Title: Now I Know My ABC's

Author: Disasteriffic Kaz

Info: A hurt/comfort romp through the alphabet, one letter at a time from A to Z. Each chapter is a stand-alone one shot. There is hurt, comfort, angst, humor, feels and all around fun.

Author's Note: This one takes place after 3x11 "Mystery Spot". Going for some angst and lovely feels this time. Lol Hope you like it!

Beta'd by the always awesome JaniceC678 :D– Friend and Muse's co-conspirator.

**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!
~Reviews are Love~

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

J is for Jungle Gym -

Sam stared out the passenger window of the Impala as they drove and stopped himself from looking at his brother for the thousandth time. Some days, it felt like if he didn't watch him, Dean would disappear on him, would die months ahead of schedule. He took a deep breath and let it out slow in an effort to calm himself. The events at the Mystery Spot the week before – or was it the four months before? - were going to haunt him for a long time, probably the rest of his life.

"Dude, relax." Dean slapped a hand out into Sam's shoulder and flicked a glance at him, quirking a brow when Sam looked back at him. "Sounds like you're hyperventilating over there."

'Sorry." Sam pushed up straighter in the seat and shook his head. "Just, uh, thinking."

"Uh huh." Dean knew exactly what Sam was thinking about. It wasn't like he was doing much of anything but thinking about it too. If there was a way to not be terrified into pissing his pants about spending eternity in hell, he hadn't found it yet. But he did his best not to let Sam know that. He kept up the brave face and the devil-may-care attitude. He could handle the terror and the nightmares just as long as he knew Sam was going to be alive and well at the end of it. That was all that mattered, whether Sam liked it or not.

"Hey, how about that one?" Sam pointed to the left.

Dean startled out of his thoughts, cleared his throat and followed Sam's finger to a motel just ahead. Dean angled across the road for it, leaning forward to look up at the Bearclaw Motel sign and snorted. "Bearclaw? Really? Do they like, give 'em out at breakfast or something?"

Sam chuckled as they pulled up to the rental office. He waved Dean off and opened his door. "I'll get us a room."

"Make sure they've got cable!" Dean called before Sam's door closed. He sat back and smirked. "Need me some Casa Erotica."

"You're disgusting," Sam informed his brother and closed his door with a roll of his eyes.

Dean laughed and leaned back over the seat, stretching his legs out a little. He watched Sam through the window into the lobby and his brother emerged several minute later with a smirk on his face. Sam got back in the car, looked over at Dean, and laughed. "What?" Dean demanded.

"Room fourteen." Sam shook his head and chuckled. "They have a bear claw breakfast bar. Starts at ten. They'd start it earlier but..." Sam had to stop and laugh again. "They'd start it earlier but the bear claws need time to thaw,"

"Ok. That's... that's kind of disgusting." Dean laughed softly and pulled the Impala down the lot, parking in front of room fourteen.

"We should check out the local precinct tonight," Sam said as he climbed back out of the car. "See if the cops have any information on the disappearances."

Dean pulled their bags out of the trunk and tossed Sam's to him. "They gotta have something. You don't just lose two dozen people over ten years and not generate some damn paperwork."

Sam opened the door, flicked on the light and snorted a laugh as he moved and let Dean in. "So, they really ran with the whole 'bearclaw' theme."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Dean groaned and took in the room. The white-painted walls with hand-drawn, badly shaped bear claw pastries in giant size crawling across them, brown bedspreads that each had a hand-sewn image of a bear claw in the center, and the bright red microwave, table and chairs. "Who does this?"

"Bear claw enthusiasts?" Sam shrugged and tossed his bag on the far bed. "Let's suit up and get moving."

Dean pulled open his own bag and dug out his suit. "Kind of hoping this isn't our sort of job. Not sure I want to sleep in a room a bearclaw bakery threw up in."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam leaned back from the stack of papers on the violently red table in their room and stretched his arms over his head. "I don't know. I think Bobby was right. I'm just not sure what's doing it." He tapped a pile of missing persons reports from the police that he'd copied before they left the precinct last night. "We've got the seven Bobby found from the last five years, but I turned up another dozen over the last twenty. And there's this..." Sam picked up the reports and started tossing them down on the table one at a time to show how each was a single sheet. "The cops did almost no research or follow up on any of these!"

"I don't get it." Dean finished off the last of his beer, set it aside and grabbed another before he sat at the table and pulled some of the reports over. "How the hell do this many people go missing and no one investigates?"

"It gets weirder." Sam turned his laptop around and opened the screen so Dean could see it. "Turns out, the last known location for all of these people was near a children's park on the west edge of town. It has a reputation; local urban legend kind of thing. For the last twenty years since the park was built, some mystery sculptor has been dropping off new statues at random times, and no one ever sees the guy or has any idea who he is or where they come from."

