Archive of Our Own

With the possible exception of Rowena, Max, and like one or two other ‘good ones’, Dean Winchester really hated witches. Body parts, helpless woodland creatures, and disgusting sense of humor notwithstanding, they were just trouble in general. But right now he didn’t get to bitch about that, oh no! Right now he had an infant in his arms. Ah, clarification: He had an infant Sam in his arms. Fricking Witches!

Thankfully this hunt had been close, so it hadn’t taken more than an hour to get the fitfully sleeping baby back to the bunker, detouring only briefly to get the necessities for an infant, the infant in question mercifully staying asleep for the process. Finally, finally, he stumbled through the door to the bunker and hurried down the stairs, cradling the bundle in his jacket to his chest protectively. He wanted to call out for the others loudly, but he had enough presence of mind not to wake the child, so instead he hurried through to the library, the others appearing, gathering from the sound of the not so quite front door. Rowena sat at a table, book propped in front of her when she looked up at him, despite her attempt at an air of indifference, her worry was clear in her eyes. Castiel and Charlie showed only confusion as they stared at him, the latter’s mouth opening but not quick enough to beat the voice of Mary Winchester who stood staring at him, tense and ready to either fight or bolt. “Dean? Where’s your brother?”

“Woah, easy!” He prompted softly. He nodded down to his arms and the jacket clutched agonizingly gently to his chest. “He’s right here.”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, his deep tenor ringing out in a steady cadence. “I do not understand. Sam could not possibly fit inside your jacket in such a manner as to be invisible.” Charlie lightly smacked him on the arm with an exasperated expression that was all little-sister-sass. Dean dropped one arm a few inches, uncovering a bit of the baby in his arms for the others to see. They gaped at him. “Damn witches man.”

Three of them stood still and gaped at him, Rowena however, pushed her chair back and moved over to him hurriedly, hands hovering just above Sam but not doing anything as her eyes raked over him. “Is he alright then?” She tried once again for cold-hearted bitch, like she would have flawlessly managed a year ago, but frantic near panic edged her suddenly thicker Scottish brogue. Dean huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I guess. He’s not injured or anything. But he hasn’t woken up since the spell hit him, and, well,” He raised his bundle a bit for a few seconds before resettling the babe on his chest. “He’s kind of shrunk.”

Rowena nodded along with him as he spoke, eyes barely flicking up to meet his before fastening onto Sam again. Mary shook herself from her stupor, voice cutting through the air sharply. “What happened?” Dean started, his laser-like focus on his brother broken, and stared at her with a stony expression, seeing the near military stance once so familiar in his father settling into her. Interestingly enough it didn’t have the same effect coming from her.

“Hey! Keep it down a bit.” He barked out gruffly, but his attention quickly refocused on Sam, eyes softening slightly but his lips pulling into a grimacing frown. “Damn witch had back up, golem-like bastards, got the drop on us by fricking teleporting. Shot a spell off at Sam and disappeared. I took out the last of golems, and they take nearly a month to make so she won’t have more, but I was a bit preoccupied to be tracking down a vanishing witch.”

Rowena looked up at him with an intense but earnest expression. “Can I look him over? If the poor boy was changed by a spell, I’d best make sure there are no surprises or other changes lurking inside.”

Dean grit his teeth and stared her in the eye, gaze searching hers for a few tense seconds. Whatever he was looking for, he found it in her eyes, and his posture relaxed minutely as he sighed. “Yeah.” He bit out with a gruff sigh. He looked up at her sharply. “But no magic on him.”

Rowena frowned. “I’ll have to use magik to examine him dear, if I don’t I won’t be any more use to you than a blind mouse!” Dean shook his head placatingly. “No,” He said rough and gentle. “I didn’t mean that. I meant no putting any more magic on him, even if it’s to try and fix this.” He looked over at Castiel, raising his voice enough to be heard. “And that goes for the angel mojo too Cas. I don’t want anything being done to him until we figure out exactly what this is and I deal with that witch.”

Castiel nodded while Mary frowned, Rowena held her arms out in the gentle manner mother’s often do with young children. “May I hold him then?”

