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     Sam could have easily picked him up, which was a problem, because even though he was a good four or five inches taller than his brother, he had never been able to easily pick him up in his life.

     That happened to be because Dean was somewhere around five years old right now.

     Sam stared helplessly at his now-little brother, taking in the trembling bottom lip and watery green eyes.

     "What's the matter, buddy?" Sam asked, still shocked. There had been a blinding flash of light, leaving little Dean in the middle of the floor.

     "Don't feel right," Dean whined, something Sam had never really heard him do in his life. 

     "Yeah, you don't quite look right either," Sam replied, taking in the small body and tiny hands that rubbed furiously at enormous green eyes. Little Dean had fluffy, light brown hair, free of gel for once.

     Sam sighed, looking up from his brother to scan the empty house they'd found the witch in. "We'd better head home, buddy. Come on, let's go back to the car."

     "Impala?" Dean asked, his voice higher and quieter than normal.

     "Yeah, the Impala. Come on," Sam said, still not really knowing what to say. Did Dean remember everything? Was he just trapped in a five year-old's body? Or was he really reverted back to that state? And would the curse eventually lift?

     Sam shuddered at the thought of Dean staying that way forever. As adorable as his younger brother was, he really needed the older version to help stop the Apocalypse.

     They got to the car and Dean climbed into the passenger seat. He was far smaller than Sam thought was safe for the front seat, but he wasn't about to tell his former-older brother to get into the back.

     He'd just have to get home fast.

     Sam started the car and headed back in the direction of the Bunker, trying to remember the route Dean had driven them.

     He heard a quiet sniffle and looked over, surprised. There were big tears streaming down Dean's face, which just about shocked Sam into slamming on the brakes.

     "What's the matter, buddy?" he asked.

     Dean sniffled again. "Want Cas," he mumbled.

     "You want. . . Castiel? The angel? Seriously?" Sam asked. So maybe Dean did remember some things, if he knew who Cas was.

     "Want Cas," Dean repeated sadly. He hiccuped a sob, wiping his face harshly. "Want Cas."

     "I know, buddy. I'll get you to Cas soon," Sam replied.

     He looked back at the road, tightening his grip on the wheel.

     Dean's crying was silent, and Sam reflected that their father had probably not had much patience for tears. Maybe it was still ingrained in the boy, because Sam had never heard a five year-old cry so quietly.

     Want Cas.

     Why did Dean want Castiel, of all people? He shouldn't even really know Cas, if he was actually five years old. But he seemed to know what he was saying, and he definitely seemed to want the angel, what with the quiet sobs that were now emanating from the corner of the Impala's bench.

     "Sam, want Cas," Dean said louder. Sam swallowed, praying to Chuck that he wasn't about to throw a tantrum. Sam wasn't sure he could handle the idea of his older brother, the stoic Dean, throwing a fit.

     "I can't. . . Cas isn't here right now," Sam replied. "He's at the Bunker."

     "But-But. . . " Dean trailed off, sniffling more. It seemed that he wasn't going to throw a fit after all. Dean was incredibly well behaved, Sam decided.

     They turned onto a familiar street. Sam sighed in relief, looking over at Dean. The little guy was still crying, rubbing at his eyes furiously whenever a tear escaped.

     "Alright, buddy. Let's go see Cas," Sam said, stopping the Impala outside.

     He got out, waiting for Dean to follow him. The kid closed the door and followed Sam on tiny legs, struggling to keep up with Sam's long strides.

     Even as they were just opening the door, Sam was calling for Cas. He heard the angel shuffling around, so he knew he was nearby.

     "Cas! Castiel, get over here!" he called.

     There was a fluttering of wings. Castiel appeared next to them, frowning at Sam and little Dean.

     "I see there was a problem with the witch," he intoned. "Is this Dean?"     

     "Yeah, that's Dean. Thirty years younger," Sam said.

     Castiel frowned, kneeling down to look at Dean. The child, seeming to realize that the man he'd been asking for was in front of him, sniffled. "Cas."

     Castiel looked surprised to be addressed by Dean. He looked down at him curiously. "Yes? What is it you desire, Dean?"

     "I'm not sure he's going to understand big words, Cas," Sam said. "He's pretty young."

     "Why is he crying?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

     "I think. . . I think he wants you," Sam said.

     "Wants me to do what?" Castiel asked, frowning at the little human in front of him. Dean was slowly becoming more and more upset, his face scrunching and more tears streaming down his face.

     "Um, I don't know. But you'd better figure it out quick," Sam said.

     Castiel frowned at Dean, narrowing his eyes at the small human. Dean sniffled again, looking ready to start bawling his eyes out. Nervously, Sam shifted his weight and took a step back.

     "I don't understand," Cas said finally.

     Dean burst into tears.

     Uh oh.

     The little human, the little Dean, was crying.

     Castiel stared down at him, frantically running through the knowledge reserves in his mind, searching for reasons why the child was crying and what to do to calm him.

