Hi everyone! The school is killing me. I regret totally being in medicine XD. Maybe I'm going to fail but the good news is that in my country there is a thing called "semester 0", so I'm not officially in the career and I can change to another without any problem. Honestly, this was a career that I chose due to pressure from my parents, and it would be a relief to be able to change to something that I like more. I thought about going into communication sciences or criminology. Anyway, I bore you with these notes but I don't have anyone else to tell this other than my psychologist XD.

I hope you like this chapter, inspired by Outshined by Soundgarden. In fact, every chapter is inspired by a song, so I recommend you to listen to them bcs they have interesting details. Dean is trying to deal with this shit and interesting things happen. Also a reference to The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry bcs I love that book. Tell me what you think! I live for the comments, follows and favorites. THANKS to every person that had left a review on this story, I always read them and try to PM. I enjoy so much read your opinions and reactions Blondie, Emily, Khaty and Shazza :3

PS. I'm searching for a beta for grammar and style. I can't pay anything but I can offer to do a short fanfic for you. If you want to help me tell me in the comments or PM me!

OooooOOooooO

Chapter 3. Outshined

The situation was too weird, even for the almighty Dean Winchester. He didn't know how to describe it, but this weird spell was affecting more than just his body; it was affecting his mind as well. As he curled up in the back seat of the Impala, he came up with something that closely resembled this damn thing. He couldn't stop acting like a child, just like living in a memory. And well, Dean definitely hated remembering things.

The same intensity, the same lack of control over his emotions. He knew what he should do, but a superior force was taking control of his actions. A fog was the best description for the indescribable. "Fuck... I asked Sam to carry me," he thought. What made him feel worse was that it wasn't because if he walked would look like an idiot. If he had wanted to, he would have tried to do it. It was because Dean really wanted to feel protected. Why the hell did he want to feel protected? The great hunter didn't need that emotional bullshit.

The more he thought, the more became aware of more weird things. As in the first example, the memories were more vivid. He felt as if he had only played with his mother yesterday. "Don't be an idiot, Dean," said to himself because that shit didn't make sense; and, as stupid as that sounded, it still felt very real. Dean missed that feeling more than ever. Damn. Dean didn't want to feel that way anymore. He hated the feeling of being so unprotected, because he didn't need the comfort of his mother, Sam, or anyone else. He never needed it. And yet, the boy did want it. Again, what the hell was going on?

"Hey, Dean, we've arrived." Someone opened the back door. For a moment, he thought it was his father's voice. He was going to leave him alone with Sam. The boy shuddered in response. "Are you awake, Dean?" When he finally opened his tired eyes, he realized. Sammy wasn't a baby; he was an adult. His father, as always, was missing.

"Yeah... I'm not athleep," he said with a long yawn, ruining the facade of being alert.

"If you say so," Dean saw Sam holding a smile. The dimples gave him away, as they had done since, well, since he was Dean's age. "If you haven't slept, then you can do it at the motel. You'll be more comfortable than in the old seat of the Impala."

"Don' want sweep; want help tholve this shit," he carved his eyes, another impulse of his body, son of a...

"Sweep?" Sam chuckled a little. Oh God, Dean hated the way he talked.

"Stop, Saaaammy," he tried to sound harsh, but the sentence came out more like a moan.

"Okay, okay." Sam raised his hands in a sign of peace. "What if I research on the internet and you dad's diary? Is that okay, or are you going to complain?"

"Sweet," he said sarcastically. Inadvertently, two hands held him firmly. Oh no, Dean knew where this was going.

"Sam, wet meee," he tried to get out of his brother's strong grip. "Don' need a giant."

"Dude, you remember that your shirt is longer than your body, right?" he said, trying to control the little demon. "Even if you can walk, you'll fall." His brother held him tightly on his left arm and walked, not letting go of his grip. However, Dean kept trying to move, even though it was a failed mission.

"Not a baby, Saam. Put me down nooow," Dean tried to sound threatening again, using the authoritative voice he usually used with his brother. Of course, when it came out of his mouth, it lacked gravity and sounded more like a plea. Tears started to form. No, no... "Ahh... shit..."

"Dean." The older Winchester suddenly stopped and looked at him with worried eyes. He hated that look; Sam didn't need to worry about him. Dean was the oldest, that was his duty.

"Don' wook me wike that, Sam." He made an overly human effort to hold back his tears. He didn't want to see his brother worry about him.

