This story takes place after Dean tells Mary to leave the bunker in season 12. In this story they got to Lucifer before Jack was conceived, so there is no Kelly drama.

CW: This warning will be exploring past abuse and trauma and a teenage Dean selling his services for money. There will be (not X rated) passages about essentially underage sex work and rape.

Dean pushed the impala door shut, straightening up his coat slightly before walking around and unlocking the trunk. The shadow of the dilapidated motel shaded them from the worst of the sun, but he still wasn't thrilled about the midday heat. "Man, this place has really gone downhill since we were here." He looked over to catch Sam's eye.

"The waitress at the diner said it closed about ten years ago. Guess no one ever bought it."

Cas looked between them. "You've been here before?"

"Long time ago." Sam replied. "Stayed here for a month while Dad worked a case."

Dean slammed the trunk shut. "Yeah. Fourth town in a row, no highway and only one bar." He muttered.

Sam pulled a face. "You were sixteen. The hell you care about a bar? You didn't even look old enough to hustle pool yet."

"Principles, Sammy. Principles." Dean grinned when Sam rolled his eyes. He tucked his gun behind him before glancing down at his watch. "So how sure are we that Sabrina's inside?"

"According to Beth-"

"The recruit, for the coven." Dean double checked.

"Yeah. She said the witch told her to meet here at noon. Room 214." Sam pushed himself off the car.

"You think she caught onto the fact Beth was tipping us off?"

"I hope not." Sam sighed.

"Yeah." Dean looked sideways to Cas. "You ready?"

"Yes."

"Let's go."

.

Inside was dim, light filtering in only through dusty windows at the ends of the hallways. There was nothing they could do to dampen the sound of debris crushed beneath their feet. They took care to move around what they could.

Sam nodded his head towards the ground, and Dean looked down. It was clear the dust down the center of the carpet had been recently disturbed. They followed it towards the split in the hallway. Corner room suite. Two doors.

Dean gestured at Cas to go around the bend while he and Sam took the closer entrance.

Sam mouthed a silent three count before turning the knob and crashing through the door.

Dean got a second to look into the eyes of a surprised witch before she threw her hand towards the ground, a vial shattering at his feet. He couldn't make out any of the words she chanted, but in a split second the room was flooded with light and smoke. Dean blinked against it, coughing violently, struggling to talk. "Sam!?"

"Dean." Sam responded, gun up, knowing he couldn't shoot without the possibility of hitting his brother.

"Do you see where she is?" The searing sun that had filled the room dimmed, and he opened his eyes to see Cas in the other doorway. "Where is she?"

"I don't know." Cas replied, blade raised and at the ready. "She did not push by me."

"Find her." Dean barked, turning and heading out of the room. They split up, kicking in door after door as they went. Dean finally turned the corner into the lobby, and just barely caught the movement of the front door closing. He broke into a sprint.

Dean aimed without hesitation, three rounds in the back of her chest. Witch killing bullets.

Sam came jogging out of the ruined building, drawn by the sound of gunfire. He slowed to a stop next to his brother. "Nice shot." He breathed.

Dean took a second to catch his breath. "Yeah, barely. Another minute I'd never have seen her leave."

"Well, you did." Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go find Cas."

Dean followed him inside, listening for any noise in the silent hallways. "Cas?"

"Down here." Cas' muffled voice carried. "You guys should come see this."

"Shit." Dean muttered.

"What?" Sam asked.

"When has anything good ever come after that sentence?"

Sam sighed. "Fair point." He hurried his step, rounding the corner and almost crashing into Dean as he stopped short. "What-" He peered over Dean's shoulder to try to see.

"Cas…" Dean started slowly. "What is this?"

"They were here when I began to search the rooms."

Sam finally pushed past Dean. "Is that-?"

Dean looked at the two tarnished mattress skeletons, his mind briefly thinking of waking up in an apocalyptic nightmare years in the future. He shook it from his mind. It had been so long, and yet he'd recognize Sam's face anywhere, even at this age. And on the bed closest the door, he felt his heart start hammering in his chest as he stared directly at himself.

The world fell away for just a second, and Dean leaned back against the wall, eyes locked on the two kids in front of them.

He had violent flashbacks of the motel. He looked over the peeling mint wallpaper, his memory reconstructing it to its (still kind of shitty, let's be honest) former state. The beds were furnished, the carpet free of broken plaster. They were trapped there for so long. And now he was looking at it again.

Dean was jolted back into his body, sounds around them snapping into focus, only half swimming in a shifting wave of static. "Yeah." He coughed out, hoping it was a response that made any sense at all.

Sam had already turned away from him. "Cas, are they… are they really us?"

