Whew! I just finished this. Might as well post it.

I'm wondering if any of you could help me out with a slight problem. I've noticed that the title I have for this story is fairly common and it's driving me crazy. Could you please help me with a new title? I was considering 'Wishful Thinking,' but that's the name of one of the episodes. I think I might get flamed if I used it...

All recognizable characters belong to Eric Kripke. I just own a plot-bunny filled brain and spelling errors.

Chapter 2. Welcome to Fatherhood!

"Daaaaaaaaadddyyyyyyyyyyy!" the kid screamed again.

"No, no! It's all right!" Dean tried to calm the boy down. When he kept wailing, Dean cursed. If he didn't do something fast, someone was going to come and see what the commotion was about and he wasn't entirely sure how to explain the situation.

"Daaaa-!" The cry was cut off as Dean made a decision and pulled the boy in his arms, clamping a hand over his mouth. The boy didn't make it easy though and began squirming and kicking.

"Shhhhhh, it's all right," Dean said as calmly as he could, struggling to retain his grip on the small form but the oversized t-shirt the boy was wearing making it very hard. "Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy did the exact opposite and twisted around even more, little arms flailing and hitting Dean in the face. Dean hissed, but was determined not to let go, at least not until he figured something out, or the kid calmed down.

"Come on, I'll let you go if you don't scream," Dean implored the child. "I swear." He seemed to be getting through. "Please, I promise." The boy stopped moving around and Dean slowly removed his hand. He quickly regretted the action though when the kid bit down on his finger.

"Ahh! Dammit!"

The kid wiggled out of his grasp and darted into the bathroom. Dean leapt after him, ignoring his hurt hand, but the door was slammed in his face, the barely audible but unmistakable click of the lock reaching his ears.

Dean wanted to slam his fist against the door and demand the boy open up before he bust the door down, but he restrained himself. The poor kid was scared enough as it was. Instead, he slid down the wall next to the door. At least the kid had kept his word and hadn't screamed, though with the locked door now between them, that was still a possibility.

"Y-you be-better go away!" a small voice called, attempting to sound tough but coming out as more of a squeak. "Or m-my Daddy's gonna kick your butt!"

Dean snorted softly. "I'd like to see that one, kid." What I'd like to know is where you came from.

"My br-brother could! He's gonna beat you dead!"

Oh God, please don't be… Please don't be! "Sammy…?"

There was momentary silence. "H-how do you know my name?"

If that's really Sam… Shit, how is this even possible? "Cause…" Dean took a deep breath. "I am your brother. I'm Dean."

The boy, Sam, seemed to scoff him. "Nuh-uh. My brother's ten, not old like you."

I'm not old! Dean then imagined himself in the shoes of a six year old. Well, maybe from Sam's point of view he was. "Then how do I know that your favorite color is blue, or that you like to eat Lucky Charms for dinner?"

"H—anyone could know that!"

"Then does 'anyone' know that when you were playing with Dad's silver knife, you cut me—Dean—with it? Remember?" He still had the small scar to prove it too. "I covered your ass and told Dad that it happened when I was practicing."

The room was silent again as Sam processed that. "I—Dean and I never told anyone about that…" There was a click and the door opened a crack, enough for Sam to peek his head out. "Y-you really are Dean. You're really my brother."

"Hey there, Sammy."

"But you're so big…"

"Well, you're kinda small."

Sam opened the door wider, his eyes bright and curious. "But how you get so big?"

"Actually, you got small," Dean clarified, "but I don't know—" He stopped. No way. No friggin' way….

He hadn't believed it possible. Hell, he hadn't even believed that the man upstairs was real, but apparently it was true. God had given him his wish. He'd given him his little brother back, though not in the way Dean had meant. Not even close.

He looked down at Sam, whose dark eyes now shown bright with wonder.

Damn…

His brother had been turned into his kid self, reverted back to a six year old. So not what I wanted.

"I'm going to fix this, Sammy," Dean told him. " I promise." I screwed up again, but this time I swear I'll make it right.

He leaned back against the wall as his literal kid brother crawled into his lap and looked up at him expectantly.

"'m sorry," Sam squeaked. He was referring to Dean's hurt finger.

Dean looked at it. "It's okay, Sammy. You didn't break the skin."

Sam nodded, but still looked forlorn. "You gonna keep me safe?"

Dean gave him a strained smile and swallowed with difficulty. "Of course I will. That's what big brothers are for, right?"

"Right," Sam said, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck.

Not knowing what else to do, Dean returned the hug.

"De?" the boy mumbled into Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Whr's Daddy?"

