked, then turned away from the window. His face fell along with the pretense of bravery. Because Dean was scared to death. Scared that he´ll stay like this forever, scared that he´ll have to relive some seventeen years of his life, scared that he won´t be able to protect his kid brother Sammy anymore. Scared about the future.

He made his way to the bathroom, secretly hoping that this was just some weird dream brought on by the latest hunt and a bad pizza, but he knew that the dreams never felt this real and didn´t took so long. It was only two hours ago he woke up but it already felt like a week.

„Damn it all to hell," he said to the image in the mirror. „Who are you?" he asked and for a tiny moment, he thought he saw his old self looking back at him. But it was only a flash and Dean blinked, confused. Could it be he was really just an imposter? Or was this all some freaked joke?

He let the tap run and splashed the cold water on his face, his hair getting wet. That was another matter. How could´ve his hair grow so long? He remembered that he had them cut short when he was ten and it took another year till his father allowed him to the first hunt. He looked like a little soldier, but at least he appeared older. Now he realised that the longer hair combined with the small figure made him look like a little kid. Too little for his own liking.

Dean shook his head and turned away from the mirror, angrilly storming to the room and sitting down behind the laptop. His father´s journal held absolutely nothing and Sam couldn´t come up with anything useful either. Sure, there were some fairy tales, plenty of science fiction, and a mention of a fountain of youth. So far, the best they came up with was an excerpt from Edgar Cayce and his writing about Atlantis. He wrote about a Crystal that was supposed to have magical powers. The crystals received energy from a variety of sources, including the Sun and the Earth. If used correctly and by someone experienced, they could heal, teleportate things or do several other crazy stuff. One of them was rejuvenate.

The only problem with this theory was that Dean was nowhere close to Atlantis, and he also didn´t see any crystals, nor did he meet anyone with such powers. And their latest hunt was routine, at least Dean kept telling himself so.

His stomach grumbled and despite the situation, Dean picked up the bag with the breakfast Sam brought earlier. They didn´t touch it and his body was definitely hungry. Peeking in, Dean smirked and snatched one donut. He sipped from the coffee, but put it aside with a grimace. It felt bitter and Dean rather grabbed a soda. He was finishing his second donut when the keys rattled in the lock. Dean frowned, automatically reaching for the gun. He relaxed only when he saw the familiar face.

„You left me something?" Sam asked, seeing the half empty paper bag and the bits of sugar on his brother´s face. Dean quickly licked it off and nodded at the bag in his hands.

„Sure, I left you the bagel." he smirked.

„Cool," Sam replied not so enthusiastically. „Well, why don´t ya get these on, while I eat it?"

Dean suspiciously looked into the bag his brother handed him, then with a shrug left to the bathroom.

„Hope you didn´t spend all the money," Dean shouted as he took out the clothes. He regarded them with a frown. „Hey, you bought this in the second hand or what?"

„Like you said, we need the money," Sam quipped in with a smile that grew wider when he heard Dean mutter: „Jerk!"

„At least I hope the shorts were new," Dean hollered and Sam was tempted to tell him he stole it, but refrained from it, taking a bit of his bagel instead.

Few minutes and a cursing session later a rather smug looking Dean emerged from the bathroom. Sam took in his appearance and felt almost proud that he managed to get the right size of everything.

„Well, you look good," he stated but Dean only snorted in reply. True, he felt better wearing clothes of his size, but still... the shirt had a funny creature on it, probably from some cartoon. And he didn´t even mention the pictures on his shorts. Urgh.

„I am so gonna kill you for this, Sammy," he uttered in low voice but Sam didn´t even flinch.

„Whatever. How are the shoes?"

„Just peachy," Dean grumbled.

„Great. Now if we are finished with the fashion show, we can return to the matter at hand. Did you find something?"

„Probably the lost city of Atlantis," Dean muttered, then shook his head. "Only several mentions of the Fountain of Youth, the Grail and the Philosopher' s stone. Did you know that some people believed that drinking the blood of childrens could keep them young? Urgh,'' Dean shuddered, disgusted by the mere idea. Sam also grimaced. When he was researching it earlier he found more awful practices that people did in the hope to stay alive a little longer, but he didn' t felt the need to apprise Dean about them.

''How about you – any luck?'' Dean asked looking up at Sam. ''Did dad call back?" He instantly cursed himself for the last question, hearing the hope in his own voice.

Sam blinked, then sadly shook his head. „I´m sorry, Dean."

„Hey, no problem. He probably didn´t get the message. It´s only few hours. And anyway, it´s not like I am dying or something. No rush, right?" And then he turned away from his brother, one hand frantically trying to rub the stinging tears out of his eyes. He didn´t understood why he felt so hurt by the simple fact that their father didn´t call back. After all, they were looking for him for the last six months, what would´ve changed? Nothing. But it still hurt and while his feelings weren´t different from the pain he experienced as an adult, he didn´t have such control over his body now.

