A/N: It LIVES! So so so so so so SO sorry for the massive delay. I did NOT abandon this story. I just got massive writers block and life got in the way, preventing me from being in the mood to write this fic. But, because of this massive delay, I actually ended up thinking of an ending to this fic that is a thousand times better than what I had originally planned. Trust me, the original is boring in comparison. Anyways, inspiration hit a while ago and I've been working on it non-stop ever since.

Massive thanks to Nej47 and Future Shigure for their help and encouragement. *HUGS* You guys are the best!

Enjoy! :)

Chapter 6: Small problems and big discoveries

Dean locks up their room for the night. He peers out the window, watching as Bobby heads off to his own room, before closing the curtains. Turning around, Dean stretches his back a little and walks over to his duffle. It had been a long day and his body is aching for him to get into bed. After grabbing what he needs and shrugging out of his button-down shirt, he heads to the bathroom.

A short while later, Dean exits the bathroom and goes straight to his bed. He turns the lamp off, casting the room in shadows with the only source of light coming from the neon motel sign, leaking onto the floor under the long curtains. Dean lies down and pulls the sheets up, getting nice and comfortable for a long night's rest. He's just starting to relax when he hears Sam call his name. "What?" Dean asks, turning his head towards his brother.

"How am I supposed to sleep?"

"It's a bed, Sammy. Figure it out," he groans and rolls over.

"Don't you think it's kinda…big?"

"So? You used to think they were kinda small, but you managed."

"Dean…" He gets another groan in response.

"They were big all week and you slept just fine."

"Yeah, but… I don't remember how I slept."

Dean lets out a small sigh. "Right," he says, remembering how he tried to help Sam out that first night. His little brother had insisted that he didn't need any help. Dean wasn't sure what Sam thought he was sleeping on, but whatever it was, Sam found it perfectly normal that he didn't have any pillows or blankets. So Dean got used to not having to worry about Sam's sleeping conditions.

"Just… crawl up by the pillow and make yourself a little nest or something with the sheets."

"A nest? I'm not a rodent, Dean."

"Yeah, well, you seem like a little pest to me, so if the shoe fits…"

Sam sighs, ignoring his brother before he takes the suggestion. Once he's up by the pillows, he bunches up some of the blanket as best as he can for a pillow he can actually use. But when he goes to pull a part of the sheet over him, he stops. "Dean."

"Just go to sleep, Sam," Dean grumbles into the pillow.

"I can't."

"Why not?" he asks, rubbing his forehead a little.

"Because there's a stain on this sheet," Sam answers, looking disgusted at the site before him.

"Sam, it's a motel. There's always a stain."

"Not one that's bigger than my whole body."

Dean snorts a little.

"Dude, it's not funny."

Dean finally rolls over and turns on the lamp to look at him. "It's a little funny." He gets a glare in response, so he sits up. He looks behind his brother and grimaces a little. "You really weren't kidding when you said it was bigger than you."

"Dean," Sam nearly whines.

"Alright—alright. What do you want me to do?" he asks, rubbing his eyes.

"A flannel maybe?" Sam suggests, referring to one of his clean shirts.

After getting up, Dean walks over to Sam's backpack and pulls out one of his shirts. He comes back to set it down on Sam's bed.

"Hey, wait," Sam stops him.

"What now?" Dean asks, dropping the shirt to his side in exasperation. "I swear, it's like taking care of a four-year-old."

"I was just…"

Dean raises his brow and waits for the little guy to continue. Seeing Sam scratch the back of his head, Dean speaks up, "What is it?"

"I…" Sam sighs. "This is gonna sound stupid."

"Sam," Dean warns, "I'm very tired. If you don't tell me what you want, I'm just going to drop this shirt on you and let you figure it out on your own."

"I think I… would rather sleep in the drawer."

"The drawer?" Dean asks, confused, because surely he didn't hear that right. When he sees Sam shrug his shoulders, he looks back surprised. "Why?" he asks at length, starting to think that maybe this shrinking thing was starting to mess up his little brother's mind. Again.

Sam looks down for a moment and then finally answers. "Because I feel like I'm out in the open... I couldn't even defend myself if something happened," he quietly admits, ashamed and embarrassed. After looking around the dingy room, he looks back to Dean. "I just figured the drawer would be safer… And I would be closer to you if somebody broke in."