Cas looked them over carefully. "They are human." He confirmed. "I-"

"Read them." Dean interrupted, completely flat.

Both Sam and Cas looked up, both a little surprised by his tone. Sam shifted slightly. "I don't know if that's…"

Dean threw an incredulous look his way. "What. What's the alternative? We have to know."

"We can ask-"

"We're not taking that chance, Sam. Cas- Read them."

Castiel looked across to Sam, waiting for his reaction.

Sam hesitated before letting out his breath and gave a slight nod.

The angel sat down on the edge of the bed, right beside them.

Dean cut in again. "Read me. Leave Sam alone."

"Dean-" Sam protested.

"If he was awake he'd choose the same damn thing."

Sam closed his eyes, but he gave another nod and Cas laid his hand down on Dean's brow.

The entire world waited on pause while Cas silently searched for what he needed to know. Dean hadn't given it enough thought to know what he hoped Cas would find, but he has enough sense to worry about whatever it is Cas might see. The moment broke when Cas stood.

"Well?"

Cas met Dean's eyes. "They are in fact you."

Dean looked away, shutting himself off somewhat. "Great. So now what?" He threw his arms out for emphasis.

Sam took a deep breath. "Why are they unconscious?"

Cas managed to look a little guilty. "They started to wake when they heard the shooting. I thought it prudent to stop that while we worked out what happened."

"You knocked them out?"

Cas bowed his head in affirmation. "You killed the witch?"

"Yeah…" Dean said absently. "She's dead… where the hell did they come from?"

Sam ducked his head out into the hallway for a second. "End of the second hallway. Far from the lobby, right near the fire exit… Dean, this was probably the room we stayed in."

"Yeah, over two decades years ago." Dean stressed.

"What if she… I don't know, she's a witch!" Sam defended.

"Seriously, what the hell do we do?"

Sam let out his breath, shifting his attention back to their doppelgangers. "Well, whatever it is, we probably shouldn't do it here." He straightened up. "Cas, you take Dean. Dean-"

"Yeah." Dean said immediately, stepping in and carefully scooping up a twelve year… Dean did some quick math… Eleven year old Sam into his arms. He headed out just after his brother, casting one last quick glance at Cas and the teenager in the angel's arms.

Coming out of the building, Dean nodded towards the back seat. "Cas?" He asked.

"Yes, of course." Cas said simply, waiting for Sam to open the back before sliding in and rearranging the younger Dean so they could hand him Sam.

Cas wasn't surprised that neither brother volunteered to be the one in the back. Sam kept looking at his younger self like he was afraid to break him. Dean was keeping his attention pointedly on anything other than the back of the car.

When they finally merged onto the highway the mutual pressure to keep quiet finally released. Dean spoke first. "How did this happen?"

Sam ran his hand over his face, trying to think. "She was shouting that spell."

"Why just sit there and cast a spell to time travel a version of us here? How does that make sense?" He tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. "What as… as a distraction?"

"Maybe whatever she was trying to do didn't work right."

Cas absently looked out the window. "If that is the case, then whatever she was aiming to do was likely worse."

Sam huffed in agreement. "The real question is, what do we do with them now?"

Cas looked down at the two sleeping kids on the bench next to them. "We'll need to find a way to send them back to their time."

"That's going to be hard."

"I know." He looked back, catching Dean's eyes for a moment in the rear view mirror. "And until then?"

Dean kept his attention on the road. "We keep them down until then."

"You can't be serious." Sam said, turning sideways to face Dean. "We what, give them a top up every three hours?"

"If we have to." Dean said

"Dean, that's insane! We can't just keep them sedated until we eventually find a way."

"What do you want to do here?" Dean asked. "I don't remember this happening, do you? They gotta go back blank."

Cas leaned forward. "They saw me before I managed to put them to sleep."

"So what? It'll be a weird nightmare. We'll both refuse to talk about it, and we'll never know."

"Dean-" Sam struggled to choose his words. "We don't know how long that will be."

"They can't know. Why can't we keep them under anyway?"

Sam lowered his voice. "They don't deserve that, or Cas shouldn't have to keep using his grace like that, or we may need information from them to figure out how to get them back... Take your pick."

"Great." Dean muttered under his breath.

Cas frowned. "I can simply wipe their memory before we send them back."

Sam nodded. "Good. That'll work, then."

Dean switched his attention back to Sam for a second. "That's it? We're just going to wake them up, and tell them what exactly?"

"I don't know, Dean. The truth?" Sam shot back. "If there's anyone in the world who is going to be able to handle it, it's us."

"That kid back there? You? You didn't go on your first hunt for another two months."

"What has that got to do with anything? I knew about what you and Dad did."

"Yeah, but-" He looked in the rear view mirror again. "Cas, back me up here."

