Chapter Text
It took forever to fill the limescale stained little tub even half way, and the hot water just barely held up, but Sam thinks it was worth it as he watches the small boy peer over the edge. Dark eyelashes are clumped together with wetness, little cheeks, lightly dusted with pale golden freckles, are rosy from the steam of the well needed bath. Sam sits on the closed toilet lid, watching, keeping a close eye as his temporarily very little big brother quietly pushes a small toy car along the edge of the bath.
Too quietly, Sam thinks, heart aching in his chest. Everything’s gone a bit too quiet since Dean was hit by the curse, three days ago. He knew that Dean had been a very quiet kid, had pieced together from throwaway comments by both dad and Bobby over the years that there had been a period of time right after mom died, where he had stopped talking altogether, but Sam realises now that he never fully comprehended what that really meant.
Now he knows, and desperately wishes he didn’t.
He’s constantly worried he’s not doing enough for his brother as it is, and without verbal feedback Sam’s afraid he’s missing something, but with a few days of trial and error behind them he’s finally feeling like he has things mostly under control.
He has a plan after all - travel across the country, back to Bobby’s where they can perform the spell to break the curse. All he has to do is keep this very little, serious looking, nearly mute version of his big brother clothed, fed, bathed and alive until they get there. What’s the worst that could happen?
Sam had bought Dean pyjamas at the local Walmart, but despite the fact that they’ve got Batman on them and that Sam’s ooh’ed and aah’ed over them, hoping to make Dean think they’re cool enough to make Sam jealous, Dean refuses to sleep in anything else than one of Sam’s old and worn t-shirts. It is long enough to nearly cover the kid’s feet where he stands, dark blond hair in damp messy spikes on his head, cheeks rosy still from the bath.
His big green eyes are downcast and he bites nervously at his lower lip, making Sam want to cry. But he can’t. He has to keep it together. For Dean, who must feel a whole lot more lost and scared than he is.
The first few days had been rough, despite the fact that little Dean, who had struggled a bit with getting his hand to hold up four fingers when Sam had asked him how old he was, thankfully - and a bit worryingly, had accepted the fact that Sammy was his Sammy without much coaxing. Sam had sat on his knees, not wanting to tower over the little boy and he’d taken Dean’s tiny hand in his and given it a little squeeze, almost scared to break the fragile bones. That seemed to have been enough for Dean, who must have somehow sensed that the giant crouched before him was his baby brother.
What was worse was watching Dean try to understand what he was supposed to do, that he wasn’t in trouble and that Sam wasn’t going to get rid of him. When Sam had bought him some clothes, in his new size and packed a little bag for him he had caught his pale brother fold in on himself, shrinking away into the corner of the motel room and Sam had looked from Dean’s silent form to the bag in his hands and back again, frowning with confusion before it hit him that maybe, from the perspective of a child it looked like he was preparing to send Dean off somewhere.
“We’re going on a little road trip, Dean,” Sam had explained. “Just you and me, in the car. It’s going to be fun. Okay?”
Dean had nodded, but not really looked any less frightened than before and Sam’s heart had ached in his chest, missing his loud and cocky big brother. The cheeky grin, the annoying way he chewed his burgers, his overprotectiveness and the way he charmed his way both in and out of absolutely anything.
He still desperately missed him, but at least he knew now that this was temporary. Or at least Bobby seemed confident it was, and all he had to do was bring little Dean there, and he should have his adult brother back.
Dean yawns where he stands, swaying on his little feet and Sam shoots him a gentle smile.
“Sleepy time, bud.”
Dean shakes his head, long dark eyelashes fluttering and Sam sighs. No words needed apparently, the kid’s too cute to refuse and Sam bends down to pick him up. Dean slots in perfectly against Sam’s broad chest and he thinks he will have to tease Dean about this later, when he’s back to himself again. They’ll laugh about all of this, eventually. When it’s all over and Sam can see with his own eyes that Dean, his Dean - the Dean that can tie his own shoelaces and handle a gun, is back.
Sam finds himself humming softly, some classic rock medley slash lullaby (he himself didn’t have much experience with lullabies of course, only what Dean had chosen to sing to him as a child - well, last time his brother was a child). Dean absentmindedly brush tiny fingers over Sam’s chest until eventually he loosely fists some of Sam’s shirt and stills. His lips part and his eyes move slightly underneath thin, pink eyelids and Sam closes his eyes against the soft sensation of his tiny brother’s warm breath escaping him in little puffs.
Tonight Sam allows himself to fall asleep too, once he’s sure Dean’s not going to jerk back awake. That had happened a few times the first couple of nights and had nearly broken Sam’s heart. He had seen his Dean, big Dean, scared and confused but nothing had prepared him for what this little version of his brother would look and sound like in the grips of nightmares. Sam had tried to still him, tried to gently press him back down onto the mattress but Dean’s body was rigid and tense, every instinct in him telling him to run and kick and scream and Sam had choked back his own tears as he realised that when he grabbed his brother he could fit Dean’s entire trembling ribcage in his two large hands.
