A/N... Hello, family. Thank you for reading! I'm hoping this will be a healing piece for all of us feeling the void from the loss of this show. I'm open to suggestions if there's something you'd like to see. I have found in the past that often your suggestions will inspire ideas, thoughts or entire chapters of things I would not have otherwise considered. So feel free to offer suggestions and make requests. No promises, but if it's something that fits in with my vision for this piece, I will try to bring it in. Also wondering about people's reading preferences: longer chapters? Shorter chapters? Readership seems to be tapering off a bit in this fandom so I'm trying to appeal to those who remain. Hope you enjoy!

Sam sucked in a tearful breath of air, his arms wrapped tightly around Dean's neck. Dean kept his eyes trained on Castiel as he rubbed Sam's back. "I'm here, Sammy. I'm not leaving you." And then there was a complete change of tone in his voice which went from a gentle whisper to a menacing growl. "Cas, seriously. What. The. Hell? What is going on?"

Cas was maintaining his calm, but he was starting to show just a hint of sympathy now as though he was just starting to realize how indescribably freaked out Dean was about all this. "I told you, Dean, he's healing. His soul feels the most protected and comforted by you in this stage of life so he has reverted to this young version of himself."

"Oh, is that all? That's what's happening? That's great. Sounds just like every version of Heaven I've ever heard about!" Dean was shouting now.

Castiel kept his voice calm. "His soul is doing what it needs to heal. And I suspect," Castiel raised an eyebrow as though an idea had suddenly dawned on him. "this is also what you need."

Dean just stayed where he was, his expression a mixture of suspicion and raw fear.

"It won't be like this forever. It won't even be like this for very long." Cas stepped forward again, both hands raised in gentle reassurance, but Dean drew back and held Sam tighter to his body, still glowering. And he clenched his jaw then, holding back a groan and breathing through a new wave of pain that was tearing through him. Pain and terrible memories.

"Dean," Castiel stepped forward again.

And Dean took yet another step away from him so that he was almost up against the wall. He steadied his breathing before forcing out a reply. "I'm fine, Cas."

Castiel sensed Dean's discomfort, but also his reluctance to be touched. He sighed, dropping his hands "Just stay here and rest. Take all the time you need. When you start to feel better, you can venture out and experience Heaven. There are a number of people you'll be happy to see, who would also love to see you. They know you're here, but they'll leave you in peace until you're ready. This place is beautiful. I think you'll be pleased." He smiled then and nodded. "I know you will. I'm going to leave you to your healing. You need time and quiet with just the two of you to rebuild your connection, to learn to trust your surroundings, and each other again. I can be here when you need me."

And with that, he was gone.

Dean stood there in the middle of the room trying to process. He still couldn't decide whether or not to find some solace in the fact that Cas seemed so at ease with everything or if it just made him even more furious. It took him a moment to realize he still had his arms full with a shivering little brother. Really little. Dean looked down, which planted his nose right up above Sam's ear.

"Did you hear all that, kiddo? You're just healing… everything's gonna be okay. All right?" Dean said the words with a certainty he did not feel. Sam just dug his little fingers deeper into the fabric of Dean's shirt and drew in a shaky breath. Dean rubbed his back. "I've got you, buddy," he said again.

The house was empty now, except for the two of them. Empty and quiet, with a warmth that Dean couldn't quite allow himself the comfort of feeling. A dim light peeked through the gap in the curtains and spilled onto the rumpled bedding where Sam had been lying. A pattering sound could be heard against the window pane. Rain? Dean walked across the room still carrying Sam and pulled the curtain aside. Rain. The dark clouds had caught up to them and had opened up. A gray fog was settling into the treetops as drops of water tapped gently at the glass. Dean watched for just a moment and was surprised when a feeling of comfort and safety seemed to envelop him for just a moment… they were inside a warm, secure house while a cold rain fell outside. And then Sam shivered again and brought Dean back to reality.

No, Dean thought. They couldn't possibly be this lucky. Comfort and safety were dangerous illusions. He closed his eyes and turned his focus back to the kid in his arms… the only thing that made sense to him right now.

Sam leaned back a bit then and looked up at him. He pressed a hand to Dean's chest, searched Dean's face with concerned eyes. "Are you healing too?"

Dean hesitated, but saw no reason not to be completely honest. "Yeah. I guess we both are."

Sam kept his hand where it was, looking at it as though willing it to heal his brother. "Does it hurt?"

"I've felt better," Dean said, trying hard to sound cavalier about the whole thing, even though the truth was he felt like total crap. He was certain now that as bad as he felt, Sam felt worse and that was unacceptable.

Sam looked up at him then with those big, sad eyes, like he was just seconds away from starting to cry again. "I don't want you to hurt."

Dean smiled at him. "I don't want you to hurt either. But it's not forever. Did you hear everything Cas said?"

"No, only a little before he left."

"Mmm... well, he says we just have to get through this rough patch and everything will be okay."

Sam took a breath and looked anywhere in the room that wasn't Dean's eyes. "'m scared, Dean."