"Hey, listen me." Sam gently stroked his shoulder. "I never said you were a baby... I-I just don't want you to get hurt. Your shirt is huge. You don't have shoes. There's glass and other crap here." He paused, contemplating his next words. "When I get you the right clothes, I promise not to carry you anymore. But for now, let me do it. Okay?"

Dean looked at his brother, and for a moment, he saw his mother's face. It was like a living déjà vu. And, like with her, he didn't want to worry Sam. He cursed himself for not thinking about that things before. How could he be such an idiot?

"Thory." A few tears escaped. For an instant, he thought about apologizing for crying.

"You don't have to apologize." Sam gently wiped away his tears. "Why don't we go to our room, Dean-o?"

"Don' call me wike that, bitch." He glared while snuggling on his shoulder.

"I can call you whatever I want, jerk," Sam said with amusement in his voice. He started to rub Dean's back, and gradually, his body began to relax.

"Just shut up, idiow." The child closed his eyes, and the old tiredness bloomed again.

If he had gone from a thousand miles per hour to zero in seconds, Dean didn't think about it. He focused more on the comfort, the strange tranquility his brother provided, trying to resist those feelings; but this time, his body won. Little by little, everything was submerged in the confusion of sleep. The dark, sounds grew increasingly faint...

"Sleep, Dean. You need it." That was the last thing he heard before succumbing to the darkness completely.

For the first time in a long time, he felt truly rested. There were no monsters, no fears, just calm. ¿The best thing? His mother was there. When he saw her, he felt a lump in his throat. Dean didn't used to dream much about his mother; when he did, they were always nightmares. He couldn't help but feel something strange about this, but his mind was so battered that he just wanted to relive some memory of his mother, even if it was just false.

Dean tried to enjoy that moment of necessary peace. She wrapped him into bed with a tenderness he had forgotten, and even he didn't object when she offered to read him a story. Dean knew it was ridiculous, but what did it matter? He didn't have many memories of his mother, apart from... well, her death. Why don't try to remember her in a different way?

So, when she read to him a tale of a little prince who lived on a planet with a rose, highlighting with her sweet voice the dialogues of the characters, he felt happier than ever. He was a kid, after all, he had fun with that kind of thing.

"And after a silence, he said to me with a kind of grudge," narrated his mother with a theatrical voice. Then made it sharp, resembling that of a child: "I don't believe you! The flowers are weak. They are naive. They defend themselves as best they can. They think they are terrible with their thorns..."

Dean was focused on the tale, waiting to hear more of the story. He couldn't believe that he was hearing her sweet, melodious voice and seeing her angelic face once again. Her playful laugh and loving gaze were all too familiar, but he didn't remember her being so perfect. A question sank into his heart: what would it have been like to live like this? He knew he wasn't going to find an answer, but that didn't stop him from wondering. He was wrong. "It would have been nice. But your stupid father let me die, just like your brother will let you die," said with a friendly, sinister voice.

Suddenly, reality hit him.

"Who are you?" he asked, frightened.

"I'm you. Who else would I be?" Mary said with a kind smile.

"A witch son of a bitch, maybe." He tried to get out of bed but couldn't. Something was holding him down.

"Dean, wake up. You're having a nightmare," said a voice in the distance.

"Tell me I'm not right. Sam wanted to kill you in the asylum, you're weak now, why not do it?" She looked at him tenderly, stroking his hair. Dean was afraid.

"Dean..."

"No... no... this is not true."

"And, at that moment, I'll find you."

"Help!" a muffled scream.

"Dean!"

"HELP!" He opened his eyes, his heart still racing.

"Hey buddy, calm down. It's all right."

There was a moment of silence while trying to calm down and make sense of what had happened. Dean felt the hard bed, the rough blanket covering him, the hands holding tightly his shoulders. Then, looked at his brother, who was just as scared as he was. It was just a nightmare, again, he should treat it as such. But, still with a lump in his throat, the stupidest question came out, as if he didn't know who was in front.

"Sam?" His voice sounded different.

"Are you okay?" Sam looked at him with a concerned expression.

"What...? What happened?" His body also felt different.

"You had a nightmare. Man, you looked insane." Sam let him go slowly.

"I feel weird," was all he could think to say.

"I don't know, maybe it's the fact that you're not two years old anymore."

