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Dean laid awake in bed, weeks later. He'd had a few more little days since that first one but they were never quite full. Over time they got less and less pleasing, leaving him with an empty aching feeling in his chest.
No matter how hard he tried nothing made it go away, ignore the knowing feeling. He would never be little and needy like Jack was. He would never fit, curled up, on Cas's chest or in Sam's arms.
He turned over on his side, wedging his pacifier between his teeth. His binky helped soothe the ache sometimes. A little bit, anyway.
He screwed his eyes shut. It was nearly morning. He could hear Jack waking up, yelling with excitement for the new day and being shushed by Cas. His dad.
Dean would never have that. A dad that really, really cared about him, deep down. A dad that would do anything for his little boy.
His eyes were burning, then, and he shoved his face into his pillow, not quite crying.
Sam knocked on his door an hour or so later. He still wasn't sleeping but he was at least tired, on the brink of getting some shut-eye. He was lazily suckling on his pacifier and rubbing his eyes.
"Dean?" She whispered, stepping in. He looked up, instinctively, feeling his stomach churn at the sad noise she made.
"Oh Deanie," She sighed, "Is it a little day today?"
He faltered. He didn't really feel little, he just felt sad. But he really was desperate for any level of comfort and so he nodded, unsure. He gave his pacifier a few suckles for good measure.
She cooed, almost, tucking her hair behind her ear, "Oh I'm glad. Mommy's been missing you, sweet boy."
Dean gave her a teary smile, begrudgingly getting up when she guided him.
"Nap," He said, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching her.
"Breakfast first, honey. Then you can have a little nap." She promised, holding out her hand for him to take.
He took it with more tears on their way. He swallowed them back and his throat burned.
"Let's go potty and then we'll go get you dressed, okay?" She started, leading him to the bathroom. His nose wrinkled but he listened anyway, eventually finding himself clad in sweatpants and a long sleeved tee. His socks were fluffy.
Castiel was cooking something divine. Bacon, he realised. But Dean felt so yucky and he really didn't want any.
Still, he was a good boy, and he ate little mouthfuls. He picked at his food with his fingers, as he always did, waiting patiently for Sam to clean him up after.
"You feeling grumpy today?" She asked, absentmindedly.
He wanted to scream. Yes, I'm feeling grumpy. I'm angry and I'm yucky and I'm tired.
But, like always, he didn't say anything. Just shrugged and so Sam suggested a nap. Nap time is always fun. Cas reads a story and Dean gets to curl up in a chair.
Except today it wasn't fun. He felt empty and uncomfortable. He tried desperately to soothe himself with his binky, curling smaller into his chair and pulling his blanket tight around his shoulders.
It didn't get better. In fact, it got worse.
Jack had decided he also wanted a nap. And Jack is little. So he curled up on mommy's lap, looking up at her like the perfect little baby he is. Then, because he's so little and so perfect, Sam started feeding him.
Dean's entire body trembled. The tears were burning and free flowing, soaking his blanket. He wasn't little or cute.
A single sob wracked his frame and everything stopped. Sam looked at him instead of Jack, Cas stopped reading. Jack glanced over but was generally too consumed with his nursing to care much.
A second sob escaped, and then a third, and then he was on his feet and running.
He heard them both call, and Cas assured Sam that he'd sort it, before the angel was hot on his tail.
Dean swung himself into a closet they'd cleared out recently. He curled up in the corner and sobbed, refusing to acknowledge Castiel when he squeezed in with him.
"Baby," The man started, gravelly voice travelling. It still sounded strange, the pet names - Dean found it hard to believe this was the being that pulled him from hell.
"Can you tell me why you're so sad?"
Dean sobbed around his pacifier again, shaking his head. He couldn't. He was so selfish.
"Please?" The angel tried, pulling Dean into his chest.
He sobbed louder, impossibly, but clung onto him like a lifeline. Maybe he could tell Cas a little.
"N-not little," He started, choking on a sob.
"You aren't little?" He tried, "You look pretty little to me, Dean. Are you struggling to regress? Do you need help?"
He shook his head; "Not little. Too big," He explained further, sobbing thankfully slowing down.
"You're too big? I don't think so, buddy."
"I am!" He wailed, and, to his dismay, felt warmth spreading across his lap. He cried all anew, then, sobbing into Castiel's shoulder.
"Why are you too big?" He asked, just holding his little boy close.
He decided he may as well explain. His day couldn't get any worse.
