If Airplaines were Wishes - 1/? (pg13)

[asher_elric]

 okay, so I made the font smaller.
Can I get a review on the fic? pretty please with nekked Sam & Dean on top?????? Thank you.

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If Airplanes were Wishes

Fandom - Supernatural

Characters - Sam and Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer

Rating - PG13

Disclaimer - I do not own. I do not make any money.

Summary - Coda to ‘When the Levee Breaks’; Dean and Bobby are worried about Sam after his detox; even though the apocalypse is running the show, Dean is going to take some time out to take care of Sammy.


Chapter 1 - Sleeping Baby

Dean met Bobby at the front door of the house with a thick bundle of blankets in his arms. He gave the older man a large smile; “This has got to be the best idea we’ve ever had,” he whispered.

“If Sammy gets his hackles up when you explain it to him, you can’t blame the kid,” Bobby replied just as quietly. Dean nodded. They knew the risks and they’d talked about it for a few days, of course, when Sam was out of ear shot. Dean didn’t know what else to do and Castiel was out of the frame-work for now. He was usually no help anyway.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a place Sammy and I can hide out that is warded against Demons and Angels,” Dean said. The early morning light barley lit up the salvage yard. The Impala shone black-metallic against the sun rise and its gleam was comforting in ways Dean couldn’t explain.

“Just take care of your brother,” Bobby muttered stepping out behind Dean.

“Don’t I always?” Dean smirked but Bobby glared.

“Look, I can do this, I’ve been doing it my entire life,” Dean said. He stepped off the porch and made his way to the car. The back door was standing open; the dinging rang from the dash board. Dean had to unfold blankets to reveal the child. Sammy had a thumb stuck in his mouth and he whimpered sleepily as Dean buckled him into the car-seat.

“He should stay out for another couple of hours,” Dean pushed the door shut as softly as he could, but pushed a bit to make sure it latched.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Bobby said gruffly. He was at Dean’s side by then and he pulled the younger man into a brief, fatherly hug; “You call if you need anything,” he added.

“I will,” Dean nodded, and then he was in the driver’s seat. Door shut behind him and the engine roared to life. Sammy didn’t wake. He didn’t move. His chin hung down to his chest, his thumb was stuck in his mouth and he was fast asleep. Dean couldn’t help but shift his eyes to the rearview mirror every few seconds as he drove away from Singer Salvage Yard. Sam was in a form that could very easily be taken advantage of. This wasn’t so much for Sam as it was for Dean. He wanted some time to just care for his brother, and maybe Sam would grow to trust him again.

Their relationship had been on the rocks for a very long time and they’d seen it blow up in their faces so much that Dean thought this was a good idea. Sure, he was drunk at the time and Bobby had been sure that Dean would forget as soon as he sobered. But, it made perfect sense. The potion was safe enough as it was. It was only a little spell that any witch could perform. It had even been easy to get Sam to drink it. He was still out of it a bit with the detox and running a high fever.

It wasn’t fair to Sam. Dean knew this. He knew that he just wanted to take care of his baby brother and that Sam wouldn’t let him do that. As kids, Dean remembered when Sam thought Dean knew everything and when all Sam had to do was look to him, to take his hand, and everything was all right. They could have been abducted by witches, and that was enough for Sam to get over it and try to think of some sort of solution to their problems.

Dean wanted the trust and love back.

When had their lives gone to hell, figuratively speaking that is.

Dean didn’t know how long they’d been on the road when Sam started whimpering in the back. He came awake crying Dean’s name. He looked around quite perplexed till his eyes lit onto the back of Dean’s head.

“What the hell did you do to me, Dean?” his voice was small and boyish. Little Sam was trying to glare viciously at his older brother, but on a kid of three, it looked really cute.

“I so want to cuddle you right now,” Dean laughed.

“Are you insane!?” Sammy cried and waved pudgy fists in the air to try and demonstrate his annoyance.

“Dude, it’s fine, you’re just a little kid for a while,” Dean replied as if that fact wasn’t all ready made clear as soon as Sammy woke up.

“I notice, I am no dumb,” Sammy crossed his arms and Dean laughed again.

“Who did it? Was it Gabriel?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean said, he was watching the road now more than Sammy.

