AN: Hey, uh, I'm still kinda new to this, and I realised that I forgot a disclaimer! Are they compulsory? Well, to be safe, uh...ahem

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or Sam or Dean or Jensen or Jared.

Wow. That's ruined my day...

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Dean squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the arm rests of his seat so tightly his knuckles went white. Sam stared at them interestedly, marvelling at the sudden colour change, and the way Dean was trying to anchor himself into the chair.

"Y'know Dean," Sam started, then stopped, disconcerted. He still wasn't yet used to the change in his voice It was so high, and...childish. "Dean," he tried again. "If the plane were to crash, which it's not going to, then you'd be trapping yourself here, by being so tense. It slows your mind down," he finished matter-of-factly. Dean just glared at him, so Sam shrugged and sat back, fidgeting with his seat belt.

Dean winced as the plane shuddered for a second, before evening out. Flying back home...or to Ellen's place, he guessed, seeing as they didn't actually have a home...it had been his first decision since Sam woke up as a seven-year-old. His little brother was beginning to grate on his nerves though, Dean thought through gritted teeth, as Sam babbled on about plane accident statistics.

Suddenly an air hostess appeared at his elbow, beaming down at him. "Hello sir, how can I be of assistance?"

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean leered back at her, and decided to take matters into his own hands.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, climbing down from the seat, struggling a little, as his feet didn't touch the ground. A new experience for him.

He darted around Dean's legs and over to the hostess, tugging on her skirt. She looked down at him, her eyes lighting up she took in his wide innocent eyes, and the earnest expression on his face.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" she laughed, leaning over slightly. Sam grinned as Dean scowled at him, then reconsidered what he was about to say.

Should I really ask? I mean, I'm not really a seven year old, I could read a book or something...

But the novelty of flying had long worn off, and now Sam was just plain bored.

"Miss, I was wondering if...I could have a kids pack?"

Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked around.

"Oh my, didn't you get one? Don't worry, I'll go find one for you right now."

Sam beamed with glee and hurried back into his seat, wriggling in anticipation. He could already see the coloured crayons before him, lying unused in their brand-new packet, just waiting for him to colour with them! And the pack of cards, with the plane company's logo on them...!

Dean cleared his throat, and Sam looked over to see Dean smirking at him. Sam flushed, averting his gaze.

"What, Dean?"

Dean stretched lazily, enjoying his brother's uncomfortableness.

Payback time.

"Oh, nothing. Uh, one question though...you don't still need to wear nappies or anything, do you?"

Dean cracked up as Sam glowered at him...but stopped as Sam started sniffing.

"S-Sammy? What...what's wrong? Are you crying?"

Sam shook his head angrily in denial, even as a tear trickled down his cheek, and his nose started to stuff up. He didn't know what was happening; first he'd felt angry, then hurt, and then...this.

Dean looked around hastily as people started to turn in their direction, frowning at him, as Sam started to cry louder, the tears really pouring down. Dean leaned down, blocking people's view of his sobbing brother.

"Sammy, what's wrong? I didn't mean it, it was just a joke, okay?"

Sam shook his head, sending tears flying in all directions.

"I don't know, Dean, it won't stop!" he wailed. Dean wracked his brains, sorting through his memories, of Sammy as a twelve-year-old, then nine-year-old...seven, bingo.

"Hey, Sammy, if you stop crying, I promise I'll buy you an ice-cream!"

That stopped him.

Sam sniffed quietly, looking up at Dean with trust in his eyes.

"You promise? A...big chocolate one, with sprinkles on top?" he whispered.

Dean nodded his head solemnly, and Sam grinned.

"You're the best brother ever, Dean!" he cried, flinging his arms around Dean. Dean stiffened, then relaxed as he looked down at the top of his brother's head. The people who were once glaring at them were now smiling, nudging each other and pointing at the cute little boy, hugging his big brother.

The hostess arrived at that moment, and Sam released Dean, leaving him feeling strangely cold and alone. He frowned as he watched the lady fuss and coo over Sam, who acted the part of a little kid perfectly.

That's the part that troubled Dean. He knew Sam would be mortified if he'd been caught acting like that as an adult...and he was pretty sure the little version of Sam still had the adult Sam's brain. As confusing as that sounded...still, if that was the case, why was Sam acting so strangely?

Dean shrugged, leaning back and closing his eyes as Sam started colouring, his tongue sticking out in concentration, his brow furrowed.

As Dean drifted off to sleep, he caught Sam grinning at him, and realised that in all the fuss, he'd stopped being nervous.

Stupid little kid...manipulating my...emotions...

But he was too tired to wipe off the great big grin that spread over his face.

---

Sam crossed his arms grumpily as they drove down the road. It was dark outside, but Dean had said they weren't stopping until they got to Ellen's. Dean had also made him sit in the backseat; apparently, the front wasn't safe for little kids.

