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In retrospect, Garth could have given them a little warning when he sent them on this case.
Sam and Dean both sat in suits across from the head of the police department of Tarnstead, Michigan, but neither one of them was looking at the officer. No, their attention was fully on the man, at least a few years Dean’s elder, dressed in soft shorts and a tshirt sporting Thomas the Train, sitting cross legged on a blanket spread on the floor, action figures held tightly in his hands.
“What’cha got there, bud?” Dean said lightly.
Sam snapped his eyes around to his brother, afraid that Dean was going to say something to make this even more awkward. But the kid – man, Sam’s brain stubbornly substituted – looked up curiously at Dean, offering a shy sort of smile.
He held up the doll in his left hand, showing the clearly well loved Wonder Woman toy.
“Awesome,” Dean said with a small grin.
“Okay, Travis, why don’t you head out and see Aunt Kelly for a little while?” the police chief, Sheriff Rhodes, said.
The boy – man – Travis scrambled to his feet, gathering up the rest of the toys strewn across the blanket.
“Give Daddy a kiss,” Sheriff Rhodes’ said in a sing-song voice, tapping his cheek slightly. With a blush and a giggle, the man leaned over towards Rhodes and gave him a wet, sloppy kiss, right on the side of his mouth, before bounding out of the office.
“Ahh, he’s a cute little stinker, isn’t he?” Sheriff Rhodes said with a broad smile, watching after the man.
“Uh, yeah, real cute,” Dean said, shrugging slightly at Sam.
“Of course, Travis isn’t as young as your sweet little guy,” Rhodes continued, and Sam was startled to see that the chief’s eyes were now looking at him. “Are you playing dress-up with Daddy today, little man?”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“This is my partner, Agent Avory,” Dean said, his eyebrows now raised, leaning forwards almost protectively in his seat.
Sherriff Rhodes looked taken aback. “Oh! My mistake…so you’re not…” he gestured vaguely between them.
“Not what?” Sam said, his voice a little higher than he’d have liked.
“You’re not part of the Ageplay Community?”
Sam looked at Dean, his eyes wide, but Dean was still staring at the officer. “No, I can’t say that we are,” he said with a frown. “So that…Travis, he’s your…”
“My Little. My son,” Rhodes said strongly, and now Sam could hear the challenge in his voice.
“Oh.” Dean sat back a little, glancing back at the blanket on the floor. “No, we’re not part of the…Ageplay Community? I can’t really say I know what that is.”
Some of the tension left Rhodes’ shoulders, but Sam could feel it building up in his stomach. “This whole town is a safe haven for people like Travis and myself. Most everyone here has a Little or a Big. A charge or a caregiver.”
“So is it a kinky thing?” Dean said, and Sam felt like slapping his brother aside the head. Except his tone was weird. Almost like he was genuinely curious.
But Sherriff Rhodes laughed. “It is for some, but not everyone. Some of us use it as a form of therapy. A way to cast off stress and enjoy unrestrained comfort from the roles we want to fill.”
“That’s interesting,” Dean finally looked back at Sam briefly.
“I am sorry, Agent Davies,” Sherriff Rhodes continued to Dean. “Normally people who come this way are of the same cloth as the rest of us. When I saw Agent Avory I guess I just assumed that he was your Little.”
“No harm done,” Dean gave an easy smile. “Right, Agent?”
“Right,” Sam managed, albeit a bit stiffly.
Rhodes had enough decency to look slightly embarrassed. “I guess that makes the most sense, seeing what kind of stuff you probably deal with. Mr. Fitzgerald said he’d send me the right agents to deal with our sort of… special problem.”
“Can you tell us exactly what’s been happening?” Dean shifted back into case mode, brushing off the strangeness of the previous conversation.
But Sam couldn’t shake the funny feeling in his gut. His eyes darted to the blanket on the floor, and back to the sheriff’s desk, noticing the picture frames containing pictures of the man-child Travis, smiling happily back at him.