"Statues?" Dean frowned and pulled the laptop closer. He reared back and shook his head. "Dude, those are some creepy ass statues of kids. Who does that?"

Sam chuckled. "I don't know but we should go take a look at it in the morning."

Dean frowned, a dark look coming over his face. "Statues are all kids?" he asked and looked over at Sam,who nodded, knowing exactly what his brother was thinking.

"Yeah. But none of the missing people are kids. They're all adults, and none of them are gracing the lawn."Sam shrugged and closed the laptop, then straightened up the missing person's reports, tucking them into a vanilla folder to bring along tomorrow. "I'm beat and this job is shaping up to be damn strange."

"Yeah." Dean looked at the beer in his hand, considering. He shrugged and put it back while his brother crawled into the far bed.

"You going out?" Sam asked and tried not to sound like it bothered him, but he was still nervous with Dean out of his sight. Even so, he knew his brother was dealing, if you could call it that, with his impending trip to hell via alcohol and loose women. And he couldn't exactly begrudge Dean if it helped keep him calm.

"Nah." Dean tugged off his t-shirt and tossed it onto the laundry bag in the corner. Sam only thought he was hiding his new-found insecurity about being left alone and Dean barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. In truth, whatever had happened to Sam at the Mystery Spot had been bad. Dean knew that. He knew all his little brother's tells, and Sam was damn well traumatized about something more than just watching Dean be creatively offed for a few weeks; not that he was telling Dean what that something more was. "Sleep sounds good." Dean glanced over and saw the relieved look pass over Sam's face before his brother rolled down into the blankets.

"Night, Dean."

"Yeah. Night, Sammy."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Ok. These are even creepier in person," Sam observed as they crossed the grass toward the playground and found the first of the mystery statues. It was a child done in some sort of dark, grey stone, crawling through the grass with his head down like he was exhausted. He looked up to the jungle gym and unlike the statues, it looked like the sort of thing even he wouldn't mind playing on... if his big brother wasn't watching to torment him for the rest of his life for being a giant child.

"You wanna play on it. Don't you?" Dean elbowed Sam with a huff of laughter and watched his brother's face redden and look away. "Knew it."

"Shut up." Sam rolled his eyes and moved away.

"You see anything hinkey?"

Sam looked around, taking in all the other small statues, the jungle gym, and the two children playing on it. He opened his mouth to say no and then it struck him. "Where are their parents?"

"Huh?" Dean glanced up at the structure in the center of the park and shrugged. "Probably around the corner getting a frappa-whatever."

"Yeah; but who leaves their kids in a park alone?" Sam shook his head and scanned the edges of the park, but there was no sign of any adults. "That's just..."

"Weird. Like the rest of this job." Dean stepped around a statue of a sitting child, took a step past and then stopped. He turned back and stared down at it. The statue was sitting with its legs stretched out and head down, but it was the way the statue was dressed that caught his attention. "Sam. This kid is wearing a three piece suit." He looked up to the next statue, a child leaning on the edge of a park bench and scowled. The little boy was dressed like a construction worker, complete with hard hat, safety vest and heavy work boots. Dean's brows flew up and he jerked around.

"Give me the reports!" Dean caught up with Sam and tugged the folder out of his hands.

"What?" Sam looked on in confusion while Dean started sifting through the papers and then looked back at the jungle gym wistfully watching the children climb and play.

"I saw it. I know I saw it," Dean muttered as he pulled out one missing person's report after another, scanning through the meager information and then he found it. "Shit!" He went back to the child at the bench and knelt down beside it. "Daniel Katzman. Last seen seven years ago wearing..." Dean looked down at the report and back to the statue. "... exactly what he's wearing right here. How in the hell?" He looked up when Sam said nothing and then stood quickly. "Sammy?"

Dean saw his brother moving toward the jungle gym, only feet away, with an arm outstretched. "Sam!" A sudden horrible feeling washed through Dean, sending goosebumps skittering along his skin and he broke into a run. "Don't touch it! Sam, get the hell away from it!" Dean reached out to catch the back of his brother's jacket just as Sam's hand made contact with the metal of the jungle gym. There was a flash of light and Dean fell backward to the ground, completely disoriented for a moment. He blinked furiously, opened his eyes and searched out his brother.

"Sam?" Dean got to his knees and stared in utter disbelief. Where his over-tall brother had been standing a moment before, now stood a small child of no more than seven or eight but dressed in Sam's clothes. And Dean would recognize that child anywhere no matter how many years had was like his brother had somehow been de-aged, and his clothes had been shrunk down right along with him. "Sammy?" Dean breathed. He reached out and caught him as Sam - and it was Sam - crumpled into his arms.