Dean looks down at the shirt in his hands. This was the first time since Sam shrunk that Dean finally understood how weird this situation was for his tiny brother. It's as if Sam has just shrunk and is getting used to the situation, rather than having dealt with it for a week. Realizing this, Dean actually starts to feel for him. And instead of teasing his brother, he keeps his mouth shut and places the folded up shirt inside of the empty drawer in the nightstand.

Sam climbs onto the nightstand on his own and is ready to jump down into the drawer, but Dean stops him.

"Here," he says, handing Sam a rolled up tissue. "You can use it as a pillow. And I made sure the pockets were on top, so you could use one as a sleeping bag or something," he adds, referring to Sam's flannel.

"Thanks." Dean nods and Sam gives him a weak smile before dropping down into his temporary room for the night.

When he sees his little brother get settled in, Dean reaches for the lamp and turns off the light once again. For a moment he just stares at the cracked open drawer of the nightstand. He can't help but worry that tomorrow morning Sam will have forgotten everything, even though deep down he feels that things will be different.

It doesn't take long before both boys fall into a restful slumber.

*~*~*~*SN*~*~*~*

"I just don't get why you believed I was the one with a problem," Dean finally admits, while closing the laptop and looking down at his little brother. Knowing that Sam still has his memory back, and is somewhat starting to get used to his predicament, he figures now is a good time to ask the questions that are bugging him the most.

On top of a small stack of books, Sam shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. "I don't know. Everything seemed normal to me, except for you."

"But how do you explain the motel room?" Dean asks, gesturing to the dingy space that was their temporary living quarters for the past week.

"I thought it was some abandoned warehouse we were staying in."

"And what did you think my bed was made out of? A million mattresses, because we stayed at some mattress warehouse?"

"I don't remember everything, Dean. It's all fuzzy to me now. I only remember bits and pieces." Sam lets out a sigh and thinks of an example. "Like, I remember you having an entire truck full of pie, but I don't remember how we got it or why."

"A truck full of pie?" Dean repeats, skeptically. Yet, secretly he can't help but think of how awesome that would be. A whole truck of pie, all for myself? Huh. Why haven't I ever thought of that?

Sam shrugs. "You love your pie."

Dean runs his hand down his face. "This sounds like something I would make up; not you. I'm surprised you didn't see any giant women giving me lap dances."

"Yeah, I'm actually thankful that I don't remember anything like that." Sam grimaces a little in obvious discomfort, no doubt trying to erase the new mental images that just popped into his tiny brain.

Ignoring his brother, Dean looks thoughtful for a moment and hesitates. "Well… there was that one girl… You don't remember any earthquakes, do you?" When he looks down and sees Sam go from disgusted to horrified, Dean can't help but laugh. "Kidding. Dude, you should have seen your face." He chuckles a little more, seeing the teeny tiny grumpy look on his baby brother's face. "Oh, come on, you know I would never do that to you." Dean looks away and quietly mutters, "On purpose, anyways."

"You do realize that I heard that, right?" Sam suddenly asks after a moment of awkward silence.

Dean freezes, widening his eyes a little. He didn't mean for Sam to hear that, he honestly didn't. It's not like he WANTED to scar the kid. And after hearing about Sam's little summer fling with Ruby all those months back—when he told Dean in that motel room why he trusted the demon—Dean feels some sympathy for his brother. But at the same time he can't help but think of it as a little payback.

Deciding to change the conversation, Dean pushes his chair back and stretches his arms out to his side, arching his back and hearing a series of little cracks run up his spine, "Alright. I'm gonna go out and see if I can find any link between the victims that we might have missed. Do you wanna come with or wait here until Bobby gets back from the library?"

"What for? You already know that the rock and water is behind the shrinking," Sam reminds him.

"I'm not so sure anymore," Dean admits, looking down at his brother.

"Why not?"

"Because we didn't see any tiny animals out in the woods," he explains. "Don't you think an animal or two would have drunk from that pond? So why wasn't there any evidence of miniaturized wildlife running around? I mean, I found evidence of tiny people, so why not animals?"

"It could just be a curse that's aimed at humans," Sam suggests as Dean starts pacing back and forth across the room. "Or, maybe they got eaten by other wildlife."

"I don't know. Something's not adding up." Dean scratches the back of his head as he keeps thinking.

They both stay silent, thinking about this new information.

"So, you wanna come with me or not?" Dean finally repeats.

Sam looks at his brother's pocket and frowns, most likely remembering his time in the pocket earlier. And if his expression was anything to go by, it clearly wasn't a pleasant experience. Sam crinkles his forehead, looking away. He really doesn't want to go with, but at the same time he doesn't want to be left alone in this vast space with no way to defend himself.