     He came up with an old memory of Jimmy Novak's.

     Taking care of his daughter. She was crying because she was. . . hungry? And Jimmy had picked her up and held her against his body with his arms.

     A hug. Maybe little Dean wanted a hug.

     Castiel reached out and scooped Dean into his arms, holding him gently to his chest. It was a little awkward, given how small Dean was now, but the angel managed it.

     The effect was immediate.

     Dean's sobs turned to small, sniffling hiccups. He relaxed in Castiel's arms, tucking his face into the angel's neck.

     "Wow. Nice job, Cas," Sam said. He watched Dean warily, as if expecting him to burst into tears again. "What now?"

     Castiel allowed a tendril of grace to prod at Dean's soul. "He's going to be this way for another few hours. I think he's hungry," the angel replied. His voice was softer than normal, the effect of having a human child cuddled like a little octopus against him.

     Wordlessly, Sam headed for the Bunker's kitchen. Castiel followed him, keeping a firm hold on Dean. The little boy sniffled once or twice, but he otherwise remained silent.

     That changed when Castiel tried to put him down on a stool near the Bunker's counter. Dean started to cry again, clinging to Castiel's trench coat with his little fists.

     "No, no, no, no!" he wailed. "Want Cas! No, Cas!"

     Castiel froze, looking up at Sam. The tall Winchester stared back, equally as dumbfounded.

     "Maybe he isn't hungry," Sam finally said.

     "But why is he crying?" Castiel asked, over the noise of Dean's sobs.

     "He wants you, Cas. Fuck, just hold him like you were doing," Sam said, running a hand through his long hair. "God, this is so weird."

     Castiel picked Dean up again and the boy quieted immediately. Castiel relaxed, now that the sounds of a little human in distress weren't echoing through the Bunker.

     "I wonder. . . " Sam trailed off, looking thoughtful.

     Castiel looked at him questioningly, rocking Dean on instinct. The boy made a happy purring noise, so Castiel kept doing it.

     "I think. . . Maybe little Dean wants exactly what big Dean wants," Sam said. "He's just. . . better at communicating it."

     Castiel stared at him for a moment, then looked back down at the little human he cradled in his arms. "Perhaps you're right. But why me?"

     Sam didn't answer, just gave Castiel a knowing look.

     The angel sighed and turned around. "Well, if you aren't hungry, maybe we should go to bed," the angel suggested, looking down at the small human who was latched onto him.

     "Good idea. I'll do some research," Sam said.

     Castiel watched him go, feeling sorry for the younger Winchester. He was way out of his depth, what with Dean small and vulnerable. The angel looked down at the little boy, frowning when he saw that his big green eyes were still open.

     "Don't you want to rest?" the angel asked. "Come, let's go to your bed and you can allow your brain to decompress."

     Dean made a small, contented humming noise, completely disregarded what Castiel had said about going to bed, put his head on the angel's shoulder, and promptly fell asleep.

     Castiel sighed.

     He carried Dean to his bedroom, took one look at all the sharp objects hanging on the walls, and turned around, heading for his room.

     Castiel didn't really sleep in his room, but he did lay in the bed and stare up at the ceiling sometimes. It was what Dean called 'his space', where he could go do whatever he wanted. Sometimes, when a hunt had gone particularly wrong and they were all mad at each other, Castiel would go into his room to 'pout', as Dean called it.     

     He entered, shutting the door behind him, and laid Dean on the bed. This time, the little boy was too sleepy to protest as he was laid down, but he did grab onto Castiel's sleeve as the angel pulled away.

     "Stay, Cas," Dean murmured sleepily. 

     "You want me to stay with you?" Castiel asked, feeling strangely honored.

     "Stay," Dean repeated, his voice small.

     Castiel pulled away, peeled off his trench coat, toed off his shoes, and laid down on the bed next to Dean. For a moment, he had the ridiculous idea that he was going to accidentally crush the small human, but he managed to lay down without hurting him. Once Castiel was settled, Dean tucked himself into his side, a small, contented smile on his face.

     Castiel kissed him gently on the top of his head without even thinking. Stupid human urges.

     The angel, though disgruntled and a little awkward, couldn't deny the fact that having the little human pressed up against him felt good.

     He wondered if what Sam had said earlier was right. He was surprised to find that he sincerely hoped so.

     Castiel didn't need sleep, so he looked up at the ceiling and listened to Dean's little puffs of breath, knowing that if he had wings, they would be wrapped around the little boy.

     It was only hours later, when Dean returned to normal in a flash of light, that Castiel believed Sam. Because even in sleep, big Dean still had his arms around Castiel, still cuddled next to him, still slept soundly.

     At least, until he murmured, "Just pretend it's an after-effect of the spell."

     Castiel didn't answer, but he did smile. As Dean drifted off to sleep, the angel reflected that he was alright with pretending, at least for a little while.