Fic: To End Your Suffering (1/3)

[miss_annthropic]

Title: To End Your Suffering

Author: MissAnnThropic

Spoilers: Set in Season 1

Summary: The forest was bombarded with a blinding light. When it faded, Dean stared down at the body before him. It was Sam, Dean knew, but only because Dean remembered what Sam had looked like at four years old.

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(

Author's Note: I know, I know… Sam/Dean gets turned into a kid - done to death. I have no excuse beyond that the Muse wanted to do it, and I am slave to her whims.

*****

Dean Winchester saw crazy crap on a daily basis. Between poltergeists, ghosts, demons, werewolves, vampires, and wendigos, to name but a few, there wasn't much that made him bat an eye. In his vast experience, as far as he was concerned, he'd seen it all.

And then something really crazy would find the Winchester boys and Dean would think 'what the hell?!'

At that very moment, Dean was wondering just what the hell was going on.

It had seemed like an easy enough case of dark magic, if there was such a thing as 'easy' when it came to dark magic. The signs were pretty typical. A normal town turned funky town when some local yokels got their hands on all the right plants and one wrong book of spells. Sure, these locals had seemed unusually proficient and potent for newbies, but nothing Dean and Sam couldn't handle.

Dean and Sam had tracked the practitioners into the forest in the dead of night. The scene was all just a little too cliché. There was a bonfire burning in the blackness, a full moon beyond the bare tree branches, and three men gathered around the flames.

Man witches. The only thing Dean hated more than witches were man witches. Sam pressed that 'they're called warlocks' crap, but Dean thought the word sounded too cool for dudes doing the work of haggish broads.

Dean and Sam snuck up on the midnight meeting with guns drawn. Dean knew he'd have to be the one to waste these guys if it got ugly. Witches and 'warlocks' were still humans, and Sam had a real moral problem wasting people. Even bad people. Dean knew that going in, and he was ready. Dean didn't like killing humans, per se, but he could do what had to be done. The needs of the many and all that good Spockian stuff.

When they got closer, Dean and Sam were both jolted by a new factor in the situation. A scream, high-pitched and panicked. It sounded like a woman or child. The brothers looked at each other. They hadn't counted on human sacrifice. Now they had to take the victim into consideration.

The man witches were struggling with their victim, dragging it closer to the fire, and Dean and Sam kicked it up to double time. The brothers couldn't see who the man witches had, the men themselves were blocking the view, but the cries were enough. Someone was in trouble.

Dean's entire grasp on the situation shifted when he and Sam, crouched near the treeline, got a look at the victim when one of man witches moved aside.

It wasn't a person at all. At first, Dean thought it was a horse. A pure white horse lying on its side bound with rope. That was weird enough, but when one of the man witches touched it, the horse screamed and thrashed its head… a head with a conspicuous single horn sprouting from its forehead.

"What the…?" Dean whispered to Sam.

Sam looked, bewildered, at his brother.

"Dude… is that a freaking unicorn?" Dean hissed.

Sam gaped and searched for words without success.

Dean was ready to call a retreat and regroup. People they saved, but what the hell were they supposed to do with a freaking unicorn?

But then something even weirder happened. The unicorn flailed, saw the Winchesters, and froze. Even Dean was chilled by it. A sky blue eye fixed on them, reflecting the ominous firelight, and there was something penetrating and captivating about that gaze.

Dean thought it was bordering on freaky, but something happened to Sam that took Dean's attention completely off the freaking unicorn. Dean still wasn't sure what happened, but his little brother went rigid. When Dean looked in his eyes, they were a thousand miles away.

Then it all went to hell in a hand basket. Before Dean could do anything about it, Sam leapt out with his weapon aimed. "Let her go!"

The man witches weren't going to be as accommodating as that, and Dean didn't have time to think. The man witches weren't so old school as to rely on their magic to be their weapons, and more guns entered the battle. Dean went on autopilot. At the start of the fray, with a single-mindedness that scared the hell out of Dean, Sam made his way to the unicorn, drew his knife, and cut her free. The unicorn leapt to her feet, white body orange and cobalt in the shadow and firelight.

Dean didn't see much of what was going on with Sam after that; two of the man witches went after Dean. He'd made enough of a ruckus to ensure it. That left one for Sam to handle, which was how Dean wanted it.

Dean shot one man witch at the outset. He had no compunction about it. They'd drawn guns on his little brother, and at that moment they proved their need to die. The second guy got the jump on him while Dean was shooting his buddy. It turned into a fist-fight. Dean heard gunshots, more than one, and it made him worry about Sam, but he had his own guy to deal with first.

Suddenly the man witch trading body shots with Dean went down. Dean hadn't touched him. Rearing in the place where the man had stood was the freaking unicorn, hooves lashing out, though the first hoof strike to the head had dropped the guy.

Dean flinched back. The single horn was coated in blood, staining white fur and forelock, as though it had been used as a spear. The freaking unicorn came down and when she did, Dean stood, mouth open incredulously. Sam was riding the damn thing. There was his younger brother, curled over the unicorn's neck, hands in her silvery mane.

"What the…" Dean asked of no on in particular, looking around to see three bodies on the forest floor.

The unicorn swung around to give Dean a broadside and Sam held out a hand. "Come on, Dean."

Dean blinked. "Excuse me? You don't actually think I'm going to get on that thing, do you?"

Dean couldn't see Sam's face in the shadow from the fire backlit behind him, but Sam's silence said it all.

"Come on, man. What are you doing up on that? Get down before it kills you."

"She's not going to hurt us."

"How do you know that?"

"She told me, all right?"

"Told you? What, are you Doctor Doolittle now?"

Sam shook his extended hand insistently. "Just come on!"

Dean didn't see the need for urgency, but before he could argue further with Sam the freaking unicorn turned her head to Dean and the look… it had a reproach Dean couldn't explain. And an urging that mirrored Sam's. It left Dean clearly outnumbered.

With a curse under his breath, Dean took Sam's hand and swung up on to the unicorn's back behind his brother. The animal crab stepped and flicked her tail. Dean slid in behind Sam and griped, "You know, if anyone should be the bitch on back…"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam rasped.

The unicorn took off into the woods at a breakneck gallop. Dean had no choice but to hang on like a sissy to his little brother, pressed all up on him like a girl while they rode a freaking unicorn through the night.

Which left him on perhaps the weirdest night of his life, riding double with his brother on a freaking unicorn and still wondering what in the holy hell was going on.

Dean had to admit, though, that freaking unicorn could run.

They had not gone far when Sam hunched closer over the unicorn's mane and croaked tightly, "… stop..."

Unicorn forgotten, Dean's instincts screamed at the tone in Sam's voice.

Something was wrong.

At once, the unicorn slowed to a halt. The second it did, Sam slid to the ground and collapsed. Dean's heart stopped. In front of him where Sam had been sitting, the unicorn's mane, shoulders, and back were red with blood.