“Okay, than did we piss off a witch?” Sammy asked.

“What do you last remember?” Dean replied with a question of his own.

“I remember the panic room and that you locked me in there,” Sammy’s bright puppy brown eyes were wide and watery, “Why do I feel like crying all of sudden?” he asked and whipped the running tears away, “and why’d you do that to me, Dean?”

“It was for your own good, you know I’d never do anything that was detrimental to you,” Dean’s voice was gentle.

“I know…but…”

“I turned you into a kid,” Dean fessed; it was earlier than he’d planned.

Sam sniffled, “why?” and didn’t he sound like the most petulant, up-set child Dean had ever come across. It made him want to give Sammy a sweet and hold him till everything was alright again.

“For us,” he lied.

“Why?”

Dean had a funny feeling that he hadn’t read all the fine print of the spell/potion before he’d brewed it and fed it down a grown Sam’s throat.

“Because it’s going to get us to a different place,” Dean sighed.

“Huh?”

Well, at least it wasn’t “Why” this time. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Because, you don’t trust me,” Dean muttered.

“You do stupid shit for no reason,” Sammy crossed his arms and glared.

“You are so cute when you’re angry,” Dean teased.

“You are such a jerk,” Sammy rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Sucks to be you than because you are stuck with this jerk,” Dean retorted. He gunned the engine hard to drown out whatever Sammy said. The Impala floated on down the road to the tune of AC/DC and Sammy sat in the back, wishing, not for the first time and not for the last, that Bobby kept his more dangerous spell books on a high shelf.

-         - -

The small house was located by a lake.

It was two stories high, there was a swing set in the front yard under huge weeping willow tree. The house was a soft yellow with white trim; Around them mountains rose up, high and majestic, taking on a purple hugh because these mountains were hundreds upon thousands of leagues away. It was the one place the Apocalypse hadn’t found and destroyed. Dean parked the Impala by the swing set and turned around to face Sammy.

The boy was pouting, he looked quite dejected; “Hey, kiddo, buck up,” Dean smiled, “It’s only for a little while,” he promised.

“How is this going to help us?” Sammy returned with a glare, “you force fed me a potion that if I knew what it was I’d never have agreed to taking it,” - Dean felt as if he’d entered the twilight zone this three year old Sammy was so articulate. Originally, Sam wasn’t and had a penchant for repeating anything, like a parrot.

“If we’re going to stop the world from going to hell in a condom, we’re going to have to get over the past, this is starting over for us,” Dean said as he got out of the car. He wrestled Sam out; he was such a wiggly kid when he didn’t want to be held. Even as an adult, it was a horrible habit.

“Dean, you totally suck!” Sammy shouted. His voice echoed around the glen, but nothing budged and the bird singing didn’t even mutter a pause.

“I know, but you love it,” Dean said as he carried Sammy inside the house. Maybe, Sammy thought, this was what Dean was doing whenever Bobby said he was “out”. The house was perfect for living in. There were kid stuff all over the place, but it was clean and child proof. The stairs had a gate at either end so that he wouldn’t fall down or go up when he wasn’t supposed too. The kitchen was stalked with everything they’d need, probably the basement held other food items for it they ran out of something.

There was a television and videos. Sammy vowed to kick Dean in the balls if he dared to put on Barney. That purple dinosaur pissed him off to homicidal urges that were best left to beasts without a brain. Dean put Sammy down in a play pen that was already set up; “stay here while I unpack the car,” Dean ordered.

“Why is it that adults say stupid shit like that?” Sammy asked, raising an eyebrow up at Dean, “when you know full well that I can’t very well get out!?”

“Sammy, this isn’t going to kill you,” Dean rolled his eyes, “Even Castiel thinks this is a good idea,”

“You are so lying!” Sammy pointed a finger at Dean, “you only ever use his whole name when you want me to agree with you and you think mentioning an angel of the Lord is gonna do it!”

“Cool down, shot-stack,” Dean lent over the railing and kissed Sammy on the forehead, “you can’t say that I don’t try,” and then he strode out; leaving Sammy in the quiet house for the few moments it took to gather weapons and their bags. Of course, Dean had child garments hidden away in the Nursery.

He was determined to have a nice vacation. Thank you very much!

TBC