Chapter Text
“So get this-”
Sam’s sitting at the table in the bunker’s library. Dean yawns as he plunks himself into the chair across from him. Sam’s preening over his laptop, enthusiasm rolling off of him in waves, not even looking at Dean as he hits keys with a fervor that just makes Dean sleepier out of sympathy and it is too early for this.
The last few months have been hard for them both and when Sam looks up with a grin Dean does his best to return it, though the grimace he gets back proves that that might have not had the effect he intended. “Haven’t had your coffee yet, have you?”
Dean grunts guterily in response and leans his head back in the chair pretending to go back to sleep.
He hears Sam move back to the keys unperturbed. “Yeah, figured.” He taps the keys a bit more and Dean feels himself actually slipping back to sleep with the steady rhythm until Sam, with a tone that implies Dean ought to be paying attention says: “Well anyway, I found us a case.”
Dean tilts his head in Sam's direction rolling his eyes. “Oh really? I hadn’t guessed from your “I found us a case” catchphrase.”
“Catchphr-?” Sam stops himself shooting Dean his most stubborn little brother bitchface. “You know what, forget it.” Sam clicks a few more buttons and turns the computer sideways so they could both see the screen.
Dean squints blearily at the screen. There’s some pictures and... missing persons reports? But honestly he’s just too lazy to bother, Sam will explain it to him if he feigns ignorance well enough. So he puts on his best derp face for Sam’s benefit. “Yeah, I have no idea what I’m looking at here.”
Sam graces him with a long suffering bitchface that clearly says “I know what you’re doing but I don’t care enough to fight with you” and Dean considers just how many bitchfaces Sam seems to keep tucked away in his repertoire. Sam, ignoring Dean because he is not having any of Dean’s shit and clicks through the articles rapid fire prattling off the information like he had expected to give a TED talk on the damn subject. “Maddie Wilson, mother of two, disappeared.” Click. “John Robertson, employee at the local walmart, no family, disappeared.” Click. “Heather Clark, missing.” Click. “Rachel Zatzman, supposed abducted.” Click. “Benjamin Reese, never made it to work for the past five days.” Click-
Dean yawns exaggeratedly and starts talking in the middle of it. “Right so, we got a string of disappearances, anything that connects them to our kind of thing?”
Sam swivels on his chair to better face Dean.“Well that’s the thing... “ Dean tenses, whatever was giving Sam that constipated look was going to be a headache for him, he knew it. “From what I can tell, they all disappeared within the radius of four city blocks; Ms. Wilson on her way to get groceries, Robertson on his way to work, Clark and Zatzman were both going to school. It’s a small residential neighborhood-”
Blah blah blah, Dean cuts Sam off, trying to move it along so he can get on the road and grab some coffee. “Apple pie central, got it.”
Sam rolls his eyes and Dean grins back at him, enjoying annoying Sam with immaturity. Sam glares pointedly at his brother and continues as if there had been no interruption. “So people have been disappearing for months and this week there was a witness.”
“Ok, so?” Still didn’t sound like their kinda thing.
“Well she says she saw a gust of wind.”
Dean doesn’t even bother hiding the sarcasm from his voice. “Wind.” Oh yeah, they often investigated forces of nature. Hurricanes? Totally supernatural. Ghosts, man. Dean’s huff of indignation must have raised Sam’s ire because he replies somewhat haughtily.
“Wind. With a face.” As if that made it any less flimsy.
Dean cringes, a hand coming up to squeeze at the bridge of his nose. “And what did the wind do?”
“Grabbed her friend and ate his soul.”
Oh. Yeah, that did sound like them. “Awesome.”
***
Dean grips the leather of the steering wheel tight under his palms. This was something that put him at ease, having his baby roaring under him. Probably the most at ease he’s felt in a while. They have a case; he has focus–direction–and it’s not something crazy like angels or demons or all the other bullshit he’s had to deal with in the past few years. It’s been a bad few years.