„Damnit!" he kicked into the wall, changing the tears and despair for anger, because it was much easier to handle.

„Dean. Dean! Come on, it´s gonna be okay," Sam said as he pulled Dean away from the wall and started rubbing at his shoulder in a calming manner. He watched the emotions run across his brother´s face in fascination, never before seeing him so vulnerable.

„Sh, it´s gonna be okay, I promise." he quietly whispered and actually felt when Dean regained controls over himself. His body stiffened, the gasps turning into slow, deep breaths. And the mask was back on his face. Sam silently cursed.

„I´m cool," Dean mumbled, suddenly embarassed and pulled away from his brother. „So... what´s the plan?" he quickly asked, before Sam could start talking about something else, something concerning his own feelings. Dean was not prepared for that kind of a debate as an adult, and he definitely wasn´t prepared for it now.

With a sigh, Sam walked back to the table with the rest of his bagel, while Dean choose to sit on the bed, cross-legged and looking smug.

„I think we should stay around at least for a while. I am planning on going to the library once they open it."

„And find what?"

„Something must be there, Dean. There always is."

Dean looked at his brother with doubt.

„Okay, not always," Sam corrected himself, „but most of the time. Maybe it could be some time field?"

„If I´d thought I am nine year old, then it could be a time travel. But I highly doubt my body decided to jump in time without my mind too."

Sam shrugged, frowning.

„Did something happen to you when you were nine? Something traumatic?"

Dean barely contained the snort. Yeah, as if it wasn´t traumatic enough to see their house beeing consumed by fire, knowing their mother was still inside. Or watch out for his baby brother in some strange motel room, while waiting if their father will return from his latest hunt in one piece. Surely, nothing traumatic. But when he trailed through his childhood memories, he could only shook his head in dismay.

„No, nothing. It was probably our calmest year from mom´s death. We stayed in one place for more than a half year, and dad was more often lucky in his hunts. No major injury as far as I know. It was almost two years before I got hunting."

„Could it be that," Sam commented. „Maybe you thought it was the safest place...or time, or whatever."

„I repeat - my mind is still twenty seven year old, Sammy," Dean said with as much conviction as he could. „And why the hell would I want to be somehwere safe? I think we are safe as long as we are together." At his last sentence, Sam swallowed and uneasily looked at his brother, his eyes full of guilt.

„Oh, come on, that´s not about it!" Dean groaned, knowing that Sam was once again thinking about the asylum.

„You weren´t safe with me, Dean. I almost killed you," he uttered and Dean once again groaned, throwing his hands in the air.

„Look, we should clear it once and for all. I know you would never hurt me, Sam. And although you may have a craving to kick my ass from time to time, you would not kill me. I put that gun into your hand. I wanted you to drop the damn shotgun, so I could take a move at you. I should´ve done it before you pulled the trigger. It´s my fault. I don´t hold it against you." Dean spoke fiercely, even though somewhere deep inside he could still feel the pain in his chest, the pain that didn´t come from the rock salt. He really didn´t know what he felt anymore, and maybe that was the hardest part. At one side, he gave the gun to his brother just for the reason to unarm him. But that didn´t explain why he let him pull the trigger. Why he asked him to do it. No, that part was something Dean let happen because he wanted to know. He needed to know how deep the hate ran in Sam. And he got his answer.

„I know that saying I am sorry won´t change it," Sam spoke and Dean blinked, pulled from his own thoughts. "But I really am. I would never hurt you, Dean."

„You did," was the silent reply and Dean´s eyes went wide the moment he realised he said it aloud. "Sammy, I-" he started, but Sam raised his hand and shook his head, looking surprisingly calm.

„No, Dean, that´s okay. In truth, that was what I needed to hear."

The puzzled look on Dean´s childish face was almost funny, if not for the fear lurking in his eyes. Sam didn´t know why it was here, but he intended to ride it away.

„I know I can´t change the past. I can´t take back those words and I don´t really want to, because some of it was the truth, especially about dad. But... I never meant to pull the trigger. Never," he added, looking into Dean´s eyes with such conviction, that Dean had to accept it.

„Good. Cause the next time you shoot me with rock salt, I will shoot back," he said, the slight smile tugging at his lips.

„Right. Wanna give me a hug?" Sam asked, playfully and ducked when the pillow came flying at him.

„Jerk," Dean shouted.

„Bitch," Sam replied, then laughing, grabbed the fallen pillow and threw it back at his brother.

xxxx

Sam looked up from the computer in the local library. His eyes felt as if someone took a sandpaper at them from looking through the microfilms for the last hour or so, searching the archive of the town´s press that was stored there. Next to him, a bleary eyed Dean looked up from the other computer, pushing a strand of hair out of his face.

