Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If anyone knows how I can, I will love you forever!
Ellen was arguing with a newcomer to the road house when they arrived. She knew it was them straight away; the boys had a way of changing the atmosphere that alerted you to the fact that they were there, in the way only a Winchester man could.
She dismissed the man she was talking to, eagerly awaiting an update from the brothers' most recent hunt. She scoured the crowds, looking for the familiar smirk on Dean's face, and the defeated smile on Sam's, the one he got when he gave in to one of Dean's outrageous plans.
Surprisingly, when Dean arrived at the counter, he was alone.
"Hey, Ellen, I'll have a beer thanks."
Ellen frowned at him as he dug in his pocket for some money, waving his hand away.
"Nonsense, Dean, you boys have just returned from a hunt. It's on the house." Ellen looked behind Dean as he grinned, sliding onto a stool. "Speaking of, where's Sam gone?"
"Make that two beers Ellen," someone squeaked, and Ellen turned in astonishment to see a little boy straining to climb onto the stool next to Dean.
Dean rolled his eyes and hefted the boy up by his collar, lifting him bodily from the ground and dropping him on the chair. Sam glared at him, readjusting his shirt.
"You didn't need to do that Dean, I was fine on my own," the boy pouted, and Ellen realised it was, indeed, Sam. Only...it wasn't.
"Dean, what on earth happened?" she whispered, eyes wide with shock.
He sighed, wiping a hand over his face in exhaustion.
"Long story short, Ellen, the freakin' fairy turned him into a kid again. I swear, she was one messed up piece of devil's spawn..."
Ellen tuned out as Sam knelt on his seat, so he was peering over the edge of the bar, eyes searching for something.
"S-Sam?" she asked, voice wavering.
"Yeah Ellen?" he replied casually, not looking her way. Ellen shook her head disbelievingly, then remembered Dean's request and hurried to get him a beer. She popped the lid off and set it in front of her, slamming it down a little harder than she'd intended to. Dean lifted the bottle in cheers and drank heavily.
"So, Sam, d'you think you could elaborate?" Ellen asked, turning to the younger bother, but he was staring wistfully at Dean, who was draining his drink quickly. Sam turned as she spoke his name.
"Uh, no offence Ellen...but where's mine?" he asked, confused.
Since when does she favour Dean over me?
Dean choked on his drink, setting it down as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"Oh no Sammy, you're not having a single drop!" Dean admonished.
Sam gaped at Dean, mouth hanging open.
"What! But Dean, it's been such a long day, I just wanna have one..." he trailed off, staring yearningly at Dean's half-empty (meant in a totally non-pessimistic way) beer.
"You're not even legal dude," Dean said firmly, shaking his head.
Sam glared at him, digging around in his pockets for something, and pulling out a weathered piece of plastic a moment later.
"No, I am, see? I have ID!" he said triumphantly. Dean took the card from him, inspecting the front and back, then handed it to Sam, face puzzled.
"It's just a piece of plastic, Sammy."
Sam snatched it up and gawped at it.
"No! What happened to it?! My picture, details, everything, is gone!" Sam stared at the faces around him suspiciously, craning his neck to see properly. "Someone's stolen my identity!"
"Someone's stolen my identity," Dean mimicked, then sniggered.
Ellen frowned and smacked him on the head. Dean scowled, rubbing the sore spot, while Sam took advantage of all the distracted adults.
"What did you do that for Ellen?!"
"He's just a kid, don't tease him," she reprimanded, then her eyes widened. "Oh no you don't!"
Ellen snatched the beer bottle away from Sam, who had his face scrunched up in disgust.
"Eugh," he whimpered, wiping his tongue with his sleeve. "That stuff is horrible! I can't believe I used to drink that!"
Dean laughed at him, then stopped as he saw Ellen glaring at him. He cleared his throat loudly, and all eyes turned to him.
"I think I know why your ID isn't...well, you're ID anymore." he said languidly, basking in the attention that came with being right.
"I think that when she changed you...back, she went the whole yard, or whatever, and erased all your records, anything showing your age or things you've done in the past sixteen years." Dean finished and sat back, then threw in a knowledgeable nod of the head for good measure.
"So...I can't drive, or drink, or anything?" Sam asked incredulously. Dean snorted, shaking his head.
"Would you even be able to see over the steering wheel, squirt?" he teased.
"Don't call me that!" Sam whined, punching Dean in the arm. They all stared at the spot Sam had hit Dean, then Sam sighed.
"I'm so weak now!" he moaned dramatically, putting his head in his hands. Suddenly his head shot up again, expression unreadable.
"Dean, can I go to the toilet?"
Ellen looked at Dean, who blushed and nodded gruffly.
"You, uh, don't need my help, do you?"
Sam shook his head emphatically, glowering.
"I'm not stupid, Dean."
With that the little boy slipped off the chair, padding towards the Men's toilets. Dean watched as the door swung open, then turned back towards the bar.
Ellen was staring after Sam with a dreamy, reminiscent look on her face. Dean studied her curiously, then gently coughed. She jerked her head up, blinking rapidly.
