Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural...someday, maybe, but not yet...
Sam stared wide-eyed at his creation.
He supposed that, if you tilted your head to the left and squinted, it would resemble a gun. Then again, it also looked a bit like a horse.
I'll tidy it up a bit, and then let him decide what it is meant to be, Sam thought firmly. But before he sees it, I must apply...the icing!
Sam cheered up at the thought. If you asked Dean, he would tell you that a cake wasn't a cake if it didn't have icing. Sam secretly agreed with him, although he'd never admit it out loud.
He glanced at the bowl of melted chocolate that lay beside him and hesitated. Although he may be able to read a vast amount of Latin, knew how to exorcise a demon using about five different rituals, and knew how to use a gun, he wasn't exactly the world's greatest chef.
He wasn't exactly world's anything chef.
But he'd done the hard part, making and baking the cake, so the icing should be easy as pie after that, shouldn't it?
Sam giggled at his little joke as he poured the icing over the cake, watching it run down the sides. He frowned; it was a little uneven, piling up in places, while other remained bare. Still, he supposed that wouldn't affect the taste.
Sam climbed off the stool, reaching up and pulling the large plate off the kitchen's counter. Grunting with the effort, he staggered a little, as the width of the plate was s lightly larger than his arm's length.
The problems started piling up a second later. First, as Sam fought to support the plate as he walked out of the kitchen, Sam's long fringe fell into his eyes. His forehead creased in frustration as he blew, aiming the gust of air to keep it out of his eyes. Nevertheless, it took much head-tossing and exhaling before the pesky strand was taken care of. And even then, he almost fell over twice.
The second problem was opening doors. Sam groaned as he reached his and Dean's rooms. If someone else had been around he'd surely have been able to ask them for help, but Ellen's roadhouse was temporarily deserted, excusing him and Dean.
Sam placed the plate on the ground, muttering darkly.
"Stupid people, no one's around when you need them, but when they are all they do is talk. 'Oh, Sammy, when did you get so small, har har har, I didn't recognise you there.' and 'Oh, Sammy would you like a bottle, or a nappy, har har har.' It's freakin' Sam!"
With that last yell he turned the handle, shoving the door open. He breathed heavily from the exertion, before bending over and picking the plate up. He heaved it over to the bed, looking around for Dean. Where had his brother gone? After they'd gotten back form the clothes shop Dean had disappeared into their bedroom, and Sam had decided to bake a cake. Dean loved chocolate, and Sam had been hoping to cheer his brother up. After all, whenever he was upset Dean was always there for him, whether he wanted help or not, to try and cheer Sam up. Sam was determined to do the same.
"Is that for me?"
Sam jumped in surprise as Dean entered the room, barging through the door, his eyes lighting up hungrily at the sight of the chocolate-smothered cake. Before Sam could say a word Dean effortlessly lifted the plate, placing it on a desk.
Sam ran up to him, not wanting to go unnoticed.
"Yeah, Dean, I made it for you."
Dean grinned down at him, before lifting him onto the desk next to the cake.
"Hey, thanks Sammy!"
Sam's eyes widened in disgust as Dean reached out a hand and grabbed a fistful of the chocolaty goodness.
"Dude, that's gross! There's a knife in the kitchen, use that!"
Dean froze, looking first at his hand then at Sammy.
"Bah ip ooked oh good!" he protested, mouth full and stained.
Sam shook his head, but he was grinning.
"Sure, whatever. Just don't get crumbs everywhere, okay? I'm not cleaning up after you."
Sam hopped down from the desk, so he didn't see Dean choke with laughter.
Dean wiped his watering eyes, still grinning.
"Man, some things never change."
Sam ran top the middle of the floor, then sat down, cross-legged, forehead furrowed. Dean watched him with interest, temporarily forgetting about the cake.
"What are you doing, Sammy?"
Sam waved a small hand at him in frustration.
"I'm trying to think, Dean."
"Oh," Dean replied, his mood dampened. "Well, I'll leave you to it."
He turned back to the cake, which he had to admit was pretty good. Although the icing was a bit patchy. He squinted at the cake. If you pretended the massive gaping hole he'd ripped out from it was still there, and tilted your head to the left, it kind of resembled a gun. Then again, it also looked a bit like a rabbit.
