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A shot rang out. The witch had a gun.
Dean shouted, he heard that, right before he hit the floor, beginning to lose consciousness already.
Another shot rang out. Another and another and another. It was futile, John hadn't had witch killing bullets in his gun.
Dean paused his scooping up of Sam to draw his own pistol, aiming sloppily and firing. He shot a second time for good measure before throwing the gun aside carelessly.
"Sam? Sammy?" He fretted, pulling his little brother into his lap.
Sam groaned, eyes opening slightly and trying to focus on Dean's face.
Dean's lip quivered a little and he looked up at something beyond Sam.
"Dad?" He called "Dad!" He must have gotten John's attention the second time because he gestured at something with his head before he focus went back to Sam.
"Ok, ok. Your gonna be ok Sammy" he shushed, scooping Sam into his arms with a grunt.
Sam whined, sounding a lot like a baby as he slumped limply in Dean's arms.
It took Dean too long to realise something was wrong, and then it took him too long to find the hex bag. By then it was too late...but at least they'd gotten to tend to the wound a little bit before it happened.
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Dean was curled around the small form of his baby brother, now the body of a toddler. A toddler with a bullet wound in his gut. A toddler who had been wailing ever since he woke up from the gentle unconcious runt removing the bullet had put him in just before he turned.
Dean shushed him futility. Rubbing his back and soothing his hair down. They'd already given him as much pain medication his tiny body could handle. They feared giving him anymore even if it didn't seem to dull the pain enough to stop the drama.
Dean sniffled, holding Sam a little tighter. Both laying in the younger's bed with the TV playing cartoons on low volume, completely drowned out by the wailing echoing out from under Dean's arms.
"I know. I know, baby, I know" Dean choked, face buried in Sam's hair. He sniffled again as a few more tears dropped onto the pillow just above Sam's head.
There was a indescribable pain encompassing his entire lower half, and all he could do was scream.
So Sam screamed and cried, fists clutched into Dean and his body curling and writhing painfully, lungs gasping for air in between the wails and the sobs.
Dean nodded, sniffling again and kissing Sam's forehead.
"I know, baby" he whispered, hand encompassing Sam's temple as he stared forward, eyes filling with tears "it's ok... it's... it's ok baby. It's ok Sammy" he was well aware Sam probably couldn't hear him, but he didn't know what else to do.
All he could do was hold Sam tight, stay still, and hope the toddler falls asleep when the meds fully kick in.
Although, it was entirely possible they already had, Dean wasn't sure how long he'd been laying there for. Perhaps the drugs had kicked in yet the youngin still insisted on continuing this tantrum, and perhaps he had a good reason too. He was probably still in pain even if the drugs had kicked in.
It was definitely pain that Sam could normally handle like a champ. But now he was a baby, and this baby didn't know how to deal with a bullet wound.
Dean sobbed a little, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
"Just go to sleep Sammy" he begged "please, please Sammy" he sniffled again "please stop crying" he whispered, pulling Sam close and kissing his forehead.
Sam continued to wail and writhe in Dean's arms. Dean sobbed, holding Sam a little tighter once again.
Mary and John stood a few steps back from the open door, worried gazes locked onto the curled up forms of their son's on the bed.
"Why aren't we doing anything" Mary choked out, hand on her chest and tears welling in her eyes.
John's sign came out shaky. He placed a hand on Mary's waist and stepped closer to her, snuggling his face against her hair.
"Dean's got him, Mary. It's ok" he said, somewhat unconvinced himself, yet he continued. "Sam's already distressed, we wouldn't want to crowd him" he added.
Mary nodded slightly.
"I know" she breathed "I know".
___________
Finally, there was a little bit of silence.
Dean slowly let his eyes close, feeling the baby still in his arms.
Sam was still whining weakly while he slept, but at least he was sleeping.
Dean didn't move, fearing if he shifted even an inch that he would wake the toddler and/or cause him pain. But he let his body relax once his eyes closed, his tight grip loosing just a bit, but not enough to move either of the two from their positions. Dean slowly and gently placed another light kiss on Sam's forehead before he let himself start to drift off.
_________
Sam groaned a little. He felt a pain in his abdomen, clearly dulled by drugs that were starting to wear off.
He shifted a bit as his eyes slowly opened.
The movement immediately jostled Dean awake, though his eyes didn't open just yet.
Dean took a sharp breath through his nose and held Sam tighter, running his fingers through his hair.
"It's ok baby. It's ok Sammy, it's ok" he whispered sluggishly, slurring his words a little. He leaned in and kissed Sam's forehead.
Sam scrunched up his face and hummed, struggling to find his voice before forcing out a deep gravely tone.
"Dean?" He groaned, reaching an arm up to both rub his eye and try to push Dean's arms off him.
Dean sniffled a little, eyes finally opening and taking in the form of his 'not so little' anymore little brother before he huffed.
"There you are" he breathed out, relieved, though he didn't realise Sam despite the younger's efforts to escape.
Dean held Sam tighter again and planted another kiss on his forehead.
"There you are buddy" he choked, voice breaking a little as he rubbed the back of Sam's head.
Sam whined.
"Dean?" He huffed, voice muffled from where he was squished against Dean's chest. He heard Dean sniffle again, making his brow furrow.
"Dean?" He questioned again, this time with his voice softer. "What happened?"
Dean took a deep, quivering breath before finally pulling back a little to look Sam in the eyes. Dean run his fingers across his cheeks and letting they pinch his nose and they slid off his face. He swallowed and smiled a little.
"You uh, you got turned into a toddler by a dead witch" he summarised. "Oh yeah, and before that you got shot".
"Uh, yeah" Sam winced as he shifted his position, hand resting gently on his wound "I figured" he huffed.
Dean chuckled a little, sniffling a little and clearly his throat. He swallowed and a few tears welled up again as he struggled to look his brother in the eyes.
"All you did was cry" he choked out "it...it was horrible", he admitted, eyes downcast.
Sam sighed, not knowing what to say for a moment.
"Well I'm back now" he decided, giving a firm nod.
Dean looked up and managed a nod of him own.
"Yeah you are" he said, a teary smile playing on his face.