You are officially freaking the F out right now.

Sam and Kevin are currently staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the shaggy, blonde haired little boy in your arms. Despite his shock, Kevin still pulls his cell phone out and takes a picture of the latest version of Dean to add to his collection, as if he needs evidence of what he's witnessing.

"What do you mean you don't know what happened?" You demand of Castiel frantically, but quietly. You're holding Dean close, instinctively swaying from side to side in an effort to calm him.

Dean is shaking like a leaf and hanging onto you for dear life. He's hiding from the world with his face nuzzled beneath your chin. His little hands are clutching your hair like it's a security blanket. Seems like no matter his age, your hair is a big hit.

"You guys were all in the room with the damned thing!" You remind in a whispered-shout, trying to minimize the trauma to your (heavy emphasis on boy) boyfriend. "Did someone touch it? Did somebody spill a beer on it, for Christ's sake? Why would it just go off again?"

"It is possible that the stone's power is released in stages," Castiel postulates distractedly while squinting at Dean in open curiosity. "It is highly unlikely that such a powerful relic was created with the purpose of restoring only a fraction of a mortal life. It is more probable that it was designed to sustain an ancient being - one who would need to recover vast amounts of youth in order to achieve near-immortality. There is likely another stone meant to be used in conjunction with the one we possess. The other would allow its user to retain their memories as they regress physically..."

Blah, blah, and more not-saving-Dean BLAH. You're ready to burst by the time Cas finishes.

"HEY!" You whisper-shout again, waiting for all of the (adult-sized) men to snap out of it and meet your eyes. "We need to do something right freaking now to stop that thing, do you hear me? If it goes off again, we're gonna LOSE him. He's only got 4 years left! He can't go back any farther!"

They all shift as realization hits and the reality of the situation sinks in.

"We could ward him against its effects," Sam suggests quickly, already crossing the room in three large strides to reach the book-laden shelves. "Then put it in a protective circle and-"

"-and layer on every kind of containment spell we can think of!" Kevin finishes while rushing from the room to retrieve God only knows what.

"If we can prevent these surges of power from reaching Dean, it will allow us the time needed to find a way to destroy it and reverse its effects," Castiel continues as he moves to help Sam.

It's as if they're all thinking the same things at the same time, just taking turns voicing them.

You watch them hurry about for a moment before turning your attention to the mop of blonde hair beneath your chin. You settle down into one of the armchairs, knowing that your part in this for the moment is looking after him.

"You're all right, Dean. Everything's gonna be okay, babe," you soothe and wince at the appropriateness of your usual term of endearment for him. "We're gonna get you back to...where you belong...very soon."

You just realized that this isn't like 12 year old Dean. He's not going to understand what happened if you explain it. You don't even know what kind of life he thinks he's been pulled away from.

You frown thoughtfully as you recall what you know of Dean's childhood. With growing dread, you shift him in your arms.

"Dean...? You called me Mommy when you first got here... Were you with her before you woke up in my lap?"

He trembles and shakes his head.

You close your eyes.

"Did your Mommy go away?" You ask softly.

He burrows deeper into your embrace, clinging to you desperately as he nods.

Shit.

"How long ago did Mommy leave?"

No answer.

You think you remember Sam telling you that - according to John Winchester's journal - Dean didn't talk for a few months after their Mom died. Damn. Her death is still fresh for him.

"It's okay, babe," you whisper, holding him a little tighter and kissing the top of his head, trying to provide as much comfort with the contact as you possibly can. "You don't have to talk to me. I understand. We can sit like this as long as you want, all right? And if you get hungry or anything, you can just kick me really hard in the shin. Deal?"

He stops trembling. You could swear you catch a hint of a muffled giggle before he nods in reply.

You smile warmly in response and snuggle closer to him.

-SPN-

Three hours later, Dean's finally out cold. He's nestled on your bed now, surrounded by pillows and blankets, and sprawling in much the same way he does as an adult when sleeping alone. He has a belly full of fresh-from-the-bakery blueberry pie (which Cas made an emergency trip to pick up) and is currently smiling contentedly in his sleep.

You can't help but smile fondly as you sit on the edge of the bed watching him.

It took you almost two hours of singing and cuddling and soothing to get him to pass out. You told him long bedtime stories about the adventures of a brave King named Dean. For the final story, you told him how the King was transformed into a little Prince by a magic stone. You told him that the Queen missed her King very badly, but that she would always love him and take care of him, no matter how old he happened to be.

In response, Dean gave you a worried look and touched your face - likely reading the emotion in your features. Already attuned to the feelings of others, even at such a young age.

Struggling to keep your voice steady as his wide green eyes studied yours, you assured him that the Queen and the King's brother and friends did everything that was necessary to change him back again.

And they all lived happily ever after, of course.

Dean seemed to approve of that ending and smiled to himself while he idly stroked and played with your hair. You realized in that moment that his adult fascination with your tresses likely stems from memories of his all-too-brief time with his mother. It's a comfort some part of him has always desperately missed, whether he's conscious of its origin or not.

You vow to yourself that you will never, ever call him out on it.

Sam enters your room at the height of hunter stealth, but stops just inside your door. He waits for you to acknowledge his presence before he approaches the bed.

Silently, he crouches down beside you, staring at his brother in awe.

"I can't get over how little he is..." he whispers in disbelief, more to himself than you. "I mean... I always knew... But seeing him at this age?" He trails off for a moment. "He just always seemed larger than life when I was growing up. Did you know this was the age when he started looking after me? Feeding me? Hell, even changing my diapers? God, he's still just a baby himself."

Sam shakes his head, reaching out carefully to brush Dean's hair back out of his face. His hand is the size of Dean's head. You pretend not to notice the way that hand trembles before he withdraws it.

"It's just... I know what happened to Mom was traumatic for both of them... But how truly screwed in the head with grief must our Dad have been that he would put so much responsibility on such an innocent little boy?"

You hold your tongue as Sam slips into silence, allowing him his introspection. He seems otherwise calm, so you know they must have found a way to keep Dean safe for the time-being.

After a long moment, he shakes his head and blinks to clear the excess moisture from his eyes. He clears his throat quietly as he stands.

"We've got it contained," he finally whispers. "Right before I poked my head in to check on him last, it let off another blast of power. It couldn't break through the spells we've put in place, though. They're holding steady, so we've started trying to find ways to get him back to normal."

"Thank God," you sigh in relief. "Anything look promising?"

"There's one spell. But it has to be read by a 'priestess' of Isis," he says with an arched brow.

"Gotta be a virgin priestess?" You ask with a smirk.

"Nope," he chuckles.

"Then I am all about Isis," you assure as you climb to your feet. "Sign me up and let's do this."

A/N: Thoughts? Want more? Happy with the story so far? Want to cuddle Dean Weechester or hug sad-Sam?