Dean pulled him in and rolled him so he could get a better look. It was definitely his little brother, just twenty or so years younger, with his mop of shaggy, dark hair over soft, round cheeks, and Dean instinctively pulled him in closer to his chest. "Sammy?" He looked up and around at all of the statues of children he could see with a new sense of horrific understanding. Dean's eyes were drawn back to the jungle gym and the two children still climbing who had not even seemed to notice what had happened and he swallowed hard, knowing without doubt that those two 'children' were like Sam. Somehow, they had been adults before they touched that thing and eventually, they would end up as more mysterious statues in the park.

"Wake up, Sam. You gotta wake up." Dean gave his little brother a shake and sat him up a little. It was surreal, holding a Sam that small after so many years, seeing again the child he had practically raised. "Need you to wake up for me, buddy. Come on." Dean watched as Sam's eyes began to flutter, and finally they cracked open blearily and met his. Dean managed a wan excuse for a reassuring smile. "Do you... how are you feeling?"

"Dean?" Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. He felt like he had missed something important. "What happened? Why am I... what's happening?" He brought a hand up to rub his face, opened his eyes and stared in shock. "What?"

"Sam? You, uh... you touched the jungle gym. There was this flash of light and then wham. Instant midget. Do you... are you, you know, you?" Dean watched his little brother's childhood face scowl. "I mean adult you. Shit, this conversation doesn't even make sense."

"I'm me." Sam held up his hands and looked at them in shock, flexing his small fingers. He looked up at Dean and then down at himself and shuddered. "I, uh... I don't... oh, God, Dean."

"Hey. Hey. We'll figure this out." Dean put a hand on Sam's thin shoulder and pulled him in. He couldn't help it. His instincts for a child Sam had gone dormant, not dead, and he had the overwhelming need to bundle him up and carry him out of there away from the danger and keep him safe. "It's gonna be ok."

"I'm a midget!" Sam yelled and rolled his eyes at the sound of his own voice. He backed up a step and Sam threw his little arms wide and glared at his brother. "I'm like, ten friggin' years old, Dean! How is this gonna be ok?"

"I'd say more like eight."

Even with his face being that of a child, Sam managed to shoot his brother an epic bitchface. "Not helping, Dean."

Dean studied Sam and shrugged, trying for calm rather than give away just how freaked out he was. "We're Winchesters, dude. We'll figure it out. This is what we do." He stood and surveyed the playground and the jungle gym at its center. It had looked so innocent when they arrived. Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. "We'll head back to the motel and see if we can figure out where this thing came from. I mean, someone's gotta know who built it or installed it or whatever, right?" He looked down and realized Sam was staring at the gym too, and not just staring. His eyes were wide like he was in a trance, and, as Dean watched, Sam started walking slowly away from him and stretched a hand out toward the thing.

"Whoa! Sammy!" Dean bent and grabbed up his little brother, wrapping Sam in his arms and holding him tight. He cupped a hand around his brother's cheek and gave him a shake. "Sam!"

Sam blinked and felt like he was waking from a heavy dream. He looked at Dean's fear-filled face and swallowed. "I don't... I'm not sure it's going to let me leave."

"It?" Dean loosened his grip slightly, but he didn't put Sam down. Without conscious thought, he just settled him on his hip like he'd done a long time ago when Sam really had been a child. "Is the thing talking to you or something?"

Sam shook his head and looked over at the jungle gym again. He watched the children he knew now were its victims and felt real fear. "It... I don't know. It's like I need to go back to it."

"No way in hell. We're going." Dean turned resolutely and started walking away, holding Sam close. He felt Sam's arms wrap around his neck and could almost feel his brother's gaze locked on the jungle gym as Dean moved further away.

"It must be cursed," Sam said softly and tried to reason it out. "All these people, they go missing. They... they turn into kids, but no one notices. No one even thinks about it, so it must... it must be keeping people from looking too closely, like a perception filter."

Dean pulled Sam back enough to look at him and saw the sudden flush of embarrassment on Sam's face. "Dude. That's a Doctor Who thing, isn't it? Perception filter. You just nerd-referenced a case."

"It's..." Sam blew out a breath and shrugged. "The point stands. Something about the... the curse must be altering people's... perception of what they see... what they remember."

Sam's breathing started to pick up, hitching in his chest and Dean frowned when his brother started trembling. "Sammy?" They were nearly to the car and Dean picked up his pace. "You alright?"