Without being told, Dean can tell what Sam is thinking. "You wanna stay?"

"Yeah, but it'd be stupid. I might as well hand myself over to Lilith right now." Sam slumps down.

"Unless," Dean starts with a sly grin "You have your very own Sammy-sized panic room." His grin widens when he sees the confused expression his brother is giving him.

A short while later, Dean stands up in front of the dresser, satisfied with his handy work. That should work; he nods and pushes the dresser back up against the wall.

"Are you sure about this?" Sam asks.

"Positive." Dean points to the Devil's traps he etched into the wood. "These will keep demons locked out of there like Fort Knox. And all you have to do is climb down through the hole in the back and prop the wood back in place. And it wouldn't hurt to push the bible against it if you can manage… No offence."

"None taken." Sam stands up, ready to get picked up.

Dean crosses the room. "You know, I'm starting to think the real reason you don't want to go inside my pocket is because you don't want to mess up your hair."

Sam glares up at him, but doesn't say anything, because it's partially true. It's not like he has a teeny tiny comb that he can use.

"Eh, it's probably for the best, anyways," Dean finally says, waving it off. "It'd be weird to have to explain why the lump in my pocket is squirming… Well… Not unless I'm talking to a hot chick." He throws his little brother a mischievous grin.

"Thanks for that mental image," Sam says, looking disgusted.

"Any time. That's what big brothers are for, right? Scarring their siblings for life."

"And if you think I'll ever go in your pants pockets-"

"Yeah yeah." Dean interrupts with a smile. "Tom Thumb will kill me in my sleep with a thumb tack." He holds out his hand on the table top for Sam.

"No, Tom Thumb will bring a thumb tack with him if you ever make him go in your pants pocket." Dean winces and Sam grins while he walks onto Dean's palm.

Once his brother is settled, Dean carries him over to the bed. He doesn't trust Sam being on the cheap, wooden table with no one else around to catch him in case he falls. Not that Sam can't fall off of the bed, but for some reason, Dean trusts him up there more than on the small, round table.

After grabbing his jacket, Dean makes sure to leave Sam's cell phone on the nightstand between the beds, just in case the little guy needs to call him or Bobby. With salt lining the windows and doors, he leaves the room, locking it up tight.

*~*~*~*SPN*~*~*~*

Janine Harris had let Dean into her sister's house, believing that he was a federal agent, like Leslie's boyfriend had. She wasn't there when he had interviewed the young man, so Dean was hoping that he'd get some new information from the woman.

"Ms. Harris, did your sister say anything to you that might have sounded strange?"

"Strange?" Dean nods and she looks thoughtful for a moment. "No. Not that I can remember."

"Okay. Um, did your sister have any enemies that you knew of? Or anyone that she got into a fight with recently?"

Janine looks to the side, and shakes her head, laughing bitterly. "Just one." She then looks Dean in the eyes, with a cold stare. "Me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Leslie was cheating on her boyfriend," she states, folding her arms and leaning back in the dining room chair, and then adds, "with MY fiancé."

Dean's eyebrows rise at the new information. "How did you find that out?"

"His text messages," she answers. "We have the same type of phone and I picked his up by mistake, thinking I had a new message. I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when I saw a picture of my baby sister in her underwear."

Hearing that, Dean nearly chokes. He clears his throat (and his mind) as he regains composure. "I'm sorry to hear that."

The young woman shakes her head and waves it off. "Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. She's gone and she's not coming back."

"What do you mean?" Dean asks, suddenly even more suspicious of the woman. He tenses a little and moves his hand closer to his back where his gun is tucked away in his waistband.

"I mean she's gone off with my fiancé. I haven't seen him since Leslie went missing." She grabs the cup of coffee on the table and takes a sip.

"You haven't?" Dean asks and sees her shake her head. He's still not sure if he can trust her, but he relaxes his hand. If she is behind this, he's pretty sure she would have thrown some dark magic his way by now. "Do you know if anyone else has heard from him?"

The woman shakes her head again. "His work left a message, wondering where he was, but that was it."

"When was this?"

"Yesterday," she shrugs it off.

"And what was your fiancé's name?"

"Kevin Glass."