"SAM?!" Dean jumped off the unicorn and knelt at his brother's side. Sam was curled around his midsection, holding his abdomen. "Hold on, Sam," Dean said as he fished into his pocket for his flashlight. When turned it on and got his first good look at Sam, he cursed. Sam's hands were covered in blood and his clothes around his stomach were darkened by it.

"Shit, Sam… what happened?" Dean thought at once of the unicorn's bloody horn.

"Warlock… shot me…" Sam hissed.

"Damnit," Dean wedged the flashlight between his elbow and thigh and pried Sam's hands away from the wound and pulled up the shirt. It was bad. Very bad. 'Even a Winchester would take this one to the hospital' bad.

"It's not too bad," Dean tried to sound reassuring.

Sam didn't answer as his eyes slipped shut. His silence was deafening.

"Sam?" Dean reached up to his brother's face. His skin was cold. Shock. Blood loss. Dean knew what followed quickly on their heels.

"Sam!" Dean pressed his hands down hard against his brother's wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He had already lost so much, though… too much.

Sam grumbled in pain but his muscles were growing lax, melting him limply into the damp foliage of the forest floor.

"No! Don't do this, Sam." They needed an emergency room. A doctor.

They were in the middle of nowhere and not about to get to either any time soon.

Sam's breathing started to catch weakly.

Dean panicked. "Sam! Come on, man, you stay with me! This is not how you die, Sammy. Not by some damn man witch! Now, come on!"

Sam went still beneath him.

Dean only knew Sam was still alive by the fresh trickle of blood coming up between his fingers. A stream of red that was growing less and less by the second.

Dean's heart was racing. He was losing his brother. Dean didn't know how to stop it. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how he could save Sam. Stuck in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night, he couldn't think of a way to get Sam help in time.

'Would you like me to take away his suffering?'

Shocked by the melodic voice that sprung from deep inside his mind, because his ears definitely didn't hear it, Dean's eyes shot up. The unicorn was standing before him, watching him with those creepy blue eyes.

He had heard a voice, hadn't he? He wasn't so sure. He thought he must have, but the only other creature in sight was that freaking unicorn.

Dean blinked, wondering if he was losing his mind.

The unicorn took one step closer. 'Would you like me to take away his suffering?'

It was her. Dean couldn't believe it… it was the freaking unicorn talking to him in his head.

He'd boggle about that later. Right now, Sam was dying.

"Take away his suffering?" Dean repeated sharply.

The unicorn dipped her head faintly in what looked a lot like a nod.

Could it save Sam?

But unicorns belonged with the myths of leprechauns and goblins, neither of which Dean would trust as far as he could throw. He stared at the animal's bloody horn and shivered.

"You mean, like, take away the suffering of a horse with a broken leg? No thanks," Dean's fingers clenched tighter around Sam's seeping wound. Desperation and despair cracked his voice. "Get the hell away from us."

The unicorn looked sad. 'I can heal him. You and he saved me. Let me take away his suffering.'

Sam's bleeding had slowed to almost nothing. Dean couldn't even tell if his little brother was breathing anymore.

At this point, Dean saw little choice. He stiffly nodded and leaned reluctantly away from Sam.

The unicorn stepped delicately up to Sam's sprawled body. She dipped her head further, closed her eyes, and touched the tip of her horn to Sam's forehead.

The forest was bombarded with a blinding light. Dean couldn't stop himself from looking away.

It seemed to last a heartbeat and a lifetime.

Dean looked back toward his brother and the brilliant light faded.

The unicorn stepped back.

Dean stared down at the body before him.

It was Sam, Dean knew, but only because Dean remembered what Sam had looked like at four years old. For that's what lay before him. A child. A little boy, little Sam Winchester, swimming in the bloody clothes of adult Sam and lying still as death with his eyes closed.

Dean gaped. He leaned down and felt a pulse in the little boy's neck. Dean pulled back the oversized clothes enough to see the abdominal wound had vanished.

Just when the night could not get any weirder…

Dean looked up at the unicorn. Suddenly, he drew his gun, aimed it at the animal, and screamed, "This is what you call fixing this?! What have you done to him??"

The unicorn looked confused by the gun aimed at it. 'I took away his suffering. He is better now.'

Dean looked down at the small boy lying where he brother had been just seconds ago.

"He's practically a baby! How do you call this 'better'?"

The unicorn looked long at Dean. Dean felt uneasily like the freaking unicorn expected him to already know the answer to that question. 'I sought to take his pain. There were pains in his life beyond his wound. They are gone now. He is better.'

Dean got the feeling it was the kind of conversation one would have arguing philosophy with a turtle.

Sam began to stir. Dean leaned closer and, for the moment, ignored the freaking unicorn. He held his gun in the general direction of the animal with one hand and touched Sam's cheek with the other. "Sam?" The boy groaned at his name. "Hey, open your eyes for me."

Sam did. He gazed up blearily at Dean. Dean managed a weak, harried smile for his especially little brother. Sam frowned in puzzlement at Dean, his eyes widened, and then he started to scream.

"Whoa! Hey, it's okay," Dean frantically tried to calm the boy, abandoning his weapon on the forest floor to hold up both hands in a non-threatening gesture at Sam.

The gesture was lost on the apoplectic little boy. He struggled against the voluminous clothes to sit up and attempt to back away from Dean. "Who are you?" Sam cried. Sam looked around desperately and began to wail harder. "Where am I? What's going on? Where's Dean? I want Dean! DEAN!!"

"Sam, it's me. I'm Dean."

The boy emphatically shook his head, dark blond hair flopping over his forehead. "You're not my brother! You're old!" Sam began to shake. "Where's Dean?" he whimpered. Then Sam was reduced to inconsolable sobs.

At a loss for how to deal with his de-aged little brother, Dean almost didn't see the unicorn stepping closer. He had half a mind to shoot her, but instead he watched as she came up to Sam and gently pressed her velvet-soft muzzle against Sam's wet face. Sam immediately hiccupped, quieted, and gazed up at her in almost drunken, stupefied awe. She blinked at him then gently licked away the smear of blood on his forehead left by her transforming horn. Sam's eyes fluttered closed, then he swayed and sank to the ground in a deep sleep.

Dean rushed to his brother and checked his breathing and pulse again. Normal.

Sam seemed unhurt, merely asleep.

"What did you do?" Dean demanded.

'I gave him peace.'

"Well, while you're handing stuff out, how about giving me a freaking clue? What am I supposed to do with him now? Is he going to go back to his old self?"

The unicorn puzzled at him. 'I took his pain. I cannot give it back to him. I would not. He is free now.'

"What the hell does that mean? So you mean I'm stuck with four-year-old Sam? Damnit, what am I supposed to do with that?! Why am I asking you? I can't believe I'm talking to a freaking unicorn!"

The unicorn, as though content that her job was done, turned and walked away, beginning to melt back into the forest. Dean watched her go, flabbergasted.

Just before she disappeared, the unicorn looked back once at Dean.

'Take care of him. Give him joy where there had been suffering.'