He rolls his head to the side and watches Sam’s profile briefly while he rattles off the usual pleasantries to the local PD. “Yes I know, it’s very unusual, but about the Clark file, do you have any information on-” Dean turns back to the road, tuning Sam out and focusing on the drive; if the cops give him any relevant info, he’ll share it.
Dean is just getting into his groove_the road stretching before him, foot lying gently on the accelerator, the hum of the impala lulling him into his usual driving stupor– when Sam hangs up the phone with a little more force than what seems entirely necessary. Causing Dean to tense back up.
Dean chances a brief glance at Sam, clearing his throat. “So there’s definitely something fishy about that alley. We should stop there once we’ve settled in.” Dean offers Sam who appears to be agitated after his call. “You find anything on the witness?”
“Yeah, got the address. They were pretty pissy about feds wanting to talk to the crazy witness, though.” Sam replies.
Dean shrugs. “What else is new.”
Dean can see Sam shifting to face him out of the corner of his eye. “We don’t have any idea what this is, are you sure you want go in blind?”
“We’ll just take a look, we can’t know what we’re up against if we don’t have any clues.”
“And a witness is a pretty good lead.” Sam replies pissily.
“We’re just gonna case the area, then straight off to the witness. No big deal. Come on man, when have I ever steered you wrong?” Dean grins his most petulant grin at Sam.
“Are you really...” Sam sounds distinctly defensive and it just makes Dean want to tease him more. His grin grows wide and Sam holds up a hand. “Don’t, just-” Sam flicks on the radio, drowning out anything Dean might have said next.
Dean pouts at Sam but then Zeppelin comes on and he is thoroughly distracted, damn sneaky little brother.
***
“Well this was a dead end.” Dean says staring a a literal dead end alleyway. Hah, ‘cause people were being killed here. He snickers a little at his own joke and can practically feel Sam’s judging glare on the back of his head.
Sam barks at Dean across the alley. “They were all in this spot - they were found in this spot. This has to be where it’s attacking.”
Dean paces a little down the alley back towards his little brother. “Look, Sam, there’s nothing here. I mean, no EMF, no sulfur. There should be something, you sure this is the right place?”
Sam shrugs watching Dean. Dean can practically see the gears turning in his head. “It’s definitely the right place, maybe we should ask around? Canvass the area, a little?”
Dean starts making a hmm-ing sound as he considers dressing up in their FBI gear and dropping in on random folks in the area at - he looks at his watch- 11am. “How far out’s that witness?”
Sam shrugs. “Other side of town, she should be home, PD said she was on psych leave.”
“Awesome.” Dean sighs, futzing with the EMF reader in his hands. Maybe it was broken.
Something in the air shifts. Dean blinks, the EMF coming alive in his hands. “Hey, Sam, look at this.” He lifts the EMF in the air, looking up at Sam. Only to see something rising from the ground behind him. “Sam...” It really did look like wind or something, maybe mist? A cloud of swirling black fog which, sure enough has something like a face in it and dripping blood red eyes.
Panic hits him like a shotgun and Dean lunges forward. “SAM!”
Sam is staring at Dean in shock. “What-” He turns but it’s too slow and the–the whatever-the-hell-it-is– is definitely not waiting for Sam to acknowledge it. Dean is pushing past Sam before he can even think about how he is supposed to defend them from... from swirly mist. The only thing on his mind is “watch out for Sammy”.
In his rush Dean’s shoulder connects with Sam’s chest and he hears Sam hit the ground and call out: “DEAN!”
Dean tries to get away but pushing Sam completely halts his momentum and there isn’t time. He sees the mist rush towards him and then he’s surrounded by it. It feels oily and wrong, pushing its way into his throat and he coughs as the air that isn’t air rushes into his lungs, suffocating him.
He can’t breathe, can barely see. Next to him, Sam’s rushing to his feet and - and then Dean’s vision is fading, failing and he falls, struggles to breathe, writhing on the ground. The mist is everywhere, all around him and he knows it has been only seconds but it feels like an eternity, it feels like some part of him is being torn away violently.