Dean nods and writes the name down on a little notepad he had brought with him. "Well, thank you for your time. You've been very helpful." Shortly after that, Dean leaves the house and pulls out his cell phone. He brings it up to his ear and waits a few seconds before he hears somebody answer. "Hey, Bobby, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to find out where a guy named Kevin Glass lives. I think we have another victim."

*~*~*~*SN*~*~*~*

Back in the motel room, Sam sits on the nightstand, leaning against the remote. He had turned on the news to try to catch up on what he missed the past week, but the more he watches the screen, the more pain he feels. Ever since he woke up and realized that he had been hallucinating, he had a minor headache. He didn't say anything, because it was so subtle that it wasn't even worth complaining over. But now that he's alone with his thoughts, it just seems to get worse and worse. More than anything he wishes he could take some aspirin and wash it down with water.

That's not what you really want, a voice deep inside him argues.

Sam swallows with his dry throat and blinks as he tries to focus on the weather report. But the voice doesn't give in so easily.

It's been days. You NEED more to get strong. The longer you go without it, the weaker you get! Do you WANT Lilith to win?

He knows it is true, but as he hears about a hit-and-run on the news, he's reminded of where that strength and power comes from. Demon blood. He knows it's wrong and if he thinks about it too much, he actually gets grossed out by it.

But it's the ONLY way you can stop Lillith and get your revenge, the voice reminds him. So what if you have to drink a little blood? You're not killing anyone to do it!

With a heavy sigh, Sam rubs his forehead, wishing it would just make the pain go away. Am I doing the right thing, he wonders. Despite how much work and training he's gone through to get this far, he can't help but feel guilty and wonders how he even trusted a demon in the first place. What if Ruby really is in this for herself? And if she really cares then how come I haven't heard from her in weeks... Maybe Dean is right. Ever since Dean found out that Sam was using his powers and admitted that he would hunt Sam if he didn't know him, the words would echo in Sam's head every time he swallowed the crimson liquid down. And all of this confusion on what is right and what is wrong doesn't help his headache one bit.

Sam wishes he had asked Dean to leave him some water in a bottle cap before he left. He knows it wouldn't help with the headache, but it would definitely help with his dry throat and get his mind off of things that are making it worse.

As he goes to flip the station to find something distracting, his phone starts to ring. He quickly gets up and walks over to the phone. When he looks down at the screen and sees Ruby's name, he swallows hard. He hesitantly bends down and presses the answer button.

"Sam, I'm so sorry. I just got your message," she says right away without a greeting.

"What message? I called you?" He has no recollection of calling her recently. He tries to think back to before he shrunk, but still can't remember when he last spoke to Ruby.

"Uh, yeah," she begins, sounding just as confused as Sam. "A couple days ago. What, were you drunk or something?"

"Or something," he answers, looking down at himself. "I kinda… lost my memory," he partially lies, deciding it is best to keep Ruby in the dark about his current situation. At least until he gets all of the answers. Plus he knows if she knows the truth that he will never hear the end of it.

"You lost your memory? Finally got hit in the head one too many times, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. So what did I call you for?"

"You said you were out and needed a refill. Which reminds me, I'm not a keg, you know. Your flask should only be half empty. At this rate you're going to need more than what I can give you."

"What?" he asks, alarmed that he talked to Ruby about this in the motel room. Did Dean hear that conversation? Does he already know about the demon blood? As he thinks back, he vaguely remembers calling somebody.

"Relax. It's not a bad thing. It just means your appetite is getting bigger, which means you're closer than ever to finally killing Lilith."

"Oh god," he mutters, running both hands through his hair, feeling stressed. It's bad enough that he risked calling Ruby, but now the demon is telling him that he's been drinking even MORE demon blood than usual? He wants to kill Lilith, he really does. But what did she mean by 'more than what she can give me'? Is that what it is going to take to kill Lilith? Drinking blood from another demon that's possessing some innocent person? How does that make me any different than a vampire? He still isn't sure how far he is willing to go to kill Lilith, but that is definitely an option that he does not want to consider.

"So, when and where should I meet up with you?"

"Meet-Uh. You know, now isn't really a good time," he quickly responds, because now he's suddenly paranoid that Dean or Bobby will walk right in any second now.

"Really?" she says, sounding skeptical and like she doesn't believe a word he's saying. "You sounded pretty desperate in that voicemail. Didn't even say 'please' or 'thank you'."

"I did?" Sam shakes his head and regrets it right away. He holds his hand up to his forehead and closes his eyes. "Look, can I call you back later? Like I said, now's not a good time."

"Dean?" she guesses.

