Chapter Text
The outlet mall had crappy parking, so Dean had had to leave Baby on the other side of the road and walk the rest of the way there. The light October breeze blew through his hair as he stood on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the green little man to tell him it was safe to cross.
There weren’t many cars on the road, so Dean would’ve just crossed without the green man, if it weren’t for the “situation” standing beside him. The one that weighed 42 friggin’ pounds and barely came up to his hips. The one in the T-shirt dress—the reason for this trip to the store.
As soon as the green man appeared, Dean quickly glanced in both directions. The coast was clear, so he was about to take his first step onto the crosswalk, but Sammy’s little fingers found his and held on. Dean looked down at him, a confused expression on his face.
“S’posed to hold hands when we’s crossin’,” he said, voice soft and young.
That’s right—Dean had drilled that into him when he was younger after a close call scared the life out of him. Still, it was dizzying holding hands now. Sammy’s was the same, but Dean’s wasn’t. Dean’s had become big and calloused. It had committed murder, it had been covered in monster guts, it had been used to punch Sam in the face.
The worst part of it all was that Sammy remembered all of that, in the back of his mind. His toddler brain was protecting him, blocking most of it out, but it was there. It’s how he remembered who Dean was, despite him looking nothing like the Dean Sammy had when he was five years old the first time.
Dean finally got a hold of himself and looked back up. Only seven seconds left to cross, and there was no way Sammy would be able to make it on his little legs. Dean let go of his hand, just to pick him up—and, wow, he missed being able to do that—and run, because he’d rather not wait longer than was necessary to get Sammy into proper clothes. Sammy giggled and held on tight, and the feeling was both familiar and foreign. It was like it belonged to a past version of himself.
He put Sammy back down once they’d made it across, only to pick him back up and let him sit in the shopping cart once they got inside. As he steered them towards the children’s clothing aisle, Sammy excitedly pointed out all the Halloween decorations. That was a nice change of pace from how much of a grump he was about holidays in his adulthood.
Dean let him pick out whatever he wanted at the store. He could actually afford it this time around, courtesy of a credit card with Malcolm Hardman’s name on it.
Back at the motel, Dean helped Sammy change into his new clothes—a soft, dark green henley and some Spiderman sweatpants. Sammy jumped up and down once he was fully dressed. “Do I look hand’ome, De? Do I? Do I?”
Was Sammy this hyper the first time around? Dean, still crouching from helping him get dressed, put his hands on Sammy’s shoulders to still him.
“Do I?” Sammy asked again, imploringly. He wanted validation from his big brother, Dean realized.
“The handsomest,” Dean answered. It was easy saying kind things to Sammy when he was like this. Besides, they were true. Sammy gave him a big ol’ dimpled smile to prove it.
Dean made some mac and cheese, which the two of them ate on the couch while watching Scooby-Doo. Dean was trying to have a normal evening with Sammy because he didn’t want the little boy to be worried. Fixing the “situation” would be left to the adults; all Sammy had to do was enjoy his childhood for now.
After dinner, Dean sent Sammy into the bathroom for a shower. He could mostly do it by himself, thankfully, but Dean had to help him wash his hair, which he didn’t mind. He just hoped Sam didn’t mind when he got big again. Actually—would he even remember any of this? When Dean had been de-aged last year, he remembered everything that happened, but he wasn’t de-aged mentally like Sammy.
Dean helped Sammy into the Batman pajama set he’d picked out and tucked him into bed. Sammy fell asleep fairly easily, but Dean had to sit next to him until he did. Once Sammy’s breathing evened out, Dean lingered for a few more moments, just watching.
He sat at the table and called Bobby then. He scrubbed a hand down his face and said, in a quiet voice, “Please tell me you have something,” but he didn’t actually mind Sammy staying like this a little longer. Sam definitely would mind, though.
“Nothin’ yet,” came Bobby’s gruff voice over the speaker. “But I’m lookin’. You just keep that little boy safe for now, ya hear? Let me handle the other stuff.”
Dean nodded to himself, privately relieved that his only job was to take care of Sammy, and that he’d get to do it a little longer. He was in desperate need of a break from hunting after the whole fiasco with The Darkness. Now that the world wasn’t in any immediate danger, he figured it was the perfect time. “That’s the plan, Bobby. Thanks.”
He hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. He turned back to look at Sammy, who was sleeping soundly. He didn’t remember any of the bad stuff that had happened to him, so there was nothing to have nightmares about.
The next morning, Sammy let Dean dress him, even though he was a big boy who could do it himself. Dean said it was faster if he helped, which was true. Dean was so smart. Today, he got to wear jeans and an orange sweater with little pumpkins on it. The pumpkins had different facial expressions; some were happy, some were surprised, some were scared. Sammy had picked out the items all by himself yesterday, and he thought he did a good job. Hopefully Dean thought so too.
Next, Dean took Sammy to the diner, and they sat on the same side of the booth. Sammy was on the outside; Dean was closest to the wall. Their waitress was a nice lady with white hair, but she said something funny. “Your son is so adorable!” she told Dean.
Sammy liked getting called adorable, but he wasn’t Dean’s son! He was about to correct the nice lady, but Dean laughed and said thanks. Sammy decided not to say anything then because he trusted Dean, and Dean always said that they had to lie to be safe sometimes. If someone at the grocery store asked where Dad was, Sammy was supposed to say he was home, even if he wasn’t; if the motel managers asked where Dad was, Sammy was supposed to say work, and that he’d be back sooner than he really would be. Dean said Sammy would get taken away if they didn’t lie, and that was the last thing Sammy wanted.
The lady took their order then, and Sammy would normally let Dean order first so he knew what was okay—what they could afford. This time though, Dean let Sammy choose anything he wanted! So, of course he said, “I wan’ choc’ate chip pancakes!” A beat later, he added a polite smile and a, “Please.”
Dean ruffled his hair and said, “I’ll have the same as him.”
Sammy’s smile became proud at that. Dean thought his food sounded good enough to order as well!
“Perfect,” the waitress said, writing down their order in her little notepad. With a smile, she took their menus and walked away.
Sammy turned to Dean then. “How come you’re my dad?” he asked. He trusted Dean, but he’d prefer to know the reason, if possible.
“‘Cause people will ask questions if I say you’re my brother,” Dean patiently explained. “Our age gap is too big.”
“Oh,” Sammy said. That made sense. He played quietly with the salt and pepper shakers until the pancakes arrived a few minutes later.
Sammy was halfway through his pancakes—which were delicious by the way—when he started feeling a little woozy. He informed Dean of his ailment with a soft, “Feel funny…”
Dean put his hand to Sammy’s forehead. “Not warm,” he murmured. “Is it your head, stomach…?”
“Head,” Sammy said, or at least he tried to. Halfway through the word, his mind went somewhere else. He saw a blonde girl on the ceiling, engulfed in flames, and began to hyperventilate.
Soon enough, he was having a full on meltdown, which he knew he wasn’t meant to do, especially in a public place, but he couldn’t stop it. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and he couldn’t catch a deep enough breath, and he was whimpering loudly, and he couldn’t see anything except the blonde girl. It was ike he wasn’t even there, in the diner.
When he came back to himself a minute or two later, it was dark. His face was up against Dean’s chest he realized; he’d been hidden inside Dean’s jacket. His big brother was hugging him and holding him there and petting his hair and telling him he was safe. Sammy took a big, gasping breath and held onto Dean’s flannel.
“Hey,” Dean said softly. “You with me, kiddo?”
Sammy nodded, still crying, but silently now. He was pretty sure he knew that girl, somewhere, in the back of his mind. She was kind, he thought. Why was she on fire?
He heard footsteps behind him. “Here you are, sir,” the nice waitress from before said.
“Thanks so much,” Dean said, still holding Sammy close to him. He removed one hand though, and took something out of his pocket. Sammy turned his head so he could see; the waitress had brought the check and a to-go box, and Dean had taken out his wallet.
“Are you okay, little one?” the waitress asked Sammy. “That was pretty scary.”
Sammy met her eyes as Dean put bills on the table and packed up their pancakes. “My daddy’s here,” he said quietly.
He felt Dean’s breath catch, but he quickly recovered. That’s what Sammy was supposed to do, right? Act like Dean was his dad? He hoped he did good. Dean wasn’t letting go, so he thought he did.
The waitress nodded. “Of course. And he’ll take care of you, won’t he?”