I'll show him little, Sam thought angrily, bunching his hands into small fists.

Dean missed the threatening gesture as he peered at the road, muttering grumpily to himself. Usually he would've swapped with Sam by now, so that he could get some sleep. Dean was reminded painfully how unlikely that was as Sam jabbed him in the arm as he climbed into the front seat. Dean swore, swerving wildly, before regaining control of the car.

"What the hell are you doing, Sammy?! I told you to stay in the back seat!"

Sam glared at him as he buckled his seat belt in.

"Don't be mean, Dean, you know I always sit up front with you! Just because I'm smaller doesn't mean I'm an idiot!"

Sam stared meaningfully at Dean as he spoke the last word. Dean sighed, although he was secretly pleased.

So it is Sam in there, after all...

This was doubly confirmed as Sam reached forward, straining to reach the radio, from which Metallica was blasting.

"Can't you change the music, Dean, it's hurting my ears," he whined, glaring at his older brother.

Dean was about to rudely refuse, then shrugged. What harm could it do? Maybe it'd get his brother to shut up, for once.

Sam punched the air in victory as Dean leant forward, fiddling with the cassette tape with one hand while steering with the other. He finally got it out, and a song from the radio blasted out instead. Dean sat back, trying to block out the music, stubbornly refusing to pay attention to anything that wasn't, as Sam referred to it, 'mullet rock'.

Sam, on the other hand, was transfixed. He stared at the radio's speakers adoringly, as if it would make the music louder, the words clearer. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to understand the fast-paced lyrics, then sat back, grinning.

Dean noticed the movement and frowned, annoyed. How could Sam willingly listen to music like this, yet complain every time Dean put some of his music on?

"Dean, listen!" Sam suddenly urged, pointing frantically at the radio. "It's our song!"

Dean automatically looked at the radio, puzzled.

"We...have a song?"

Sam shook his head, as if frustrated by Dean's slowness.

"Can't you hear? This song is about us!"

Dean raised his eyebrows in alarm as Sam suddenly started singing along, his pure voice rising and falling, carrying the tune perfectly.

He wouldn't have been able to do that if he were older, Dean thought with satisfaction...and relief. But then he decided he'd better pay attention; knowing Sam, his little brother would probably quiz him on it later.

"Strike us like matches, 'cause everyone deserves the flames, we only do it for the scars and stories, not the fame..." Sam's voice petered out as Dean just gaped at him...as best as Dean could without actually removing his eyes from the road. Sam gestured wildly for Dean to join in.

"The sounds of this small town, make my ears hurt...they say, 'you want a war? You've got a war!' but who are you fighting for?"

And so it continued for another two minutes. Dean gripped the wheel harder as Sam got into the routine, air guitar and everything.

I guess some things just come your age..like, seven year olds cry when they get upset, and sing along to songs, no matter what age their mind is at. They also seem to think life is divided into two sides; good and bad. Too bad it's not that simple.

Dean sighed in relief as they pulled up outside Ellen's road house. Sam yanked at the door handle, but Dean had put a child lock on it, so he had to wait until Dean got out.

"Finally, what took you so long Dean?" he yelled, running for the building's door, and pulling up short as Dean yanked at his top's collar, stopping him in his tracks.

Clothes had been a problem at first, but Dean had given Sam one of his tops, which were smaller than Sam's, and they had solved the problem of pants with a pair of shorts and a belt. Dean had insisted it would be temporary, but Sam was determined to change the instant he could. He felt utterly ridiculous.

"Hey, hold on there Sammy, I gotta talk to you for a minute."

Sam slowly back-pedalled, until he was even with Dean, who crouched down, so they were eye to eye. He hadn't been taller than Sam since he was sixteen; it was a strange feeling to look down at the top of his brother's head, for once.

"What is it now, Dean?" Sam asked tiredly. He found he got tired quicker now, and it was frustrating, especially as he was trying to prove to Dean that he could cope on his own.

"You're not a 6'4, or whatever you were, giant anymore, Sammy. There are dangerous people in there, so I want you to stick with me, okay?"

Sam scowled, although he was secretly touched by Dean's consternation.

"I know Dean; I'm not a ki-"

He stopped before he could complete his sentence, the unfinished word hanging in the air between them.

"We better go in now, Ellen will be waiting for us," he said quietly, and they walked through the doors, and the bustling, drunken crowds, towards the bar, where they knew they would find Ellen.

But not before Sam had slipped his small little hand into Dean's.

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AN: Okay, hope you guys enjoyed! If you have any tips, comments, or criticism, please review...thanks to those who have already, much appreciated! Oh, and the lyrics are from Fall Out Boy's song, 'Champagne For My Real Friends, Real Pain For My Sham Friends.' Check it out, it's awesumness! xxsurexx