An hour later, everything is set up and ready to go. You kiss Dean's forehead before trying to leave him with Sam. He's going to remain on the opposite side of the bunker from where you are heading, hopefully a safe distance away in case something goes wrong.
When you try to walk away, he wails and cries and nearly climbs out of Sam's arms in his desperation to reach you. As always, at any age, you quickly give in to Dean's pleas.
"Careful - you're gonna spoil him," Sam teases with a smirk.
"Oh, it is way too late for that," you laugh as you cuddle Dean close.
You rock him for a few moments and tell him that the Queen has to go help bring the King back now. You ask him to be brave, tell him that he will be safe with the King's brother, and he grudgingly allows you to pass him back to Sam.
"Good luck," Sam offers, his eyes lined with worry.
The same look is in little Dean's eyes.
As far as spells go, it's all pretty standard. No nudity required. No special garments or painted symbols on your person. Just light those candles here, burn this herb there, draw these symbols on that, pour this foul-smelling liquid in, say these words...
You feel like you're falling suddenly, growing cold as your life drains away. You panic, recognizing the sensation from the time you were pushed beyond the point of death by torture.
In your terror, some part of you instinctively clings to the last ember of your life - fights to survive with every remaining ounce of strength you can muster...
You aren't prepared for the eruption of light and power that hits you squarely in the chest, or the way it knocks you flat on your back and sends you sliding halfway across the room.
-SPN-
You wake up several minutes later, feeling like you've been run over (repeatedly) by an eighteen-wheeler.
"Ooowww," you groan before you even attempt to open your eyes. You roll your throbbing head from side to side, trying to get your bearings.
When you finally manage to lift your heavy eyelids, you're greeted by a pair of troubled expressions. Castiel is crouched down beside you, his brow furrowed in concern. Kevin is chewing his thumb anxiously, peering down at you over the angel's shoulder with wide, plainly startled eyes.
Evidently, they hadn't expected the blast that hit you, either.
Cas has his hand pressed to your brow, apparently giving your body and soul the angelic equivalent of an IV drip. You sigh and lean into his touch as his divine grace continues moving through you, washing over you, soft and slow like a warm wave, working to heal you. It's a far gentler sensation than it was last time (then again, healing up a disemboweling is bound to be more intense and involved).
"Is she okay yet?" Kevin whispers frantically, drawing your attention. "Because if she's not, and Dean's back to normal and about to burst through that door, I am so not gonna be the one to tell him!"
"Relax, Kev. I'm okay," you offer hoarsely.
"Winchester-okay," Kevin corrects disapprovingly.
"Winchester-okay," you agree with a weak smirk.
Cas frowns at the level of frailty he still senses in you. In response, he ups the dosage of power he's administering.
"Ah, yeah," you sigh in immense relief. "There's the good stuff, Cas. You were holding out on me," you mumble drowsily before closing your eyes and surrendering to your exhaustion.
The pain in your head - likely from it connecting with the floor - just melts away in the presence of his grace.
Another few moments pass as you soak up his healing light. You can feel it coursing through your veins. Muscles that had felt weak and useless slowly regain much of their strength. Your mind clears gradually and you open your eyes as you feel your mental clarity return (mostly) to normal.
"The spell took a great toll on your body. Far more than we expected," Castiel explains as he removes his hand.
You try not to pout too openly over the loss of his power. It's always tough to go from that connection with angelic radiance back to the dark, gritty reality of mortal existence.
"It also drained you almost completely of your life energy. We were unaware that this would occur," Cas continues unhappily. "We were far too hasty in our decision to use such a spell. We were not aware of all of the dangers it posed to your safety. Dean would not have approved."
He glares down at the floor. His jaw flexes in a manner he undoubtedly learned from watching the Winchesters in moments of intense emotion.
He shakes his head before adding, "I have done what I can to help you recover your strength, but you will need a great deal of rest. You will be unsteady for a time. You should take a few moments before even trying to stand."
You nod and mutter your thanks, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance and appreciation.
"Dean?" You ask quietly.
Castiel squints as he seeks him out. "I am sorry that I cannot say whether the spell was a success, but he is alive and well," he assures.
"I'll take that for the good news it is," you say in relief. With Cas' aid, you slowly sit up. "As long as he's okay, we can always try something else."
"You want some water or something?" Kevin asks hopefully, and you nod. "Okay, give me two seconds," he says, thankful as always for the opportunity to be helpful. He rushes out of the door on the left side of the room just as Sam opens the door on the right.
You look up expectantly, but find Sam peeking in at you with an anxious expression on his face. You sag in disappointment and brace yourself for the worst. He looks far more nervous now than he had when walking through the front door carrying a 12 year old Dean.
"Did it work?" You ask, but you know it didn't.
"Well, we're definitely heading in the right direction," he offers with forced cheerfulness. "But...um... I should say in advance that I'm really sorry about this."
You frown. "Sorry about what?"
"Step aside, Sasquatch. You take up the whole damned door," a voice calls from behind him impatiently.
Your ears perk up hopefully at the level of snark in his (albeit, too high and not nearly rough enough) tone. But then Dean slides into the room past his brother looking all of about 17 years old.