Sammy nodded. Of course Dean would. He felt Dean nod too, even though Sammy thought the question was for him. Maybe it was for Dean. Adults talked confusingly sometimes.
The waitress left then, and Dean finished taking care of the bill and their food, so he softly said, “Alright, let’s go, huh?” He held the to-go container which he’d packed their pancakes into in one arm, Sammy in the other arm, and slid out of the booth.
Sammy wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, still shaken up and wanting to be close to him. He was grateful that Dean was carrying him because his legs felt like jelly right now.
In the car, Dean put Sammy in the backseat like normal, but this time he sat down next to him. “Wanna tell me what happened back there?” he asked gently
Sammy sniffled. “There was a girl. Saw her in my head—she was b-burning. On the ceiling.”
Dean’s expression was unreadable, but Sammy didn’t get to try and figure it out for too long because Dean pulled him in for another hug. He held him by the base of the neck and kissed his hairline.
“I think I knew her,” Sammy whispered.
Dean sighed and pulled away from the hug, but kept one hand on Sammy’s shoulder—the other was holding their to-go box. “I’ll explain everything later. Okay, Sammy?”
Sammy nodded. “Okay,” he said softly.
“Okay.” Dean set the to-go box in Sammy’s lap while still holding onto it. “Wanna hold this for me, kiddo?”
Sammy nodded again; he loved being helpful, especially to Dean because Dean was always helping him. He wrapped his little hands around the box, and Dean let go. He patted Sammy’s cheek and got out of the car, then walked around to the driver’s seat and took them back to the motel.
Dean had no plans to explain anything, frankly. He hid in the bathroom to call Bobby as soon as they got back. “Tell me you’ve got something,” he hissed. “Sammy’s mind is all screwed up; he’s remembering things he shouldn’t have to.”
Bobby sighed. “I’ve got stuff about the spell, but nothin’ that’ll help us.”
Useless, Dean wanted to say, but Bobby didn’t deserve that. “Keep workin’ at it, Bobby. And hurry. Please.” He didn’t like the desperate tone in his voice, but he couldn’t help it.
“What do you think I’m doin’, ya idjit? You, on the other hand—go comfort your brother.”
Right. Dean didn’t know how to do that, not really. A five year old shouldn’t have to see something that horrific; a five year old can’t rationalize that kind of stuff. How was Dean supposed to help him? “Fine,” Dean said. “And you better call me with results, or I’m calling Rowena.”
Bobby and Rowena had a mutual hatred towards each other, despite Bobby being the most witchy hunter among the Winchester family, so that was a serious threat.
He hung up then and left the bathroom. Sammy was sitting on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. He looked so, so small.
Dean sat down next to him and put his arm around his shoulders. There was something about this version of Sammy that made Dean just want to protect him, more so than usual. “Still shaken up?” he asked gently.
Sammy nodded and looked up at Dean with his big, shiny eyes. “I sorry for crying in public,” he whispered.
Dean pulled him closer. “Don’t be sorry… Do you wanna, uh, eat the rest of your pancakes?” he asked, looking at the to-go box Sammy had left on the coffee table.
“Mm-mm.” His bottom lip wobbled.
“Hey,” Dean said softly. “It’s okay, Sammy…” He squeezed Sammy’s shoulder. “You… need to cry?”
Sammy nodded.
“That’s okay... Go ahead and cry, Sammy. I’m here,” Dean said, softly but a bit awkwardly. It’d been so long since Sammy needed him like this, he’d all but forgotten how to be there for him like this.
Sammy apparently needed permission because he started crying then. That was heartbreaking in so many ways. Ways that Dean wasn’t equipped to understand. He enveloped Sammy in a hug and held him close to his chest. Sammy let go of his knees so he could hug Dean back.
“She—“ Sammy started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence because he was crying so hard.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. Right here, Sammy.”
Dean wasn’t sure how much Sammy remembered or understood all the times they’d fought, but he hoped it wasn’t too much that he didn’t feel comforted by his presence. He’d been on good terms with Sam, the 33 year old, before this happened, so he hoped Sammy, the five year old, remembered that instead of Gadreel and Ruby. By the way Sammy was clinging onto him like he was his lifeline made Dean think he was okay in that regard.