The conversation between Dean and Rhodes wasn’t registering in Sam’s head properly. There was talk of people disappearing, but only Littles, and Rhodes was worried about Travis…and Dean giving reassurances…
The sheriff got to his feet, as did Dean, and they shook hands. Sam stood up hastily, offering his own hand to Rhodes.
“Thank you both for this,” he said sincerely as he shook Sam’s hand firmly, but his eyes were curious. “You know, I really could have sworn you were an AB. I’m always good at telling a Little’s age, and I’ve never been wrong before.
Sam could only manage a tight smile.
Since it was still morning, they went into a diner for a late breakfast.
“So a Little is someone who goes into a headspace as a child younger than their biological age,” Sam read from the information pamphlet Mann’s had given them. “And Big is the term for an adult who likes to…take care of an adult pretending to be a kid…”
Dean made a humming noise, frowning slightly at the menu.
“Littles are often younger than ten in mental age, and sometimes they switch between different ages,” Sam continued, determined to get a reaction out of Dean. “Some go all the way down to one and two years old. Some even younger. The pamphlet says they’re called AB’s, or,” Sam frowned feeling his stomach clench. “Adult babies. Dude, are you hearing this?”
“I hear you Sam,” Dean said, sounding bored, still not looking up at Sam.
“This whole town is dedicated to it,” Sam said across the table, flipping through the town brochures he’d picked up on the way out of the police station. “There’s stores with supplies, playgrounds, daycare centers…”
“Sounds like they’ve got this place vamped out,” Dean said nonchalantly, his eyes scanning over the menu. “Think their waffles are any good here?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t you find this even a little bit weird?”
Dean looked at Sam, clearly unimpressed. “Last week, we had to cut a paranormal parasite, that’s supposed to only live in rainforests, off a man’s right testicle, with only dental floss. The word weird has lost all meaning.”
Sam made a face at the memory. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said with a huff, slumping back into the booth, shoving the pamphlet and brochures away.
“Dude, are you seriously bothered by what Rhodes said?” Dean tossed then menu down.
Feeling his cheeks redden slightly, Sam found he couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes, and gave a little shrug instead of answering.
“Aw, man,” Dean laughed. “The guy didn’t mean anything by it. You looked through all this stuff yourself, everyone here does this ageplay thing. He probably just forgot that the whole world doesn’t work like that.”
Sam felt the worry in his gut lessening at Dean’s words, and he felt himself smiling a little in amusement.
“Yeah. Yeah you’re probably right,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And why’d he automatically assume that I was a…an AB, or whatever?”
“I don’t know, Sammy, you do have those big ol’ puppy dog eyes,” Dean said with a smirk, easily dodging the straw wrapper Sam threw his way.
Just then, their waitress, a matronly looking woman approached the table. “How’s the menu looking, boys?”
“I think we’ll need a few more minutes to look it over,” Dean said, his charm flipping on. “I’ll just start out with coffee, if you’ve got it. Nice and black.”
“Of course,” the waitress said with a smile. “And what about for this handsome little fella? We’ve got bottles with apple juice, milk, and chocolate milk for extra good baby boys!”
Sam felt himself turn cold at the woman’s cooing voice, any good feelings from Dean’s teasing gone. “Coffee,” he said shortly. “Black.”
The woman’s smile faltered, and she look at Dean with questioning eyes. Dean just shrugged and nodded, and Sam could tell he was swallowing back a grin.
“Shut it,” Sam hissed as the woman walked away, and Dean raised his hands in surrender, a laugh huffing out of him.
“I didn’t say anything!”
The local Library was their next stop.
Dean was searching on the laptop while Sam pulled up the Men of Letters files on his tablet. “I think we might be dealing with a shtriga,” Dean said, flipping around the screen to show Sam, who frowned.
“But the people going missing are adults.”
Dean shrugged. “Sheriff said only Littles were going missing. Maybe the whole ageplay headspace thing actually makes people childish enough to look appetizing for a shtriga.”