Everything is wrong, everything hurts. Someone is calling his name – a voice he doesn’t recognize. He pulls in a breath only to get a mouthful of salt as a huge calloused hand shoves it down his throat. He coughs, the salt burning inside him and something unnatural rushes out of his lungs taking something with it.
Dean is shaking, his hands clawing at the asphalt, his eyes burning where salt got in them. He coughs and coughs, trying to clear his lungs, his mouth, his throat. He feels wrong. He can’t stop shaking.
Strong hands squeeze his shoulders, and a deep voice calls his name. “Dad?” He croaks as he coughs up more salt mixed with his own blood. He’s coughed his throat raw. For a second, he wonders how hard he’s been hit this time that he feels disoriented... and why the hell does he have salt in his lungs?! This must be a hunt. Dean blinks up at Dad but... it isn’t his Dad. Who the hell?!
The large man looks equally shocked. “Dean?!”
Dean stares, wide-eyed, at the giant, shuffling back on his butt and raising his arms protectively. Who the hell is this guy?! Where’s Dad, where’s Sammy? How does this guy know Dean’s name?
The tall man stands and paces around him. “I told you this was a bad idea! We should have talked to the witness first! Now you’re- you’re- look at you!”
Dean stares at the man now pacing back and forth, hands clutching his too-long hair. He keeps giving Dean horrified looks. What the hell? Why does he keep looking at him like that and who the hell is he? What the hell is going on?! Dean looks down at himself. And why the hell are his clothes so huge? He does tend to wear Dad’s old hand-me-downs, but he doesn’t recognize any of these. The shoes alone are at least three sizes too big which will make running harder than it has to be and that is a problem. He looks up at the big guy. A big problem.
“Ok... Ok, this isn’t so bad; we can fix this.” The man starts pulling at his hair and Dean would be concerned about him pulling it out if it didn’t look like he desperately needed the haircut. The man takes another nervous look at Dean and shakes his head. “I’m gonna call Cas. Cas’ll know what to do... yeah...” He nods to himself reassuringly or something, “yeah.” He looks real panicked, nervous. Panicky adults are not good to be around. They are dangerous and volatile.
The man lifts a... what the hell is that? It kinda looks like something out of Star Trek and he half expects to hear the tricorder sound when the man flips it open. Whatever it is, he starts talking to it and turns his back to Dean.
Dean sees his chance. He jumps to his feet, and wobbles briefly in his giant shoes, but adjusts quickly; this isn’t the first time that second-hand clothing has made a getaway harder than it has to be. With a little shuffling he manages to get a hold on himself and runs, vowing to stuff the shoes with paper at the first opportunity.
He hears the man talking to the tricorder as he dashes past. “Cas?! Cas, we have a probl-DEAN!”
Dean can hear him yelling but he keeps running. He has to find Dad, or at least find his way to Sam. Sam might be alone, he might be in danger. Dean has no idea how he ended up in this alley with the strange tall guy. He might have been taken; Sam might have been kidnapped, hurt. He needs to find him, take care of Sammy. That’s what he needs to do. The first and last thing he thought about every day, the only thing that mattered in life. He twists around a corner and he hears the man pocketing his tricorder and running after him.
Crap! As a giant, he would be fast, wouldn't he? Dean just has to be more clever. And since that’s generally how he deals with these situations, he already has some ideas. He just hopes that what they say about big, bulky guys is true and gigantor back there is as dumb as he looks.
Dean runs down the street, building, alley, building, alley. His legs burn and he feels exhausted. He shouldn’t be so tired already, what the hell had that guy done to him? Had he been drugged? Was that why he doesn’t remember anything? He passes another building and spots a fence at the end of the alley. Good. He twists his neck around to see the sasquatch barrelling after him. He is big, bulky. Dean is small and lean and can get over the fence and hide before the giant managed his way over.
Dean sprints down the alley and leaps onto the chain link fence.
“DEAN! Dean, wait!” The man is huffing, sounding tired. Good.