Then she was gone and Dean was alone with his unconscious brother who had been reduced to a small child.

Dean would give his left arm for cell phone coverage right about now. Surely Dad or Bobby would have some idea what to do, because Dean was fresh out.

Dean had no idea what to do about what had happened to Sam, but what Dean did know how to do was take care of Sam.

While his brother slept peacefully, Dean extricated his tiny brother from the gargantuan clothes of six foot four Sam and used clean bits of Sam's old shirt to wipe the remaining blood off the miniature body of his brother. Then Dean shed his jacket, peeled out of his own t-shirt, and wrapped Sam in the black cotton. He put his jacket back on over his bare torso, feeling quite the man-whore from some kind of calendar shoot.

Dean gathered Sam up, tucked the sleeping child against his shoulder, and began to long walk out of the forest.

*****

Sam started to come to in Wal-Mart while Dean was shopping for emergency kid supplies. They were a strange sight, a man in a leather jacket sans shirt underneath carrying around a sleeping boy swaddled in nothing but a man's t-shirt, but the Wal-Mart crowd at 2:40 a.m. didn't act like it was the strangest thing they'd seen and looked the other way.

When Sam groggily came to in the children's clothing section, Dean felt the little body tense in his arm. Dean hadn't put Sam down since the forest. He shopped one-handed. He was scared to let Sam out of his sight. Dean braced for another tantrum when he felt Sam awaken, but Sam only lay taut and uneasy against Dean's chest.

Afraid to press his luck, Dean made it a quick shopping trip and high-tailed it back to their hotel room with his purchases and shrunken little brother.

Inside the hotel room, Dean set Sam down on his own rumpled, unmade bed. He hastily flicked a skin magazine on the floor, out of sight, and upended a plastic bag of children's clothes on the mattress. Sam watched mutely with wide eyes, his legs drawn up to his chest and expression nervous and frightened.

Dean grabbed up the essentials and looked down at his little brother. The boy was completely freaked. He sighed. "Sam…?"

Sam looked up warily at Dean through a mop of sandy brown hair.

Dean hesitated. "Look, uh… you're a mess, kiddo. Why don't we clean you up and get you into some cozy PJs? How does that sound?"

Sam shrank back against the pillow, away from Dean, and didn't say anything.

Dean put the clothes in his hand down and went to the bedside. Sam shied. Dean knelt down beside the bed and looked up at his terrified, confused little brother. He wanted to touch him but feared the reaction that would elicit. "Hey, Sammy… I know this is confusing, but you have to trust me. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe with me."

Sam buried his head in his knees and mumbled something.

Dean leaned closer. "What was that?"

Sam whimpered louder, "I want Dean."

Dean winced, the plea physically painful to hear, and he took a chance in reaching out and running a hand through Sam's hair. The boy let him, but he didn't look too happy about it. "I know you do, Sam." Dean edged closer. "But what do you think Dean would say about you going to bed all dirty like this?"

Sam peeked up at Dean.

"He'd probably be pretty unhappy about that, huh?" Dean asked with a faint smile.

Sam nodded reluctantly. "He'd call me… a dirty little piggy."

Dean laughed. He had, on several occasions when they were kids, before they got old enough to have a more colorful and offensive vocabulary. Calling him a piggy used to make little Sammy laugh.

"So why don't we clean you up before he finds out?"

Sam hesitated then, timidly, nodded. "That's a smart little man," Dean encouraged and stood. He picked Sam up off the bed and carried him to the tiny hotel bathroom. Sam stayed balled up, his arms in his lap, letting Dean carry him but not reaching out and touching him.

Dean felt like he'd stepped into the past as he gave Sam a bath. He couldn't count the number of times he'd done this when he was growing up. More times than even their father had. Sam had always been Dean's responsibility. Sam used to make bath time a perfect time to play and laugh with his brother. Dean remembered all the soap suds beards and mohawks they'd put on Sam during bath time, since they usually didn't have a whole lot of toys to play with in the tub. It never stopped them from finding ways to have fun. Bath time wasn't over until there was a sizable puddle on the floor to clean up and Dean was practically soaked.

This Sam sat, subdued and scared, while Dean washed the forest grim and dirt from his little body. When he was clean, Dean wrapped him in a towel and took him back to the main room, where he dressed Sam in the Superman pajamas he bought that night.

Sam hadn't said a word during it all, but he did not resist Dean's attentions. He may have even started to relax just a little, but Dean thought he could well have been imagining things and seeing what he wanted to see. It could have just as easily been exhaustion or shock… or both.

Finally, Sam was cleaned and dressed and looking unimaginably lost. Dean knelt down in front of Sam and searched his little face. All he saw was confusion and worry.

Dean desperately wanted to call Dad, ask him for help, but a glance at the clock showed it was nearly five in the morning. Sam looked barely conscious. Dean decided that, as sticky as this problem was, it would keep until morning. He was exhausted and so was Sam, and Dean had found over the years that sleep had a way of improving things. Sleep and food. And sex. He'd settle for sleep right now, though.

"Listen, Sam. I know it's been a really weird day. I promise, it will be easier tomorrow."

Sam didn't look so sure, but he nodded weakly.

As the light outside the hotel room blinds was growing light with dawn, Dean tucked Sam into big Sam's hotel bed, took a quick shower, put on boxers and a t-shirt, then climbed into his own bed a nightstand away from Sam's.

Dean could tell Sam wasn't sleeping by the sound of his breathing. He lay awake listening to Sam breathe tensely. When they were little, that was the way little Sammy breathed when he was trying to look brave for his big brother.

Sam's breathing pattern broke as Sam began to cry.

Dean really wanted to go back into the woods, find that freaking unicorn, and bitch slap it.

Dean's instinct was to go to Sam and try to make him feel better, but Dean wasn't exactly a comforting sight to the scared little boy. Dean just had to lie there and listen to his brother weep.

When Sam finally cried himself to sleep, Dean drifted off thinking 'what now?'

*****

Dean slowly awoke from a deep sleep thinking he had just had the weirdest dream that didn't involve clowns or midgets. He was coming around to his surroundings, shifted in bed… and froze when he felt another body pressed to his. Dean panicked, frantically trying to remember her name.

In the next second, he realized the body was far too small to be a woman, and that whoever it was smelled exactly like Sam.

That's when it came flooding back and Dean opened his eyes.

It was probably about one in the afternoon by Dean's internal clock. He was still in his bed, but Sam was no longer in his. Sometime in the night, Sam had slipped out of his bed and crawled in with Dean. The little boy was curled up against Dean's side, one little arm flung over Dean's chest. Dean hadn't woken up when he'd been joined in bed, but he noticed his arm was wrapped around Sam just the same.

Dean stared up at the ceiling, not yet willing to dislodge the boy and risk him waking. It gave him some time to think.

As insane as the whole matter was, it was a familiar scene. Sam had always been a snuggler as a baby. No matter what seedy motel, crappy apartment, or even the back of the Impala on long trips, that they were in, Dean couldn't keep Sam in his own bed or on his own side. Sam was seven before Dean finally kicked him out of his bed for good… except, of course, for the occasions when Sam was sick, or hurt, or upset, or when they only had one bed.