Sam shook his head but didn't answer. He couldn't pull his gaze from the playground. He felt weakness spreading through him, his thoughts slowing and fading away, and his arms slipping from their hold, suddenly lacking the strength to hold on.

"Sam?" Dean eased him back slightly. He saw his brother's head roll back just as his eyes closed and Sam went limp. "Sam!" Dean panicked. He jogged the last few feet to the car and set his little brother carefully on the hood. He supported his head and tapped the side of his face lightly. "Sam, come on. Wake up. Wake up!"

Sam didn't wake. Dean held him as he began to shake so hard he was afraid it was a seizure, and then all at once, Sam went still. "No, no, no." Dean looked over his shoulder at the playground and snarled to himself. "Son of a bitch." He picked Sam up again, cradling him against his chest and ran back toward the playground. The closer they got to the jungle gym, the slower Sam's shaking became, the more his frantic breathing evened out, and when they were barely ten feet away from it, Sam's eyes slowly opened and he looked up at Dean.

Dean dropped his head and then dropped to his knees, holding Sam against him still. "Sam." He eased Sam down into his lap and brushed his little brother's ridiculous, floppy hair out of his face. "Dude, you can't leave. It won't let you leave without killing you."

Sam fisted his small hands in Dean's shirt and nodded. He knew Dean was right. He could feel it. Even then, he could feel the pull of the thing oozing into his mind again. "That's what happened to them." He waved a hand weakly toward the statues. "They must have... given up or something.." Sam looked up at Dean's eyes and sighed. "You have to leave me here and go figure this out." He felt Dean shaking his head and Sam nodded. "It's ok. I'll be ok. Check, uh..." He fought to clear his mind and frowned. "County records for donations to, um... to local parks. Bobby, maybe... he could... can... Dean."

"I know," Dean said in a choked voice. He could hear Sam's voice becoming more distant, less focused, and his brother's eyes were fixed firmly on the playground. Dean forced himself to set Sam down and back on his feet. "Little brother, I will be back. I'm gonna get you out of this," Dean promised him and then let go. It was one of the harder things he'd ever had to do, let Sam go and watch him walk back to that cursed jungle gym. Dean scrubbed his hands over his face, taking a few traitorous tears before he rose to his feet. He gave a last, long look to Sam as he scrambled sluggishly up onto the jungle gym and then turned away.

Leaving Sam to the mercy of that thing hurt. It caused Dean physical pain as he walked back to the Impala alone. He fisted a hand over his chest, over his heart and leaned heavily on the hood of his baby when he reached her. He looked in at the empty passenger seat and nearly ran back to try and get Sam away from the thing no matter the consequences.

"Can't lose him like this," Dean said softly and closed his eyes. "Not like this. Not after everything." After selling his soul to save him. Dean thumped a fist into the cool metal and straightened. He pulled his phone out as he went around the car and slid in behind the wheel. He dialed Bobby as he revved the engine and pulled away from the playground and tried not to see Sam's small form crawling over the cursed jungle gym in the rear view mirror.

"Bobby, we got a problem." Dean slowed and stopped at the end of the block. "We found the missing people. They're not missing. They've been there the whole time."

"What do you mean?"

Dean took some small comfort in Bobby's voice. If anyone could help him save his brother, it was the older hunter. "There's this damn jungle gym and yeah, I know how that sounds. But Sam touched it and, uh, Bobby he's a kid again. Like a little kid and the whole damn park is filled with statues of little kids wearing the same clothes the missing people were reported wearing."

"Balls. What the hell did I send you boys into? Sam's a kid?" Bobby asked in shock. "Is he - I mean is he alright?"

"No." Dean looked in his rear view mirror again and could just see the edge of the jungle gym around the trees. "Gets worse, Bobby. Sam thinks the whole damn thing is cursed. No one remembers seein' these poor bastards after they touch the thing. They're just gone. The cops don't even look for 'em. I got a stack of forgotten missing persons reports an inch thick here. Bobby... I'm gonna forget him." Dean swallowed hard as that lump of fear lodged in his chest. "When I drive away from here, I'm gonna forget we were here, that he touched it, that he's... that he's little again. Bobby, you gotta help me!"

"Ok, calm down, Dean. That's first." Bobby was just as afraid as Dean was at that point, but his fear wasn't what Dean needed then. "It's gonna be ok, son. We're gonna get Sam back. You know that."

Dean nodded, though Bobby couldn't see it and took a deep breath, blowing it out. "Sam, he said to check county records for donations to that park twenty years ago. That jungle gym had to come from somewhere."

"I'll find it. You know I will." Bobby knocked off his ball cap and ran a hand through his hair with worry. "I can be there in..."