“Maybe,” Sam said, but he still wasn’t convinced. “I’m going to go look through the town records, see what I can find,” he said getting to his feet.
The library in this town wasn’t exactly small, but Sam had noticed quickly on the way in that a large portion, at least half the building was dedicated to a very secure looking children’s section. Sam made sure to give that area a wide berth as he moved towards the file cabinets in the back.
Years of experience in digging up information made it easy for Sam to find the old news articles and obituaries. He sat himself on the floor and spread out the papers around him, scanning briefly for any red flags.
HARD TIMES IN TARNSTEAD
The headline quickly grabbed Sam’s attention. The article was dated some fifteen years prior, and the biggest news? People were leaving the town after the deaths and disappearances of their children. Kids were being found comatose in their beds by their unsuspecting parents in the mornings, only to die days later in the hospital, and some children were vanishing without any sort of trace. Pictures of curious black marks on windowsills. With everyone leaving, the town didn’t have enough citizens to support itself, and from the tone of the article, Tarnstead had been well on its way to becoming a ghost town.
Sam set the article aside, looking at the stacks of newspapers from the next year. Similar headlines plastered each front page, until an advertisement took up almost the entire front page.
INVESTERS BUYING
Sam’s eyes narrowed. The article didn’t name any specific names, but it spoke over and over about a chance for people to sell their property in Tarnstead. The whole town was being purchased, and Sam thought he knew what for.
Searching quickly through the papers again, Sam found his confirmation, from a different newspaper called “Little Bits.”
AB-IES WELCOME: LET YOUR LITTLE SIDE FREE
So, that was how this town became like this. Everyone left following a supernatural tragedy, and members of the ageplay community had turned it into their own paradise.
Sam rested his head in his hand, picking at the newspaper. He seriously wasn’t trying to be judgemental, but he just didn’t get it. How were there this many people interested in ageplay? He’d never even heard of it before now, not in a 24/7 lifestyle way in any case.
Technically, Sam didn’t need anything else. He was convinced it was a shtriga now too. But he couldn’t quash his curiosity. Feeling a little guilty, Sam started to stretch his hand out for the newspaper.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be out here,” a voice startled Sam into looking up.
A woman was standing in front of him with her arms folded, giving Sam a strict look that made Sam freeze. The woman tsked a little before reaching down and wrapping her hand around Sam’s upper arm, pulling him to his feet.
“Just look at the mess you’ve made,” she said, sternly, and Sam found himself floundering to give an apology as she began to lead him through the library.
“I’m sorry, ma’am I remember where all of them go. I can put them all back as soon as I’m finished –”
“These documents are too old for such a little boy to be looking through,” she cut him off. “You ought to have an adult watching you a little more closely.”
Sam felt his jaw drop. He couldn’t even begin to form a response. Not this woman too!
Sam stumbled after the woman dumbly, and when she led him through a door that she opened with a badge clipped to her shirt, he realized with a jolt that she was taking him into the children’s section.
“Now you just wait right in here, and I’m sure your Daddy will be done soon,” she said as she exited the room.
“Wait – ” Sam finally managed to get his bearings, but it was too late. The heavy door had already shut, and when Sam tried to wrench it open, he found the door locked.
“Hey little buddy, why don’t you come all the way in and join us!”
Sam turned around towards the sound of the chipper voice and looked at the room in barely muted horror.
The floor was covered with squishy puzzle pieces and littered with brightly colored toys. Soft books with titles like “Puppy Finds a Friend” where strewn haphazardly around. There were four other people in the room besides Sam. The one closest to him was a man wearing a blue vest with a nametag and a badge like the woman before was wearing. The other three were sitting on the floor.
They must be Littles. Two of them were dressed like Travis had been, but one was wearing clothes that looked normal, almost like the jeans and shirt Sam was wearing. But the pacifier moving rhythmically between his lips and the line of white plastic sticking up from the top of his pants made it clear, Sam was currently in the baby room.