A muscle jumped in Dean’s jaw as he breathed roughly through his nose, arms tightening unconsciously, and his eyes locking with hers again. Rowena raised her hands in a calming gesture. “I promise I will not harm the wee boy Dean. Despite my experience with Fergus, I do know how to handle a babe.” Dean grumbled but gently settled Sam in her arms. “You’re lucky I trust you.” He huffed and Rowena smiled at him almost playfully, but her eyes were drawn to Sam and the smile became something gentler. “Well hello there wee Samuel, my how you’ve grown. And the wrong way too!” She cooed.

She walked towards the table and let her magic flow through the air, not taking her eyes off the sleeping baby as it moved things off the table and pulled a pair of blankets from the lounge chairs, creating a nest on the table. She settled Sam in it’s center, not removing the jacket since she figured it would be a comfort should he wake. Behind her Mary stopped Dean as he moved to follow, the redhead ignored them in favor of the new child.

Mary pulled Dean towards her and bent her head in, eyes not leaving Rowena. “Dean. I don’t like this. I don’t like handing Sam defenseless over to a witch.” Dean scoffed and looked at his mother, eyes reflecting insult and disbelief, snapping, “Really mom?” He sighed and gentled his tone. “Look, I know how things were before, but it ain’t so black and white anymore! Rowena is practically family, and the day she hurts Sam I’ll take more than a minute to kill her because I’ll be frozen in shock!” He pulled his arm from her grip gently but firmly. “I mean really Mom, did you think I would hand my brother to someone who would hurt him?” He hissed quietly but didn’t wait for an answer as he settled himself in a chair as close to Rowena and Sam as he dared, Mary pressed her lips together but didn’t comment further.

Rowena stood over Sam, hands and fingers dancing in the air above him, trailing sparkling tendrils of purple magic as she sang musical words of magik softly. Dean didn’t take his eyes off of Sam, placing a herculean amount of trust in their odd aunt-like resident witch. Castiel hovered by a bookshelf, watching from a distance, but Charlie walked up next to Dean and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. He grasped her hand gratefully but did not look away. Fifteen minutes later Rowena stilled her hands and let the magic dance and glint gently in the air, amber eyes finding Dean’s bright green with a reassuring smile. “There’s no secondary magik in place, and I cannot find any ill effects other than the change in his age.” Dean sighed in relief. “Then why is he,” He gestured toward Sam, “comatose I guess?”

Rowena smiled with near amusement. “I suspect it’s because of the magnitude of the change. I mean, changing his size alone would have been an exhaustion on the poor boy’s overly sized body, but to change his age as well! He’s in a much deeper sleep than most adults, much less wee little infants, ever reach to recover from the strain. Don’t worry, it will do him no harm.” She glanced down at Sam and then at Dean, fingering a crystal pendant around her neck. “Dean, I know you do not want further magics placed on Samuel, and I agree that it might be a strain on his small body, but-”

The vibrating noise in the air was coming from Dean’s throat, a low and primal sound that he wasn’t even aware he was making as he growled. Rowena gave him a look both patient and exasperated. “Calm down wolf-man.” Dean glared but stopped growling. “Now then, as I was saying.” She gestured down at Sam, “There are no secondary magiks that I can detect, and I doubt that there is a trigger for anymore, however,” She reached up to finger the pendant again, “I would like to place a monitoring spell on this pendant and put it on Sam. If the effects of this magik being to take a worse turn, the magik on my crystal would alert me so I may have a chance to stabilize him before it’s too late. Plus, “She looked down at it with a wry grin. “It’s too big for the wee one to choke on.”

She looked up at him and met his gaze firmly, but not challengingly, waiting for his answer and not bothering to look at anyone else for their opinion. Dean considered for a minute, staring at his little brother. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay. Just…No creepy stuff, please?” He practically whined the last word and Rowena laughed, a light and tinkling sound. She winked at him. “No promises big man, but I’ll keep all my creepy crawlies away from dear Samuel here.” She smiled down at the boy and brushed tiny curls from his forehead. “I’ll keep to older, druidic magiks. They’re more natural, what you might call ‘white magik’.”

She lifted the pendant from around her neck and held it hovering between her hands in the air. She chanted over it with musical tones and it glowed softly before settling. Gently she lifted Sam’s small right leg and tied the pendant around his ankle. “There!” She brushed her hands off, though there was no need, and placed them on her hips. “Any funny business of the magikal kind and I’ll know.” She looked up at Dean with a slight frown but a kindly expression. “Now what dear?”