"No, Bobby." Dean cut him off. "If you come here, you'll just forget him too. Someone has to remember him. You gotta remember him for me until we fix this, ok?" He leaned forward and pressed his head into the steering wheel. "Maybe... maybe I won't forget him. I mean, it's Sam. I can't just forget that."

"This is what I want you to do, Dean. I want you to write it all down, right now, you hear me?" Bobby leaned across his desk, grabbed his laptop and turned it on. "Write everything that's happened down, where the park is, what happened to Sam. You get it all down and stick it to the damn dash in your car where you can't miss it. Tell yourself not to throw it away and to call me. I'll set you straight. You got that?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I got it." Dean pulled the folder over and dug out a piece of paper. He hastily scrawled notes of the hunt and what happened to Sam and a note to call Bobby before anything. "You really think this will work?"

"We'll make it work, Dean. What are you gonna do?" Bobby asked softly.

Dean set the papers aside and stopped himself from turning to look out at the park again. "I'm afraid to leave him, Bobby. I can't... I don't wanna forget him. He has to be alright. He's gotta be. It can't end like this. It just can't."

"Hey, Hey! Nothin's gonna end, dammit! You hearin' me, son?" Bobby shook his head. "Go back to your motel, inventory the trunk or somethin' while I see what I can find from here. But I don't want you stayin' in that park, not if that jungle gym's puttin' people in trances and sucking them in. You stay the hell away from it until you're ready to get Sam."

"Yeah, ok." Dean put the car back in gear and slowly pulled away. "Don't you let me forget, Bobby."

"I won't, ya' idjit."

Dean gave a sad smile and closed his phone, tossing it on top of the missing persons reports that now included one little brother. "Dammit, Sammy."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Dean sat back against the open trunk of the Impala and looked out at the parking lot. He frowned and rubbed a hand over his face then turned to look into the trunk. "Why am I out here?" he muttered to himself. Dean shook his head and closed the trunk. He went into the motel room through the open door and stopped. His eyes fell on the far bed with its rumpled blankets and a flannel that wasn't his tossed atop the pillow and frowned harder. He went to the little red table and looked down at a stack of research and a closed laptop. He heard rock music begin playing and jumped.

"Shit." Dean turned and ran back outside. He pulled open the driver's door and sat down, plucking his phone off a pile of papers in the passenger seat. "Hello?"

"Dean?" Bobby's voice greeted him.

Dean smiled. "Hey, Bobby." His smile faded and he ran a hand over his face. "Bobby, hey. I, uh... I feel like I forgot to turn off the oven or something, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Bobby said sadly. "Dean, son. Are you in the car?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Look around. You see a note in your handwriting anywhere?"

Dean scowled and looked down. His brows went up when he saw a long note in his handwriting sitting on the seat where he'd left his phone. "Got it right here. How'd you know?"

"Read it," Bobby ordered seriously. "I'll wait." He listened to the rustling of papers and heard the moment Dean's breathing began to speed up in distress or confusion or both, depending on what memories the note was jogging. "Dean? You there, son?"

"Sam," Dean breathed. He set the paper down and leaned back in the driver's seat with a thump. He had a brief flash of his little brother as a child, of Sam's vacant eyes as he turned away from Dean and toward a jungle gym. "Bobby, what?"

"We're gonna get him back, Dean," Bobby said firmly. "I found your jungle gym designer and I think I know how to break the curse."

"What do I do?" Dean scrubbed his free hand over his face and got back out of the car. Even as they spoke, he could feel thoughts of his brother begin to slip away again. "And we gotta make it fast, Bobby."

"I know, son. I know. Listen up." Bobby pulled his own notes over and leaned back as he read them. "So, William Mackey built the thing over twenty years ago after his son went missing. Kid was eight years old, and the local cops and the townsfolk all figured the mom had made off with him." Bobby blew out a sad breath. "No one even looked for the kid. Year later, the city was dredging the creek nearby, and they turned up little Joseph Mackey's body."

"Shit," Dean said with feeling.

"Yeah. Coroner's report said he hadn't been dead more than a month." Bobby's voice deepened with anger for a child that had died needlessly. "They followed the evidence and came up with one of Mackeys' neighbors who took the kid and-well, you don't need me to draw ya' a picture. Suffice it to say, I ain't exactly gonna cry that the asshole who took him got run down by Mackey's truck and killed. And a week later, Mackey offed himself in police custody."

"Wait." Dean went to the motel room and pulled the door closed before getting back in the car. "So this Mackey guy, he put up that jungle gym and cursed it to punish the town, didn't he?"

"Yep. Near as I can figure." Bobby set his notes aside and looked out his window. "I called in a few favors and that curse was used once before in the middle ages. The object steals life energy from the victims until they turn into stone statues. It takes a while, days; maybe as long as a week. It's how the thing just keeps goin'."