"No. Headache," he corrects her. Though, he's not sure why he even bothered. That bit of information is not important to her.

"Same difference if you ask me," she mutters and gets a sigh in response. "Oh come on, Sam. If it wasn't for Dean, this whole thing would be a lot easier on you. You wouldn't be carrying around all of this unnecessary guilt if it wasn't for him."

Even though they aren't on the best of terms at the moment, Sam is quick to defend Dean. "Yeah, well, right now my brother's the one who has been helping me heal for the past week. Where the hell have you been?"

"Busy," is all she answers with.

"Busy with what?"

"Oh, I don't know. Trying to find Lilith. Geez, Sam. What do you think I was doing?" When he doesn't respond, she continues with what she was saying before. "By the way, I'm betting that headache of yours is because you haven't been taking your vitamins," she says, referring to the demon blood. "Something Big Brother wouldn't approve of even though it would make you feel better."

With his hands on his hips, Sam shakes his head. "Whatever. I'll call you back later, okay?"

"You're not going to get pissy if I don't answer right away, are you?"

Sam ignores her. "Goodbye, Ruby," he says with annoyance before ending the call. When he sees 'call ended' flash across the screen, he lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hands through his hair again. Thanks to that call, he is even more conflicted. He still doesn't know how to feel about the fact that he's closer than ever to killing Lilith, only because his appetite for demon blood has grown. Nor is he sure how to feel knowing the demon blood is behind his migraine. But most of all, he doesn't want to let Dean down. After all, he was the reason Sam wanted to kill Lilith in the first place. But is that still the reason?

"I need a drink," Sam finally says, but isn't exactly certain on what it is he actually wants to drink.

*~*~*~*SN*~*~*~*

After checking out as many houses as he can, considering some of the victims lived in other towns, Dean pulls up to the Warren household. The last house he visited was only a few blocks away, so he figured he would stop by and check up on the kids.

He walks up to the door, rings the bell and waits. After a few minutes Ryan finally answers the door, and Dean suddenly feels sorry for him. The poor kid looks exhausted and upset.

"Bad time?" Dean asks as Ryan steps aside to let him in the house.

"No," he responds. "It's just… I don't know."

"What is it?"

Ryan sighs. "I got an email from one of Shayla's teachers. He wanted me to know that she is failing, and it's a class she needs to pass to graduate. He said he normally doesn't inform the legal guardians, because it's the student's responsibility. But since he knows…" he stops, catching his mistake. "Knew… our parents, he thought I should be aware of what's going on."

Dean nods in understanding. "Have you confronted her about it, yet?"

"No," Ryan sighs. "She seems pretty stressed as it is with the whole shrinking thing. Didn't want to pile on more, you know?"

"Honestly? I'm betting she already knows. I mean, she seems like a smart girl. I doubt she's failing and doesn't know it."

"Oh no, I know. I just… If I confront her, we'll most likely get into a fight. And I know she'll storm off and hide again. I mean, I could put her up on a table or on the fireplace mantel, but… as nice as it would be to be able to talk to her and not have her run away from me or lock herself in her room, I couldn't do that to her."

Dean is impressed with how mature Ryan is about the situation. But, considering what he's learned about their family, it doesn't really surprise Dean. He finally nods and leans against a bookshelf, putting his hands in his pockets. "So, besides getting emails from the school, how are things? I mean, your sister and brother still remember, I take it?"

Ryan nods. "Yeah, they remember. Shay kinda freaked out at first. Sleeping in the dollhouse confused her; she thought she was normal," he explains. "But she seems to be fine now. Timmy on the other hand… Well… He's been hard to keep tabs on. He keeps running off and hiding. It's like he discovered the world's largest jungle gym. You know, I caught him trying to climb up the curtains in the living room. The kid nearly gave me a heart attack. Don't ask me how he got down here on his own. That's a whole other story. I swear the kid thinks he's invincible at this size."

"Yeah, well, he just better be careful, otherwise he might regret it one of these times."

"Which is exactly what I'm afraid of," Ryan admits. "I actually considered buying a hamster cage for him. I seriously did. I had the keys in my hand."

"What stopped you?" Dean smirks, picturing the little kid climbing all over a hamster cage, like a miniature ape.

Ryan sighs. "One look at him and I thought of how I would feel if the situation was reversed. It's bad enough they can't eat or even use the bathroom on their own, but to be stuck inside a cage? To be truly helpless?" He shakes his head. "I couldn't do it. It felt… cruel. And dehumanizing."