Everything that had happened in the morning fell on him like a bucket of cold water. Then, Dean looked at his body. He was no longer a baby or even a child, but was sure he wasn't an adult either. He wanted to get up and run to the bathroom to see. Something stopped him. He really didn't want Sam to see him in all his glory. He was about to say something when his brother seemed to read his mind.

"Wear this." He threw a black shorts at him and looked away.

"Wow, thanks, Xavier." It didn't take long to put it on and adjust it to the thin body. Not a good sign. And then, even more desperate, Dean ran to the bathroom.

Indeed, something was still wrong. He wasn't three years old anymore, but he wasn't twenty-six either. He seemed to be around thirteen. A more or less rounded face, with freckles still recognizable; curly hair, eyes that looked big on his face, and the shirt somewhat loose. He was still young, but at least he could reach the sink mirror.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Sam stood at the threshold of the door.

"I could be better, but... this is a start," The now teenager replied, looking at himself. It was weird seeing his younger face, he didn't want to imagine how he looked a few hours ago. Wait, that means... "The spell is reversing, isn't it? That's a good sign," said with relief.

For the first time that day, Dean felt like things were going well. Of course, Sam had to ruin everything. "I don't think so," commented with regret.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"There is something I need to tell you, but please be calm," Shit, Sam looked at Dean like he was a freak. A sudden even stronger embarrassment came from having that emotional moment in the morning. His brother must have thought he needed to comfort him like a baby or something. Dean wasn't a baby and didn't need that kind of treatment. He could be younger but still an adult.

He couldn't help raising his voice. "Come on, dude! Just because I reacted that way doesn't mean I'm some kind of scared little kid. In case you haven't noticed, I'm still me. If you treat me like a little girl again, I swear that..."

"Man! Just shut up," Sam said, rubbing his face in frustration, looking like he was searching for the right words. "Look, in the restaurant, I noticed some weird… creepy patterns. Bobby agreed that they meant something. And with the nightmare..."

Dean didn't care about the creepy patterns, the cryptic talk, and the other bullshit. There was something else that caught his attention and made him angrier. "You talked with Bobby? Why didn't you let me do it? Do you also think that I'm not old enough to talk on the phone?"

"Your emotions change your age!" Sam said, trying to explain.

The teenager looked at him with confusion. "What the hell does that mean?"

"When you're anxious, your age goes down. You're calm, bigger. In flirting mode, a teenager. You understand?" Sam asked.

"You're joking, right?" Dean said, feeling skeptical.

"I sound like I'm joking?"

"Yeah, it looks like you're the one who's thirteen," Dean said, pushing Sam away in frustration and getting out of the bathroom. He took the keys from the bedside table, intending to leave, drive and listen to Soundgarden. Weird… he hadn't listened to Soundgarden since he was a teenager…

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, blocking his path.

"Outside," he said as if it were obvious.

"In the car?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Nooo Sam, I'll leave in a magic pumpkin. What do you think, idiot?"

"Even if you were old enough to drive, which you aren't, your age keeps changing. There's no way I'll let you drive."

"Can you cut that damn shit? You just want to keep treating me like a baby!" He did his best to fight the big monster in front of him, throwing punches that the still bigger Winchester easily contained.

"I can prove it, Dean. Just... Just calm down, will you?" Sam immobilized his brother's arms.

"Oh really? How?" Dean kept writhing in a vain attempt.

"Why don't you tell me why you were afraid about talking to dad?"

Dean stopped, frozen at that question. How could he be so stupid? He thought Sam had let it go, the subject forgotten just like the past. Well, it wasn't like that, and definitely didn't want to talk about it. He experienced a strange sensation, the same one when his father confronted him. He didn't want to feel that again.

"Forget it. I didn't know what I was thinking," Dean said, freeing himself from Sam's grip, not noticing he had lowered his gaze. The only thing he could think of doing was moving to the other side of the room, feeling like a caged animal.

"Well, I think you did know it," Sam said, getting a little closer and making him feel more anxious. "Why does telling dad make you so nervous?"

"It's nothing Sam. Just let it go," Dean replied quietly. Damn, why did it sound so insecure?

"For dad, you were always the perfect son..." Although he tried to hide it, the phrase sounded with resentment. The asylum again.

"Shut up," Dean felt a lump in his throat. He didn't want to remember anything of that. Again he wanted to cry. No, no, no. He had to control himself, be strong, he had to...

"When you were younger, it wasn't like that?" Sam asked.