He shrugged, taking another, but smaller, handful.
Okay, definitely a rabbit.
"Don't you want some, Sammy?"
No response.
Dean shrugged, groaning as he stretched. These past few weeks had been weird...but everything would soon go back to normal. Just as soon as they figured out how to kill that freakin' fairy!
"Dean," Sam asked hesitantly. Dean rolled his eyes. Lately his little brother had been acting so weird...well, weirder than was normal, for them...anyway, he'd been kinda tiptoeing around Dean, and he found he didn't like it one bit.
"Yeah Sammy?"
Sam paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say, without making Dean retreat into his protective shell.
"Dean, we need to talk about the fairy. And your wish."
Dean winced as he turned to face Sammy's honest, young face. The younger boy stared back, unblinking, but obviously nervous.
Dean had known the day would come when they'd talk about this, but he'd hoped the time of questioning wouldn't come until...well, never. The real problem was that he couldn't seem to stop himself from being honest, when it came to his...thoughts on the matter. Not that he would've lied, more that he'd prefer to keep his mouth shut.
"Sure, Sammy, whatever you want."
Damn stupid mouth, not listening to a single damn thing my damn brain tells it to say!
Sam smiled tentatively, wondering how to go about this. When he confronted Dean, things usually ended up with them yelling about something completely different. 'No, you drank the last beer' could just as easily turn into 'I just want to be normal, okay?'.
"Dean, I think I might have figured out the fairies weakness...but first I need you to tell me about your wish."
Dean lay back in his bed, trying to get away from Sammy's piercing stare. I have a better idea Sammy. Why don't we go teach a pit bull how to tap dance? It'll be much more productive, he thought irritatedly. His mouth, however, had other plans for him.
"I dunno Sammy. It kinda just happened...I didn.t really wish for anything. She was talking about our greatest desires, and I guess I just found myself thinking about you, and how all this has messed up our lives. Hunting, I mean. Although she couldn.t have read my mind all that well, seeing as what I was really dying for was a pie. Man, I was starving! But seriously, I never wanted this to hap-" Dean finally stuffed a corner of the blanket into his mouth, stopping off his desperate gabbling.
Man, it's like, like verbal diarrhoea or something! Why won't I shut up? Okay, note to self; steer clear of any topics relating to the freakin' fairy...
Dean wasn't the only surprised one; Sam was sitting there, stunned, staring at his suddenly sharing brother.
"O-kay, Dean, thankyou for your, uh, co-operation... basically, you wished for me to need you again," Sam paused for some recognition. Dean just nodded once, his eyes screwed shut, as if that would make the humiliation go away.
"So," Sam continued, talking unusually fast. Although Dean didn't know it, he was just as uncomfortable as his brother was. "She turned me into an age where I would be physically and emotionally dependant on you." Sam stopped, face creased in thought.
Dean cranked open one eye, blanket still choking up his mouth. Where did his brother come up with this stuff?
Suddenly Sam sighed, toddling over to the bed, so his head was next to Dean's, his face morose.
"I think I know how to stop her...but I don't think you're gonna like it."
---
Ellen glanced at Dean, her face concerned. He looked up and saw her watching, his face breaking into a drunken grin.
"Ellen," he called, patting the stool beside him. "Come, come join poor old Dean, all on his lonesome. You know why that is," he added darkly, as she sat down on the stool. "It's because I turned my drinking partner into a seven-year-old."
He downed his beer depressingly, before Ellen snatched it away. His face took on a look of childish confusion.
"Hey...I was, uh, drinking that? Yeah, I was!" he prodded the bar to emphasize his point. Ellen just shook her head sadly.
"What's up, Dean? I haven't seen you this drunk since you last thought Sam had run away."
Dean shivered as he remembered, the thought sobering him up.
"If anything had happened to Sammy, I would never have forgiven myself," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Which is why I can't let anything happen to him now."
He drew in a deep breath, before turning to face Ellen. It was a pity his dad had caused so much trouble between their families, Dean thought slowly. It would've been great growing up with someone like Ellen watching over us.