"Well, how do I gank this thing?" Dean asked angrily. He went back to the trunk and opened it up, pulling open the secret compartment and looked down at the arsenal there. "Can I just napalm the damn thing and melt it into slag?"

"Sadly, no," Bobby chuckled at the image for a moment. "There'll be a charm buried under it, near the center, probably uses one of Mackey's son's bones. You need to dig it up, salt it, and burn it. The trick is gettin' in there without ending up a damn lawn ornament yourself."

"There has to be some way to keep that thing from getting inside my head." Dean looked over the multitude of weapons and charms in the trunk. "What do I do, Bobby?"

"The legend on this curse says there was a deaf man who was immune." Bobby shrugged and adjusted the phone on his shoulder while he pulled over an old, battered copy of esoteric mythology he'd paid and arm and a leg for, no longer regretting the money. "According to this, he could walk right up to the cursed object and even touch it and didn't do nothin' to him."

"That's it? Seriously?" Dean bent and pulled out a set of heavy-duty, noise-cancelling ear plugs he and Sam had used once while hunting a siren.

"That's what I got." Bobby set the book back down. "Dean, you gotta get Sam off that thing before you torch the charm holdin' it together. Otherwise, it'll drain him dry tryin' to save itself."

"Not a problem." Dean took out a pair of handcuffs from the trunk with a heavy heart and tucked them in a pocket. "I'll call you back when I have Sam."

Bobby nodded. "I know you will. Good luck, Dean."

Dean tucked his phone away and slammed the trunk closed. He didn't wait, worried that he would forget what they were for, and pushed the ear plugs into his ears. All sounds of the outside world were cut off abruptly, and he swayed a moment in disorientation before he found his balance. Dean climbed back behind the wheel. He started the engine and couldn't hear it, but he could feel the comforting rumble through the seat.

As he drove, Dean felt as though there was a fog clearing in his mind. He hadn't even really known it was there, hiding his brother's memory from him, but now he could sense it like a physical thing and it was weakening.

"Huh." Dean reached up and made sure the ear plugs were firmly in place and then smiled. "Guess this really might work."

The drive back to the little park seemed to take longer than Dean remembered it, though his memory of being there the first time was hazy at best. He floored it, not caring if a cop came after him. Hell, he wouldn't mind if one did. It's not like the cop would even remember him once they reached the playground. Thankfully, there were no cops or sirens, just Dean and the Impala speeding down the quiet, early morning streets until he stopped in front of the park.

Dean climbed out and looked at the jungle gym over the roof of the Impala. It was still shadowed from the sun by the tall trees behind it, but he could just make out a small, dark form moving sluggishly over it. "Alright." Dean went to the trunk and took out a small collapsible shovel. He stepped onto the grass and stalked toward the jungle gym with a determined look. This thing was not going to take his little brother from him. He stopped beside the gym and looked up. Dean blew out a strained breath as little Sam came climbing slowly down the side toward him. Being unable to hear anything made him feel like his head was stuffed with cotton. It was uncomfortable and he wanted to pull the plugs out. Dean squashed that desire and dropped the shovel to the ground. He waited until Sam was even with him and reached out, plucking his little brother from the structure.

Dean could see Sam's mouth moving as he carried him away. Sam squirmed weakly in his arms, fought and reached out toward the jungle gym like a junkie in need of a fix. His face was tormented. Dean forced himself to ignore it and the cries he couldn't hear. He took Sam over to the park bench, dropped to his knees, and hastily handcuffed his eight-year-old little brother to the bench.

"Sorry, buddy. You'll be better in a minute, ok?" Dean watched Sam's eyes stare past him and shook his head. "I'll be back, Sammy."

Dean rose and went back to the jungle gym. He picked up his shovel and scowled. The day before, there had been two other children, two other adults like Sam, caught by the thing, but now, Sam was alone. "Shit," Dean whispered when he saw two statues, a boy and a girl, huddled together at the bottom of the slide. They hadn't been there before. He said a silent apology to them for not being in time to save them and ducked under a little bridge that Sam had been scaling.

"Gonna rip your damn heart out." Dean got on his knees and crawled toward where he figured the center of the expansive jungle gym was. He looked up and realized the structure spiraled out above him, leaving an open space in the middle and knew he was in the right place. He unfolded the shovel, dropped to his knees, and started to dig.

The earth was packed and hard, covered in a thick layer of brown weeds that Dean had to rip and peel away before he could dig in earnest. He ducked his head down and looked out and could just see Sam. His little brother wasn't struggling anymore; he was just lying against the bench listlessly and staring at the jungle gym.