Last night Sam had been several of the above, and he had probably gone to Dean out of mindless instinct. Young Sam had had a homing-beacon-accurate like talent for finding Dean in a dazed, sleep-induced stupor and curling up with him. It worried Dean now how Sam might react to finding himself in Dean's arms when he woke, since he knew fully-conscious Sam didn't recognize Dean as Dean, which was a very good reason Dean wanted to postpone that moment.

It left him back to the dilemma of what to do with his shrunken little brother. He didn't even know where to start. How to counteract unicorn mojo when unicorns hadn't existed to him until a few hours ago? He hoped like hell Dad had some information on unicorns.

Dean scowled. Who was he kidding? He just hoped like hell Dad answered his phone when Dean called him. The chances of that seemed about as remote as finding that unicorn again and getting the secrets of the universe out of her.

Dean's backup plan would be to call Bobby.

It sat ill with Dean, but he admitted privately to himself that he had more luck getting help from Bobby than their father.

Sam slowly started to wake up, and Dean put his worries on hold to see how the boy was going to react.

Sam didn't run back to his own bed like Dean had half expected him to do. He stayed snuggled up next to Dean, but the arm across Dean's chest did pull back and tucked nervously into Sam's little body, a conscious and deliberate act of retreat.

Dean held his breath.

Tentatively, Sam lifted his head from Dean's arm-turned-pillow and peered closely at his older brother's face. He frowned thoughtfully with all the cerebral wisdom of a four-year-old. Dean studied the boy's face, a face he'd known so well so long ago, and waited.

Sam finally whispered, "Who are you?"

Dean swallowed and forced a smile. "I'm Dean."

Sam scowled. "You're not my brother."

"Well," Dean said, deciding right then that trying to make a four-year-old understand the truth might make him start crying again, "there are probably lots of people named Dean, right?"

Sam gave a one-shoulder shrug and ducked his eyes.

"How do you feel, Sam?" Dean asked gently, unconsciously hugging Sam a little closer. "Does anything hurt?" 'Like where you were shot?' Dean thought.

Sam bit his lip and shook his head.

Dean shifted so he was sitting more upright with his shoulders pressed against the headboard. He opened his arm to invite Sam to snuggle back against his side, but Sam sat up forlornly in the same spot where he'd woken up, tiny hands twisting anxiously together.

Dean frowned and dropped his arm. "Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Sam didn't react at first, then his eyes began to widen in rising panic. He looked up at Dean. "I… I don't 'member." From his reaction, Dean suspected that Sam's answer was rather general… that he didn't concretely remember much of anything.

"Hey, that's okay. Don't worry about it." Dean sat up and leaned in toward Sam. Sam didn't back away, but the look he turned up to Dean was woeful and made Dean want to shoot something. Like a unicorn. Or man witches. Both.

"Sammy… I want you to listen to me, okay? I know you're pretty scared and confused right now. I would be too, if I were you. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

Sam's lip quivered like he was going to cry again, but he sniffled, wiped his face with the back of one hand, then nodded stiltedly. "Like… like m'brother."

Dean smiled. "Yeah. Just like that." Dean's eyes drifted to his cell phone on the nightstand.

"Hey, Sam… how about we try to find some cartoons on TV?"

Sam gave a shrug, paused, then picked at the hem of his blue pajama top. "Um… Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

Sam bit his lip. "'M hungry."

Dean got up from the bed. "Well, I bet you are. Here, let's see what I have in my bag over there." Dean went to his duffel on the dresser, dug around, and came out with a Snickers bar. Not exactly on the food pyramid, but it would do for now.

"Here you go, kiddo." Dean tossed the bar on the bed in front of Sam. Sam's eyes widened. "I can have candy for breakfast?" Sam was almost smiling. To a kid, candy for breakfast was like winning the lottery.

Dean smiled and winked at him. "Sure, just as long as you promise to keep it a secret."

Sam nodded vigorously and picked up the candy bar, wrestling with the wrapper while Dean flipped through the TV channels. He lucked out and found the Ninja Turtles, the old cartoon (the GOOD one, not that modern CGI crap), and Sam scooted to the edge of the bed to see better.

Dean dressed, grabbed his phone, and went to the hotel room door. "Hey, Sammy?"

Sam looked at him.

"I'm going to step outside for just a few minutes, but I'm going to be right outside the window. You'll be able to see me the whole time. If you need anything, knock on the glass, okay?"

Sam nodded and turned back to the cartoon.

Once outside, Dean hit the speed dial for his father. He waited anxiously during the muted rings. "Pick up, Dad. Pick up."

Dean sagged when he got the same recorded message telling the caller to contact Dean if they needed help. Dean groaned. What was the caller supposed to do if he was Dean and needed help?

After the message beep, Dean said, "Dad? It's Dean. We're in trouble. We were on a hunt last night and Sam was shot. This…" Dean couldn't bring himself to actually say it, "this creature, it healed him… but it turned Sam into a four-year-old. I don't know what's going on or how to fix it, Dad. I've never heard of anything like this. I could use your help."

Dean hung up and glanced back toward the hotel room door. Frowning, he scrolled through another speed dial.

This time, it was answered. "Bobby Singer."

"Bobby, it's Dean."

"What's wrong?"

Dean almost chuckled darkly. No one in their business made casual phone calls to see how things were going.

"It's Sam."

"Is he all right?"

"Well… that depends."

Bobby was quiet a moment. "Just tell me what happened."

Dean started spilling the whole story. He started and it just began to tumble out. Bobby listened quietly until Dean was done, ending with four-year-old Sam sitting in the hotel room eating candy and watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

After a pause, Bobby asked, "You're sure it was a unicorn?"

"Yes, Bobby, I'm sure! And please don't tell me they don't exist, because I really need you to have some answers here." Even to his own ears, Dean sounded desperate.

"They're real, or at least were at one time… I don't think anyone's seen one for a few hundred years, and even then the sightings were rarer than Bigfoot, which is probably why even most hunters agree they don't exist and never have. Hell, I thought they were extinct."

"Is there information on how to reverse this curse?"

"I don't think it's a curse, Dean."

"What? How can it not be? Sam's a baby again!"

Bobby's voice had the tone of 'talking on the level of the densest Winchester.' "Unicorn mythology is ripe with ties to innocence and purity. They were, according to lore, immensely powerful magical creatures."

"Great," Dean muttered.

"Would you let me finish?" Bobby snapped. "I was going to say that they're probably the only creature with that kind of power that has never once been documented to have abused it. Pure power that is used for pure good. That's why they're extinct now, or so I thought up until you called me."

"Huh?"

"Can you imagine all the sadistic, evil crap in the world allowing something as good and innocent as a unicorn to exist? Drove all manner of demons and evil spirits rabid and hell-bent on seeing every unicorn on the face of the earth wiped out. I'd always believed they managed it, too."