You sigh in exhaustion as you take in this latest version of him.
Now just a couple of inches shy of his full, adult height, he's almost filling out his clothes. He doesn't have his normal muscle mass, but you can tell, even through his shirt, that he's cut...in a lean, teenage sort of way, at least.
But, teen or not, he's already got a full dose of that dangerous Dean swagger. The broad shoulders and unbelievable green eyes. The full lips that he knows damned well make women's blood pressures skyrocket. The confidence in his movements born of a lifetime spent training to fight.
You shake your head, thinking it's no wonder he ended up with so much experience. No teenager should possess this much sex appeal before age can grant any semblance of self control. Then again, considering how much the rest of his life sucked, you suppose you really can't blame him for over-indulging in that particular department.
He pauses and peers up at Sam, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Jesus, what did I feed you?" He asks incredulously for the second time today.
Before Sam has a chance to reply, he turns away from him, his eyes surveying the room. He gives Castiel a disinterested once-over. When he spots you, however, his face instantly shifts into his most charming smile. His entire demeanor changes, just as it always does when he's trying to get you into bed with him.
Cas has the good sense to take several preemptive steps out of the way.
"Well, hello, gorgeous," Dean calls as he makes a b-line for you.
"Oh, Lord," you groan, rolling your eyes as you move to try to climb to your feet.
Dean catches your hand to help you up, and, just as he intended, you wind up standing with your front completely pressed against his. His arms are wrapped around your middle as he holds you close. As if he's never used this move on you.
"I'm Dean," he greets as he gazes down into your eyes intensely. "Though, I'm betting we already know one another intimately. And you would be? Aside from damned near edible, that is," he purrs and licks those wickedly full lips suggestively.
God grant you strength. He's the embodiment of teenage sin.
"Entirely too old for you," you assure.
"Oh, I don't buy that for a second," he chuckles. "But we'll get back to that later. Tell me, have you and I had the pleasure of...having the pleasure? Cuz I gotta say, unless I turned gay in my old age - highly unlikely - I've definitely been trying and dying to get with you."
He backs away and circles you, letting his eyes greedily take in every curve.
"No shit, is that a piece?" He marvels as he taps on the ever-present gun tucked into your jeans at the small of your back, hidden beneath your shirt. "Tell me you're a hunter, too. Or rather, a huntress? Is it my birthday?" He asks with a wide grin as he comes around in front of you.
"Dean, give it a rest," Sam sighs.
In response, Dean turns and gives him a disbelieving look.
"What, did you give me a lobotomy or something by the time I get this old? Have you looked at her? Or can't you see past that ridiculous mane of hair?" He demands before motioning over to you like you're Exhibit A in his argument. "The girl's smokin' hot and able to kick ass, Sammy. You can't possibly believe 'give it a rest' is gonna work on me."
"I can hope," Sam replies.
Kevin returns, eyeing Dean curiously for a minute before holding up the glass of water he retrieved. "Well, at least the spell worked...somewhat," he observes as he pulls his phone from his pocket and takes a picture of Dean's 3rd underaged edition of the day.
You nod, eager to get the subject off of teen-dream-Dean's apparent mission to get into your pants. You take several (slow, careful) steps away from him, using the excuse of retrieving the water from Kevin.
"Yeah. He gained back, what? About 13 years?" You estimate as you glance over at him.
Dean flashes a mischievous smirk in response, then puckers his lips and curls his finger at you in hopes of tempting you back to his side.
"He's halfway there," you sigh and look at Sam instead as you down the water.
"At least we're on the right track," Sam offers. "We just need to find a way to control whatever we try next. Pinpoint what age we want him to change into."
"Definitely," Kevin laughs, taking the empty glass back from you. "He goes through another round of de-aging, she's liable to be changing her boyfriend's diapers."
You and Sam both wince at that, knowing damned well what's coming now.
Dean's eyes widen instantly.
"Boyfriend?!" He repeats gleefully and grins so wide, you'd think he just found the Golden Ticket.
"Thanks a lot, Kevin," you grumble.
"I knew it! I knew I couldn't be that blind. As long as I've got a pulse, there's no way I'm gonna resist something so fine," he laughs as he closes the distance between the two of you. "So, I landed me a fox, huh?" He asks, biting his bottom lip and letting his eyes slide over your body with renewed (and even more intense) interest. "Wanna tell me all the sweaty details my future holds? Maybe take me for a test-drive, see what I'm like without all the mileage?"
You roll your eyes. "Mileage?" You repeat, offended on the behalf of your Dean. "You mean experience? Maturity?"
"All right, I'll give you the 'experience' part," Dean grants. "But I am definitely calling bullshit on 'maturity'."
Sam gives you a look that conveys his agreement there.
"Whatever," you say dismissively and pinch the bridge of your nose as a headache starts.
You're way too tired for this. You're getting grumpier by the second and you just want Dean back. Your Dean. Not him at 12 or 4 or 17 or any other wrong age. You want the real deal. You want the man you love, the way you fell in love with him, to be standing in front of you, right here, right now. You want to wrap your arms around him, kiss him crazy, smack him upside the head for ever letting that damned stone touch him, then take him to bed.
