Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Well, Dean's got a plan, but I ahve an inkling that Sam knows about it now. Oh, the conflict!

Disturbing little thing, Sam thought to himself, catching a quick, confused glance from the little boy who was now engrossed in the TV show he was watching. He shuddered. The kid was starting to creep him out. The conversation had dropped off after the boy's almost nonsensical comment, and hadn't resumed. To tell the truth, Sam was kind of happy about that.

The door opened, and Dean and his ten-year-old counterpart walked into the room, neither talking. Sam looked at his brother, glaring, and was a little taken aback when the older man shrugged and reported that he'd gotten nothing out of the kid.

The younger hunter narrowed his eyes and grabbed the older man's shirtsleeve, pulling him out of the room. "We need to talk. Now."

"What is it this time?" Dean sighed, leaning up against the side of the motel as his brother slammed the door shut.

"Did you just lie to me?"

"No. I swear, that kid's like Fort Knox. I actually think he might be inside rehiding some things."

"You're lying to me, Dean."

Dean just shook his head. "You sound so sure of yourself. What makes you think I'm not telling the truth?"

"Oh, I don't know, the fact that little me seems to be able to read minds, for one. From what I hear, you just got stupider as the years went by, because if some old guy wearing ripped-up jeans and a leather jacket appeared at our doorstep tomorrow and told us his name was Dean Winchester and he had traveled through time to warn us of the coming apocalypse, you would just scratch your head and ask him what he was talking about."

Dean scratched his head. "What are you talking about?"

Sam sighed. "The kid figured it out. You figured it out. Not all of it, but enough to know who we really are. Somehow, I picked up on it, too. Had a very interesting conversation with myself today."

"You know, Sam, talking to yourself isn't a good thing."

"I'm serious, Dean. What did you tell the kid?"

The hunter shrugged. "He figured it out, man, what was I supposed to tell him?"

"How much?"

"Everything," Dean hung his head, eager to avoid his brother's death-glare, "I told him everything, from women in white to demonic semi attacks and beyond. He knows it all."

Sam actually smiled. He was too mad to do much else, but just let the information sink in. "And how did he take it?"

"Surprisingly well."

"Dean, that's going to screw up the whole damn timeline. We'll be lucky if we get back to our present without any tattoos or piercings! What were you thinking?"

"Simple," he replied softly, a small smile playing at his lips as his eyes shone with an almost diabolical glimmer, "we change things. You really think I'm gonna drag you away from your perfect life if I know your girlfriend's gonna burn on the ceiling? No, I'll take her with us."

"Will you let me have my perfect life? Or will you handcuff me to your car?"

Dean shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? No more researching, no more mistakes. We can change things, truly change things. What can it hurt?"

"Everything," Sam sighed, unable to believe what he was hearing. Their father had practically drilled the rules of time travel into them since they'd been old enough to understand what he was saying.

"You know," Dean muttered, drawing Sam out of his thoughts, "we had a pretty crappy childhood, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"What if someone came along and told you that the rest of your life would pretty much be the same? Would you try to change it?"

"I would, but-"

"What if the person that told you everything about your miserable little life decided that he was going to take it upon himself to try and give you something you'd always wanted?"

"Dean, listen-"

"No, you listen, because I've got a point here. As long as we're here, let's just drop the hunter-thing, huh? We know what Jake is, and we know how to stop him. Why not let the kids be kids?"

"Because we're not supposed to be kids, Dean, we're supposed to be hunters."

"You know what I found out today? I haven't really been out of a motel room without fear for a year. Maybe even longer. I actually looked at myself last night, and you know what I saw?"

"A really goofy-looking kid?"

Dean smiled so briefly Sam thought he might have just imagined it happening. "No, I saw a ten-year-old who has spent the last six years of his life raising his kid brother who's just gonna end up leaving him anyway. I saw a brand of mistrust that not many people, full-grown adults, possess. And today, I actually talked to the mistrustful little kid who looks up to his dad when the man's around and hasn't been to a park since he was four. Now, you tell me to just sit by and let the kid get stuck in the miserable lifestyle his father planned out for him."

Sam watched as his brother headed back into the room, greeting the boys and offering to make them something to eat. Sammy sighed as the door closed. He could understand it, had actually thought about doing the same thing, but it was too risky. Shaking his head, he opened the door and joined his brother by the fridge.

"We got problems," Dean muttered softly enough that that kids couldn't hear.

"Don't even get me started."

"No, Sam, last-can-of-Spaghetti-Os problems. There's no food."

"How long have you guys been here?' Sam asked, turning to face the boys, who were seated at the table.

"About a week and a half," little Dean answered, shrugging, "why? Are we out of food?"

"Dad usually came by and dropped more off before we could run out," Dean added, "how do you guys feel about fast food? McDonalds or something? At least until we can get to a store."

Both boys shrugged.

"How are we gonna get there?" Sam asked, closing the refrigerator door, "dad's got the car."

Dean shrugged. "We walk."

"I think that was the greasiest burger I've ever eaten," Sam marveled as he trudged back into the room, his feet tired from walking, and plopped down on the couch.

"Well," Dean sighed, sitting down beside him, "that's what we get for catching the first wormhole to a time period when the FDA didn't care about killing people, just so long as that freakin' clown kept grinning."

"So, who's going to the store for groceries? I volunteer you."

"Why me?"

"It was your idea to walk."

Dean grinned. "How was I supposed to know the closest fast food joint was almost two miles away?"

"Well," the youngest kid piped up, "I tried to tell you."

"Yeah," the older said, collapsing on the floor in front of the TV, "and I told you he wouldn't listen. I started tuning you out after five minutes."

"It took you five?" Dean questioned, chuckling, "I guess I've perfected it. It's an art, kid. It only took me three."

Everyone laughed, even though the joke wasn't that funny. Things had been tense at the restaurant. Apparently, the boys had heard themselves arguing on the other side of the door. It had taken Dean promising that everything was OK to get them both to eat. Sam was often amazed at the way his brother could so easily threaten death on any innocent person that harmed his family, and also comfort the troubled children they often stumbled across on their hunts.

"They're not gonna get rid of the clown, are they? 'Cause I like him."

"So do I, but watch out for Burger King commercials in a few years. If they start out with some guy alone in bed, change the channel. Trust me, they found a way to sell burgers and scare little children."

"And 27-year-old demon hunters who happen to be scared of puppets," Sam smiled, "don't forget about them."

Dean nodded. "So, if I'm going to the store today, what do you want? Anything besides Spaghetti-Os, Sammy, you're the only one who likes them, and even you get tired of them after a while."

"Lucky Charms," little Dean answered, "he owes me a bowl."

"That happened last year, Dean," his brother countered, "let it go."

"Not until you pay me back that bowl," the eldest hunter in the room answered, grinning. The room again erupted into laughter.