"Fascinating," Dean said tersely, "but I fail to see how any of this helps Sam shake off this unicorn curse."

"That's what I'm getting at. Unicorns are supposed to be the real deal, kid. It wouldn't have done this to Sam out of malice, Dean. Unicorns just don't have it in them."

"Well, this one had some malice in it. I'm pretty damn sure it speared a man witch with that horn of hers."

"Warlock," Bobby corrected, then he paused again. "It must have been protecting Sam."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "For a guy who's never seen or met one of these things, you're pretty quick to jump to its defense."

"Unicorns are too pure of spirit to turn dark. Even curses and hexes, and I mean the serious kind of crap high-power witches play with, can't touch them. But to defend an innocent, one pure of heart… More I think about it, the more it makes sense."

"Well, please, share. Because I am lost."

"Dean… say what you will about your brother, but that kid's got a heart of gold. Unicorns are drawn to that kind of purity. In lore, the only way to capture one was to lure it with a virgin. The purity and chastity of the maiden was like unicorn chum."

"I got news for you, Bobby. Sam's not a virgin."

"It was a metaphor, you ass. Have you ever met anyone who was a better, more virtuous person than Sam?"

Dean slumped in defeat. "No. Not even close."

"That's the kind of soul a unicorn would kill for, even if it wouldn't kill to save its own life."

"But why turn him into a kid? Why not just heal him?"

"You said it yourself, Dean. She said there was pain in his life that she couldn't bear. In her mind, she gave Sam a great gift."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose at an oncoming headache. "So what do we do? If I track down this unicorn, can she change him back?"

"Doubt it. The way she sees it, you'd be asking her to cause him to suffer. It would kill her to do that to him."

Dean rolled his eyes. "So, what else is there?"

He could hear Bobby flipping through pages. "I'll look around and see what else I've got. Where are you boys now?"

"Virginia."

"That's a few days away from me… why don't you boys make your way here? Hopefully I'll have something by the time you get here."

"We'll leave today," Dean promised.

"All right. Watch after Sam."

"Okay… hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you heard from my dad lately?"

"No, I haven't. Sorry, kid."

Dean hung up and braced his hands on the porch railing.

He wasn't sure how long he was out there, but the sound of the hotel door behind him opening made him turn. Sam was standing in the doorway, barefoot and peeking out at Dean, still dressed in his Superman PJs.

"What is it, Sammy?"

"Turtles are over," Sam said and tentatively stepped outside. He edged closer to Dean, looked out into the parking lot… and froze, wide-eyed.

Dean looked quickly for any suspicious characters, primed and ready to dive into the hotel room for his gun, but the lot was empty.

Sam stammered, "You… you have the 'Pala."

Dean looked over at his car. Dad's car. The car Dean and Sam practically grew up in.

"Yeah, uh… your dad gave it to me."

Sam looked up at Dean, shocked. "Is my dad here?"

Dean winced. "No, he isn't."

Sam's eyes teared up and his voice broke with frail hope, "What about Dean?"

Dean didn't know exactly how to answer. "There's just me, kiddo."

Sam hiccupped, on the verge of crying again.

Dean reflexively scooped Sam up and held him. "Hey, Sammy, it's going to be okay. I'm going to watch out for you, remember?"

Sam nodded sadly. Then, almost hesitantly, he laid his head on Dean's shoulder. It wasn't so much that Sam was warming up to Dean as it was the fact that Sam was a scared, lonely baby who needed comfort as much as he needed air and was turning to Dean as the only place he could find it.

Dean hugged the boy close, closing his eyes. "Ah, Sammy…"

Sam's little arms moved as though to wrap around Dean's neck, but they stopped shy and fell back to his sides limply. It hurt Dean not to have Sam's trust and faith… they were universal constants in his life that he'd grown used to. Even when they were children and fighting like siblings do, Sam had still known he was safe with Dean.

That security of absolute knowledge was gone, and the boy left behind was all the more lost for it.

"Hey, Sam…" Dean said lowly, "I was thinking we could go on a road trip, how does that sound? We could visit one of my good friends. Would you like that?"

Sam pulled away from Dean's shoulder and worried the neckline of Dean's shirt with tiny fingers. "Will my brother be there?"

Dean wanted so desperately to say yes, to say 'I'm right here, Sam,' but he settled for a heartfelt, "It'll be just me, you, and Bobby, Sam."

Sam sighed and dragged up his gaze to look Dean in the eye.

After a second studying Dean's eyes, Sam frowned, puzzled.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

Sam stared Dean long and hard in the eye, then dropped his gaze and mumbled, "My tummy hurts."

Dean carried Sam back into the room and closed the door behind him with his foot. "Well, that's what happens when you eat candy for breakfast. Guess it was kind of my fault though, huh? Let's pack up the car and we'll find something real to eat on our way out of town, okay?"

Sam shrugged feebly and squirmed to be put down. When Dean complied, Sam quietly climbed back up into the nest of unmade blankets and sheets left from where Dean had slept. Sam curled up against Dean's pillow as though it were a teddy bear, closed his eyes, took in a deep breath… and started to cry.

Dean officially hated unicorns more than he hated flying.

He went to the bed and rested his hand on Sam's hitching back. The boy tightened his body at the touch and clung tighter to Dean's pillow, screwing his eyes shut and crushing the pillow into his face as though his life depended on it.

"Shhh… Sam," Dean whispered, in agony as his little brother kept crying. "Does your stomach hurt that bad?"

Sam sobbed and gripped the pillow tighter, his face pressed tight into the hard hotel pillow down. Dean was scared Sam would suffocate himself.

Dean did the only thing he could think of. He did what he used to do when Sam was four the first time and Dean, in all his mature wisdom, had been all of eight, and his baby brother got this upset. He plied Sam gently but determinedly from the pillow and gathered him up into his arms. Sam, deprived of the pillow, wailed louder, face red and eyes puffy.

Dean tucked Sam into his chest, despite the boy's half-hearted wriggling, and Dean began to sway on his feet. To and fro, a steady rhythm of lulling that he had not danced in ages but which returned to him as though it had only been yesterday. He'd rocked his little brother like this more times than John Winchester had.

And as Dean had done a lifetime ago, he began to sing.

Low and soft to match his voice to motion, Dean sang the one song he'd used with baby Sammy more than any others, the one that had worked the best.

"I don't know where I'm going… but I sure know where I've been… hanging on the promises and the songs of yesterday..."

Sam's cries began to ebb as Dean continued to sway and sing.

"And I've made up my mind… I ain't wasting no more time… here I go again…"

Sam was quiet but for a few sniffles and hiccups. His body was no longer taut in Dean's embrace. Dean rubbed one hand up and down the length of Sam's spine. It was more reflex than conscious thought. Memories became the now.

And Dean kept swaying and singing.

"Though I keep searching for an answer… never seem to find what I'm looking for… oh lord, I pray you give me strength to carry on…"

Sam pulled back from Dean's shoulder to stare at him, an almost trace-like look in his bright hazel eyes. Dean wiped away Sam's tears, and all the time he sang.