Dean ran his hand over Sam's head. "Hey, look at me."

Sam's expression was pure shame as he met his brother's gaze.

"I'm scared, too, okay? It's not just you. But we got this, man. You and me, right? We can do this."

A look of gratitude seemed to eclipse the look of shame then as the corners of Sam's mouth turned up just a little, but the tiny smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Can you tell me what you're scared of?"

Sam looked away again and shook his head. "I don't… I don't really know, I just feel scared."

Dean sensed that Sam just really didn't want to get into what it was that was scaring him. And Dean figured that most likely it was probably much of the same stuff that was scaring him- terrifying memories, crippling guilt and so much doubt. He decided not to push the issue. "Okay, well, you know what? That's okay. Whatever you're feeling is okay. I'm here. I'll take care of you."

"Not supposed to feel like this here…" Sam's breathing was getting faster.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, but Cas said it's just part of the healing process. Hell did a real number on us and we need some recovery time, that's all."

Sam was shaking his head again. "I don't belong here. They'll never let me stay and I don't want to leave you-"

"Sam, stop," Dean pleaded. Sam was crying again. He folded back in and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck.

Dean was feeling awful- physically, mentally and emotionally, but he could tell that what Cas said was true- whatever Sam was going through was much worse.

"Sammy...hey… how about if we just sit down for a minute, huh?" Dean walked them over to the edge of the bed and sat down, Sam on his lap. He wrapped his arms around him and squeezed the back of his neck.

"I don't want to go outside like Cas said…"

"No?" Dean asked. And that was fine with him, because he didn't want to go out either.

"No." Sam scowled a bit then, wiping his hand over his wet eyes. He looked back at the doorway and muttered, "Cas is so weird." with an almost petulant pout on his face.

Dean couldn't help the small snort of laughter that escaped from somewhere in his chest. "Yeah, that's not new." He recognized the tone of Sam's voice. Sam was annoyed and wanting more direct answers that he knew they weren't going to get from the angel. "Hey. We don't have to go anywhere, okay? I don't want to either. I just want to sit here with you."

Sam pulled back again and looked at him. A few tears lingered at the corners of his eyes. "That's what I want, too." He sighed then and looked around the room. "This is our house?"

Dean shrugged following Sam's gaze up to the high ceiling. "I guess so. Pretty nice, huh?"

Sam looked around again and then nodded hesitantly.

"You wanna go look around?"

Sam stiffened in his arms and that was all the answer Dean needed. He wasn't at all surprised to see Sam shake his head.

"We don't have to. We can stay right here."

Sam hung his head a bit. "I'm tired."

"Yeah?" Dean ran his hand over Sam's hair. "You want to lie down? Take a little nap?" He wiped more tears away from Sam's eyes.

Sam nodded and then tensed, grasping Dean's shirt in his little fist.

"Hey," Dean whispered, placing a hand over Sam's. He waited until Sam was looking directly into his eyes. "I'll be right here."

Sam swallowed and nodded again, loosening his grasp. "Do we have any weapons?"

Dean was taken aback by the question, but then remembering that Sam was scared. Frankly, now that Dean thought about it, he wouldn't be opposed to the idea of a gun or a knife tucked under a pillow. But…"No, kiddo. I don't think that's a thing here. But, we could go check Baby's trunk if you want."

Sam shook his head. "No. But can we just lock the door?"

"You bet we can," Dean said, relieved when he spotted a lock on the doorknob. He walked over to turn it, Sam still wrapped up tightly in his arms. Then he walked them both back over to the bed so Sam could get some sleep. Dean pulled back the covers and started to disentangle Sam's arms. "Okay, Sammy. Here we go."

But Sam made no indication he was going to let go.

Dean smiled. "Sammy, dude, you gotta…" Dean was leaning over the bed now, but Sam was still hanging on. Dean chuckled "You know what, never mind." Dean laughed as he straightened, turned and sat down. He kicked off the boots he was wearing and swung his legs up onto the bed. And only then did Sam release his hold and slide down to lay beside him.

As Sam settled in under the covers and rested his head on one of the pillows, Dean rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. The rain was drizzling quietly outside and the blankets formed a warm nest around them.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Dean said softly, not sure exactly how to formulate his question. But his request garnered Sam's full attention. "So, how did you… you know," he asked finally, waving his hand over Sam. "Do this?"

Sam, lying on his side, shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. I just woke up like this."

Dean almost laughed out loud at that. Almost. Sam had had a little t-shirt when he was about 5 years old that Bobby had gotten for him because he thought it was hilarious. It said 'I woke up this cute!' But instead of laughing, he just cleared his throat. "So, you didn't make this happen?"

"No. I don't think so. At least, not on purpose. I mean, I know Cas said I did, but I don't think-"

"Doesn't matter what Cas said." Dean waved a hand dismissively in the air. "But.. so, are you...you? The same as before? I mean-" Dean struggled to find a way to verbalize what he wanted to ask. "I don't even know what I mean-" He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. The headache was already starting to come back.