"Ellen, Sammy figured out how to defeat this thing," he informed her. Ellen let out a little exclamation of surprise.
"What! Well, then, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out, kicking some fairy butt?"
Dean sighed heavily, trying to disguise his snort of laughter. He cleared his throat loudly when he caught Ellen staring at him suspiciously.
"Yeah, that's the problem," he growled. "There's a catch. It turns out this fairy chick doesn't actually have any defences, any spells or traps or poison darts," Dean paused, taking a deep breath. "She's actually quite a tricky sunnova...anyway, turns out her safety net is that she grants people their desires. If they hurt her, their wishes come undone. You following me?" Ellen shot Dean a 'I'm-not-a-simpleton-you-simpleton' look, so Dean carried on. "By the time people realise her wishes aren't...well, all that great, it's too late. They're dead."
Ellen shook her head grimly, grabbing another two beers, handing one to Dean and opening one for herself.
"Well, what's the problem? It's not too late for you guys, is it? Has anything serious happened?"
Dean shook his head, wondering how to explain the next part.
"The thing is, I'm not sure if we should undo it."
He waited patiently while Ellen choked on her drink, patting her gently on the back as she tried to regain her composure. She shrugged him off angrily, glaring at him.
"Are you outta your mind, Dean?! Why the hell would Sam prefer living like this, when he could be returned to normal?!"
Dean sighed. It had sounded alright in his head, but speaking it out loud made it seem kinda...stupid.
"Yeah. I mean, think about it Ellen! Sammy can have a new life now, one free of hunting and nightmares and knowing that no matter where you go, you'll never be safe, not ever!" Dean sat back, breathing heavily, sitting agitatedly. Ellen stared levelly at him.
"And where will you be in all of this, Dean?"
Dean bowed his head, trying to hide the tears that welled in his eyes.
"I'll be watching over him Ellen, from a distance. But I think it'd be better if he was raised by someone normal, with experience, who'd be able to give him the future he deserves." Dean took another sip of beer, anything to force back the lump in his throat that formed whenever he thought of living without Sammy, his pain in the ass, irreplaceable little brother.
Ellen looked around the room thoughtfully, then turned to Dean.
And hit him on the head.
"Argh, what the hell, Ellen! I didn't touch him!" was Dean's immediate reaction, his own misery forgotten. Ellen stood up, staring at him gravely.
"Just think about this, Dean. While you're sitting here, selfishly thinking that you know what's best for Sam, try putting yourself in his shoes. How do you think he'd react to the news that he was being offered a chance to start over...but only if he severed his ties with you? I think we both know the answer to that one." Ellen paused, then added, just in case he hadn't gotten her point; "He'd tell you to go get stuffed. Well, not in those words exactly, but even I know he wouldn't like that idea."
Dean watched morosely as Ellen walked off, her presence still felt in the dull throbbing of his head.
He sighed, something he'd found, to his annoyance, he'd been doing quite a lot lately. The whole 'brooding Winchester' thing was more Sammy's area, he decided, and it was as if he had physically discarded a shroud of doom and depression. His mood lightened, and he turned to check out the occupants of the bar, his eyes alighting on a particularly well-rounded girl by the pool table. He grinned as she winked at him.
He had a purpose now, an action plan. For now, that was good enough.
It had to be.
---
Sam walked around the thing on the ground, stopping every now and then to give it the evil eye.
"It's just you and me now," he muttered darkly, crouching down, his hands on his knees, glaring at the object intimidatingly. It had the nerve to just sit there, openly defying his threat. With a large 'hi-yah!' Sam kicked it across the room, laughing victoriously as it hit the wall with a satisfying 'thud'.
"That'll teach you to not succumb to my, uh, braveness!" Sam yelled at it, strutting the length of the room. Suddenly the big light flicked on, and he froze mid-strut.
"Sammy? What the hell is going on here?"
Sam slowly let his arms fall to his side, all too aware that his brother had just walked in on him walking around like a chicken.
"Uh, nothing Dean, nothing at all." he said innocently, blinking up at his big brother, who now loomed over him. Sam sighed. He looked forward to the day when he would once more be the one who did the looming.