Dean heaves a heavy breath in and flips over the top of the fence, landing in a crouch. He takes a second to catch his breath and glances back at gigantor. The man is running down the alley, and, with his height, could probably just jump the fence. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Dean turns around and runs full out. He ducks down the next alleyway he sees, then another. He runs down alleyways and around buildings until he feels safe enough to catch his breath.
He stands, panting, at the entrance to an alley several blocks from where he’d woken up. It wouldn’t be good to be on the street if the guy showed up. He looks around for a place to hide out and is relieved to see a Gas ‘n’ Sip across the street. With another glance around he takes a deep breath and walks into the gas station, doing his best to look as inconspicuous as possible.
He’s had some experience with this kind of thing. Keep your head down, don’t do anything to look memorable, duck the cameras. He shoulders around a rack of candy bars, pocketing a Mars Bar on the way. He isn’t sure how long he’s been out or where he is, but if there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that Sam loves Mars Bars Dean hopes the treat will be enough apology for his absence. Assuming, of course, that Sam is safe.
Dean skirts around more shelves while idly watching the doors. He’s pretty sure he’s lost the large man, but he can’t be sure. If he is still being chased, he would definitely need backup.
He winds his way around the store again before approaching the cash register. “Hey, mister, you got a payphone?”
The cashier gives him a look of annoyance. “Don’t most kids your age carry cellphones now-a-days?”
Dean blinks up at the man. Who the hell trusts a kid with a cellphone? Those things are expensive and huge. Portable phone his lilly-white ass.
The disbelief must have shown on his face because the cashier was sighing. “Sorry kid, hasn’t been a payphone in the area in nearly five years. You need to call your parents or something?”
Dean shifts his weight, biting his lip. If he says yes, this guy might give him a phone to use, but... who the hell is he going to call? He doesn’t know which motel they are staying at right now. He needed a phone book. Given the fact that this backwards town doesn’t seem to have a payphone, it’s pretty unlikely they have a phone book.
“I-” The door jingles and Dean jumps, turning back, hoping against hope he won’t see the sasquatch but– how the hell?
The giant grins at the cashier. “Hey, sorry, hope he hasn’t given you any trouble. He’s with me.”
The cashier makes a grunt of acknowledgement and Dean just stares blankly at the big dude. Shit. This isn’t good. Should he make a scene? Try to play the terrified kid running from some psycho? Should he run for the door?
“This your kid?” The cashier grunts eyeing the sasquatch.
“Oh no.” He pats Dean on the back and Dean flinches. “He’s my little brother. Got a little lost. Been looking for him all day.” The tall man crouches down, his hands tightening on Dean’s shoulders the look in his eyes clearly saying ‘don’t even think about running’ before smiling back up at the cashier like everything is perfectly normal. “Excuse us.”
Dean’s being dragged out of the gas station in a daze he’s so screwed. “You ok, Dean?”
Dean swallows heavily and pushes the fear down. He’s been in worse situations. He’ll get away, he just needs to wait for the right moment. He smiles his best fake smile up at the man. “Oh, I’m just awesome.”
“Right.” The tall guy reaches around into Dean’s jacket pocket and pulls out a tiny thing that Dean has never seen in his life.
Dean blinks at the tiny device. He saw one just like it when the tall man was freaking out earlier, before he ran. This is a cellphone? It’s so small. His fear forgotten, Dean takes the phone from the man and examines it, amazed. When he opens it, “recent calls” shows up on the screen. He is relieved to see one labeled ‘Sam’. Ok, so, he has a number to call Sam, but... why does he have this thing? And when did phones get so tiny?
The big guy looms over his shoulder and taps the screen where it says Sam. Dean flinches back from him, having not realized how awkwardly close he was. At that moment, the sasquatch’s pocket starts making a ringing noise. He chuckles and pulls out his phone, putting it to his ear.
Dean hears his amused greeting coming tinnily from the matching phone in Dean’s hands. “Hi Dean.”
Shit.