"Wow. I think you just won the award for best big brother."

The younger man chuckles. "Like I said before, I had the keys in my hand." He pauses a moment. "You know, the same could be said about you, too. You're handling this way better than I am."

"Yeah, well, experience with weird helps. 'Expect the unexpected' kinda thing."

"Besides that," Ryan clarifies. "I mean, you watched my brother and sister for me while I went to work. Complete strangers."

"And you are the one who trusted this stranger to watch them," Dean reminds him with a smirk.

"Yeah," he says, looking towards the stairs. "Not like I had a choice. God knows they would fire me if I called in sick all week." He looks back at Dean. "Seriously. Thank you for helping me out."

Dean nods. "So I just wanted to stop in and make sure everything was alright," he explains. "Do you guys need anything?"

"Nah, we're good. Well… considering. Shayla's watching TV and Timmy was playing in his toy castle." Ryan smiles. "He was battling a toy dragon. He wanted Shay to be the damsel in distress, but she refused to play along."

Dean smiles and moves away from the bookshelf. "Alright. I better get going. Sam's probably bored out of his mind."

"Yeah, where is your brother?" Ryan asks, suddenly realizing that the younger Winchester was missing.

"Back at the motel. I had some things I wanted to check up on, and he didn't feel like coming with. He's probably wondering where I am." Dean says, looking at his watch. He walks back to the door. "You know the drill. Call if you need anything or if there's any changes."

Ryan nods and waves his goodbyes as Dean leaves the house.

Once inside the car, Dean starts the engine. As the music plays, he drives off. A few blocks later as he's humming along to the music, tapping his hands against the steering wheel, he suddenly hears something that doesn't belong in the lyrics.

"Do you always listen to your music this loud?" he hears a small voice shout from his right.

Looking down to his side, where he heard the voice come from, Dean spots Timmy. He quickly hits the breaks, pulling the car to the side of the road, and accidentally sending the kid flying. Right before Timmy's about to go over the edge, Dean snags him with one hand. "What the hell?" he says as he turns off the radio and uncurls his fingers. "How did you get in here?"

Timmy shrugs. "Your pocket."

"My pocket?" Dean repeats, lifting Timmy up to the dashboard and setting him down.

"Yep. I snuck in it when you were leaning against the bookshelf."

"Whyyyyy?"

"I got bored of slaying that stupid dragon. It doesn't even bleed! And what's the point in playing dragon slayer if you don't have a princess to save? I look like a freak playing by myself!"

Dean groans and rolls his eyes. "So you figured you would have more fun inside a motel room?"

Timmy shrugs again. "I wanted a change of scenery."

"Right."

"So, it's true?" the little kid suddenly asks.

"What do you mean? Is what true?"

"About Shayla failing."

"Yeah, I guess."

"But why is it a big deal?"

"Because she didn't tell Ryan," Dean explains and Timmy looks away.

"…Oh."

Dean raises his brow as he watches the small boy rock on his feet nervously and begin to whistle. "Well, that's not suspicious at all," Dean comments and Timmy is quick to defend himself.

"I only did it once… Okay, five times… FINE! It was eleven, okay?! But I HAD to pass the class! And Larry is really good at math. But it's okay, because I paid him."

Dean just stares open-mouthed at the little boy.

"… Okay, so I might have used money that I stole from Ryan's wallet."

"First, you lie to your brother and then you STEAL from him?"

"What? It's not MY fault that he just leaves it sitting on his dresser at night, free for the taking. Besides, I'm not the only one who does it! Shay is the one who taught me how to lie and showed me what drawer he keeps it in."

"I thought you just said that he kept his wallet on his dresser?"

"Did I?"

Dean ignores him and shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. "Wait. So you're telling me that your sister lied to your brother, too?" He watches the tiny boy nod his head.

"She's always lying and cutting classes. Why do you think she's failing so many of them?" The kid chuckles, "I can't believe Ryan never caught on."

"Son of a b-," Dean catches himself, not wanting to swear in front of the kid. Yeah, that's just what the kid needs: more negative influences. Dean shakes his head, focusing on what the boy just said. "So, you lied to your brother about stealing from him… Same with your sister?"

Timmy slowly nods. "Yeaaaaah. You're not going to rat us out are you?" He asks, but Dean is too worried about something else to answer him.

"That's it. That's the common link. They all lied and kept secrets from their family. Which means…" Dean clenches his jaw and glares out the windshield.

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