"Cause I know what it means… to walk along the lonely street of dreams…"

Sam opened his mouth as though to speak and Dean stopped singing and he stopped swaying. "Sammy?"

"… Dean?"

Dean's heart lodged in his throat. The way Sam said his name… it was almost like he… could he…?

"Yeah, Sam?" Dean croaked. His heart was racing. Let Sam remember him. Please, let Sam remember.

The look of a breakthrough on the cusp faded from Sam's eyes and he looked confused in its wake. He frowned and blinked.

Dean sighed sadly. He cupped the back of Sam's head gently with one hand and kissed him lightly on the forehead. Sam, in answer, folded against Dean. Dean stood a long time in silence holding his brother, his mind racing.

How did this crap happen to the Winchester boys?

*****

Sam seemed to feel better after a Happy Meal from the kid cure-all McDonald's, even if they'd opted for the drive-through so they could eat in the Impala in the hardware store parking lot because it was free of clowns.

Dean's next stop was another dreaded but necessary shopping excursion. He had expected to find a way to get Sam back to normal quickly and so last night he had only bought the bare essentials for a short period of time. If Sam's temporary condition was going to be less temporary than he'd initially planned, the boy would need more than one set of pajamas and a single set of clothes. Not that Dean had gotten to take the tags off the mini shirt and jeans he'd bought last night. Sam had asked so forlornly if he could wear his Superman pajamas out and Dean, at that point willing to do just about anything to cheer up his brother, had relented. Still, sooner or later, the PJs had to come off, so shopping it was.

The closest store on their way toward Bobby's was Target. Dean took Sam in, grudgingly appropriated a cart, placed Sam in the seat, and steered toward the clothing section.

Sam spotted a Superman t-shirt almost at once and squirmed to be let out of the cart. Dean extricated him, set him down, and smirked to himself as Sam made a bee line to the blue shirt with the red and yellow S on the front. It went in the cart. Dean's contribution was a pint-sized AC/DC shirt. Sam picked out a faux leather jacket that looked a lot like Dean's. Plain white socks and Spiderman underwear (acceptable because they would be covered and the mixing of superheroes hidden) went in the basket.

They were meandering through the racks of clothes when Sam spied the toy section. He didn't say anything, but Dean could see the little guy dying to go over and look.

It was a relief to see Sam look interested and eager as opposed to terrified and withdrawn and Dean had a moment of weakness.

"Sammy? Why don't you go pick out a toy?"

Sam looked up at him, his eyes saying 'really?' in wonder.

Dean nodded in encouragement. "Just remember we'll have to take it with us on our road trip so make sure it's something kinda small."

Sam cracked the barest smile before he remembered he was supposed to be lost and miserable and darted over to the other side of the aisle.

Dean watched after him and smiled.

"Your son's adorable."

Dean blinked at the unexpected voice and looked over at a young brunette woman who had apparently been watching the two. She smiled sweetly at Dean.

Dean was speechless a moment. Sam his son? Dean realized it might be the most practical lie to tell. It wouldn't make sense that people would assume they were brothers, given their apparent age difference now, and Sam and Dean did share a family resemblance.

Besides, the rather hot chick seemed to like the idea. Dean hadn't counted on little Sam being such a chick magnet. From the taken look on the woman's face, Sam was better than a puppy for drawing in the hotties.

If only Dean didn't feel so tied up in knots with worry about Sam to really, fully enjoy it.

"Oh, Sammy? Yeah, he is, and he knows it, too. Turns on those puppy dog eyes and gets just about anything he wants."

The woman laughed. "He should be a real heart-breaker when he grows up. Much like his dad, I imagine."

Dean smiled cockily.

"I'm Candice," she said, offering her left hand. When Dean took her hand with his own, he was actually surprised when she obviously gave his hand a surreptitious look. Dean knew a wedding ring check when he saw one, it was just that the chicks he attracted usually wouldn't care if he was married or not.

Dean had to shake off the willies at the idea of 'married and settled' Dean Winchester.

Dean dropped her hand after a shake and a smile. "I'm Dean. So, where's yours? I mean, unless you have to shop in the children's section for clothes small enough to fit you."

The woman snorted in a familiar 'I'm acting perturbed but we both know I think you're edible' sound. "I'm looking for a birthday present for my nephew. I don't suppose you could help me out? He's about your son's age, but I don't really know what boys his age like."

"Well, uh… Sammy's kind of old fashioned in the stuff he likes," Dean hedged as he glanced toward Sam to check on him. The young Winchester was pondering the stuffed animal section.

Dean smiled disarmingly at Candice. "I guess I got him hooked on the stuff I liked when I was a kid. There's probably something cool all the kids are into these days, but I have no idea what it might be." Dean looked down into his cart and Sam's choice of shirts. "Superheroes are always pretty boss."

"Well, Superman is pretty wonderful." Candice smiled… and blushed.

Dean blinked in surprise. "Seriously? Superman?"

Candice flushed darker. "I'm not the only one still holding a candle for that one. And why not? What's not to love about Superman?" Candice looked over at Sam digging through the stuffed animals, decked in his Superman PJs. She smiled. "And I'd say Sammy agrees with me." She chuckled. "His mother lets him go out like that?"

'Real smooth,' Dean thought wryly. For a moment he tried to think of the best lie… and realized it would be mostly the truth.

"Sam's mom died in a house fire when he was a baby."

Candice blanched slightly. "Oh… oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried."

Dean waved it off. "It was a long time ago."

"So you've been taking care of your son all by yourself?"

Dean smiled, this time ironically heartsick. Aside from the son part, it was basically true. It had been true when they were kids and their dad ran off on his hunts time and again. It had always been Dean looking after Sam.

"Yep, just the two of us."

Candice was looking at Dean with a look of admiration and respect in her eyes Dean wasn't used to getting so earnestly from such an earnest woman. It was almost unsettling. Candice averted her eyes when she seemed to realize the effect her gaze had had, then cleared her throat. "I think that's a very selfless, heroic thing for you to do."

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, uneasy with the turn of conversation and how quickly it had gotten deeper than Dean usually ever got with the women he met.

Dean was grateful when Sam came trotting back up to him with a stuffed toy clutched to his chest. Dean hid a frown. Dean would have picked something manlier than a teddy bear, but…

Dean squinted when Sam got closer. "What have you got there, Sammy?"

Sam was eyeing Candice uncertainly but looked up at Dean and offered him the toy. Dean took it… and gaped. It was a stuffed unicorn. A white horse with a yellow sewn cloth horn on its forehead.

Dean looked critically at Sam. Did he remember? There was nothing haunted in the boy's eyes as he studied his find in Dean's hand. Still… Sam had never been into unicorns as a kid. Why now?

"Wow," Candice said. "That's a really nice unicorn, Sammy."

Sam edged over to Dean shyly and hid behind Dean's legs, peeking past Dean's jeans at the woman.