***
Dean sits on a chest high wall watching the giant-Sam pace agitatedly. “So... what year do you think is it, then?” giant-Sam asks.
Dean shrugs, taking a bite out of the Mars Bar from the Gas ‘n’ Sip. “uh... 1993, dude. What year do you think it is?” he says around a mouthful of nougat and caramel.
“Ninteen... ninty...” giant-Sam pauses and stares at the sky before leveling his gaze back at Dean. “You’re 14? You’re way too small to be-” Sam rubs at his face with the back of a hand. “This is crazy, this is insane. It was just supposed to be a spirit, how the hell did it end up like this?”
Dean raises an eyebrow at giant-Sam as he paces, clearly getting more and more agitated. Dean has plenty of experience with frustrated, angry adults and if Sam turned out anything like Dad... “So I got hit with a spell or something? Spells are generally reversible. So we just need to find the thing that did this and I’ll be back to being an old geezer in not time.”
Sam snorts. “Old- Jesus Dean you’re just in your thirties.”
“Like I said, a dinosaur.” Dean smirks cheekily around the chocolate. “Look, it’s not like it isn’t weird for me, man. The last time I saw you, you were ten and about two feet tall.” He makes a point of tilting his head up at Sam. “I’m still taller than you, right?”
Giant-Sam sighs and rubs at his brow. He looks frustrated but much less volatile, he sits next to Dean on the stone wall. Wordlessly, Dean offers him the half-eaten bar. Sam takes a bite out of it without taking it from Dean’s hand. “Ok so,” Sam swallows, which seems to derail his thoughts. “I haven’t had one of those in ages.” He explains, sounding surprised. “You used to bring me them from time to time. I didn’t have the heart to tell you I didn’t like them; you thought they were such a treat.”
Dean opens his mouth to protest, no. His Sam loves them, for sure. But he’s cut off by giant-Sam’s musings. “So, the curse, or whatever, de-aged you and you don’t remember anything past 14?”
Dean shrugs. “Seems accurate.”
“Right, ok.” Sam stares at the gas station across the street, though Dean’s fairly sure he isn’t actually looking at it. “So we just need to find the thing that did this to you and stop it.” Sam pulls out a notepad and starts thumbing through it, mumbling about ghosts and hoodoo curses.
Dean has seen this before, with Dad. More often than not, John Winchester spent all his time writing in that journal of his. Dean often wonders if Dad kept track of the money he left them and how long he’d be gone, because he always seems to be gone more and more and leaves less and less money. And hey, if they are still alive when Dad gets back, it must have been enough, right? But no, it really wasn’t.
Big Sam, like Dad, is starting the usual obsession with taking notes and next they’ll be in libraries researching curses and hoodoo and witches. Seems like their lives haven’t changed at all. But this time it isn’t Dad, this is supposedly his little brother as an adult and no way is he going to take the same treatment he did from Dad. If “they” are on a case, then “they” are going to finish it, curse or no curse.
Sam’s voice cuts through his ever darkening thoughts. “Cas should be here soon, let’s get checked into a hotel, ok?”
Dean sighs. They just need a place where this “Cas” person could find them. They would hunt after that.
***
Dean watches Sam doing research on the... computer? God, when did computers get so small and portable? Dean’s seen a portable computer before, but they were big boxes, not whatever the hell Sam has going on, all sleek and futuristic looking. Goddamn the future is lazy. He’s used to pouring over news articles in libraries day in day out when Dad takes Dean with him on the rare hunt. But Sam, Sam can just flick on his little binder-shaped thing and have access to all of the world’s libraries? Or at least that’s what Sam was willing to share before he disappeared into his computer.
Dean shifts in his seat on the motel bed. It’s been hours now, and Dean’s hungry. Not too hungry, not days-of-no-food hungry, like when Dad would go on a hunt without leaving them any money and Dean had to steal and do... other unsavory things to feed Sam and was too afraid to do enough to feed himself as well.