“We’re just about to read a story! Would you like to hear it?” the worker tried to reach for his hand, and Sam jerked it back on instinct, feeling the door pressed against his back. “Hey, its okay!” the man said in a tone that was probably meant to be soothing. “What’s your name, baby?”
“There’s been a mistake,” Sam finally managed, pushing back even more against the door. “I’m not – I’m not little.”
“Ohh I see,” the worker nodded at Sam with a very serious expression, that Sam couldn’t help but feel was condescending. “Well, big boy, do you need to go potty before we start story time?”
Sam could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. “No, NO, I’m not little – a – Little. You need to let me out. I don’t even live here, I’m just here with my brother.”
The man gave Sam a patronizing smile. “Well as soon as your big brother is done, he can pick you up right here! But I can’t let you out without your Big. It’s not safe outside for little boys all by themselves!”
Sam felt the muscles in his cheek twitch. If he wanted, he could easily overpower this man and take the badge that would unlock the door. But with a glance at the wide-eyed “Littles” sitting on the floor, Sam decided against it. He really didn’t want to get arrested in this crazy town.
“Now why don’t you give the potty a quick try, and you can join us on the rug!”
Sam couldn’t stop his eyes from following where the man was gesturing to, a bright red stall with the door standing wide open, clearly showing not a real toilet, but an oversized plastic training potty like the one meant for toddlers.
Sam felt his cheeks flame up. Like hell he was going to sit on that thing! “No,” he said sharply, and the man raised his brow.
“Well, Mr. Grumpy, if that’s how your going to behave, then maybe you ought to sit in the time out chair for a little while.
Sam felt his heart sink, straight to the colorful, squishy floor.
Hours later (in reality it was only twenty minutes, but it sure as hell felt like hours,), the female librarian came back through the door to the children’s section with Dean in tow.
Sam shot up from the chair he’d been sat in, facing the corner while he’d tried to ignore the sounds of the caretaker reading to the Littles in all sorts of different voices. He nearly stumbled trying to get back to the door, feeling a flash of humiliation as the caretaker reached the door before he did.
“Oh, is this your little boy?” the man said. “I must say, somebody was a very naughty baby today, but maybe he just missed his nap time?”
Sam’s face felt incredibly hot, and he was torn between the desire to punch the man square in the face, and the strangest feeling of shame twisting in his stomach.
Dean didn’t seem nearly as bothered as his eyes swept quickly over the room, lingering on Sam for a brief moment before meeting the caretaker’s eyes. “Ah – Poughkeepsie!” Dean said with a small smile, raising both his hands in a surrendering gesture. “We’re not actually part of the ageplay stuff.”
A look of plain shock instantly took over the caretaker’s face. “Oh! My goodness, I am so sorry, I didn’t realize!” He glanced at Sam, who could feel his jaw ticking, but the man still only addressed Dean. “He never said the safe word, so I just assumed he was acting out to get a spanking later!”
Sam couldn’t help the strangled noise that slipped past his throat, but Dean covered it up. By laughing.
“He can be a brat, alright! But we’re in town for business, and we didn’t really know what we were getting into, or that you had a community wide safeword.”
Sam’s embarrassment was growing by the second, bubbling beneath his skin as Dean and the caretaker continued to talk over his head.
“Gosh, we’re so sorry for the mistake!” The man turned to Sam with a wide, anxious smile. “But feel free to come back and play some time! I bet you’d make a very sweet baby boy!”
Sam had heard enough. He stepped forwards, grabbing at Dean’s arm and started to drag his brother out the door, ignoring the librarian’s pinched and suspicious look, and the caretaker’s hasty farewell.
Sam was pissed. He was frustrated, angry, and embarrassed, and it was causing him to be in a seriously foul mood.
Between the sheriff, the waitress, the librarian, and the stupid library daycare worker, why was everyone treating him like…like some little kid? It didn’t make any sense to him. And Dean didn’t seem to care at all, he was just treating it like it was no big deal, as if people assuming he was too young to take care of himself was normal.