Dean, still grappling with the toy Sam had chosen, covered lamely, "He's shy."

Candice smiled so gently even Dean was calmed by it.

"I'm Candice. Your dad was just telling me what a cool boy you are."

Sam opened his mouth, maybe to disavow Dean as his father or maybe to say hi, Dean didn't know. Before Sam could speak, Dean dropped his hand to Sam's head and gently ruffled his hair. Distracted, Sam looked up at Dean. Dean looked pointedly down at Sam, willing the kid to get it.

Even at four, Sam had been sharp. Sam closed his mouth, swallowed, and wrapped an arm around Dean's thigh.

Candice looked back up at Dean and smiled cordially. "I guess I should leave you boys to it. It was nice to meet you, Sammy."

Sam, still hidden behind Dean's legs, braved to stick out a hand and wave.

Candice laughed and looked at Dean. "So long, Dean."

Dean didn't even indulge in the view of Candice walking away. Instead, he turned around and knelt down to peer into Sam's face. "Sammy… are you sure this is the one you want?" Dean held up the unicorn between them.

Sam nodded.

"Because we could, you know, maybe find you a Superman action figure or a toy truck…" 'something less girly and way less freaky,' Dean thought, but did not say.

Sam's eyes widened and he grabbed the stuffed unicorn as though Dean meant to rip it away from him.

Dean held up his hands. "Okay, if that's what you want, Sammy." Dean stood, put one hand on the cart handle and held out the other for Sam. Sam put his hand in Dean's without pause and Dean took them to the checkout line.

Dean stashed their loot in the trunk of the Impala (smirking at the blast from the past it was to heap children's clothing on top of their arsenal), closed the trunk, and buckled Sam into the passenger side of the car. He got behind the wheel himself and glanced at Sam sitting quietly with the toy unicorn cradled on his lap. Frowning to himself, Dean started the car, pulled out of the parking lot, and merged on to the highway, headed toward Bobby's.

After a few minutes, Dean couldn't stand it.

"Sam? What made you pick the unicorn?"

Sam twined the fuzzy mane hairs around his fingers a moment in silence before he said, "She protects me."

Dean's head snapped around to look at Sam.

Sam looked up innocently. "She'll keep me safe when you aren't there to do it."

Dean opened and closed his mouth dumbly a second. "Sam… I'll always be there to protect you."

Sam sighed. "I know that, but you have to sleep. Saina doesn't."

"Saina?" A strange chill crept up Dean's spine.

"That's her name."

Dean couldn't explain how, but he knew that was right.

*****

Dean lunged for his cell phone before it could ring a second time and possibly wake up Sam. He hit the 'send' button, and before he even brought it to his ear he darted a look at Sam. The boy was still sacked out on the hotel bed, dead to the world.

Then, for a brief instant, Dean had the wild idea that it could be his dad finally calling him back.

"Yeah?" he stage-whispered into the phone.

"Dean?"

Dean sighed. "Hey, Bobby. Have you found anything on turning Sam back to normal?"

"Not yet, but I'm still looking. How is Sam?"

"Right now, down for the count. There were still a few more hours of daylight left, but Sam was getting antsy in the car, so I called it a day and we're holed up in some motel outside of…" Dean tried to grasp the town name. "Ah, hell, I don't know where we are. We're not far from where we were yesterday, though." Dean frowned. "We're not making good time."

Bobby snorted. "I'm not expecting you on my doorstep at 0500, so relax. You'll get here when you get here. Won't matter at the moment, since I'm still holding my ass for finding anything to change Sam."

"That was a mental image I did not need, Bobby."

"Like you haven't heard three times as bad from your old man… you told him about Sam yet?"

Dean looked back at his sleeping brother. "I left him a voicemail. He hasn't called me back."

The silence was reproachful. "That father of yours can be a real dick."

Dean was usually so quick to defend his father, but he had to swallow his tongue on this one.

"So how has Sam been handling the situation?"

Dean was thankful for a change in topic. "He was totally freaked out at first. He kept screaming for me, you know, little kid me. He's still pretty shell-shocked, but he's been doing better. At least he trusts me." Dean sat down on the windowsill, watching his brother as he spoke. "I don't know what I'm supposed to tell him. I didn't really give it much thought before because I didn't think it mattered. I was going to get my pain in the ass, freakishly tall Sam back. But… hell, what if I can't get him back? What if he really is stuck like this, Bobby?"

"Son… I hate to be the downer here, but there's a pretty good chance Sam's not going to be getting back to his prior age without getting there the old-fashioned way."

Dean scrubbed his free hand through his hair. "Then what the hell do I do?"

"Wish I knew, kid. This is your brother, and when it comes to Sam I always trust that you know best."

Dean snorted.

There was a long, pregnant pause, then Bobby asked, "If Sam's looking at reliving his childhood, are you going to give him back to your dad?"

Dean stiffened. It made all the sense in the world, Sam was John's son, Sam knew that much, but still a knee-jerk part of Dean screamed 'no'. He was troubled because he couldn't say why that was his gut answer.

"That's assuming I ever get a hold of him," Dean groused. "Or even that Dad would want him," Dean sagged.

"Dean?"

"Hell, Bobby… growing up, it always felt like we were baggage to Dad. I know there were times he wished we weren't around. When I got older and joined the hunt, I understood why he felt that way. Children are a liability to a hunter. I don't even want to count the times we were almost killed because of what our dad did for a living. And Dad's still a hunter, Bobby."

"So are you."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit. I don't know what to do."

"Look, just get here, take it one day at a time, and who knows… something could pop up to fix all this. I mean, I'm sure stranger things must have happened."

"You're filling me with confidence."

"Go see to your brother," Bobby ordered kindly.

Dean hung up his phone and looked across the room, studying his brother. Sam had his unicorn tucked under his chin, his little body curled underneath Dean's leather jacket that his big brother had laid over the boy when he nodded off watching Dean scour the phone book for take-out places that delivered.

Dean flipped his phone open again, scrolled through his address book to 'DAD' and hesitated. With a grunt of frustration, Dean slapped his phone shut and threw it on his untouched bed.

Peacefully resting Sammy suddenly tensed and began to squirm. He whimpered, and Dean was moving before he realized he'd stood up.

Sam was clinging to his unicorn in his sleep, mumbling incoherently and breathing quickly.

"Sammy?" Dean knelt at the bedside.

"…Dean…"

Familiar now with that stabbing pain in his chest that answered his brother's pleas, Dean reached out and brushed his fingers through Sam's baby-fine hair. "Sam… wake up, kiddo."

Sam's face screwed in his sleep, then he gasped and his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he stared in confusion at Dean, visibly sorting it out.

When the kid was aware of where he was, Dean smiled gently. "You okay? Looks like it was a pretty bad nightmare you were having."

Sam nodded weakly.

"Want to tell me about it?"

Sam shook his head and tugged Saina closer to his cheek.

"That's cool. We don't have to do the chick flick moment. Want me to try and find some cartoons on the TV?" Dean offered.