"Shit." Dean dug faster. He gotten down perhaps two feet when the end of the shovel struck something hard and metal. He hastily scraped the dark earth back until he could get his fingers under it. "Come on." Dean tugged, and at last, a small, metal box came loose in a shower of dirt as he pulled it up into his lap.

Dean rolled the metal box in his hands and found a rusted clasp on one side. He pried it open with the shovel, or tried but it refused to budge. "Son of a bitch!" He set the box on the ground and used the blade of the shovel to slam the clasp into pieces. Dean tipped the box open and grimaced at what fell out. It was clearly some sort of charm; there was burlap gone brittle with age, several beads worked into it with dark thread, and he dimly recognized it as human hair and it was twined around a small bone, like a finger, that was brown with age.

"Sorry about this, kid," Dean muttered, offering his apology to Mackey's son and hoped he was already at peace. He pulled a small container of salt out of his jacket pocket and dusted it over the macabre charm, then added a few squirts of lighter fluid from the bottle in his other pocket.

"Sure hope this works." Dean stood in the center of the jungle gym, took out his Zippo, spun the wheel and dropped it onto the charm. It burst into flames, and, though Dean couldn't hear it, he could see a sudden inrush of air around him, pulling dead leaves and twigs. They swirled in around his feet and rushed up through the center of the jungle gym. The flames burned higher and a soundless thump to the air knocked Dean off his feet and back into the metal supports.

"Crap," Dean groaned and sat up. The flames flickered and died and all the debris held aloft fluttered slowly to the ground. "Shit. Sammy!"

Dean scrambled out from under the jungle gym. He rolled out onto the grass and turned to look at it. As he watched, the formerly shining metal began to dull and rust. Each moment that passed, the gym looked years older until pieces of it began to collapse. He risked pulling the plugs out of his ears, pocketed them, and went to Sam.

Dean sighed sadly and dropped to his knees. He'd been hoping to find his once more adult brother, but Sam was still in that eight-year-old body, handcuffed to the bench. "Sammy?" He fumbled the keys to the cuffs out and quickly unlocked them before pulling Sam into his arms. "Please be ok," he whispered and blew out a loud breath in relief to find Sam breathing if unconscious.

"Gonna get you outta here." Dean held Sam against his chest with his dark head tucked under his chin and stood. He looked over at the now crumbling jungle gym and its field of statues of the dead and turned away. He felt sorry for all the poor suckers who'd paid for the death of Mackey's son, but he was damn relieved that Sam wouldn't be one of them. He skirted two of the little statues on his way to the car and pointedly didn't look too hard at them. He couldn't help but feel a little guilt for their fates. For twenty years that jungle gym had been racking up kills, and not one hunter in all that time had caught on to it until Bobby.

Dean reached the Impala and looked down worriedly at Sam. The day before, this was where his brother had stopped breathing when moved too far from the cursed jungle gym. Now, Sam slept on peacefully, breathing evenly if a little quickly. Dean smiled and fumbled the passenger door open. He slid Sam into the seat and ran around to get behind the wheel.

They reached the motel, and Dean was laying Sam out on his bed before his brother finally began to stir. He'd even called Bobby during the drive back and Sam hadn't so much as twitched. "That's it, Sam. Wake up." Dean propped Sam's child body up against the pillows and sat beside him, keeping a hand on his shoulder.

Sam woke in a roil of confusion. He gasped and opened his eyes and found Dean leaning over him. He had the feeling it wasn't the first time he'd woken that way recently, and then it all came flooding back. "Dean!"

"Easy! You're good, Sammy. You're ok," Dean reassured him quickly.

Sam raised one hand up and his brows rose. "This is ok?" He tried to sit up, but he didn't have the energy and slumped back against the pillows. "What... what happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Dean rose and grabbed a bottle of water from the little refrigerator along with the cup of applesauce his brother had tossed in there the day before. He sat back down, opened the bottle and held it out.

"Um, we were... at the park." Sam frowned. He took the water bottle and groaned when the weight of it dragged his little arm back to the bed. "Dammit. I remember telling you to leave me."

"Yeah," Dean said darkly. He took the bottle back and gently lifted Sam's head in his hand, holding the water bottle to his mouth. "Drink slowly, dude. You haven't had anything in over twenty-four hours."

Sam scowled at having to be helped just to take a drink, but there was little he could do about it just then, not in his current state. He swallowed several blissfully cool mouthfuls of water and would have drained the bottle if Dean hadn't pulled it away. "Fuck. Why do I feel so damn weak?"

