Old Magic, New Life, for majestic_duxk
Title:: Old Magic, New Life
Recipient: majestic_duxk
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU from mid-season 8.
Word Count: ~1,400
Author's Notes:
Summary: Shortly after the brothers moved into the Bunker, Dean is suddenly a child of five. Sam is now the one in charge. What caused this? Is there a cure? And how will this play out when Kevin finds a way to close the gates of hell?
The first few hours were a complete blur. Sam would never completely remember how he made it back to the Bunker.
He came back to himself when he realised he was wavering outside of Dean's room, hesitating in the hallway. His entire focus zoomed in razor-sharp to the warm bundle in his arms and the soft, regular puffs of warmth that ruffled his hair where neck met shoulder. Unconsciously, his arms tightened from a hold into a hug, and he felt the bundle - the child - relax more into his grip.
Even asleep, the boy instinctively trusted Sam.
It chilled Sam to his core.
In the end, Sam decided not to put the boy down. He turned on his heel - a perfect military-style about-face, his father would have been so proud - and headed into the kitchen, still with the precious bundle in his arms.
Sam was very thankful for Dean's mild case of OCD regarding cooking. If a recipe called for four servings, he would make four servings - and freeze the leftovers. The brothers had added an upright freezer beside the ancient but perfectly serviceable icebox, and over the weeks since they had moved into the Bunker, it had slowly filled.
Sam chose a package of two cooked hamburger patties and some pre-cooked fries. He got some buns and fixings from their pantry - they had a pantry now, part of him gasped - and then plugged in the microwave they had brought into the kitchen, hearing Dean's voice in his head warning him not to leave it plugged into the ancient grid.
It was then that Sam noted the wide green eyes that were looking up at him. He smiled. "Hey, Dean," he said gently. "I'm making supper - burgers and fries. You hungry?"
He nodded, looking around wide-eyed. Sam set him down, and he wandered around the kitchen, studying everything while Sam worked.
Sam let him roam while he ran the fries through a microwave cycle. He divided them onto two plates and added a generous amount of salt. He squeezed a dollop of ketchup onto each plate and put the hamburgers in to warm. "Do you remember this place?"
Large green eyes looked seriously at him from under blond bangs, and he nodded as he handed Sam the pack of buns.
"You do, huh?" Sam asked as he sliced a tomato and tore the lettuce. Once that was done, he turned to the child. "So where are we?"
"Home."
Sam drew in a startled breath, his fingers pausing as he assembled the burgers. "......home? Yeah, I suppose, in a way."
"It's home," the child whispered. "First real home since...."
"....the fire," Sam whispered, nodding. "I can see that." And he could. Through this child version of his brother's eyes, the Bunker must seem like a real home.
They had a kitchen. A proper kitchen, not a kitchenette or a hot plate with a mini-fridge stocked with booze instead of food.
They each had their own bedroom - though with Dean a child for who knew how long, that state of affairs might not last.
Sam smiled down at him. "Come on, let's eat. We've got water and some Gatorade to drink."
The freckled nose wrinkled. "Water's fine."
Sam pushed the weirdness factor out of his mind along with the worry, and settled down with his now very little brother to have a good meal.
There would be plenty of time after to research this state of affairs and find a solution.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam was pulled from a deep sleep by a warm weight curling into his side and gentle breaths puffing against the skin of his neck. He moved back a little and heard a child's whimper of protest.
Right - Dean was about five now.
Sam slowly got out of bed and took a few minutes in the bathroom, washing his hands and face afterward. He walked back into the bedroom and sighed deeply, watching the child sleep.
He was curled onto his side, his hands tucked against his face and his knees drawn up to nearly touch his chest. He looked so small, so vulnerable. Sam found his heart breaking as he realised anew that just 24 hours earlier, this small boy had been the six-foot-plus force of nature he called his big brother.
Sam's eyes trailed to the research scattered around the room and he sighed again.
Nothing.
This had not been a deliberate attack or a spell. It had not even been a gift bestowed on one who had helped.
No, this had been an accident. It had been a pocket of Old Magic, tucked into a graveyard where only a certain set of ingredients would activate it. Iron, salt, moonlight, steel and blood.
Dean had cut himself slightly in the process of the salt and burn under the full moon, and he happened to be carrying iron rounds in his jacket pocket. On the way back to the car to treat the wound, he had been carrying the shovels.
And between one step and the next, Dean Winchester was suddenly five years old.
Sam hadn't found anything yet to break this - whatever you could call this. He didn't even know if it could be broken.
He was still pondering that thought when his phone rang. Sam clawed the phone from his pocket and answered it, sighing as Dean stirred from the sudden noise. "Yeah?"