"It is impractical to keep them unconscious for an extended period of time. Without angels I believe it will be some time before we know how to bring them back. And likely it will be impossible without knowing precisely how and why they were brought here to begin with."

"What about that, uh, that blood time travel nonsense Henry used to get here? It finds blood, right? We'll drop them off with Dad, boom."

Sam sank back in his seat. "It won't work."

"Why's that?" Dean shifted impatiently in his seat.

"It finds blood by using blood."

"Yeah-" Dean said, not following at all.

"It'll be using our blood. I am pretty sure we'll be brought along with them. So unless you want to live the rest of your life from 1995..."

Dean hesitated, frowning as he thought that though.

"Dude."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean relented. "I still say it's a shitty idea."

"Well it's pretty much our only option."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Yeah." Sam muttered, letting the car lapse back into an uncomfortable silence.

.

Sam watched Dean carefully lay a young Sam onto one of the infirmary beds, stepping back and letting Cas settle a young Dean onto the one next to it.

"They'll be waking up soon." Cas advised, straightening up.

"Can you make sure I wake up first?" Dean asked, starting to gather some items from around the room.

Cas reached his hand out, laying two fingers to Sam's head and ensured he was going to be down for longer.

Sam watched his brother pick up almost everything off the table in front of them. "What are you doing?"

"Removing anything that could potentially be a weapon." Dean tucked them into a cabinet, closing and locking the door. "You remember what I was like."

"Yeah. Probably a good call." Sam admitted.

Dean leaned against the cabinet and feeling a growing unease. "Again. What the hell are we supposed to tell them?"

Sam frowned. "Think they'll recognize us?"

Dean snorted. "Not a chance. Look at that kid. Now, look at yourself in a mirror."

"Okay, okay, I get the point."

"No, I'm pretty sure we're going to need something else." Dean studied the wall for a moment. "1995…" He tilted his head back, mouth moving soundlessly as he searched his memory for something. "Pigman." He finally blurted out.

"The pigman is alive." Sam said softly, remembering.

Cas furrowed his brow looking between them.

"Our passcode. So we knew it was really each other on the other end of the line." Sam explained.

Cas gave a brief nod, but it was clear he didn't quite understand. "Who is the pigman?"

"It's a quote from-" Dean cut himself off, looking exasperated. "Never mind. It's just something random… something no one would guess."

"Oh."

"You think that'll work?" Sam asked.

Dean spread his arms. "Well, I don't know what else to try." Dean turned, coming back to stand next to them. "It's probably best only one of us stays." He said reluctantly. "If we crowd him-"

"He'll go on the defensive."

"Not that he's not going to anyway."

Sam tried to sound casual. "Who should it be?"

"Not Cas, obviously." Dean threw a sympathetic glance at the angel. "Stranger, and all that. Probably not best." He explained, though Cas didn't look offended.

"I could, if you want."

"No." Dean said, resigned. "It should be me."

"Okay." Sam said. He pushed off of the table, following Cas towards the map room. He paused in the doorway, looking back. "Just… go easy on him."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean rolled his eyes. "And you'll be right in the next room if I need anything. You don't have to give me the speech."

Sam glared at him. "Right."

"Go." Dean finished, pulling a chair out from behind a desk and dragging it next to his younger self, taking care not to be between him and young Sam.

Sam only stayed for a few more seconds before leaving and pulling the door behind him with a soft click.

And Dean waited.

.

Fourteen minutes and thirty seven seconds.

Dean counted.

He picked up on the subtle change in breathing that only he'd be able to notice. The barest of movement, as if merely readjusting his position in his sleep.

"It's not there." He said, knowing Dean was reaching for a weapon. He wondered vaguely if it was a knife or if he'd already switched it out for a silver loaded gun. He couldn't quite remember when that happened.

Young Dean sprang from the bed into a stand in a split second, steady and tense, ready to act. "Where the fuck am I?" He demanded. Noticing Sam behind him, he wasted no time walking to his side, putting the back of his hand in front of Sam's nose and mouth before landing on his shoulder and giving him a quick shove. He never let Dean completely leave his sight. "Sammy?" He hissed, giving him another shake.

"He's fine, just unconscious. He'll wake up soon."

Young Dean was busy looking at their surroundings. He looked at the beds, furrowing his brows and looking up to the medical equipment, Hospital? No… too old. "Answer my question. Where are we?"

"Lebanon, Kansas."

Not a hospital. Young Dean lunged sideways, ripping the plug out and grabbing the lamp off the table, quickly and carefully shattering the bulb and holding the lamp up as a semi-effective weapon.

