Another chapter is here! Thanks for giving this story an opportunity. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the OCs
Dean woke up from a nightmare. He didn't dream anything specific; he just got the general feeling of dread and despair that reminded him of his time in Hell. He sat up groggily, yawning and stretching, noticing distractedly that his back didn't make any popping sound. Rubbing his eyes, he inspected the darkness of the room, guessing that he slept at least four hours.
Sure enough, when he turned on his phone, it read 3:39 AM.
Concluding he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, he got up from his bed. Or at least, that was what he tried to do. His sense of balance was so off that when he stood up, he felt vertigo and nausea, and after that he noted dizzily that he wasn't able to stand properly. He nearly fell to the floor, his only saviour being the bedside table. His head started pounding slightly, a dull throb that was slowly driving him insane.
Without conscious thought, he grabbed his phone, turned on the flashlight and slowly made his way to the bathroom, being careful about making no loud noises that would wake up his little brother. Once he was inside the bathroom and the light was on, he went straight to the toilet and emptied his stomach of its contents, retching even more when he caught sight of the vomit. It was intertwined with blood.
After five minutes, the sickness seemed to recede, and he was able to stand up without feeling like his entire world was rotating on its axis. He went to wash his mouth, eager to wash away the metallic taste of blood, but before he could do anything, he caught sight of his face on the mirror. His twenty-years-old self's face, to be specific.
Mouth agape, he watched his reflexion with a sort of entranced horror, his sleep depraved brain trying to make heads or tails of the situation. He began to formulate various theories, from time-travelling mishap, to dimension-hopping, or maybe just plain old witches being witches. He hated witches.
Before he could start thinking more wild theories about his situation, a knock on the door interrupted his train of thought, followed by the dulcets tone of Sam's voice. In the back of his mind, he noted his level of sarcasm matched the face he was wearing now (who was he kidding? He wore sarcasm as an armour)
"Dean, I heard you retching" There was a pause "Are you okay?" The levels of concern displayed on his voice warmed Dean's heart, though he wouldn't admit it to his face, not even for all the pie in the world. Maybe. Jury's still out there with that one.
Sam sounded like his usual self, so there went the time-travel and dimension-hopping theories. He was slightly disappointed. They still were hunted by the FBI.
"Yeah, Sammy" Dean's voice sounded rough, and not just because of the lingering traces of sleep. "Go back to sleep"
He could practically feel the bitch-face plastered all over his brother.
"Dean, you know I can't. We promised. No more secrets" Sam practically demanded.
Not for the first time, Dean regretted making that promise.
"Alright, alright Samantha, calm your tits. Jeez" answered an annoyed Dean, and then went to open the door.
The face Sam made when he caught sight of him for the first time was hilarious. Mouth ajar, bulging eyes, the whole nine yards (Dean ignored the part of his brain that said his face was an exact copy of Sam's moments ago). Dean, always prepared for potential blackmail material, took a picture of the wide-eyed Sam without a moment of thought. The flash of the camera seemed to snap his brother out of his shock, and the glare he sent towards Dean could potentially make him combust. Dean was extremely glad his brother's psychic phase was over. Kid really could make a threatening face; he needn't to back it up with powers.
"Seriously, Dean?" said an aggravated and incredulous Sam, somehow still being surprised by the level of immaturity displayed by his brother.
"Seriously, Sam" replied a gleeful Dean, feeling downright smug about the photo.
"…Never mind" said a resigned Sam, knowing his brother would brag about the photo for at least a month (he still didn't live down the time when he broke his arm pretending to be Superman, or the time they found out about Sully and the Zannas, or the Carnival Incident of 1991, capital 'I'). Instead of indulging in his brother's childish antics, Sam focused on another matter; "What the hell is with you and being transformed in your younger self?"
"I have this awesome power called awesomeness" snipped Dean, somewhat annoyed at his brother's inquiry. He didn't freakin' know why the fuck he was the one always being de-aged, it was not as if he could pull the answer outta nowhere!
"Okay, let's back up for a minute" uttered an exhausted Sam with a conciliatory tone, rubbing his face "How did this happen?"
"I have no freakin' clue" stated Dean, impatiently.
"You mean to tell me that there's no incident that comes to your mind that may explain your situation? Nothing whatsoever?" asked an incredulous Sam.
"Nope"
"Shit"
"My feelings exactly"
"We may have to call Rowena for this, see if she identifies the curse or whatever this is" explained Sam cautiously.
"Ugh, fine" sulked Dean.
Before they could do anything else, the door of the motel room was knocked over, two cops entering and aiming their guns to the brothers.
"POLICE! Hands behind your back!"
"Shit" exclaimed Sam once again, putting his hand as instructed, utterly bewildered by how fast the situation was escalating.