Dean stood and stepped over to her side, it only took half a step. He looked down at Sam and didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes reflecting emotions normally kept hidden away. Rowena was the only one close enough to see but she didn’t comment on them, they didn’t surprise her anyway. He raised a hand and gently ran the back of his knuckles down the side of Sam’s small face and slightly chubby body, almost reverently. “Now,” He uttered softly, “I need to go deal with this witch and figure out how to undo this.” His eyes flicked up to each of them in turn, not caring at the clear emotional display that he currently made with a large hand curled around the side of Sam’s tiny body, cradling him. “I’m going to need you guys to take care of him for a few hours.”

Castiel, Mary, and, Rowena began to speak at once, Dean held up his other hand to stop them, then in the silence pointed vaguely toward Rowena, eyes trained on her. She looked up at him with a strange, almost motherly and knowing expression in her eyes. “Will you need someone to help with the magikal aspect of your hunt dear? Or to figure out what was done to Sam?” Dean shook his head. “No, I want you here in case something goes wrong with Sam, you’re probably the best equipped to handle it.” He grinned almost wolfishly. “ ‘sides, I can deal with a witch now that she doesn’t have any more clay dolls.”

Rowena nodded and turned her eyes back to the sleeping baby, humming quietly. Dean turned toward Castiel, a silent invitation to speak in his raised brow. “Should you be going on this hunt alone?” It was bluntly put but no less caring, it almost made Dean smile. “I’ll be fine Cas, like I said, she only managed this because of her little toys, those are all gone now.” Castiel frowned but nodded, visibly taking a step back now that the discussion was over.

Finally, Dean turned his head toward his mother, not willing to fully turn away from Sam, and ignored the disgruntled expression on her features. “Mom?” He asked calmly. She huffed and crossed her arms. “I don’t think you should be going. You’ll be distracted, and I’d rather not have two infant sons.” Somehow, they both knew that was a bit of a lie, but Dean didn’t call her on it. He shook his head again, more firmly than he had with Castiel. “No Mom. I know this witch, who she is, where she is, her patterns, her type of magic. I’m the best person to go after her.” He tilted his head, a terrifying grin slowly creeping over his lips. “Besides, if I need to… encourage an answer from her, that’ll best be done by me as well.” He turned away from her, discussion over, and laid his eyes back on Sam taking in the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He addressed the room as a whole.

“Charlie, I want you to use those brilliant brains of yours and your ridiculous computer skills and dig up whatever info you can. Cas, same thing but in the books. Mom you help Cas, he knows the organization better. Rowena,” He glanced up at her briefly. “Anything you have in your own knowledge, tomes, or that you can think to find in the archives here or to help guide the others. You’re the magic expert.”

He picked Sam up and turned toward a bouncing Charlie. He grinned at her and she got the hint, stilling. He laid Sam in her arms gently and pushed her just as gently over to Rowena’s side with a hand on the small of her back so the witch could help her. “And I need all of you to take care of Sam while I’m gone.” His eyes narrowed as he pinned each of them with a glare. “No spells. No angel mojo. No mojo, magic, or screwy crap of any kind. Got it? I don’t care if he won’t shut up, you don’t so much as put him to sleep. Got it?” He looked back at Rowena, “Only exception is if he gets ill or you need to do another exam.”

He looked them over and they all nodded or voiced their understanding, though Mary didn’t look happy about any of this if the thin line of her lips was any indication. Dean didn’t care. “Alright then.” He slung his bag back over his shoulder from where he’d dropped it. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

With that he walked up the stairs and to the Impala, forcing himself not to look back. Well, if he maybe glanced over his shoulder and his eyes possibly zeroed in on his little brother being cradled between a smiling Rowena and a cooing Charlie in less than a second as he walked away, well that wasn’t important.

*****

He came back down one witch, yet still with a witch living, and walked into utter chaos. Chaos punctuated by the piercing cries bouncing off of tile, concrete, stone walls, and a vaulted ceiling. He ambled down the stairs at a reasonably fast pace and dropped his duffle at the bottom, hurrying into the living room.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened?” Not panic in his voice, not even at the edges of it, no way. Ok fine, it was seeping into the edges as his eyes searched out Sam. Mary was currently bouncing him in her arms, Rowena making a small version of the northern lights dance above him. Charlie was sitting a few feet away with a twisted expression on her face as if she might cry. Castiel was curled into himself and pressing back into the wall next to the archway Dean now stood in, as far away as he could get without leaving the room. Charlie looked up and came over to him.