"Damn it." Dean said, surprised he didn't think of that in his clean up. "Calm down, we're not going to hurt you. Look-" He fished a silver dollar out of his pocket, holding it in his palm for a second before dropping it on the bed in front of himself. He was faintly amused at how simple the test for human used to be. They hadn't even faced a demon themselves yet, they certainly didn't check for it.

"That man. The one who knocked us out, where-"

"He's not here right now. Calm down and I'll explain everything."

"You better, or I swear I'll rip you to shreds." He set his glare. "And when our Dad finds out we're missing, you got a world of hurt coming your way."

Dean cringed slightly. "Take it easy." He said again, already feeling tired.

Young Dean didn't move, still holding the lamp, jagged shards of glass sticking out in Dean's direction.

Dean scrubbed his hand across his face. "Christ, I forgot what this was like." He hissed. "Dean-"

"How do you know my name."

"It's 2017." Dean said, tone drier than he meant it to be. "Welcome to the future." He didn't have time for this. No. He didn't have patience for this. "You were brought here with a spell. We don't know why or how, and we haven't figured out how to send you back, or you'd be there."

"Bullshit."

Dean rolled his eyes, digging into his pocket again and pulling out his phone. He tossed it from where he was still sitting, watching himself catch it and look it over.

His younger self watched it light up and then followed its request to unlock the homepage. He stared at it for a moment.

"It's a phone. And a computer."

Young Dean tossed it onto the bed between them. "Who are you, then?"

"I'll give you three guesses."

The younger hunter frowned, processing for a second before his face fell. "You're kidding me."

"Sorry, kid."

"Prove it."

"The pigman is alive."

Young Dean froze, body going rigid. "What?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You heard me."

He set his expression. "Okay. If you're me, then tell me something only I would know."

Dean stared at his younger self in a moment of mild disbelief. He was tired of answering to himself every time time-travel was involved. And was frankly annoyed that it seemed to be a repeating problem. He looked at the ceiling, mind turning for a moment. "Rose Parker… nope, that's not until next year, wait a minute." He gave a faint smile.

Young Dean frowned, but Dean could see a flash of curiosity in spite of his best efforts to hide it. "Something more relevant." He demanded instead.

Dean felt a flash of annoyance followed by something he'd much rather not explore at the moment. "Fourth town in a row, no highway and only one bar." Dean finally said, in a tone that his younger self would recognize.

The broken lamp faltered slightly, lowering just a bit.

"You're not sure if the money will last until Dad comes home." Dean continued. "You're eating once a day right now because you don't want to get picked up for shoplifting again. And you're doing your best that he doesn't notice." You weren't stealing because you lost your money in a poker game. You couldn't get into the bars. You just didn't make enough.

"What-"

"Toto, you're not in Oklahoma anymore." Dean finished, unable to help the grin that crossed his face.

Young Dean was not impressed. "How?" He finally lowered the lamp, not quite willing to put it down yet.

"We were fighting a witch." Dean explained, leaning back on his chair. "She hit us with some sort of spell before we got her. Cas found you in your room, and knocked you out."

"Yeah, who the hell-"

"He's our friend." Dean finished.

"He just touched my forehead and I was out." He tightened his grip slightly on the lamp. "He's not human." He accused.

"No." Dean said simply. "But he's on our side."

Young Dean finally threw the lamp onto the bed with everything else, taking a step back and sitting on the edge of Sam's. "Why isn't he up yet?"

"I figured you should get told first."

"Great."

Dean almost laughed at that.

Younger Dean hesitated. "And your Sam?"

"In the next room. He didn't want to crowd you."

Young Dean visibly relaxed. "He-"

"He's thirty three." Dean said, guessing his next question. "And yeah, he's fine too."

"It still March?" He got a nod. Young Dean finally studied him critically. Dean watched him visibly move his lips and fingers in a silent count. "So this is what thirty eight looks like."

"Never thought you'd make it this long." Dean didn't waste either of their time pretending it was a question.

"Well, glad to be wrong."

Only made it to twenty nine. "Yeah."

"Where are we? Kansas, I know. But where is this exactly?"

"Men of Letters bunker." He watched his younger self's mouth open. "They're a secret society of… well, almost-hunters. All Dead now. Long story, but we live here now. Full time."

"We-" He took in his surroundings, failing to conceal the slight shock running through him. "So we aren't motel hopping anymore?"

"We're not only motel hopping. Crap is still going down all over the country."

"Right." He said, realizing that made sense. He struggled to figure out what to ask next. Family members, but frankly he wasn't sure he was ready to hear the answers on anyone they might have lost. "Can I see Sam?"

"Yeah. Come on." He finally slid off his chair, turning towards the doorway.

Young Dean cast one last glance at his sleeping brother before taking a deep breath and following himself out of the room.