"Alright Sammy, just don't let me catch you doing 'nothing' again. It's creepy."
Sam grinned as Dean loped over to the only chair in the room, over which he'd slung his jacket. He dug around in the pockets now, smirking triumphantly as he pulled out a wad of money.
Sam gasped in surprise, scrambling over to his brother.
"Dean, where'd you get that from?!"
Dean patted him on the head condescendingly.
"Doesn't matter where it came from, Sammy, it just matters how we spend it. Well, how I spend it." Sam pouted as he realised what his big brother was saying.
"That's not fair, Dean, I wanna go...wherever you're going!"
Dean laughed, shoving Sam over gently.
"Uh uh, you're too small-hey, what's your top doing on the ground by the wall?"
Sam glared at his arch-enemy as Dean picked it up, brandishing it at his little brother. The top was hanging limply, seemingly defeated, but Sam knew it was biding it's time. Waiting until he tried to put it on, and then-wham!-it would get caught in his hair, get stuck on his head, trick him into putting his head through one of the impossibly-small arm holes...Sam shuddered. No, it wouldn't get him this time.
"It's itchy, Dean. Can't I just sleep nudie?"
Dean blanched as Sam beamed toothily up at him.
"No, Sammy, you can't sleep...nudie. Here, I'll help you."
Man, his brain is really deteriorating fast! Dean thought worriedly as he helped Sammy struggle into his PJ top, listening to the seven-year-olds plaintive cries.
He's acting really immature, less and less like himself. I don't think we have much time left.
Dean picked Sam up and carried him to the bed, plonking his younger brother down.
"Okay Sammy, I've gotta go out and get some things, I'll be back in about an hour, okay? So don't worry about me, you just go to sleep."
Sam yawned widely, so that Dean could see his little tonsils.
"I'll be fine Dean. You go...I can...look after...me...self..."
Dean snorted as Sam fell asleep, wishing he could join his little brother, instead of venturing into the night and trying to find the things he needed.
Sam waited until he heard the door creak open, then click shut. He listened, ears straining, until Dean's footsteps faded out of hearing range.
And then he stopped snoring, sitting up and ripping the uncomfortable top off, chucking it onto the ground.
"That'll teach you to itch me!" he grumbled, before brightening. "Hey, I took my shirt off, and I didn't even need Dean to help me!"
Sam noticed two things. First was that he was talking to himself, something he'd found himself doing more and more ever since he'd been...shrunk. He rambled on just like...a little kid.
The second thing happened soon after the first, but Sam wasn't aware of any change. Not until he tried to sit up.
And found he couldn't.
What's happening? Oh no, I can't move! Dean? Dean, help!
But all that came out was a gurgled; "Oove, oove! Deano..."
Sam felt the tears coming again, but this time he didn't try stop them. He was utterly helpless, and there was nothing he could do but wait for Dean to come back.
Whenever that would be.
----
Dean whistled softly to himself as he padded down the hall, his arms laden with big brown paper bags. He'd found everything he'd needed, and in just under two hours! Quite a feat, if he did say so himself.
He stopped when he got the door, wondering how to go about this. Shrugging, he leaned to the left slightly, balancing the bags on top of one another, reaching his now-free right hand to open the door.
He crept into the room, placing the bags as silently as he could onto the desk. Even so, the bags rustled a bit more than he would have liked. He glanced over at the hopefully still asleep Sammy...and gasped. (In a very un-manly way.)
"Sammy...what the hell happened to you!"
A/N: Heh heh, what's wrong with Sammy? Poor baby...ahem Right, then...this'll probably ...maybe...hopefully be finishing up soon, just to let you know. Oh, I just watched 'All Hell Breaks Loose Part One' (Australia is a bit behind...) and oh my god. Just...oh my GOD! It was sooooooo good...can't wait 'til next week! Yes...so, thanks again to my reviewers, it's great to hear your praise and criticism...oh, who am I kidding, the criticism sucks. But still, being shown what can be imropoved on is a big help, so thanks, and I'm babbling aren't I? And you can't actually answer that question, can you? Sorry, I'm just really tired...Okay, hope you enjoyed, and please review! xxsurexx