"What? Sorry, did you say something Dean?"
Ellen's a good friend, someone who can be trusted...but this is Sammy we're talking about. And I'm the only one who really understands the kid...but I can't do this alone.
Dean decided to trust her on a whim.
"I'm a little worried, to be honest," he divulged in lowered tones. "I know it's Sammy in there, but sometimes he gets these little..mood swings, I guess, where he acts like a seven-year-old kid. With good reason, obviously. But he randomly does something completely uncharacteristic, like..." Dean trailed off as he realised the sound of talking around him had disappeared, replaced by...
"Oh, no!" Dean breathed, swivelling around on his chair. Sam was standing on one of the tables, surrounded by a crowd of adoring hunters, all fixated by the song and dance routine Sam was putting on.
"...and incy wincy spider climbed up the spout again!" Sam finished, then bowed down low, the gesture extravagant. Dean growled as the hunters cheered and clapped, standing up so quickly that his stool fell over.
"Dean, wait!" Ellen called, but he ignored her.
"Stick with me, I said. Can I go to the toilet, Dean? God, stupid little kid, I'm gonna bloody kill him, who does he think he is, prancing around like a, a girl, lying to me, can't believe I believed him! Stupid doe-eye look..."
With that last complaint Dean came within arms reach of Sam. Sam saw him advancing, practically blowing steam out of his ears like they did on all those cartoons, right before they charged...
Concentrate, Sam! he lectured himself, and he bent down, shaking his head, collecting something from the table. He was just about done when Dean reached out and pulled him off the table, swinging him up and over the heads of the other hunters, which was quite a feat as Dean was an inch smaller than the shortest one. He strode, fuming, back to their place, dumping Sam in his chair, turning his little brother to face him before he could escape.
"Explain yourself," he demanded shortly, but he felt a little of the anger ebbing away as he saw Sam's flushed, glowing face.
"Sorry, Dean, I know I promised, but I got this great idea, and it was legal for once so I thought , why not, it'd save us the trouble, or rather, you..." Sam stopped as he realised neither Dean nor Ellen understood what he was saying. "Look, I got moneys," he breathed meaningfully, pooling the contents of his pockets onto the bar.
Five and ten dollar notes streamed out, and Dean looked at Sam in astonishment.
"Wow, and you weren't even that good!"
Ellen flicked Dean's ear, and he grimaced at her.
"I was joking!"
He turned to Sam, who stared back at him.
Five, four, three, two, one-
Right on cue, Dean sighed and ruffled Sam's hair.
"You did good, kid."
Sam sat up straighter, beaming.
"I did, didn't I? Now, how 'bout another beer?" he asked regally. Ellen and Dean shook their heads slowly, and he deflated. "Oh, all right then. A coke?"
Once they were all settled down with drinks, Ellen posed the question again.
"So, boys, how exactly did Sam turn into an eight-year-old? And did you kill the fairy?"
"Seven," Sam corrected. Dean looked at him strangely.
"Yeah, about that Sammy. How do you know how old you are?"
Sam frowned, then shrugged.
"I dunno...I guess, I just feel the same as I did then."
Dean raised his eyebrows doubtfully.
"You...remember how you felt when you were seven?"
"Yeah," Sam answered, shifting uncomfortably. "Anyway...no, Ellen, the fairy isn't dead."
Ellen sighed heavily and Dean slammed his fist onto the bar.
"Yeah, and she let off a curse before she disappeared," he spat.
"A wish," Sam said distractedly. Ellen looked up in surprise.
"Wait, you wished for something? Even after you knew what happened to those who did?" she quizzed.
"It's not like I did it on purpose," Dean defended. "It just sorta happened." Dean glanced around for a subject change, before Ellen asked for the exact details of the wish, and his gaze landed on Sam.
Perfect.
"Hey, Ellen, mind if we finish this convo later? Sammy's getting tired. It's way past his bed time."
"S'not!" Sam complained, but his face was scrunched up in a yawn as he spoke, his hands balled into little fists as he rubbed his eyes.
"Sure, boys, follow me."
---
"Did you go to the toilet?"
"Yes, Dean."
"Brush your teeth?"
"Yes, Dean."
"Did you-"
"Yes, Dean, I did everything!" Sam shot back, annoyed. Dean raised his hands in mock-surrender.
"No need to yell, just trying to help," grumbled Dean, turning over in his bed, pulling the sheets up around his ears.
Sam fell silent, watching him. His hazel eyes were struggling to stay open, so he shook his head viciously. He hugged his knees to his chest and leant against the wall, allowing the refreshingly cool touch of the brick wall keep him awake.
Things these past few days had been weird, too weird. Being treated like a little kid...that was almost worst than being one. Almost, but not quite, because he'd obviously never have the second problem if the first one had never occurred...
Sam frowned, biting his lip; a habit he'd thought he'd grown out of long ago. That right there was another problem; he found his thoughts wandering a lot more now than they did before. It was getting so hard to concentrate on one line of thought.
