Well, I've decided to go with my original title idea and call this Wishful Thinking. Yeah, I know, it's also an episode name, but it fits this story too. Unless anyone has a better idea, I'm keeping it.

Kripke owns Supernatural and its characters, I own spelling errors. Need I say more?

Chapter 3. Not Much Help

Sam licked his fingers clean of the grease from his cheeseburger, then dove his hand into his Happy Meal bag for the toy. He gave an elated cry when he found it was a car and began running it up and down the table. Little purrs of vroom vroom filled the air as he played.

Dean watched him with a small smile on his face. He'd forgotten how cute Sam had been at that age, how innocent and naïve of the horrors in the world. He missed those days, but he knew he couldn't keep his brother this way. Sam was twenty-six, not six, even though he looked and acted as such at the moment.

He enjoyed the scene a moment longer then crumpled up his napkin and tossed it onto the tray. "You ready to go, Sammy?"

The boy nodded and Dean cleaned up his trash and went and dumped the contents into the garbage before returning the tray to the counter. Sam tucked his toy car into his pocket and took hold of Dean's beckoning hand and they walked out of the restaurant.

"Wher' we goin', Dean?" Sam asked as Dean put him in the back seat of the Impala.

"I already told you, Sammy. We're going to see a friend." Dean frowned, wishing that the Impala had seat belts. A little kid in a car without seat belts was an accident waiting to happen. Hopefully Sam wouldn't be little long enough for him to bother getting a car seat.

"Who?" Sam asked, always the curious one.

"You'll see." Dean slid into the front seat and started the engine.

"Are they nice?"

Dean turned onto the main road and headed downtown. "Yes." However stiff…

"Will they like me?"

"I'm pretty certain."

"Wher' they from?"

"Far away from here."

"How far?"

"Very far." Very, very far.

"Wha's—?"

"Sam," Dean said sternly, looking into the review mirror. "You'll find out when we get there, okay?"

"'kay."

The car was quiet for a few minutes.

"Are we there yet?"

Dean wanted to bash his head against the steering wheel.

.x.x.x.

Dean didn't have to endure Sam's endless questions for long as he soon pulled up to an old abandoned warehouse and got out of the Impala.

Sam glanced around nervously. "I don' like it here, Dean."

Dean took his little brother's hand and held on tight. "Don't worry, Sammy. You're safe as long as you're with me."

Sam reluctantly went along with Dean and they walked into the building. Moving towards the spacious center of the room, Dean pulled out a piece of white chalk with his free hand and knelt down to draw a strange symbol on the concrete floor.

"Whatchya doin'?"

"Summoning that friend I told you about."

"Sum'ning?" Sam struggled to say the word right. He watched curiously as Dean finished drawing and stood up. "Wha's that?"

Dean didn't have time to answer as the cracked light above them flickered on. Sam jumped. "Deanie, I's scared…"

Dean cringed inwardly at the old nickname, but pulled his brother close. "It's okay. I'm here."

The light flickered again: on, off, on, off. A sudden breeze seeped into the old building, rattling the windows. Sam gripped the edges of Dean's jacket so tightly his knuckles turned white. "De…"

"Dean."

The voices were simultaneous, but the second, more powerful nearly drowned out the first. Dean looked up to meet the piercing blue gaze of Castiel.

"Took you long enough."

Castiel didn't respond, but instead looked down at the symbol on the floor. "Where—?"

"A friend," Dean interrupted. "He's got tons of lore on you guys."

"Robert Singer." Castiel inclined his head slightly. He didn't know the man as well as he knew the Winchesters, having only met him briefly when Dean had summoned him the first time, and then the elder hunter had spent most of the time unconscious. "This was unneeded." He indicated the symbol.

"How else was I supposed to get you to come?"

"You could call."

"Call?" Dean laughed. "So for angel services, all I have to do is dial 1-800-Heaven? Sorry, Cas, but I last I checked, there was no such number in the phone book."

Castiel's gaze narrowed slightly. "That is not what I mean. Next time you need something, simply call my name and I will answer if I can." He tilted his head, his gaze drifting away from Dean's. "Hello, young one."

Dean looked down. At Castiel's appearance out of nowhere, he had moved himself behind his brother in an attempt to hide himself. He poked his head out at the statement directed at him, his eyes wide like saucers.