"Hey, Sam, it's Kevin. I've made some headway on that translation, and you will never guess what I've found--"
"Uh, Kevin?" Sam sat down on the bed and watched the little boy sit up, knuckling his eyes. "There's been a pretty huge change of plans."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, then Kevin erupted into enraged cursing. Sam sat in silence, letting the younger man rant while he rubbed soothing circles on Dean's slender back. When Kevin sputtered to a choked shop, Sam calmly asked, "You done?"
"Sam, I have been working non-stop for days! I haven't even showered! And you don't even want to know that I've possibly found the key to shutting the doors of Hell forever?"
Sam licked his lips. "No. I don't. I'm sorry you've been working so hard. Do whatever it says yourself. Find someone else to do it. We're done."
Dean looked up at him, his large eyes even rounder with surprise.
"You're what?" Kevin gasped.
"You heard me," Sam said. "We're done. We're out. There's been an.... an accident. And we're not able to hunt right now. Do what you have to do, Kevin. We'll help with research and behind the scenes - but we're done with hunting for right now."
"Fine," Kevin snarled. "You do what you have to do."
"And Kevin? Get some food and sleep. Take care of yourself." Sam hung up.
Dean frowned at him. "We're.....done?"
Sam lay the palm of his hand on the crown of straight blond hair. "This isn't reversible, Dean. Not that I can see."
".....so......so what do we do?"
"We stay here. We find out what's here. We catalogue all this," his gesture encompassed the entirety of the Bunker. "We become the go-to men for hunters like Bobby was." He looked steadily at Dean. "You grow up with a stable home this time - without the responsibility of taking care of a younger brother."
"I have to keep you in food," Dean objected, shaking his head. "I've eaten your cooking. It's not good."
"Then we'll get you stepstools and things," Sam said, "so you can reach the appliances." He was not startled by the fact that Dean remembered. Everything Sam had found said that the mind of the adult was there, somewhat - filtered through the reactions of a child.
All that was missing was the memories of the tortures that had driven Dean to depression and drink. That was the severe mercy of the Old Magic - so far as Sam could tell, his now child-brother no longer remembered Hell.
Everything else, they could live with.
Dean looked troubled. He chewed on his lip for a long few moments. ".....grow up in a stable home....without raising you."
Sam nodded. "You did a great job the first time, Dean."
Dean met his brother's eyes and the child asked the question the man struggled with but could never seem to say aloud. "But without that.... who am I?"
Long arms tugged the boy into Sam's lap, and Sam smiled at him. "Tell you what," he said. "Why don't we find out - together?"
END
Recipient: majestic_duxk
Rating: PG
Warnings: AU from mid-season 8.
Word Count: ~1,400
Author's Notes:
Summary: Shortly after the brothers moved into the Bunker, Dean is suddenly a child of five. Sam is now the one in charge. What caused this? Is there a cure? And how will this play out when Kevin finds a way to close the gates of hell?
The first few hours were a complete blur. Sam would never completely remember how he made it back to the Bunker.
He came back to himself when he realised he was wavering outside of Dean's room, hesitating in the hallway. His entire focus zoomed in razor-sharp to the warm bundle in his arms and the soft, regular puffs of warmth that ruffled his hair where neck met shoulder. Unconsciously, his arms tightened from a hold into a hug, and he felt the bundle - the child - relax more into his grip.
Even asleep, the boy instinctively trusted Sam.
It chilled Sam to his core.
In the end, Sam decided not to put the boy down. He turned on his heel - a perfect military-style about-face, his father would have been so proud - and headed into the kitchen, still with the precious bundle in his arms.
Sam was very thankful for Dean's mild case of OCD regarding cooking. If a recipe called for four servings, he would make four servings - and freeze the leftovers. The brothers had added an upright freezer beside the ancient but perfectly serviceable icebox, and over the weeks since they had moved into the Bunker, it had slowly filled.
Sam chose a package of two cooked hamburger patties and some pre-cooked fries. He got some buns and fixings from their pantry - they had a pantry now, part of him gasped - and then plugged in the microwave they had brought into the kitchen, hearing Dean's voice in his head warning him not to leave it plugged into the ancient grid.
It was then that Sam noted the wide green eyes that were looking up at him. He smiled. "Hey, Dean," he said gently. "I'm making supper - burgers and fries. You hungry?"
He nodded, looking around wide-eyed. Sam set him down, and he wandered around the kitchen, studying everything while Sam worked.
Sam let him roam while he ran the fries through a microwave cycle. He divided them onto two plates and added a generous amount of salt. He squeezed a dollop of ketchup onto each plate and put the hamburgers in to warm. "Do you remember this place?"
Large green eyes looked seriously at him from under blond bangs, and he nodded as he handed Sam the pack of buns.
"You do, huh?" Sam asked as he sliced a tomato and tore the lettuce. Once that was done, he turned to the child. "So where are we?"
"Home."