„Uhm, maybe you should take a look at this," he said and stood, making place for Sam.

„What?" Sam sit down and started reading. Dean highlighted two or three articles, from different years. The oldest was from 1958.

The article was rather short, speaking about Amely Stockhart, a woman who lived alone somewhere in the woods, on the outer border of the Crystle town. A family reported that while on a camping trip, they saw some kind of ceremony going on. Upon they return, they described it to the sheriff who was in turn a friend of the local journalist. The ceremony didn´t look to be harmful and the people didn´t think much about it. The journalist mentioned that Amely Stockhart was known for her strange behaviour and he even throw in a joke about Crystle town having their own witch.

„They obviously didn´t believe it," Dean spoke, seeing his brother just finished the passage. Sam shrugged.

„It´s always better if they thought she was crazy than if they started some witch trial."

„Yeah well, maybe they didn´t believe her, but she sure as hell did something. Read this."

Dean pointed the cursor to the other article.

„In 1968, they had a really hot summer without rain. The whole country had troubles with the drought. Until that ceremony. The rain started two days later – the catch is, it started only here, in Crystle town. Nowhere else."

„Interesting, but what does this have to do with you turning into a kid?"

This time it was Dean who shrugged, giving a frustrated sigh.

„Just read further."

So Sam read. And his eyes narrowed by every passage, until he finished and turned back to Dean.

„Okay, something´s definitely weird in this town. I mean, they were in some kind of trouble, Amely Stockhart just did her stuff and everything was okay. But there were no questions, only few articles that came out rather as a joke than the real thing."

„Yeah," Dean acquiesced with a sigh. „Seems like the good witch was in work. Pity she died five years ago."

„Still, there´s no mention in any physical change and by the sound of it, that woman did no harm. Turning you into kid just seems too off..."

„Yeah well, there´s also the question how did this happen. My only answer is the place where we burned those bones. I don´t know why, but I felt something strange when we were there yesterday."

„Yes, you was acting a little weird," Sam agreed and rolled his eyes at the frown that appeared on Dean´s young face. „So isn´t it more possible that what happened yesterday was what caused this whole thing in the first place? No offense, but thinking some woman – or witch – who is already several years dead would do this trick on you for no reason is a little crazy."

„Well, we won´t know until we look at it. I say we go back to that place. If there won´t be anything, we should try and ask around about Amely Stockhart. Maybe she had some relatives left."

As they headed out of the library, Sam noticed the few curious stares toward Dean. With a frown, he ushered his brother out and into the car, feeling almost relief when he started up the Impala. Dean watched him suspiciously, for once not turning on the radio and his favorite casette.

„What´s up, Sammy?" he asked, twitching, trying to get comfortable on the passenger´s seat, and shooting a longing look at the wheel.

„Shouldn´t you be sitting in the back?" Sam asked, a small payback for his nickname.

The responding glare made him snicker.

„Sorry, bro. At least fasten the belts, would you? Last we need is some sheriff asking why the hell are you with me and not with your parents."

Grumbling, Dean did as asked, then looked at Sam with a frown.

„What do you mean?"

„You obviously didn´t notice the stares we got in the library. This is a rather small town, Dean. Most of the people remember me and my older brother. Now my older brother is nowhere to be seen, instead I am traipsing the town with a kid they don´t know. Not to mention you should be in school."

The first thing on Dean´s mind was a rather loud exclamation stating that he is no damned kid, but he caught the look in the backside mirror and shut up. Instead, he nodded. Until he won´t be back in his old body, they would need to take care of all the stuff their father was doing while they were kids. That meant school, some good explanations that would sound sensible enough so as to not instegate a call to the social services. All the little lies their family was used to tell, to keep the outside world unaware of their true lives.

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. He thought they were past that phase when Sammy outgrow him, and nobody asked the questions type „Why aren´t you in school?"

Whatever responsibilities came with being a grown up, it sure had it´s benefits and he felt at great disadvantage suddenly. Not from the demons, spirits or other monsters – but the real world, in which he was only a nine year old kid who belonged to school and whose missing parents would be more than suspicious wherever they put a foot.

„Damn it, Sammy... we can´t keep this up much longer. I really need to be back to my old self," Dean sighed and turned at Sam with almost a pleading look in his eyes. Sam blinked, not used to it. Dean never pleaded.

„I will do what I can," he promised, not realising that suddenly he took all the responsibility of the older brother and that for once Dean didn´t protest to the role reversal. He just nodded and turned away from Sam, watching the passing streets. He didn´t need to ask where they were going. The best place to start their quest was the place of their last hunt.

TO BE CONTINUED

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