“We tried everything, and I mean everything,” She frowned sadly, eyes finding Sam again, “but he won’t stop crying!” Her bottom lip trembled and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a brief hug as his eyes remained pinned on his brother. Over the next eighty seconds, the other four adults chimed in and he got a fairly good picture of what had been going on.

Sam had woken up minutes after he had left, looked around once and began to cry, tears and wails both. They had tried to feed him, change him, rock him, bounce him, talk to him, read to him, play music, play tv, reassure him, soothe him, but nothing worked. Charlie had read to him and bounced him around on her hip, regaled him with tales of Moondor and its queen, showed him all the colorful screens in her workroom and how they could dance with light, but he had barely glanced at them. Rowena had sung old lullabies in English and Scottish to him, used her magic to make light dance around him and bring stories to life, held him as she swayed and tried to soothe him. But short of magic, which she hadn’t used, she wasn’t successful past Sam clutching at her bouncing red hair.

Castiel surprised him, the angel holding Sam at all was a bit surprising, but Castiel had gone further than that. He’d danced around in place a bit, trying to calm Sam, had spoken to him about everything from The Beginning to the idiosyncrasies of honey bees. Hell, Cass had even sung old Enochian lullabies meant for fledglings to the infant. Sam had grabbed at him but had not quieted. Mary had rocked him, bounced him, hummed to him, and sang Hey Jude to him. That had startled him into silence for a few seconds, but relief hadn’t lasted as piercing screams had joined his wailing cries immediately. Now Mary held him and he cried and cried and screamed, trying desperately to wriggle out of her arms.

Dean watched for only a second more before he swore multiple times under his breath and moved. First thing he did was to quickly walk over to their old gramophone and pull out an old vinyl that probably shouldn’t exist, but hey! Men of Letters, he wasn’t going to question it. Under questioning stares, he put it on and listened to the beginnings of a guitar softly pluck out across the speakers lining the room. He moved quickly to Mary and did not hesitate to pull Sam into his arms and cradle him to his chest gently as he backed away. “Easy Sammy.” He murmured just barely loud enough to be heard by the other adults. Sam stopped crying almost immediately, sniffling instead.

The others gaped at him but he paid them no mind, gently making a combination of a swaying side to side and a gentle bouncing motion to rock Sam. Sam nosed at his neck, tiny fists curling into the collar of his over shirt. Dean cupped the back of Sam’s head and cradled him close. Quietly he began to hum along to the soft rock coming over the speakers. He settled Sam in his arms, careful to lay his small head in the crook of his arm, practically resting the whole of his little brother on one forearm, the other locking him in place softly. He ducked his head down and softly brushed his nose over Sam’s forehead, prompting another teary whimper. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the familiar, not caring for anything around him at the moment. He began to sing softly, voice having no issue with the notes, though it was deeper than the recording.

Sam sniffled softly, a few stray tears falling, and he cooed up at Dean. Dean smiled, laughter and love lacing his tone as the song continued.

He swayed gently and Sam still didn’t protest as he stared up at his big brother with wide eyes, as if trying to figure something out. Dean grinned at him softly.

Though no one interrupted, they were each individually struck by the tenor and softness of Dean’s tone and the blindingly obvious fact that he meant what he was saying, no matter that they were lyrics in a song. They all stared at him in varying degrees of surprise and affection. Dean, still swaying with Sam in a simple dance, made his way slowly toward a table and rested against the edge, restricting the movement to his upper body and cradling Sam’s head a bit more. No one commented as his voice became thicker, huskier, with emotion.

Sam’s eyes fluttered but he resolutely opened them wide and stared up at the shining green of his big brother’s gaze. Dean smiled in gentle, love filled amusement as a tiny yawn broke that stare for merely a second.

He brushed a gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead as he hummed the last notes of the song softly, rocking Sam side to side in a hypnotizing slow dance. Sam’s bright eyes, currently more blue than grey, vibrant nebulas of brown swirling around their outsides, blinked, then blinked again, not opening nearly as wide. Dean grinned as Sam yawned and his eyes finally slid shut.