Sam shook his head.

Dean, frustrated, asked as calmly as he could, "What do you want, Sam?"

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

Sam looked up meaningfully at him, and Dean sighed in weariness when he realized Sam hadn't been addressing him but asking for him… just another him.

Dean lifted his eyes to Sam sadly. "I'm really sorry, Sam… there's only me."

Sam blinked slowly at him a moment, then he inched back on the bed away from Dean. Dean, wounded, pulled his hand away.

"No…" Sam blurted at the loss of contact. "Don't… could you…"

"Sam?"

Sam bit his bottom lip. "Could you sit with me?"

Dean smiled. "Sure, I can do that." Dean slid on to the bed in the space Sam had vacated, the pillows at the small of his back and shoulders on the headboard, and Sam paused for a heartbeat then inched toward Dean. When Dean didn't fend him off, Sam grew bolder and snuggled into Dean's side. Dean fetched the askew leather jacket, pulled it around Sam, then wrapped his arm around Sam and pulled him close to his body.

Sam pinned the unicorn between his arm and Dean's stomach and pillowed his small head on Dean's chest. He took a deep breath.

He froze.

"Dean…?"

"Yeah?"

Sam lifted his head to look at Dean, and again there was that look of intense scrutiny. It was almost like being caught out by someone unusually clever when Dean was masquerading as a cop or FBI agent. It was doubly unnerving when it was coming from a four-year-old. "What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Sam's little brows furrowed in consternated confusion. "I just… you smell like him."

Dean didn't know how to respond to that.

"Do you think he misses me?" Sam asked in a small, barely audible voice.

"Your brother?"

Sam nodded meekly.

"I know for a fact he misses you like hell, Sam."

Sam pondered that a long time. "S'just… Dean gets tired of me a lot, you know, 'cause he's got to take care of the baby so that means he can't do growed up stuff."

"Sammy… your brother loves you."

"I know he does… but sometimes he doesn't like me that much." Sam's eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "Maybe… maybe he's happy I'm not with him."

That was too much. "Listen, Sam… I've got a little brother, and even when I'm ticked at him and I think I don't want to be around him, he's still my best friend in the whole world."

"He is?" Sam gaped up in hope and wonder.

"Hell yeah, he is. So what if he makes me mad sometimes? That's what brothers do, right?"

Sam nodded vigorously. Then he stopped, looked speculative, and glanced pointedly at Dean. "What's your brother's name?"

Dean blinked. What exactly was going on here? He had that feeling he used to get with adult Sam, when he was pretty damn sure the kid was running intellectual circles around him when Dean couldn't even figure out what the question was. Dean had no clue what Sam might be working out, but he knew he couldn't outright lie to Sam. He just wasn't sure how he'd take the honest truth. "His name's Sam."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean like big Sam used to scowl at a semi-auto that kept jamming and he couldn't figure out why. It was wheels turning Sam Winchester.

Question was, where would Sam be when the wheels stopped?

Dean was still worrying about the answer when Sam pulled away from Dean and sat up facing him. The boy studied him with a troubled look and Dean dreaded asking why.

"Sam? What is it?"

Sam dug underneath Dean's jacket and pulled out the unicorn toy. He curled his arms around it and asked in a tiny voice, "Dean… am I ever gonna see my brother again?"

Dean was pretty sure his heart stopped. Slowly, to delay answering, he sat up and scooted back against the headboard. Sam was watching him, tears swimming in his eyes.

"I want you to listen to me, Sammy. I am going to do everything I can to get you and your brother back together, just like things were before." Dean sighed. "It could just take a while."

"How long?" Sam whimpered.

"I don't know… maybe a long time." 'If at all,' Dean thought, but he couldn't say the last part. Not when Sam was already beginning to cry. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and his chin was quivering.

Dean swore to make his new mission in life hunting down unicorns and forcing them to watch poor Sam cry so he could ask them how that was better.

"Come here," Dean cooed and he stood from the bed, bent over, and scooped Sam up in his arms. Sam curled against Dean's shoulder and sobbed, "I miss my brother."

Dean swayed to and fro. "Shhhh… I know you do." Dean cupped the back of Sam's head. "I know it's not what you want, but you've got me, Sammy. I'm not going anywhere."

Sam seemed unmoved by Dean's words, but the boy's arms did come up around Dean's neck.

Not immediately realizing he was doing it, Dean began to sing softly in an effort to calm Sam down.

"Though I keep searching for an answer… never seem to find what I'm looking for… oh lord, I pray you give me strength to carry on… Cause I know what it means… to walk along the lonely street of dreams…"

The boy's sobs slacked marginally.

"Here I go again on my own… going down the only road I've ever known…" Dean began to walk the room, rubbing Sam's back and holding him close to his chest. "Like a drifter I was born to walk alone…"

"Dean?"

The small voice took Dean by surprise and he stopped walking, drew back his head to peer at Sam, and asked quietly, "Yeah, Sammy?"

The boy, his face tear-streaked, mumbled meekly, "That's the song my brother sings to me."

Dean's chest felt heavy and his voice carried the weight. "I know."

Sam's little forehead crinkled and again that searching, disquieting look as Sam really, closely studied his older brother.

"I… Dean, I…" Sam looked away, upset again.

"What?"

Sam bit his lip. "I… I try to 'member Dean's face, but I… I can't. Just sorta. When I try to close my eyes and think 'bout what he looks like," Sam fought tears of distress again, "all I see is you." Sam started trembling. "Why? Why can't I 'member my brother?!"

Dean felt an edge of panic. "Sam… please, please, don't cry."

"I'm gonna forget my brother!" Sam hiccupped.

Dean went back to his bed, sat down, and arranged Sam in his lap. The boy was curling up on himself, the unicorn clutched to his chest. He seemed beyond tears. This was an agony beyond weeping gripping the boy.

"Sam… I want you to listen to me."

Sam looked blearily up at Dean.

"I'll tell you something about people," Dean said gently. "How they look changes. People get older, they get fatter, they get skinnier, they turn their hair pink…"

Sam cracked a thin smile.

Dean grinned. "So it's not the picture of them that's important. What is important is how they feel about you. You remember that your brother loves you, right?"

Sam nodded.

"You know his most important job in the whole world is, and always will be, looking after you?"

Sam nodded.

"You know he'll be your brother forever, no matter what?"

Again, Sam nodded.

Dean brushed a hand through the boy's hair. "Then you'll never lose Dean."

Sam smiled a little and sniffled. "Dean…"

"Yeah?"

"You're almost as smart as my brother."

Dean laughed. "Your brother must be really smart."

Sam nodded more vigorously. "He is real smart. And brave. And he always makes me feel better."

Dean hugged Sam to him. "Sounds like a real awesome dude, this brother of yours."

Sam chuckled faintly. "He says so, too."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure."

For a moment they sat in silence, Dean rocking faintly while Sam sat curled in his lap. Then, almost tentatively, Sam snaked his arms around Dean's chest and clung to him.

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