"No shit, Sherlock" muttered Dean, more resignedly than sarcastically, while repeating the same actions.
"You k-know?" stuttered Rose, completely blindsided by the statement.
"I suspected" amended Williams, his unflappable attitude a contrast with the rising fear Rose was feeling. "I needed your reaction as a confirmation"
Rose nearly facepalmed. Of course her boss would spring something like this to her. She should watch her reactions more closely in the future.
"B-but what about me leading this case?" asked Rose, ignoring for now the issue of her boss knowing she slept with a murderer "Am I not too emotionally compromised?"
"Are you?" Williams' face could've been carved from stone.
"O-of course not!" exclaimed Rose rapidly, her heart thumping erratically, not knowing what to expect.
"Don't make a mistake, I came close to not putting you in the case at all" stated Williams calmly, his penetrating eyes burning holes in Rose's own. "But I have faith that you would not let a one-night stand cloud your judgement"
"Don't worry, Bossman" spoke Rose resolutely, straightening her back "My judgement will be clear of all bias. The only thing in common I have with Winchester is my son"
"Good" Williams seemed satisfied, which put Rose more at easy "Your new team is waiting in the Conference Room"
In the Conference Room, three people were waiting their new leader. One of them was Felix Wills, an aspiring FBI agent with two PhDs to his name, one in criminal psychology and the other one in law, who was staring fixedly at the wall, lost in his thoughts. Another one was Ianara Rohrer, an Argentinian hacker that was watching everything lazily while drinking something from a strange cup with a metal straw, and the last one was Amelia Jackson, a liaison from the CIA, that was sitting rigidly while keeping an eye on the other two occupants.
"Man, this place is depressing" commented Rohrer out of nowhere, her English heavily accented. "Someone wants a mate?"
The door opened then, admitting Williams and Rose to the room. They went their separate ways, Rose sitting with her new teammates and Williams to the front to make introductions and explain the case.
"Team, this is you new leader, Agent Rose Andrews. Andrews, this is Agent Felix Wills, specialized in criminal psychology, Agent Amelia Jackson from the CIA, specialized in combat, and, finally, this is Ianara Rohrer, an expert hacker that was causing us trouble until we apprehended her"
"Che! What's up, amigos?" pipped up Rohrer, grinning widely.
"First we start with…" but before Williams could continue, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Whomever was on the other side didn't wait for a response, opening the door hurriedly.
"Boss, we have a situation. The Winchesters has been apprehended"
Omake
Sammy raced through the streets, amazed by the sights around him. He lost Dad and Dean a while ago when he stopped to see with huge eyes a giant dinosaur with a kid on the top, but he wasn't worried. Dean always managed to find him, even when he made sure to stay well-hidden. His brother was awesome like that.
Without meaning to, he wandered to a section where there was a haunted house. A huge smile spread across his face, a metaphorical lightbulb turning on above his head.
Without a second thought, he snuck behind a couple that was entering the place, casually watching if someone was paying attention to him. Fortunately, everybody was oblivious to the ten-year-old antics.
He was sure there was nothing that would faze him inside, since he actually fought a ghost one week ago. He hunted monsters for a living, nothing could frighten him! (he ignored the fact that the ghost was actually his first hunt)
When he was finally inside, the first thing he saw was a clown. He was confused, clowns were not scary! But then, the clown started to laugh, a creepy laugh that sounded like madness made sound. The clown started to move towards him, a knife that wasn't there before in held in its hands.
Terrified, Sammy started to run, only to run into the couple he used as distraction.
"Hey! What's a kid doing here?" exclaimed the guy with a confused glance.
"Love, leave the kid alone" said the girl with an uncaring tone.
The clown laugh started to sound again, leaving Sammy horrified. They were going to die! He had to do something!
He spied the hand of the guy, where he held a cup of maybe-soda. Quickly, he snatched the cup, ignoring the surprised "Hey!" and returned, face resolute, to the spot where the clown was in.
Acting fast, Sammy threw the cup to the clown's face, only belatedly thinking that a cup wasn't that much of a weapon.
The cup hit true, and the maybe-soda spilled all over the clown, short-circuiting its mechanism. The clown started to behave erratically, terrifying Sammy even more. He started to cry, shouting his brother's name frantically.
It was fifteen minutes before Dean found his brother inside the haunted house, completely out of his mind with a clown laughing brokenly and swinging a knife erratically.
Thus concludes the Carnival Incident of 1991.
After the Incident, Sammy held a deep fear for clowns.
*Mate: Tea-like beverage typical of South America. Pronounced /mah-teh/
*Che: Expresion widely used in Argentina that means "hey". Pronounced /cheh/