Dean shuffles to the edge of the bed where he can get a better look at Sam. He doesn’t even look like his Sammy. All sharp angles and massive height. Sammy is a small, pudgy thing, all baby fat and chubby cheeks. Plus, this guy is some sort of massive jerk. It’s been hours. Hours and they’ve barely spoken a word to each other since they ate that Mars Bar outside the Gas ‘n’ Sip. No explanation about the case, about the curse that’s apparently made Dean younger. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was acting eerily like Dad, Dean wouldn’t even be sure they were actually related.
Dean clears his throat, loudly.
Sam doesn’t look up from where he’s typing madly. “I’m a little busy, Dean.”
“Yeah, but-”
Sam’s voice cuts over Dean’s impatiently. “Figuring out how to fix you.” Sam finally looks up from the computer, his face a mask of pity. “Just be patient, ok? I’ll figure out where this witch is and Cas’ll be here soon, so maybe he can do something.”
Dean glares back. He doesn’t need pity, he needs answers. He scrubs a hand through his short spiky hair. Short, quick questions, something that can’t be ignored. It’s a trick that usually works with Dad. Sometimes, as long as he wasn’t pissed. “Who’s Cas?” Dean makes an effort to sound as petulant as he can. Sam is still his little brother, no matter how gargantuan he’s become; if he sounds angry, maybe it’ll be enough to get at least some answers.
Sam blinks, his face changing from pity to disbelief. “Oh. Oh wow.” He looks away at the wall. “Yeah you have no idea about- shit.”
Dean practically growls. If there was one thing he really hated, it was getting the runaround. “What?! I won’t know anything if you don’t talk to me and if you haven’t noticed it’s pretty much been silent since you brought me here.”
Sam winces. Dean feels a smug satisfaction out of being able to make Sam look repentant. “Yeah, yeah... ok, sorry. So, for starters, angels are a thing.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Uhuh, yeah. I’m 14, not an idiot.”
“Yeah, I know you didn’t want to believe it even when Cas pulled you out of Hell.”
Dean rolls his eyes again. “And by out of hell you mean-”
“Hell, man. You decided to take a vacation down under.” Dean wants to protest. Hell? That was just crazy. But Sam just keeps right on going. “Anyway, it was a pretty big deal when we first encountered them, you were really freaked out. I mean, I can’t remember the last time I saw you really scared.” Sam smiles in memory, a memory Dean doesn’t know and it just annoys him more. He clears his throat again, indicating Sam get on with it. “Right so... Cas is an angel and he pulled your butt out of hell. He’s a good friend, I mean, despite the angel thing.”
“Despite the angel thing?” Dean croaks, his voice feeling like it was blocked behind something.
“Oh yeah, no, angels are generally... Dicks with wings.” Sam grins like it’s a joke Dean should get. When Dean continues to just stare blankly at him, Sam scratches his neck shrugging. “Bad guys. But Cas is on our side; he’s saved our hides more times than I want to think about.” Sam cranes his neck like he’s looking for the right words. “He’s actually your best friend, I guess.”
Dean raises a brow. “Best friends with an angel, huh? I guess that’s pretty cool.” At least he has some friends. Maybe the future wasn’t that bad if an almighty angel had his back.
Sam smiles indulgently. “Yeah, anyway-” Sam looks back at the computer, “he should be here soon and he’s got all that angel juice, so he might be able to fix you up so we can get on with this.”
Dean bristles at that. “I can help fine now.”
Sam shakes his head, eyes never leaving the screen. “You’re a child, Dean, you can help when you’re better.”
Dean jumps up off the bed and stomps forcefully on the wooden floor, bitterly enjoying the sound of his too-big boots slamming. “I’m not a child.”
“Yuhuh, tell me that when you’re in your 30s again.”
The dismissive tone grates on his nerves and Dean storms off to the bathroom and slams the door behind him, which only makes him feel a little better.
Once in the bathroom, his eyes are drawn to the mirror. He has to admit, he does look really small with the too-big clothing he’s wearing dwarfing him. He doesn’t feel like he should be bigger, just that the clothes are huge. He looks down at himself and wonders if he might be a big as Sam. The pants definitely give that impression where they’re pooling around his ankles. He’s been walking in them for the past few hours and they’re already starting to look ragged at the ends.
