Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

I would like (once again) to thank all of you who reviewed: Aggie12, the-ice-cold-alchemist, kat2111, cold kagome, MeMyselfandBob, and hyperfuzzy. You guys rock!

Please be aware that I have changed my penname from SODASFUTUREWIFE to DON'TCALLMESAMMY. To avoid confusion, I suggest you let other people know that read this fanfiction.

*hands out virtual cookies again*

Now on to questions that need answering!

Hyperfuzzy: That would be interesting wouldn't it? I can fit it into my plot, but it would be in a way you probably wouldn't expect.

The-ice-cold-alchemist: Wow, your review made me think a lot! But it's a good thing. You're right, it would create a paradox, which is why I have mine carefully planned out. I think the difference between an alternate universe and an alternate timeline would be that usually in an alternate universe something happened in the past that made it an alternate reality, while an alternate timeline would BE what made that an alternate reality (if that makes sense). You weren't rambling! I love long reviews and criticism, it makes me happy to see that my fanfiction is getting people to think about stuff like that! Thanks!

Please enjoy!

…

"Hiya Deanie!"

Dean's eyebrows scrunched together as a dark-haired kid around his current age came running up to him. "I haven't seen you since the beginning of the summer!"

"Uh, yeah, hey…you…" Dean stuttered, and the kid cocked his head to the side. "Don't you remember me?"

"Of course I –" Dean cut off. Why would this kid ask him something like that? If he had seen him only a month ago, why wouldn't he remember who the kid was? Alarm bells rang in Dean's head, and he took a closer look at the boy.

He looked hauntingly familiar, and his eyes…so familiar… Dean opened his mouth to say something, but at that instant he felt himself being jerked out of the dream. The sounds of children yelling were drowned out by what sounded like a waterfall and then he was blinking open his eyes, looking up at the white popcorn ceiling.

"Dean!" It was Sam's voice. What was Sam doing out of the crib? He turned to look at Sam, who had a slight frown on his face.

"Sammy?"

"Dude, it's Sam."

Dean stared at his brother with wide eyes. "Dude?" he echoed. Since when had his brother said 'dude'?

"Sammy, how'd you get out of your crib?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam babbled, and Dean was even more confused. Sam never talked this much, what was going on?

"Hey, are you listening? Look, I'm worried about what this whole thing might be doing to us –"

"What are you talking about?" Dean interrupted, staring at the two-year old, who was also starting to look confused. "Sammy, did Mommy or Daddy let you out?"

"Mommy or Daddy?" Sam echoed in confusion. "What -?"

"Sammy why are you even on my bed? You could get hurt!"

Sam scratched his curly hair, turning his head to the side. He knew Dean was a mother-hen sometimes, but when had he cared about Sam falling off of a bed. "Man, are you feeling –"

"Why are you talking like that?" Dean interrupted, his voice going high. "Sammy –"

"Sam," the correction came automatically.

Dean was baffled: "What?"

"Dean, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that? Dean!"

Dean shook his head, blinking rapidly. "Mommy! Daddy! MOMMY! DADDY!"

A second later John appeared in the doorway, his eyebrows raised. Immediately he started looking angry. "Sammy, again?" he all but growled, and plucked Sam off of Dean's bed. "How do you keep getting out?"

Sam squirmed in his father's arms, trying to be put down, but John wasn't having any of it. "Oh no you don't," he said, tightening his hold on Sam.

"DEAN!" Sam cried when he found his body couldn't move. "Dean, down, DOWN!" he screamed at his father, but John simply shoved a pacifier in his mouth. Sam spluttered and tried to spit it out, but it was jammed in his mouth pretty good. "DWEEN!" his voice came out muffled, and his eyes were wide and scared as John carried him out of Dean's room and into his nursery.

Dean, meanwhile, was still sitting on his bed confused. What had all of that been about, and since when did Sam start calling Dean by his name and not 'Deanie'. As a matter of fact, when had Sam stopped calling himself 'Sammy'? He was two-years old for crying out loud! The kid shouldn't even know half of the words he was babbling out to Dean. Heck, Dean didn't even understand half the words.

He started feeling dizzy all of the sudden, and stars appeared in front of his eyes. In the blink of an eye he collapsed down on the bed, stiff as a board. Only about a minute passed before he straightened again, this time the de-aged Dean.

For a moment, Dean wondered where he was, then he remembered. He felt as though his head were about to explode. Sweet Jesus I would kill for a painkiller right now, he thought. He could have sworn he heard Sam crying in the other room.

What the Hell is the kid crying for? Maybe I should go check…

Dean got up and started walking to the nursery when suddenly John appeared, looking stern. "Oh no you don't young man," he said, snatching Dean up off the ground and carrying him into his room. "You must be letting Sammy out, and don't try to deny it because every time Sammy's out you're with him."

Wait, what? Sam was out of the crib? Well of course he was out of the crib! He was over twenty years old!

What the Hell was going on, what was his Dad talking about? Dean hadn't even seen Sam today.

He had no recollection of the events that had just passed.

…

Sam stood stubbornly in his crib, wondering why Dean hadn't helped him.

Well if he's going to be like that, Sam thought, offended. Two can play that game!

"Sammy, what are you still doing up?" Sam heard his mother's voice, but for once he didn't respond. He felt betrayed, why hadn't Dean helped him?

He felt gentle hands push him back and he ended up on his back somehow, the softness of the crib surrounding him as well as his blanket.

"Go to sleep," his mother whispered, her curly hair falling over his face as she leaned down to give him a kiss. "You must be tired, sweetie. I'm here, just go to sleep."

Sam wasn't stupid. She might have been acting like she was talking to a baby, but he could hear the desperation in her voice. She looked worn out.

Maybe sleep wasn't such a bad idea…his eyelids were feeling kind of heavy…

He glanced at the clock on the wall, and internally shuddered as he saw clowns decorating them. He managed to make out the time though, was it really only 9? Why was he so…tired…so…very…tired…

He didn't remember anything after that because he was sound asleep even after his mother had continued singing.

…

Well this is a short chapter, but does anybody have any idea on what might be happening with Dean? Is it an act or is it something else?

Who do you think the mysterious boy on the playground was in the beginning? Do you think he has anything to do with this?

Let me know what you thought about this chapter!

~ DCMS