Now Dean seemed settled enough to at least get proper rest, and Sam allows himself some shuteye too. Part of his brain and his senses seem to be constantly switched on, listening for Dean to move or cry, but he’s slowly getting used to that… wonders if that’s what’s Dean dealt with their entire childhood and adulthood too - always 0.2 seconds away from attacking all and anything that dared creep up on Sam in the night.
Sam wakes up to frail rays of morning sun poking through the cheap motel curtains and Dean has at some point during the night ended up on top of Sam and is curled up on his chest. Sam rubs sleep out of his eyes as he stretches and runs a hand over Dean’s warm back.
“Hey, bud…” Sam mutters, looking down at the rosy cheeked little face that peers up at him. Dean’s eyes are glassy with sleep and he yawns before he snuggles back down, hiding his face in Sam’s broad chest. “Are you more sleepy?”
He doesn’t get a reply, just Dean rubbing his face into his chest and Sam smiles down at him, bringing his hand up to gently card through Dean’s hair.
“I need to pack up the last of our things, get the car loaded up and ready, but you’re okay to continue to sleep for a bit longer if you want?”
Dean whines quietly and Sam rubs his thumb over the shell of his ear.
“I’ll tuck you in really nice and snuggly and I’ll be right here, I’m not going far, okay?”
By the time Sam has manoeuvred himself out of the bed, gently untangling himself from his very little big brother and formed a little fort out of pillows and blankets around him Dean’s fallen asleep again. They don’t have a lot of things that still need to be packed, and the Impala is just outside so Sam quickly gets everything loaded into the trunk and leaves a few items such as a change of clothes for Dean and a couple of water bottles in the back seat. He gets a shower, brushes his teeth and for a second he thinks he’ll go get coffee before he stops himself, realising with a hard knot of guilt in his stomach that he can’t - he has to stay. Dean is just a little kid.
The road trip starts off pretty similar to any road trip he’s done with his brother, apart from the little detail that Sam’s driving of course, because Dean’s too short to reach the pedals and also can’t see over the steering wheel. The thought makes Sam chuckle and he realises he’s probably not laughed a lot these past couple of days because Dean looks up at him in surprise at the sound. Sam smiles at him and it widens into a warm grin when Dean smiles back.
They stop at a diner for breakfast after 40 minutes or so and Sam waits outside the bathroom door, feeling silly and a bit awkward as he knocks twice asking Dean if he’s sure he doesn’t need help in there.
“I can do it Sammy,” Dean calls back but afterwards Sam has to hoist him up into his arms and hold him over the sink in order for him to reach to wash his hands. Sam tickles his sides as he goes to put him down and there isn’t quite a laugh, but a breathy little happy sound that is close enough and Sam has to quickly wipe his misty eyes on the sleeve of his flannel as they walk back to their table.
Dean apparently has a similar effect on waitresses as he had in his adult body, and Sam watches as the two young women serving them crouches down in front of Dean, telling him how strikingly handsome he is, and asking him if he doesn’t want some pancakes. Dean politely whispers no thank you and blushes a bit as he looks up at them through dark, long eyelashes. Sam gently tells him that he can have pancakes if he wants but he shakes his head.
Getting this tiny version of Dean to eat much of anything is the next challenge Sam is facing and he files that little fact away too as something that will surely be funny, eventually.
Dean drinks some orange juice and picks shyly at a small bowl of berries while Sam tries to coax some eggs into him.
“Big, strong boys need to have some protein too,” Sam tries and Dean blinks at him with confusion. “You must be hungry, buddy.”
Dean shakes his head and Sam sighs.
“Alright. We’ll pick something up for the road though, if you change your mind.”
When they’re done Sam holds Dean’s little hand tightly in his as they cross the parking lot towards the Impala. He feels bad lifting Dean into the car knowing he should have a car seat or at the very least a booster seat with how small he is but this is temporary and Sam silently vows to drive extra safe all the way to Bobby’s.
They listen to the cassette tape that was already loaded and ready to go and Sam glances at the little boy that’s on the bench seat next to him, small smile on his face as the classic rock n roll fills the car. Sam figures that the music and the car at the very least offer his brother some form of comfort and familiarity. Dean may have accepted that Sam is his baby brother Sammy, only big now, but at least the car and the entertainment has remained the exact same.
Dean has his short legs pulled up underneath him so that he can see out the window - and still he can just about see over the passenger door. He’s quiet and still and Sam wishes he’d say something, just anything.
“You let me know if you need to stop for a little break, okay Dean?”
The boy peers at him, confusion and curiosity shining in his eyes all at once and Sam shoots him a gentle, reassuring smile.
“We have time.”
They drive through sleepy little towns and watch the ever changing landscapes and fields float by. The impala is humming smoothly, almost like she can sense that she needs to be gentle for her temporarily little owner. Sam reaches back into the back seat, pulling forward the blanket he had left there. He keeps a watchful eye on the road, carefully laying the blanket over his huddled up brother as Dean’s lulled to sleep somewhere just across the border to Nevada.
To be continued.