It also made him really upset. If he thought he was maternal towards this sweet boy the first time around—oh, brother. This was 1000 times worse. Being this big while Sammy was this small… This was what he meant when he told Sam he loved kids all those years ago.
Dean buried kisses in Sammy’s hair and let him cry for as long as he needed. “Let it all out, brother. I’ve got you.”
Sammy cried for a good long while, and Dean held him through it all. Eventually, Sammy was able to get out a few words. “De. Did th-th-that really happen?”
“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean said because he didn’t think lying would work. He pressed another kiss into Sammy’s hair. “Long time ago. But she’s in heaven now, huh? She’s okay, Sammy. I promise you.”
The knowledge that heaven was actually real was one of the best things to come out of hunting. It was more reassuring than the vague and dreaded they’re in a better place now bull.
“She loved me,” Sammy said. “When I was… Before. When I was b-big.”
Trippy. Sammy being big being before. It seemed to make sense to Sammy, though, like he knew what had happened to him. He wasn’t scared about having been big previously. He was scared of what happened to Jessica, and he’d no doubt be scared of what happened to him—in the Cage, and every time he’d been kidnapped and tortured and assaulted—when he inevitably remembered those things. Dean sent a silent prayer to Bobby to hurry the hell up and find a cure.
“I know, Sammy,” Dean said. His left-hand fingers were entangled deep in the boy’s hair, which was still long even at age five, and his right-hand was rubbing small circles on his upper back. He could only hope that was enough.
Sammy was still crying steadily, but less loudly than before. His arms were wrapped tight around Dean’s waist.
Dean intended on taking Sammy home to the bunker today, but maybe that would have to wait. It was a four hour drive, and Dean couldn’t give Sammy hugs like this in the car if he needed to cry again. Plus, seeing the bunker was going to be a lot of excitement for such a little boy, and Dean wasn’t sure if Sammy could handle it right now.
“Why don’t you take a nap, hm, Sammy?” Dean instead suggested. He figured that would be safest; if Sammy stayed awake, he could continue picking at the wall and relive his other bad memories.
“Will you l-lay with me?” Sammy asked, hiccuping.
“Sure, Sammy. I’ll lay with ya.”
Sammy nodded then. “‘Kay… I’ll nap.”
Dean held Sammy in his arms as he stood up, just because he could. And why should he make the little boy walk by himself? He also leaned down to grab the to-go box on the coffee table, which he put in the fridge, before carrying Sammy over to the bed. He laid the both of them down, and Sammy didn’t hesitate to cuddle up close to him; the boy was practically on top of him. Dean didn’t mind though. In fact, it made him feel good. Wanted. Needed. Like he could still be a safe place for Sammy. He kissed the baby’s forehead (he didn’t remember kissing him so much when he was nine, but he’d just been getting the urge, so he hoped he didn’t mind) and pet his hair until he fell asleep.
The Jessica thing was looking like a fluke. It had been three days, and Sammy hadn’t had another one of those weird vision-memory-flashback things. Bobby still hadn’t found anything useful, but Dean was less stressed about it because Sammy was mostly doing fine. He figured it was safe to make the drive back to the bunker. He packed his baby, his duffel, and his baby’s duffel into Baby and hit the road.
The four hour drive took five because Dean drove extra carefully and took more bathroom breaks for Sammy’s sake. They arrived at the bunker in the mid afternoon. Sammy didn’t remember the bunker, so it was cute seeing his reaction to it. He totally found it awesome, the same way adult Sam did. He recognized Bobby instantly (“Unca Bobby!”), but it took him a minute to place Castiel, who happened to be home for once. Their first interaction went like this:
CASTIEL [with an amused and almost adoring smile]: Hello, Sam.
SAMMY [scowling]: It’s Sammy.
Needless to say, that was adorable. Maybe Dean wanted Sammy to stay like this, just a little bit. But that surely wasn’t what Sam wanted; it was important to him to be able to take care of himself. Besides, if Sammy kept remembering Sam’s memories, it would not be pretty.
For now, though, until Bobby found a way to reverse the spell, Dean was intent on just keeping Sammy a happy baby. He wasn’t old enough to give him that the first time around, but he was now. He’d do anything for that kid. Even if it meant taking him to the freakin’ park, or the zoo, or wherever else little kids like to go. Even if it meant doing coloring pages and watching cartoons with him.