Dean shrugs off the navy overcoat and bends down to roll up his pants. The plaid button-down under the overcoat hangs off of his shoulders, so he takes that off too. He glares down at the remaining t-shirt, which seems like it was a size too small for his bigger self but has been stretched out at the shoulders and well worn in. Apparently, adult him had pretty big shoulders and... He pats his flat tummy and pulls the belt three notches in– well, if he was eating enough to fit a belt that big, things must be going better for them money-wise now.
He could tuck in the t-shirt. Instead though, he wraps the plaid around his hips and ties it off. He looks back at his reflection and does a half-turn, considering. Well, that’s probably as good as he’s gonna get, unless big-Sam is hiding some kids clothes in their duffels.
Dean’s whole body tenses when he hears the sound of the door opening. Sam’s voice raises loud enough that Dean realizes he’s talking to someone. That must be the angel person. His heart is pounding too fast in his chest. He really wishes Sam hadn’t told him the guy was an angel.
He pauses just long enough to stuff the ends of his shoes with paper, a trick he picked up when he’d run out of shoes as a kid and he needed to make use of Dad’s hand-me-downs. It wasn’t a perfect solution but at least they wouldn’t fall off now. Taking one last look at his reflection, he unties the red and grey plaid, fitting it back on and rolling up the sleeves to the elbows, then slips back out into the room.
He looks up at the man in the trenchcoat. Ok. That’s not what he was expecting. The angel looks disheveled and tired and, from the look he gives Dean, it’s clear Sam hasn’t told him about their situation yet.
“Uh, hey.” He gives the angel a little wave. And is surprised when he smiles gently in response.
“Hello Dean.” The angel squints at him, tilting his head slightly like he just needs a better angle and he’ll be able to see Dean through the curse.
Dean just watches him warily. He was willing to let the fact that angels were a thing go but... honestly he didn’t really trust anyone in this room. This Sam was a stranger, and Cas? He didn’t even know the guy.
“Yeah, so, best guess at this point is probably a witch.” Sam tells the angel and the angel guy quirks his head at Sam and that’s got to be some sort of angel thing because he keeps looking at them really strangely. Like a bird. Dean takes a moment to wonder if he has big fluffy wings hiding under the overcoat. “You have any ideas?”
The angel turns his gaze back to Dean. “Maybe.” And suddenly he’s right there in front of Dean, who flinches back, abruptly nervous. This guy’s an angel and he’s friggin’ weird and like six feet tall and Dean’s only five foot five and doesn’t know him, like at all.The angel reaches towards him with two fingers out and Dean dodges back a few steps. His heart is pounding and Dean’s about to fight or flight his way outta here.
The angel looks taken aback and like he’s hurt by Dean’s reaction, but what did he really expect popping up right in front– and– and he’s a friggin’ angel! What the hell did he expect?!
“My apologies, Dean.” the calm voice pulls Dean back from the precipice of... of something, and Dean squints back at him, the formal way of talking seeming really weird all of a sudden and Dean can’t help the awkward half-laugh that comes from him.
The angel crouches down so they’re on eye level and Dean stares at him, wide-eyed. It’s so surreal; how is this guy an angel? He seems so... dorky? ”Dean? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t...” He looks at Sam hopelessly but Sam’s on his computer again and not paying attention and... he’s supposed to be his brother! He’s supposed to have support why is he alone with this– this–
“Dean.” Dean’s eyes flick back to the soft blue ones in front of him and he feels like a dick for being nervous; what the hell is wrong with him? He’s used to being alone, he’s used to being the caretaker, so why is he looking to Sam for help? He doesn’t even know this Sam.
Dean swallows heavily; dude’s an angel, one of the good guys– hell, Sam said he was old-Dean’s best friend. He’s not gonna hurt Dean, he’s not. “I don’t remember you.” His voice is absurdly small but he can’t seem to stop being nervous. This guy isn’t human.