He looked up at the others staring at him, three shocked, a certain redhead highly amused, and another redhead just looking a bit smug and affectionate. He smiled sheepishly. “Heh, sorry ‘bout that.” He all but whispered softly, ducking his head. His embarrassment fled quickly as his eyes found Sam again and he smiled softly. “Soft Rock always put him out like a light” He glanced up at the others with an almost playful grin, “And uh, he really hated anyone but me holding ‘im when he was this small.” He frowned a bit as he looked back down at Sam. “I’d forgotten about that actually.”

Rowena stood from her crouched position and stretched daintily. “That’s alright dear. Now then; we don’t have a crib that I know of, but we could make a nest of sorts from blankets, that way you don’t have to hold him constantly.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head with a wry grin, still studying Sam. “Nah. Unless you want him to wake up crying basically immediately after he leaves my hold?” He looked up at Rowena with a playful smirk and was almost surprised to see a similar expression on her features, as if she had already known that to be the case. He chuckled softly and let his gaze fall again to his sleeping brother. “I’ve held him for longer, I can hold him now.” He grinned wryly. “Hey! At least I’m more than twice his size this time!”

He didn’t look up at the others as he secured Sam in his arms and stood, light steps carrying them both towards one of the couches further in the library. If he had he would have seen the pinched expression on Mary’s face. He sat down on one of the couches and leaned back, settling Sam so the infant was using his chest as a bed. Charlie followed shyly and he grinned at her, jerking his chin to indicate the spot next to him, she grinned happily and settled on the couch about a foot away. Rowena settled in an armchair while Castiel hovered and Mary stood stiffly off to the side.

“Dean.” The man in question lazily flicked his gaze up at the deep voice. “Yeah Cas?” The angel tilted his head in a puppy like manner, making Charlie stifle a giggle and Rowena rolled her eyes fondly. The angel didn’t notice, blue eyes focused only on the brothers.

“Is the witch dead?”

Dean nodded, absent-mindedly humming an old song. “Yeah, she’s dead.” He looked up at the others and sighed, knowing he would have to explain with more than a single sentence. Looking down at Sam in his arms he sighed softly. "Found her pretty quickly, ran into Max Banes on the way. Good witch raised by a good woman, who doesn’t take kindly to witches who misuse their gifts.” Mary frowned and made an aborted noise of displeasure, but Dean paid her no mind. “Turns out the wicked witch of the west caught his attention too. We ganked the bitch and he asked about Sam.” He paused as Sam stirred in his arms, grinning when the baby settled again. “Told him what happened and he did his revealing spells stuff, found the source of the spell and its anchor, undid them both. The residual energy of the magic has to wear off, but Sammy here should be a real boy again in a day or two.”

Rowena nodded thoughtfully and, finding no flaw in the boys’ logic, settled back with the cup of tea she rewarmed with her magic. Charlie and Castiel just nodded, accepting Dean’s trust of Max and therefore Max’s word. Mary made a frustrated noise.

“And that’s that? We’re just going to trust a witch without any plan to undo this?” All eyes were on her in varying degrees of cool regard, everyone’s except Dean’s and her eldest’s unwillingness to look away from Sam even to look at his mother irked her. “We should be finding a way to reverse this, not trusting the word of a random witch.”

“Enough.”

It was gruff, quiet, barely heard, but it reverberated like a shot through the air as Dean’s finally looked at her. She had to stop herself from shrinking back or shivering as the bright green eyes that had been trained on Sam shifted into hard icy hazel, nearly brown as the light left them. “You know Max Banes, you know he’s a good hunter and a good man. We trust him.” His eyes narrowed, “Just like we trust Rowena, just like we trust Cas. If nothing else you should trust me.” He glared at her for the tense seconds of silence as she stared at him, he growled out “I would never, never put my little brother at risk. Trying to unravel the spells on him instead of letting them run their course over a few days would risk doing more harm than good to him. We’ll wait this out.”

Mary grit her teeth and walked away, Dean made an aborted shrugging motion and leaned his head back, settling down to rest. No one bothered him or the peacefully resting infant, nor did they comment as he began humming Wildfire softly.