Shit. "Umm, uh…" Anything but the truth! "He's not here right now."

"Where is he?"

I forgot how you always asked so many questions. Dean wracked his mind. "Work."

"When's he comin' back?"

Dean bit his lip. "Not for a while, Sammy. We're on our own." He thought about that a bit more. Maybe not… He lifted his Sam's chin up so the boy's gaze met his own. "You hungry, kiddo? 'Cause I sure am."

Sam nodded.

"We'd better get changed then," Dean said, taking in Sam's appearance. The large t-shirt, the one the original Sam had worn to bed, was definitely unsuitable for public. On this little Sam, it was more of a dress, the edges dragging along on the floor. And if that was too big… Dean looked towards the bed his brother had been sleeping in and saw a pair of crumpled boxers. Great… He gently moved Sam off his lap and went to his duffel. Slipping on a fresh t-shirt for himself, he rummaged further through his bag for some smaller clothes for Sam, but was out of luck.

"Guess we'll have to go shopping first," he said.

Sam nodded in agreement.

.x.x.x.

Shopping with a little kid was a nightmare.

While Dean had practically raised Sam up with their father being more on hunts than he was with his children, John had done nearly all of the shopping. Dean had always wondered why he'd detested the job so much, especially when he'd had to take Sam with him, but now he believed he knew.

From the moment they set foot in the GoodWill store he'd found, his little brother began to fidget. Fidgeting then turned into a rush of energy, which Sam decided to spend racing up and down the aisles with Dean trying to catch him. Sam giggled, thinking it was a game. Dean's cheeks flamed red as store clerks and other customers looked their way, muttering about bad parenting.

He'd finally managed to catch up with his kid brother and hauled him back over to the children's section, where he proceeded to pick out several garments that Sam might like.

"How's this?" He held up a bright orange shirt with blue stripes.

Sam shook his head.

"Okay… How about this?" Dean picked up another.

Same response. Dean sighed. "What would you like to wear then?"

Sam flashed him a dimpled grin and reached into the clothes rack, pulling a black t-shirt off its hanger. Dean took it and turned it around to see the bright yellow bat symbol in the front.

"Batman?" he asked.

The boy nodded.

"Okay then." And he threw it into the shopping basket. One item down, how many more to go?

It took another half hour for Sam to agree on two more shirts, then Dean was able to pull him over to get a couple pairs of jeans, a pair of sneakers, a jacket, and the other necessities. Afterwards it was the dressing room, and Dean could finally breathe easier now that Sam wasn't running around half-naked. He went to the check-out counter and tugged the tags off so that the clerk could ring up the price, though she raised an eyebrow at that. He shook his head, silently begging her not to ask.

He wasn't out of the store yet though. He'd barely got within five feet of the store exit when Sam pulled out of his grasp and ran back.

"Sammy!"

Sam was leaning over a large toy bin, riffling through it.

Ah, crap. Dean went over to his brother as he pulled a large fluffy brown dog out. "Sam, you're too old for toys."

Sam pressed the stuffed animal against his chest and gazed up at Dean, his hazel eyes growing large and brimming with tears.

"All right, all right!" Dean relented, putting his hands up in defeat. He'd never been able to resist the puppy-eyes. "You can have it, just….please don't cry!"

The tears vanished in an instant. Sam gave a small 'yay!' and wrapped his arms around Dean's leg in a hug, too small to reach his waist.

"Thank me later," Dean grumbled, "after I've paid for it." He groaned when he took it to the counter and the clerk rang up the price. He flipped his wallet upside down, watching the last of his cash go into the register. Even in the cheapest place in town, somehow managed to empty him of every penny he was worth.

Dean looked down at Sam as they finally made it out of the store. "You happy now?"

Sam answered him by squeezing his new toy tight.

"Hmff." Dean glanced at his watch. "Shit!" They'd spent the entire morning shopping. He looked back at Sam. "Guess we can forget breakfast, Sammy," he said. "It's time for lunch now."

A low rumbling from Sam's stomach agreed. Sam winced.

"I hear you there, kiddo." Dean was feeling pretty hungry himself. "Why don't we eat out today. McDonald's sound good to you?" Not the best thing for a growing boy, but he'd worry about groceries later.

"Yeah!"

Dean smiled warmly at Sam's enthusiasm. "McDonald's it is, and afterwards we're going to see a friend of mine. Okay?"

"Okay."

Dean grabbed hold of his little brother's hand and they headed off.

Hope this was satisfactory. I'm not entirely sure about the scene where Dean convinces little Sam he's his brother...

Reviews keep me writing!