The angel nods. “Ah.” He gives Dean a barely-there smile. “It was rude of me to attempt to touch you without introducing myself. My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord.”
Dean gives him an incredulous look. “Uh, yeah, Sam mentioned.” Though he didn’t say his name. Castiel, Castiel. It’s weird, but it suits an angel, he supposes.
Castiel is watching him carefully as if he’s afraid Dean is some skittish antelope. “Ah, good. In that case, may I...?” Castiel brings a hand up as if to touch Dean, but makes no move to actually do so. And Dean lets the moment drag out, curious.
When Castiel continues to wait patiently for Dean to make the first move, Dean shrugs one shoulder. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to check you for any residual energy of the spell. See if I can discover it’s origin and if it’s possible for me to undo it.” Castiel watches him and remains unnervingly still. So Dean just nods, wanting it over with.
Castiel’s fingers are cool on Dean’s forehead and he closes his eyes enjoying the feel of someone touching him so gently. He would never be able to admit it out loud, but, god, did he crave these small moments. It doesn’t even seem weird that he doesn’t know this guy.There’s something about Castiel’s touch in particular that puts him at ease. The fingers pull away all too suddenly and Dean nearly topples forward into the angel, surprising himself at how much he’d been leaning into the other’s touch.
The angel rights himself from where he was crouching by Dean and walks back to Sam, completely oblivious to the effect he just had on Dean and Dean feels nearly horrified of how much he– no. Dean shakes his head, trying his best to clear the warm fuzzies from it. No. Absolutely not. He’s not going to get attached. He’s not. Though he can see now why Sam said big-Dean was really close with the guy. Castiel was... something.
“The spell appears to be tethered to something external.” Castiel is standing by Sam to get his attention, but is addressing them both and Dean feels an absurd relief at that. Finally someone isn’t ignoring him or treating him like a useless child.
Sam looks up from his notes. “What do you mean?”
“Dean is still connected to the source of the spell, the monster that was syphoning his life-force. It seems becoming young was a side effect of having his life drained.” Cas explains.
Sam pauses at that. “We didn’t see any other children.”
Cas tilts his head in thought. “Did anyone else get interrupted? It’s possible the creature completely devoured the other victims. What interrupted the process?”
“Salt.” Dean cuts in. Sam and Cas both look at Dean as if they’d forgotten he was there. “There was salt in my mouth. It didn’t like it.”
“What do you mean ‘it didn’t like it’?” Sam asks Dean.
Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He remembers something rushing out of him but... he touches his chest. “It ran away from the salt, that’s all I remember.”
“Do you remember what it looked like?” Cas asks gently.
Dean thinks back to the moment he woke up. “I didn’t see it.”
Sam sighs. “You did, adult you did.” He sounds disappointed. Sam looks over at Cas. “So, it doesn’t like salt, feeds off life-force... that’s all we have. Any ideas?”
“It could be any number of things.” Cas replies.
Sam nods, “That’s what I figured.” Sam flips the laptop shut and gathers his things. “Alright, I’ve got a witness to talk to. Can you keep an eye on him?”
Dean jolts to full awareness and glares at Sam. “What?! This is our hunt, right? I’m coming.”
Sam turns back to look back at Dean while he stands with his arms full by the door. “Dean, you’re a kid. Stay with Cas.”
Dean glares at the large man that’s supposed to be his little brother. “You’re just going to leave me here?! I can help!”
Sam groans. “Dean, you’re a child. I can’t take you to question a witness.”
“I could at least come with, I can stay in the car when you do the questioning.” Dean replies.
Sam rolls his eyes in frustration, picking up the computer and duffel. “Cas.” His voice comes out pleadingly.
Cas looks startled at being thrown into the brother’s argument. “I-” He looks from Sam to Dean and back to Sam.
“Just watch over him, you’re good at that. Keep him out of trouble.” With that Sam is out the door. Dean glares after him.