The most confusing part of it all was why Dean had wished that in the first place. Of course he needed Dean; he'd thought that was obvious! And he would tell Dean more, too, except Dean always got all weird when they touched on those subjects.
Sam sighed as he watched his slumbering older brother; he looked so innocent, so untroubled. It was nice to know that his protective sibling could escape the nightmares of life while he slept.
Suddenly one of Dean's eyes flew open, meeting Sam's own, which were resting a few centimetres from his face.
"Could you stop watching me sleep? It's creepy." he grunted. Sam grinned at him, his fringe falling into his eyes. He flicked it back with a toss of his head, and Dean rolled his eyes.
I guess old habits die hard...
"Thanks for being so good to me these past few days," Sam said earnestly. Dean nodded his head and went to roll over, but Sam grabbed his arm before he could, frowning. How could he get Dean to understand that he was being sincere?
"I mean it," he insisted. "It's...nice, not having to worry about anything, knowing you'll be there for me."
This time Dean smiled, raising himself up on one elbow. The boys were in a room with two beds, but Sam had crawled into Dean's before lights out, claiming it was a good way to keep away the cold. Dean let him, a knowing smile on his face.
"I know you do, Sammy," he said gently. Sam lay down, finally, pulling most of the blanket off Dean as he did so. Dean laughed and tugged it back, so that they shared it equally.
"Night Dean."
"Night Sammy."
The noises from the bar slowly faded away, replaced by the brothers' breathing. Dean remembered back to when they were little. Sammy used to climb into his bed every night, even though their dad had told him not to. Dean remembered pressing his head against Sammy's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, checking that his brother was alive, finally falling asleep when he was sure his brother was okay. Sammy always hogged the blankets then, too-
"Dean?"
Dean's eyes flew open in shock; he'd thought Sam was asleep already!
"What, Sammy?"
"I...need to go to the toilet."
Dean sat up and flicked the light on in annoyance. Sam stuck his head under the pillows, trying to avoid the bright lights that burned his unadjusted eyes, but Dean pulled him out.
"Are you kidding me?! I asked you before, and you said you'd already gone!"
Sam squirmed out of his grip, breathing heavily.
"Yeah, but now I gotta, you know..." he gestured wildly, and Dean looked on in confusion.
"What?!"
"I gotta pee!" Sam said hotly. Dean rolled his eyes, then gestured towards the ensuite bathroom.
Sam leapt off the bed and padded towards it, turning on all the lights as he went. Dean heard the dull clunk of the seat hitting the toilet, then silence. He waited patiently, then sighed and craned his neck towards the door.
"You sure you don't need any help?"
Sam heard his brother get up, and his eyes widened in panic.
"Don't come in, don't come in!" he shrieked. He heard Dean laugh softly, then the footsteps retreated. Sam waited for a few more seconds, then frowned.
"Stop listening!" he called. "I can't go if you're listening!"
"What are you, five?!" Dean retorted, but Sam heard his brother start humming the theme song for a TV show nevertheless.
A few minutes later Dean heard the toilet flush, and Sam was running full-pelt towards the bed. He bombed onto it, making the pillows and blanket bounce onto the ground. Sam laughed as Dean got out of bed and gathered them all up, before dumping them on top of Sam, who yelled as he tried to fight his way out of the mess.
Great, now he's never gonna go to sleep, Dean thought wryly.
Sure enough, five minutes later, after Sam had fastidiously smoothed out all the blankets, they were still talking. And then Dean remembered something, something he'd forgotten during the confusion of Sam's little...performance.
"Sammy, what did you mean when you said you knew you were seven, 'cause of the way you felt?" Dean asked slowly.
Dean felt his brother stir beside him, until they were back to back.
"Well...I can't exactly remember much that happened, when I was little," Sam began. Dean didn't say anything, so Sam continued. "I mean, I remember demons and stuff, things we hunted, but I don't have many memories of much else. Family stuff." Dean sighed sadly as Sam paused, not wanting to inform his brother that that was because they'd never done any family stuff.
"But I...do remember that dad left us alone a lot that year. And...you would always look after me, doing all the stuff he would do to look after us, and more."
Dean was surprised to feel his eyes stinging.
Wow, must be more tired than I thought, he tried to convince himself.
It didn't work.
"Oh, that makes sense," is all he said. Sam sighed heavily; he'd thought Dean would open up to him, now that he was smaller, less imposing.
"Night Dean," he repeated sadly.
Dean waited until his brother's breathing slowed down, then turned and lay his head on Sam's chest, feeling it rise and fall rhythmically, hearing the steady heart beat. Smiling to himself, he settled his head back down on his pillow.
"Night, Sammy."
A/N: Okay, that's the...third chapter up. Then again, you'd know thta by now, if you were reading this...anyway, hope you enjoyed! I'm not exactly sure how long this is going to be; I have a few ideas for some more chapters, so just hang in there, all right? I have no idea who came up with the song 'Incy Wincy Spider', so props to them anyway...if anyone finds out, let me know : ) Again, thanks to all those who reviewed! xxsurexx