"Jack is small." He cried, "I'm too big to cuddle a-and… and he's a baby. You pick him up an' he gets to sleep in your bed," He stopped for a sob, and Cas desperately hoped Dean wasn't getting upset again, "A-and mommy feeds him! Like a real baby! 'Cause he's little an' small an' I'm not." He wailed, rubbing at his face and drooling around hia pacifier, dangling precariously on the edge of his bottom lip.
"Oh, Dean," Castiel sighed as the boy cried himself out, pressing his lips to his forehead, "Okay, baby, we need to have a real talk, yeah?" He shifted to stand, taking Dean with him.
"You are small enough. You are our baby and if you want to be as small as Jack you can be," He assures Dean, the boy still and silent as Cas stands with him in his grip.
"But first, baby, let's go and get you changed. And then how about we take a nap together?"
If Dean wasn't exhausted from crying he'd start crying all over again.
Sam passed them, worry etched into her features. Dean can't look at her.
"We're going to have a nap," Castiel explains, "We'll have a big family talk after."
She's worried but she trusts him. He tells her which closet the puddle is in and then he's continuing his trek to the bedroom.
"Do you want a diaper?" He asks, laying Dean on the bed. The man shrugs, far too out of it. Cas diapers him anyway.
He wears shorts to bed. He has new, clean fluffy socks. Cas wipes his face and tucks him under the blanket, climbing in beside him. He snuggles in without a second thought, head tucked under the angel's chin.
"Sleep, my little angel." He shushed. "Daddy's got you."
Dean hummed. He sighed. And he fell asleep.
When he woke up he was still firmly tucked in, strong arms holding him in place. Castiel was talking above his head, though, one hand running up and down his back.
Dean didn't want to wake up. He wanted to stay right here, warm, small and happy.
Of course, life was never so good to him.
"Daddy!" Jack squealed, "Baby Dee is 'wake!"
Dean grumbled. Castiel laughed. And Sam leant forward and kissed his head.
"Hi, sleepyhead."
He turned to face her, giving her a lazy smile.
"Sorry f' makin' you cry." Jack whispered, in the way that only toddlers manage, where its a whisper that really hasn't lost any volume.
He was sitting on the bed, presumably on Cas somewhere. That or he was floating, which, somewhere in Dean's mind, he knew was a possibility.
Dean shrugged. He didn't feel like speaking. Jack smiled and darted forward, leaving a wet kiss on his cheek.
The adults spoke some more. Jack continued watching him, pushing his pacifier back into his mouth when it dropped too far.
He was so caught up, feeling so loved and so warm, that he didn't feel his bladder relax until he was flooding his diaper.
He tensed, nervous. He looked at Cas who just sighed, smile on his face, "I think somebody needs a change."
Dean flushed dark. No one had ever been so open about it like that before.
"Can I help?" Jack squealed, excited and bouncing on the bed.
"I don't think so, mister. This is all very new and scary for Dee, okay? We have to be gentle and give him privacy." Sam explained, peeling Dean back from Cas and freeing his legs from the sheets.
"But," Jack whined, "But he's my baby brother. I need'a help him, mommy,"
Sam set her concerned eyes on Dean. He was busy staring at Jack. He'd never been the baby brother before.
"See?" Jack exclaimed, crawling towards Dean on the bed, "He wants me!"
Dean grabbed for his hand. Jack took it willingly, leaning down to kiss Dean's forehead.
Dean felt silly, for a minute. His hand was so much bigger than Jack's. But then his new big brother was kissing his face and he felt better, giggling from his spot on the bed.
"I take it you aren't bothered, then, baby?" Sam snorted, but she was already stripping him down. Jack took his wipe duty very seriously and somehow Dean didn't feel embarrassed with all of his manhood on show.
Redressed in his clothes, diaper fresh, he felt full. Full and happy and content.
Castiel picked him up, then, holding him against his chest.
"Come on, Jack. Let's get you to the potty before you need your butt changing too," Sam laughed to herself, taking his hand.
"What'a 'bout my baby?" He whined, brows furrowed as he stared back at Dean.
"Daddy is going to take him to the playroom." She explained, "If you hurry to the potty you can help me make him a bottle."
Jack was off then, screaming down the halls.
"Come on, cherub," Castiel hummed, "You wanna play with trains?"
He nodded. They walked.
"Daddy?" Dean spoke, soft and quiet. Castiel stilled, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah?"
"Happy."
Dean nuzzled down and daddy kissed his head.
They played with trains and when Jack came bounding in with his bottle he fed it to him. Until, of course, he ran off with the second half and daddy had to chase him down.
Mommy fed him the rest of his bottle. And then he played with more trains.
Dean Winchester was a very loved, very little, very happy baby.