"I give up," Dean sighed, plopping down in a grassy spot behind a tree in the park. Sam just turned to look at him, skeptical. He'd never known his brother to give up like that.
"No you don't." He argued, "we've gotta keep looking if we ever want to find him."
"But we've been at it all day and we still haven't caught him. And who's to say he hasn't already done what he'd planned to do and left? We can't just stay here, Sam, either we find him, or we assume he's already finished his job."
"I don't think he has." The younger pointed between a gap in the trees and his brother followed his gaze. A young man in a black cloak was running across the street near where they had stopped to rest. "The guys I talked to this morning said he'd been wearing a long coat last time they saw him. That's him. We found him."
"Yeah, but what's he doing?" Dean asked as Jake stopped behind a dumpster and crouched down, peeking momentarily out into the street.
"Looks like he's waiting," Sam commented, "but for who?"
His question was answered as two small shadows stretched over the darkening street and footsteps echoed off the buildings. The brothers watched as two young boys, no older than six and ten, walked into view. Jake, apparently, saw them, too, and stood up behind the dumpster, ready to pounce.
"Hey, Sam," Dean whispered, finally getting a good look at the kids as he wondered what Jake would want with them, "you recognize those boys?"
Sammy squinted in the poor light thrown by the streetlamps, "yeah, now that you mention it. They're us."
The two brothers watched as the young boys crossed the street and Jake pounced, grabbing on to the back of the littlest one's jacket and only succeeding in ripping it off, which alerted the kids to his presence. They broke out into a run.
"Come on," Dean hissed, grabbing the front of his brother's shirt and pulling the taller man through the grass and sparse trees, keeping up with the kids as they fled their pursuer. "Please tell me you brought along some kind of protection."
Sam searched his pockets, but found nothing that could be used to help the kids, who were now visibly tiring.
"We need to save them," Dean mumbled, pulling a pocket knife from his jacket and thrusting it into his brother's hand, "I'll grab the kids, you take Jake."
Sam nodded, watching as his brother broke their cover and ran into the street, scooping the smallest boy up into his arms and talking quickly to the other. Sam took that as his cue and leapt from the shadows onto the demon's back as Dean and the kids broke into a sprint down the street, apparently heading to whatever motel room their father had left them in.
Jake struggled, trying to get the upper hand, but in the end, Sam had the advantage. His adversary was tired from running after the kids and Sammy was easily able to plunge the small knife deep into his black heart. The demon exploded as he rolled away, gaining his feet and following his brother.
"Got it," he panted, reaching the other man at the door of a motel room.
"No," Dean said, shaking his head, "you didn't. It was a decoy. That thing's still out there."
The oldest of the two kids opened the door and the small group stumbled in. "Who are you?" the kid questioned, turning on them with suspicion in his eyes. Sam noticed that he was standing protectively in front of the younger child.
"We know your dad," Dean smiled, running a hand through his hair and hoping that he really was as stupid as Sam always told him he was, "that's all that matters."
"We need names," the shorter kid said defiantly, stepping out from behind his brother, who held out a hand to stop him from getting any closer to the two strangers.
Dean glanced at his brother. If there was one thing his father had taught them about time travel, it was that changing the past, even revealing a seemingly useless little bit of information, could have dire consequences later on.
But the kid just wanted names, and what harm could names do?
"All right. I'm Dean, and this is my geek brother, Sam."
"Weird," the little kid whispered, "those are our names."
"Yeah," Sam nodded, "your dad told us. Funny how that works, huh?" He glared at his brother.
"How are we sure you really know our father," the elder asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Well," Dean smiled, "let's see. He left you in charge while he went after a particularly nasty ghoul, right? And the codeword this time is, uh, djinn."
"You're right," the kid nodded, taking a cautious step away from the shotgun propped up by the door, "but why would he send you out here for us?"
"He thought something might be after you," Sam offered, taking a seat in the room's small kitchenette, "and it looks like he was right."
"That was Jake you just met," Dean added, ruffling the oldest boy's hair and joining his brother at the table, "he's been possessed and we came to stop him. We think he wants to kill you."
"Why would he want to do that?" the youngest boy asked, coming to sit with them, his trust already gained. The other boy's, however, would be harder to attain.
"Because he's a bad guy," Dean shrugged, looking over at his younger self and flashing a comforting smile, "now, I can understand you being a little weary of us, kiddo, but you can't stand by that door all night."