Dean snorted and set the bottle on the nightstand. "Dude, I know you're, you know..." he laughed. "Do me a favor and don't cuss 'til you don't look like a toddler anymore."

"Shut the hell up, Dean." Sam would have yelled right then as his voice cracked. That was a part of growing up he had certainly not missed.

"You'll get to eat at the big kids' table again, Sammy." Dean patted Sam's knees and then grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up. "Come on. Let's get you more comfortable, huh?"

"You sure I'm not going to be stuck a kid?" Sam tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear the emotional wobble, made worse by his brother peeling his jacket and then his shirts off him like he was a helpless, little kid again. "Dammit, I can do this."

"Yeah, when you can barely lift those stick-figure arms of yours, kiddo." Dean chuckled and let Sam rest back against the pillows. "Hang on."

Sam gritted his teeth and worked at getting his own damn pants off. The effort left him gasping and feeling ridiculous in his boxer-briefs by the time Dean came back. "What kind of curse... shrinks your clothes too?"

"Be glad it did, dude." Dean pulled Sam up again and wrangled his own, well-worn Metallica shirt over his head. Dean thought he had been doing well until that point of not treating Sam too much like the child he appeared to be, but sitting there wearing his big-brother's hand-me-downs and swimming in the shirt like it was a tent, Dean couldn't stop himself from carding his fingers back through Sam's floppy hair as he had done so many times what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Quit it, jerk." Sam brushed Dean's hand away. He was so tired. He opened his eyes and looked down at his body. "Dean, what if..." He blew out a breath and put words to his fear. "What if I'm stuck like this? What if I have to grow up all over again? I can't do that. I can't do that without..." Sam's voice clogged in his throat and he swallowed hard because he couldn't even fathom having to grow up all over again but without his big brother to make everything alright; to keep him safe.

"This will wear off. Bobby figures your body needs to build up enough energy to grow back to moose size again." Dean smirked at the disgruntled snort Sam couldn't keep in. "Might take a week or so, depending on how much of your life force that thing sucked away from you."

Sam let his head thump back tiredly and closed his eyes. "Feel like I can't even move," he admitted in a small voice and somehow wasn't surprised when he felt his big brother moving and lifting him. A moment later, he was tucked against Dean's warm chest with his head under his chin. "Not really a kid, Dean. You get that, right?"

Dean chuckled but didn't let him go. He settled back into the bed with Sam resting against him. "Yeah, I know."

Sam's protest was token at best. It was comforting to have an excuse to be like this with Dean again; to be the little brother who could shamelessly ask for comfort and get it without argument. "Thanks for saving me, Dean."

Dean nodded but said nothing. There was no need to answer because saving Sam was what he would do every damn time, no matter the cost. He felt Sam go heavy against his chest and curled his arms more tightly around his little brother.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam woke slowly. He stretched on the lumpy bed and worked to get his heavy eyes open. "Dean?" he called softly. He rolled, or tried to, and realized arms were wrapped around him. He opened his eyes, jerked his head up and found he was lying half on Dean's chest and being held. And he was his adult self again. "Dude!"

Dean startled awake and looked up to find his once-again-over-large little brother lying on his chest. Then he took in his Metallica shirt stretched ridiculously tight over Sam's chest and gave him a shove off the side of the bed. "Get off me!"

Sam hit the floor and laughed. He held up his hands, ran them through his hair and grinned. "I'm me again."

"Way too much you! My eyes!" Dean groaned and threw a hand over his eyes while he tossed a pillow at his brother's lap with the other. "Cover that up!"

"Huh?" Sam looked down and began laughing harder. He hiccuped and cleared his throat, getting to his feet. "Wow. Ok, this is uncomfortable." He tugged at his boxer-briefs that had not gotten bigger with him. They were sized for a small child and squeezing parts of him hard enough to be painful as he walked, but still, he was laughing out of sheer relief.

"It's uncomfortable for me too!" Dean lowered his hand and watched Sam as he grabbed his duffel and walked bow-legged to the bathroom and tugging on the ass of his shorts. Dean snorted a laugh and flopped back on the bed once the bathroom door closed. "Holy crap." He blew out a breath and grinned up at the ceiling. There was a part of him that had been terrified he was going to leave his little brother stuck in a child's body when his deal came due. Dean shook his head, the smile faltering with that thought, but it quickly came back when he heard Sam cursing loudly and finally groaning in relief. "That sounded dirty, Sammy!" Dean yelled.

"Bite me, Dean!"

Dean chuckled, enjoying the return of the adult timber of Sam's voice and rolled out of the bed. He grabbed his cell phone, scrubbed a hand over his face and dialed Bobby to tell him good news for a change.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The End.

Next Chapter: K is for Kudzu