Everything went screwed with that question. "Shut your fucking mouth! Understand? You don't know anything!" Dean all but shouted.

Then, when he heard his own voice, he realized what Sam meant. As a few minutes ago, he ran again to the bathroom, this time having to hold the black shorts. In the mirror in which his reflection was once perfectly visible, now only two-thirds of a child's head could be seen. It couldn't be true. No, this wasn't happening. No... No... Now only a third of his face was visible. Dean wanted to cry again. Shit... shit.

Sam suddenly appeared at the door. "What the hell is happening to me?" Dean didn't mind that the fear was noticeable in the question.

"Hey," Sam said, bending down. Had he really become so small?

"I don't want to be three years old again, Sam." Dean wiped his eyes with his forearm, not wanting to cry again.

"You have to calm down, okay? Remember what I told you?"

"Anxious I become small," Dean pondered those words for a moment. Then, realized what that meant and, in the opposite effect, became more anxious. "How can I be calm knowing that any damn thing can change my age?"

"I understand you're scared, but I promise we'll figure this out," Sam said, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder, as before.

He considered walking away, but he stayed. Instead, asked, "How?"

"Bobby said he had heard of de-aging spells before and would look for more information about it. And, while you were asleep, I found something interesting," Sam said with a smile.

"What?" Dean asked with a little bit of hope.

"In the local newspaper, I saw a very interesting story: 'Woman with terminal cancer miraculously cured.'"

The boy suddenly remembered why they were in Silver Springs in the first place. "Someone made her wish come true..."

"The good news is that she agreed to take an interview tomorrow with a writer who wants to do her biography. I think she's pretty excited about being famous," Sam said, smiling more. The younger knew that it wasn't just because of the stupid joke, he noticed a glimmer of optimism.

"Well... It's a good start."

"More than good, I would say."

Dean paused. Yes… he was really happy about that, but one question stirred his thoughts. The adult mind told him that he was exaggerating, that there was no point in worrying about it, and yet he was somewhat afraid of the answer. Perhaps it must have been noticed because Sam asked, "All good?"

"Yeah... peachy." Dean shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away.

"Dean, I think it's clear that you can't lie to me anymore. You just shrank a little bit. What's going on?"

"Damn. I hate this." It was his only thought about that.

"Are you going to tell me, or are you going to wait to go from six to three years old?"

"Sometimes I hate you, Sam," Dean observed his expectant eyes, eyes that were at the same time concerned. He shook his head again, more worried about being a baby than asking the stupid question. He sighed, tired. "Did you call dad?" questioned in a low voice.

"What?" Fuck, he didn't want to repeat it twice.

"Did you call dad!?" Dean's voice came out higher than expected. Definitely, he was a freak.

Dean expected Sam to see him in the same way; to make fun of him or make a sarcastic comment. Or worse, an irrational fear grew: he was going to tell him to stop behaving like a child, that he was an idiot because he was afraid of the man who protected them, or maybe the nightmare was true and he would say that he hate him, or that...

"Didn't call him, don't worry." Sam raised Dean's head gently. "Look, I don't know what's going on between you and dad. If I bothered you with that, it was because... well, you know. I'm not going to touch the topic again until this shit is over. I don't want to take care of a baby." He laughed a little bit, then said, "If you don't want to talk to dad, it's okay. After all, we've both done well without him."

Dean couldn't believe it. He wanted to cry again, not out of sadness, but because of how Sam acted. Sometimes he forgets that side of him.

"Thank you," said sincerely. Relief surely showed on his face.

"You want a hug?" Sam extended his arms in a mocking tone.

"No man, enough chick moments for today."

"I never thought I would say this, but I agree. Why don't we order something to eat? I don't know you, but dude, I'm starving."

"Yeah, me too." Dean was excited about the idea of eating. He really needed a normal moment on that day.

"Fine." Sam looked at him for a moment, the care expressed on his face. After a few seconds, he got up and left the bathroom.

Dean took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He could barely see the reflection of his face. The question finally came: How would he manage to control all the crap he had been keeping inside? As if he hadn't already known, he realized that it was going to be a very fucked up week.

OOooooOoOoOoO

What do you think? Spoiler: John Winchester will appear, but all in due time. I really enjoyed using Dean's insecurities, and this is only going to get worse (insert evil laugh). This has been my favorite chapter to write so far. I hope you enjoyed it!