The boy didn't move, just stared at them, his eyes suspicious. "Do you know how to kill it?"
"We can exorcise it," Sam nodded, "make sure it can't hurt you again, yeah, but we're gonna need to find it first." He turned to his brother, "did you say it was a decoy?"
Dean nodded. "Remember Meg? The chick fell out of a seventh story window and survived. You stab this guy with a pocket knife and he dies? He was just testing the water. Figured he'd send a clone out to kill u- them. We still need to find the real demon."
"Can we help?" the littlest kid asked, his eyelids dropping, even in the midst of the excitement.
"Maybe," Sam said, "if it's absolutely necessary. But we still need to find him."
"And you two need to get to bed," Dean smiled, scooping the small boy up in his arms and carrying him toward the bedroom, "it's almost midnight. That means you, too, Dean."
Reluctantly, the elder of the two boys trudged into the bedroom as Sam laid his head in his hands and tried to think.
"Listen," Dean began as the kid walked into the room, "I know you think that you're the man of the house when your dad leaves like this, but now we're here and you're following our rules. So," he reached his hand under a pillow on one of the beds, "since I don't trust mistrustful little boys with knives under their pillows, I'll be taking this." He pulled out the hidden knife.
He almost laughed at the surprised look on his young face, and a fleeting thought (Missouri did say I was a goofy looking kid) running though his head as he stuck the weapon into his pocket and tucked his little brother in.
"How'd you know about that?"
"Let's just say," Dean smiled as he watched himself climb into bed and pull the covers up to his chin, "I've been there."
He turned to leave the room, walking slowly up to the door and turning off the lights. "Good night, guys. Sleep tight."
"Wait," a little voice piped up in the darkness, "I want a story first."
Dean sighed and turned around to find Sammy's little head poking up from under the heap of blankets, a small pout on his face. "Well," he asked, flipping the lights back on and sitting on the foot of the young boy's bed, " what kind of story? A true story, or a happy story?"
"A true story," a different voice answered. The hunter turned to face himself, sitting up in bed with a strangely determined look on his young face.
"All right," he muttered, thinking, "once upon a time, there was a very happy family. There was a mommy, and a daddy, and a little boy, and a baby. One day, there was a bad fire at their house, and the mommy couldn't get out in time because she was trying to protect her little baby boy. The happy family changed after that, but the oldest boy promised himself that, if nothing else, he would keep them together. And he did, for 18 years. But then his little brother left, and his dad followed four years later. But this boy was smart, and he got his brother to come back and stay with him. And then something bad happened, and they decided to stay together a little bit longer.
"After a while, they decided to go back to the house that had burnt down, the one where their mom had died. When they were there, they found their mom, just waiting for them, wanting to protect them, even after death. And she was so proud of her youngest son," he smiled, ruffling Sammy's hair, "and she told him that she was sorry for not being there for him, and that she loved him very much."
"What about the oldest?"
Dean looked at the boy, staring into his own hazel eyes, ones that told him they already knew the answer. "Well," he muttered, after a pause, "it's getting late. You guys really do need to get to sleep, all right?" He slid off the bed and walked from the room, flipping off the lights and closing the door.
"I thought," Sam muttered as Dean entered the kitchenette and sat down, "that dad told us changing the past could change the future."
"It was just a story. It's not like they'll remember it."
"Until it actually happens. We need to be careful, Dean, one false move and we could ruin the rest of our lives. And they're already bad enough."
Dean sighed, running a slightly unsteady hand through his hair, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess. What are we gonna do about this?"
"Kill the demon."
"I wish it was that easy. We've gotta find him, catch him, keep him away from ourselves-"
"And deal with the kids. And how do we manage it without any weapons or a car?"
Dean shrugged. "There are weapons. And I know where they are. Or, little me does, anyway. We just have to get him to tell us where they're hidden."
"That should be easy, seeing as how you're a very trusting kid."
"I can talk to him," Dean said, an idea suddenly forming in his mind, a thought hitting him so hard he almost fell out of his chair, "maybe earn his trust. Just give me some time alone with the kid tomorrow."
Sam just nodded and sighed, staring down at the table as his brother formulated his plan. It was forbidden, and he knew that, but Sammy had been right. Their lives had been horrible when they were kids, and if he could make a few small changes, ones that would be so insignificant that it wouldn't matter one way or the other what happened, maybe he could fix it. Maybe he could make things right.