"What else can we try, Sam?" You whine (that's right, whine) desperately. "Is there another spell I can do or-?" You turn towards him, but your equilibrium doesn't appreciate the movement. At all.
An overwhelming wave of vertigo hits and you almost go down. You close your eyes and lock your muscles instinctively, preventing yourself from taking a dive. You refuse to fall in front of any of them.
You feel someone steady you, but you're too busy trying to stay upright to give it much thought. It feels like the room is spinning out of control. The sensation is turning your stomach.
"Ugh, God," you groan as you hang onto the shoulders and press your forehead to the chest of whoever is helping you stay on your feet. You try really hard not to think about who it is.
"Uh-oh," Kevin whispers off to the side.
"I warned her that she needs to rest," Castiel insists.
"Uh-oh, what?" Sam asks suspiciously. "And why would she need rest?"
"What's wrong, sugar?" Dean asks in a tone heavy with worry, the proximity of his voice confirming that he's the one you're currently clinging to. "You pregnant?" He whispers gently beside your ear.
But it's all wrong. Those words from those lips in that caring tone - they tug at your heartstrings. But it's not right. He's not right.
"What is it with you wanting me to get knocked up?" You growl in frustration, and squeeze your eyes shut tighter as you fight not to throw up.
"Whoa." Dean breathes in surprise.
"TMI!" Kevin laughs.
"Wait, what?" Sam asks in astonishment.
You shake your head, immediately regretting the movement, but knowing that you need to clarify that statement quickly.
"Not my Dean. These younger Deans. They're baby-crazy," you sigh.
"Okay, fair enough," Dean offers softly, almost placatingly. You scowl at that. "So, you're not knocked up. Then what's wrong with you?" He only waits a few seconds before turning his expectant eyes to Kevin and Castiel. "What's wrong with her?"
"The spell...um...didn't go quite how we planned," Kevin confesses nervously.
"What? What the hell happened?" Sam demands.
"She was used as the source of power for the spell," Castiel replies gruffly. "It was a trade."
You don't need to open your eyes to know that Sam is giving the standard International Sign of Sam Displeasure (a long, slow inhale through his nose paired with a deeply concerned expression - maybe even a jaw flex, too.)
"You had to heal her?" Sam asks tensely.
"Yes," Cas confirms.
"Is that all you had to do?" Sam presses purposefully.
At the deliberately vague wording of that question, Castiel pauses. He's trying to gauge what he can say in front of Dean.
"That is all," Cas agrees cautiously.
You feel Dean's shoulders tense. He knows he's being kept in the dark about something, and he's not at all happy about it.
"What the hell does that mean, exactly?" Dean demands. "And what does it mean that she was 'the source of power'?"
"Just tell him the truth, Cas," you groan tiredly as you open your eyes and glance over at him. "You know damned well he'll be like a dog on a bone with it anyway."
"It means that she is lucky to be alive. Lucky that I did not need to resurrect her, in addition to healing her," Castiel answers in open disapproval. "We should have taken the time to research more thoroughly beforehand. In our haste, we unknowingly put her in grave danger.
"The spell drew upon her physical strength and energy to restore your body and mind to this stage. We were very fortunate that the spell failed when her energy... and almost her life... were so very nearly depleted. Had the process been allowed to continue without her instincts spurring her to fight, you would be back to the appropriate age now, but she would not have survived."
Dean's grip on you tightens, and even if he is still too damned young, you're comforted by the familiar protective possessiveness of the gesture.
You close your eyes again. His arms are warm, if a bit too small. You're just so damned tired. You want to curl up with him and go to sleep. But not him him... Your him. You remind yourself that you're not accepting any substitutions, no matter how bone weary you currently feel.
"She's not doing that spell again," Dean declares in a tone that broaches no argument.
"Agreed," Sam insists. "No matter what you say."
You open your eyes to find him giving you a pointed look.
"But it worked!" You sigh in exasperation. "If we could find a way to-"
"NO," both brothers answer firmly.
You sag in defeat.
"So what do we do now?" You ask.
"Now? You're going to sleep for however long your body needs," Sam orders. "The rest of us can catch some shut eye, then we'll hit the books again."
You're too exhausted to even argue. You hear Dean ask where your room is, and smirk when Sam offers to take you instead. Dean grouses that you're his girlfriend, not Sam's, and he should be the one taking care of you.
Sam manages to get his way, somehow.
You're already well on your way to sleep by the time you feel Sam put you in bed. He pulls the covers up over your shoulders and tells you that they'll check on you - not to worry about anything. He assures you that they won't try anything with Dean until after you're back on your feet.
You wake a few times to him - sometimes him and Dean - coming in and making sure you're okay. It's been 16 hours since you fell asleep before you finally get up to use the bathroom.
By hour 19, the brothers bring you something to eat. Sam is watching Dean's every move like a chaperone. You assure them that you're feeling much better at that point, but you need a little longer before you're back to full strength. Once they've left, you climb under the blankets and quickly fall back asleep.
A/N: How are you liking it so far? Thoughts? Anything make you LOL? Can you picture teen-dream-Dean? Looking forward to the next part?