Chapter 1. Blind

When Dean Winchester woke up that morning, he couldn't explain what he felt. A strange vitality had invaded his being. The pain that usually came from many fights and hunts seemed to have almost completely vanished. The back no longer weighed him down, and his head no longer throbbed. He felt like he was twenty years old again.

Surprisingly, he even looked like someone in his twenties. When Dean looked in the dirty bathroom mirror, different details appeared: on his face, hair, and how his clothes fit; of course, details he hadn't seen for a long time. He examined himself carefully, wondering if it was some kind of illusion. The wrinkles that had marked his eyes were less noticeable, his skin was smoother, and his lips somehow fuller. The hair was a little honeyed and somewhat long for his tastes, and his clothes fit looser. When he took off his shirt to see why, found that his body was indeed thinner -just a little, but enough to be noticed. "Am I dreaming?" he asked, scared.

Dean dropped that question as soon as it arrived. That was not in any way possible; neither dreaming, nor imagining, nor even in another universe was it feasible to become younger. It was impossible without some spell, some wish, or having talked to someone dangerous. Moreover, they hadn't even begun to investigate the case that brought them to town. So, most likely, there was a reasonable explanation for this.

Dean Winchester didn't worry, because he definitely wasn't younger; and even if he was, why is it being a twenty-year-old an evil spell?

Sam Winchester stirred his bitter coffee compulsively, lost in thought. Something was happening to Dean, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. An idea came, but he decided to discard it. Sam didn't know if it was because of how unreal sounded or the fear it provoked. So, he devoted himself to another option think. Think and think, compulsively stirring his bitter coffee.

"All good Sammy?" Dean said, then took a sip from his own cup. The gesture on his face indicated that hadn't enjoyed coffee either.

Sam suddenly stopped stirring, abruptly dropping the spoon on the table. "No Dean, nothing is good. I know something is happening to you, but I can't recognize what and that's driving me crazy. What if it's the same that happens here?"

"Do you think someone fulfilled my deepest wish? Well... I'm not in Miami surrounded by sexy chicks and a beer jar. So, relax Sammy, what's more, I could say that I feel great."

"Dean, don't you see what's happening to you?"

"I'm looking at something else," he answered, watching the waitress approach them. She was definitely his type: blonde, blue-eyed, big-breasted, and with good hips. She looked like Cameron Diaz. "You see who's coming Sam? It's our Cameron Diaz! See her huge breasts!" he said, emphasizing the point with a smile as if he were a teenager. This didn't worry Sam; it was a normal attitude for his brother, after all. What wasn't normal was that Dean's face looked weirder.

"Dean..."

"Are you ready boys?" The girl looked particularly at Dean with a seductive look. If nothing weird was going on, they would sleep tonight together.

"I want the classic breakfast, honey," he smiled, following the game.

"You know... I have noticed that the most handsome guys always ask for that."

"Oh really?"

"I'll be back soon with your breakfasts," she smiled and left the Winchesters alone again.

Sam, as if surprised, stared as the waitress left. Maybe it was because he was afraid to look at the elder brother or the fact that she didn't take his order. Anyways, he had to turn when a voice that hadn't heard for a long time spoke amusedly.

"Did you also like our waitress, huh? I'm sorry, but she's mine. Better stay with the chick that made you eyes at the bar."

Sam stared at Dean, stunned. His face, which was now a little less sharp, carried big greenish eyes. His freckles, hidden by time, resurfaced like spring in April on his nose. The jacket now fitted bigger, and it seemed that his height had also decreased. And the voice... oh God, it contained the typical distortions of a teenager. Sam's fear was confirmed -Dean was definitely younger.

"Close your mouth dude the flies are going to get in there." Geez, Dean couldn't be more than fourteen years old.

"Dean, don't you see?"

"What?" Of course, he wouldn't notice.

"Damn it, Dean, you're a teenager!"

"And you are a grumpy old lady. Relax, Sammy," he cleared his voice, perhaps noticing the distortion Sam heard before.

"Dean, hear your voice! You SOUND like a teenager."

"Oh, come on Sam. It's just the coffee."

"Dean..."

"Excuse me," said the waitress, interrupting Sam again.

Sam gave his best face for that situation, annoyed by her interruptions; by the nervous expression of the waitress, she did not see the calm face in the same way.

"I-I didn't take your order. Sorry, " she smiled, continuing with her nervousness.

"Don't worry. I think we won't take anything. My little brother and I must go," Sam gave Dean a smile, hoping he would realize what was happening. However, his brother seemed to shrink a little. Sam felt the blood running cold.

"You're going to call me crazy, but the first time I came, I really thought you were eighteen. I think work is affecting me," she laughed, but in reality, looked very confused. She was certainly in the same position as Sam.

"What are you talking about? I..."

Dean suddenly put his hands to his throat, noticing the change in his voice. Then, he visibly became smaller. All decreased. His height decreased, the size of his arms and head, the confidence that nothing was happening. Now, a boy of no more than eight years old looked at him, pale, terribly scared, and for a second, Sam thought he saw tears gathering in the big greenish eyes. He wasn't sure, because Dean escaped so quickly that the young Winchester didn't even have time to thought about what was happening; only knowing that he was also afraid, terrified that at that very moment, Dean would disappear from the universe.

The now boy ran, ran and ran without caring about the waitress, Sam or the people who looked at him confused because was only covered by a shirt. He just wanted to see himself, to see that had actually de-aged. He needed to observe himself in a mirror; although all the proofs he couldn't believe. Then, if really was younger, only there were a few seconds left to live on this Earth.

Dean pushed the strangely heavy door, approaching the nearest sink. Something stopped him. Oh surprise, was too small to reach the mirror.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed while trying to shake off the tears that fell from his face. He was not a kid, it was impossible, it was...

"Dean!" Sam walked over, kneeling to reach his height. Too small to see Sam at his eyes. Again, fuck.

"I'm disappearing Sam! I'm going to die, Sam, I don't want to die, no, please, no...no…" He covered his eyes, one part dead of shame for crying and one too horrified to recognize it. Not knowing what to do, he continued losing control, exhaling and inhaling rapidly, as scared as he had ever felt.

"Dean! Dean! Look at me! Look at me, please!" felt two big hands grab his arms and move them away from his eyes. Then he looked at Sam; others would have said Sam looked calm, but he recognized the nervousness in the eyes. "You're okay. I promise. You're not disappearing. You are here, with me. You are okay. Listen to me, you are okay." He hugged him so tightly that it hurt a little but was also comforting, feeling some kind of relief. However, he didn't believe Sam's words, and he knew Sam didn't believe them either. Dean knew this because he felt himself becoming smaller in Sam's grip, as if death were sighing back into his neck.