Sam drew in a startled breath, his fingers pausing as he assembled the burgers. "......home? Yeah, I suppose, in a way."
"It's home," the child whispered. "First real home since...."
"....the fire," Sam whispered, nodding. "I can see that." And he could. Through this child version of his brother's eyes, the Bunker must seem like a real home.
They had a kitchen. A proper kitchen, not a kitchenette or a hot plate with a mini-fridge stocked with booze instead of food.
They each had their own bedroom - though with Dean a child for who knew how long, that state of affairs might not last.
Sam smiled down at him. "Come on, let's eat. We've got water and some Gatorade to drink."
The freckled nose wrinkled. "Water's fine."
Sam pushed the weirdness factor out of his mind along with the worry, and settled down with his now very little brother to have a good meal.
There would be plenty of time after to research this state of affairs and find a solution.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sam was pulled from a deep sleep by a warm weight curling into his side and gentle breaths puffing against the skin of his neck. He moved back a little and heard a child's whimper of protest.
Right - Dean was about five now.
Sam slowly got out of bed and took a few minutes in the bathroom, washing his hands and face afterward. He walked back into the bedroom and sighed deeply, watching the child sleep.
He was curled onto his side, his hands tucked against his face and his knees drawn up to nearly touch his chest. He looked so small, so vulnerable. Sam found his heart breaking as he realised anew that just 24 hours earlier, this small boy had been the six-foot-plus force of nature he called his big brother.
Sam's eyes trailed to the research scattered around the room and he sighed again.
Nothing.
This had not been a deliberate attack or a spell. It had not even been a gift bestowed on one who had helped.
No, this had been an accident. It had been a pocket of Old Magic, tucked into a graveyard where only a certain set of ingredients would activate it. Iron, salt, moonlight, steel and blood.
Dean had cut himself slightly in the process of the salt and burn under the full moon, and he happened to be carrying iron rounds in his jacket pocket. On the way back to the car to treat the wound, he had been carrying the shovels.
And between one step and the next, Dean Winchester was suddenly five years old.
Sam hadn't found anything yet to break this - whatever you could call this. He didn't even know if it could be broken.
He was still pondering that thought when his phone rang. Sam clawed the phone from his pocket and answered it, sighing as Dean stirred from the sudden noise. "Yeah?"
"Hey, Sam, it's Kevin. I've made some headway on that translation, and you will never guess what I've found--"
"Uh, Kevin?" Sam sat down on the bed and watched the little boy sit up, knuckling his eyes. "There's been a pretty huge change of plans."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, then Kevin erupted into enraged cursing. Sam sat in silence, letting the younger man rant while he rubbed soothing circles on Dean's slender back. When Kevin sputtered to a choked shop, Sam calmly asked, "You done?"
"Sam, I have been working non-stop for days! I haven't even showered! And you don't even want to know that I've possibly found the key to shutting the doors of Hell forever?"
Sam licked his lips. "No. I don't. I'm sorry you've been working so hard. Do whatever it says yourself. Find someone else to do it. We're done."
Dean looked up at him, his large eyes even rounder with surprise.
"You're what?" Kevin gasped.
"You heard me," Sam said. "We're done. We're out. There's been an.... an accident. And we're not able to hunt right now. Do what you have to do, Kevin. We'll help with research and behind the scenes - but we're done with hunting for right now."
"Fine," Kevin snarled. "You do what you have to do."
"And Kevin? Get some food and sleep. Take care of yourself." Sam hung up.
Dean frowned at him. "We're.....done?"
Sam lay the palm of his hand on the crown of straight blond hair. "This isn't reversible, Dean. Not that I can see."
".....so......so what do we do?"
"We stay here. We find out what's here. We catalogue all this," his gesture encompassed the entirety of the Bunker. "We become the go-to men for hunters like Bobby was." He looked steadily at Dean. "You grow up with a stable home this time - without the responsibility of taking care of a younger brother."
"I have to keep you in food," Dean objected, shaking his head. "I've eaten your cooking. It's not good."
"Then we'll get you stepstools and things," Sam said, "so you can reach the appliances." He was not startled by the fact that Dean remembered. Everything Sam had found said that the mind of the adult was there, somewhat - filtered through the reactions of a child.
All that was missing was the memories of the tortures that had driven Dean to depression and drink. That was the severe mercy of the Old Magic - so far as Sam could tell, his now child-brother no longer remembered Hell.
Everything else, they could live with.
Dean looked troubled. He chewed on his lip for a long few moments. ".....grow up in a stable home....without raising you."
Sam nodded. "You did a great job the first time, Dean."
Dean met his brother's eyes and the child asked the question the man struggled with but could never seem to say aloud. "But without that.... who am I?"
Long arms tugged the boy into Sam's lap, and Sam smiled at him. "Tell you what," he said. "Why don't we find out - together?"
END