"Say hello to the angel, Sam."

Sam's voice was barely more than a whisper. "H-h-hi…"

To Dean's surprise, Castiel smiled, however small the expression was. The tin man has a heart after all…

"How are you, Sam?"

Dean blinked. "Wait," he said, before his little brother could respond. "You know?"

"Yes," Castiel said simply.

"Yet you didn't feel the need to come down and help me?"
Castiel frowned. "Is this why you've summoned me?"

"Yeah! Why'd you think?"

The angel seemed confused. "This is what you wished for, is it not? You prayed for this…"

Dean pulled Sam out in front of him. "I know I asked for this, but…" He was grasping at straws. "I didn't ask for this! Fix him!"

Castiel shook his head. "I cannot."

"You—why not?" When Castiel opened his mouth to speak, Dean interjected, "And if you say God's will I swear I'll shoot you where you stand."

Castiel closed his mouth. Apparently that had been what he was going to say.

"So what can you do, Cas?" Dean demanded. "Huh? You sit on a cloud all day strumming a harp or something? You're an angel, dammit! You should be able to help me somehow!"

Castiel cast his eyes downward, shoulder drooping. "I cannot change Sam back for you," he said carefully, "but I can give you any supplies you may require for his care."

Dean glared. "That's it? You give me anything he needs and fly on back home? Dammit, I can't just wait around for him to grow up again! Change him back!"

Sam winced as Dean raised his voice with each word he spat out at the other man, covering his ears with his hands. "Deanie…" he whined.

Dean sighed and knelt down, gathering Sam into his arms. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I didn't mean to yell."

Sam uncovered his ears. "S'okay."

Castiel watched the two. "Truly, I am sorry I can't help you more, Dean," he said. "I'm sure if you pray hard enough, God will answer."

Dean snorted softly. "Yeah, sure. More praying. Think God will give me a refund?"

Castiel shook his head in disbelief, not understanding Dean's lack of faith. "You will find a box for young Sam waiting for you in your vehicle. It should help."

Dean huffed. Whatever… He blinked and the angel was gone.

"Not helpful, huh, Dean?" Sam piped up.

"No," Dean mumbled. "Not at all." Friggin' angels… Dean stood up, pulling Sam with him. Talk about a waste of time. "Let's go, Sammy."

"Yay!" The boy was more than happy to leave the warehouse. It had given him the creeps.

"Yay indeed," Dean agreed. He frowned again though when he saw a large cardboard box sitting next to the Impala. "What the hell?"

Sam let go of his brother's hand and ran towards it. "F-f-f-o-r S-s-s-s-a-a-m-m. For Sam." He beamed at his success. "Dean, it's for me! It's for me!"

"So it is." Dean pulled out his pocketknife and cut through the tape sealing the box. A wide array of miscellaneous items was inside, from clothes to food to more toys. If I'd known this, I wouldn't have gone shopping.

"Dean, look!"

Dean turned. Sam was holding open the door to the Impala, pointing excitedly at the car seat that now was there. "Great, Sammy. At least Cas got one thing right." Even though I still need to figure out what to do about you…He settled Sam into the car seat and moved the box of 'Sammy items' right next to him.

"Wher' we goin' now, Dean?" Sam asked as Dean slid into the driver's seat

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I'd really hoped that Cas could fix this mess, but I guess I thought wrong. Maybe Bobby knows something…" He could already see how that would turn out.

-"Ya idjit! What did you do?"-

-"Bobby, I know this looks bad, but I swear…"-

-"Bad? Boy, your brother is a SIX-YEAR OLD kid! This isn't bad. This is a disaster! How did this happen?"-

-"I uh…I kinda prayed for it…"-

-"You what? You dumbass! You should know better than that! Why, I outta take you over my knee right now and…"-

He wouldn't put it past the older hunter either. One was never too old to get a good spanking if the occasion called for it. Dean figured he probably deserved.

"Unca Bobby!"

Dean spared a small smile in his brother's direction. "Yes, Uncle Bobby. He's going to love seeing you, kiddo." He's probably going to kill me though…

"Yippee!" Sam squealed, oblivious to his brother's discomfort. He always loved visiting Bobby.

Yep. Dean thought, looking out the windshield. I'm so dead.

I'll be honest. I really don't know where this story is going. Hopefully it's still sounding interesting.

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