"I know what you mean," Sam replied, gazing up at him from the pillow, his eyes wide and worried. "But I'm not really sure how to explain it. I'm me. I mean, I remember everything from my whole life, but I feel like I did when I was this age, I guess?" His inflection made his statement more of a question.

"Cas said you feel better with me when you were this age. Is that true?" Dean was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Dean, no," Sam looked either hurt or sorry, Dean couldn't tell which. Then he looked a little annoyed. "Not better, I hope that's not what he told you. I feel more..." he paused then, his cheeks reddened slightly and he looked away, embarrassed. He heaved a sigh willing himself to say the words. "I feel more protected. You know how I was kind of always wanting to be independent? Well, I guess this is before that. I don't want to be independent right now. I don't want to face any of this alone-"

Dean put a hand to the side of Sam's face, filled suddenly with both relief and a fierce sense of protectiveness. "You are not going to face anything alone. Understand?"

Sam looked gratefully at him and nodded. His head sank a little further into the pillow and he gazed at the window over Dean's shoulder, another shiver passing over him. "I guess it's kind of selfish in a way, though."

"What do you mean?"

Sam avoided Dean's gaze. "I mean feeling better about being the one who's being protected. This whole situation is new and weird and somethings not right and I'm...this," he waved his hand over his 9 year old body, mimicking Dean's motions from earlier, "and letting you shoulder everything?"

"Hey," Dean scolded, demanding his attention. "You're here, you're in one piece. That's all I need. I'll take Sam Winchester at... what are you, like, 9? Over any other grown ass hunter I've ever known. And yeah, something's not right here, but if it's what Cas said, then we're not in any danger. So you know what? You go ahead and be 9 for a while."

Sam's forehead wrinkled just a bit like he wasn't sure he was ready to just accept the situation as it was.

"Plus, I don't have to put up with your adult bitch face for a while," Dean made a point to indicate that the situation was temporary. "Now it's just cute."

And though he had no intent to prove Dean's point, Sam scowled adorably at him and kicked him under the covers.

"Ow!" Dean laughed. "Stop it and get over here so you don't freeze to death. He leaned back against the pillow and raised his arm. Sam hesitated for only a second before he scooted over and laid his head on Dean's shoulder. He breathed out a sigh as the warmth began to spread throughout his body.

"There we go," Dean whispered. And in that contented little sigh, Dean finally understood at least this part of their current situation. Sam was scared and broken and he needed this closeness right now. He needed to be physically curled up under Dean's arm and that wasn't something that came naturally to them as adults. But at 9 years old? This was second nature.

Sleep came initially in fits and starts. Sam would drift off and jolt awake. Dean would give him a gentle squeeze and whisper that everything was okay, and they would fall back to sleep again. But sometimes the dreams were bad. Really bad. And he would sit bolt upright with a strangled cry. Dean would sit up right beside him and wrap him up in his arms, shushing and soothing and pulling him back down to the pillow. Eventually the dreams became less frequent, and Sam slept curled beside Dean for hours. Or what seemed like hours, Dean couldn't really tell. Time didn't seem as...relevant anymore. Dean dozed, too, on and off. The feelings of worry, fear, and sometimes full on terror came and went as he lay there. And so too, the aches in his body and the cold.

But Dean began to notice a subtle pattern in the pain and fear as the intensity of Sam's dreams began to lessen. Every time Sam flinched awake now, he would lock eyes with Dean and either reach out to clutch at Dean's shirt sleeve or he would move in a little closer and rest his head on Dean's arm before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep again. And each little move he made like that, anything indicating that Dean was anchoring him, that he was needed, warmed him to the core. The pain would just disappear, at least for a little while. He began to wonder… was Sam was healing him? Perhaps they were healing each other. If they were healing at all. Or, perhaps, this was all just part of the illusion. His mind kept jumping back and forth between mild fear with a distant, just out of reach hope, and full on panic and suspicion.

Sam was sleeping now with his head on Dean's shoulder again and an arm flung across his chest. Dean could feel the rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Breathing. Things here were so much like… before. He had never considered the need for breath in heaven. Or sleep. Or bodies at all, for that matter. But there was his little brother, body, breath and all, fast asleep on a bed.

Thunder rumbled then, soft and distant and the rain grew a little more insistent at the window. Eventually, Dean's curiosity got the better of him and he slipped out quietly from beneath Sam's hand to take another look out the window. Rainwater was running in a small rivulet down the driveway and collecting around Baby's tires in small puddles. Dean smiled when he saw her.

He wandered around the room examining the contents: curtains, lights, a dresser with actual clothes in the drawers. So much like…. Life.

He began to feel the panic rising again. The rain was starting to fall harder now, big fat drops of water exploded against the window pane. He looked back to see Sam sleeping peacefully under the gray comforter. Everything's fine. We're fine, he told himself. The panic receded a bit. The wind was picking up and making a howling sound outside.

Something isn't right, he told himself again. But he was beginning to wonder if he was telling himself a lie. Maybe things were all right. Could they be?

And then he heard a noise from somewhere inside the house.