But the sight that greeted Sam as they walked into their motel room, that was the straw the finally broke the moose’s back.
Sam could only stare at their room in disbelief. His bags fell noisily to the floor as he stared jaw clenched in anger. There was one bed, and one giant ass crib, complete with wooden bars and what could only be a changing table on the side.
Sam had been in the motel office with Dean. He’d distinctly heard his brother ask for a room with two queens! So why the hell were they assigned this room?
Sam felt his hands curling into fists, his arms trembling with the force of it, humiliation sweeping through him, making him feel sick.
“Sam – Sammy, hey!” Dean’s hand was closing around his wrist, pulling him to turn away from the room. “Its okay, man. Just a mistake. I’ll go get us a different room. No harm done, right?”
Sam swallowed back his biting retort, giving only a jerky nod in its place, forcing himself to focus on the grounding feeling of Dean’s grip.
“You wait here with the bags. I’ll be back with a different room.”
Sam felt a pang of reluctance as Dean dropped his arm and left. The door bounced slightly against the deadbolt that Dean left turned, leaving Sam alone with their bags and the crib. For a moment, Sam closed his eyes and forced himself to focus on his breathing. He needed to calm down. This wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t.
It just really felt like it.
Sam opened his eyes to peak back at the crib. It was still there, standing innocently in the corner, mocking him. Sam felt a flash of annoyance. Why should he let this thing bother him? There wasn’t any reason. He shouldn’t. It was just a bed. With bars that kept babies from falling out of bed and getting hurt.
Sam shook his head a little. It was just a bed.
Sam squared his jaw, and crossed the room, before he could change his mind, and stood himself just in front of the crib.
The sheets were covered in a baby block pattern, a soft blue blanket already turned back by a maid. Sam set his hand on the mattress and pushed down. It seemed firm, but comfortable. The material felt nice, softer than most motel sheets.
What would it feel like to sleep on such nice blankets? He wouldn’t notice the babyish pattern covering them when he was sleeping. And the crib was no more than a different kind of bed frame than what he was used to.
Curiosity was swirling in Sam’s gut. He glanced over his shoulder worriedly, seeing that the door was still propped open by the deadbolt, no sign or sound of Dean returning. Swallowing a bit, Sam turned back to the bed, and placing both hands on the mattress, hoisted himself up and twisted so he was sitting on the sheets, his feet dangling over the side.
There was a small wave of scent, similar to talc powder. Sam wrinkled his nose. It was a bit of a babyish smell, but overall it wasn’t unpleasant. It was clean, and it made the whole bed feel fresh. Definitely nicer than most motel rooms.
Sam scooted himself back a bit until he was in the middle of the bed, and slowly began to lay down, still on top of the sheets. The bed was, surprisingly, long enough for him to lay down comfortably, even though when he stretched his toes, he could feel the bars a bit. When Sam looked out into the room, he couldn’t even tell that the bed was any different to a normal bed.
Sam turned onto his side, facing himself away from the room, and looked at the bars against the wall. Now it felt like he was in a crib.
The bars were intimidating, tall, sturdy…safe…
Sam reached out one of his hands to grab a bar near his face, feeling strange. What would it feel like to sleep, completely surrounded and secure? How would it feel to have the fourth set of bars raised up as he drifted off? Maybe even by Dean, his voice low and quiet like in some of his earliest memories. Sam didn’t even notice his eyes drifting shut.
Snap
Sam startled, twisting to see that the bars had been lifted and clicked into place. The room was suddenly darker than it had been before. There was a rattling breath, and Sam looked up to see a dark, hooded figure hovering over him. There was nowhere to go, he was trapped on all sides. Cold, clammy hands wrapped around his mouth and nose.
Sam felt his eyes roll up into his head, everything fading to black faster than he could form a scream.
His arms were tied.
A lifetime of watching shadows made it easy for Sam to recognize the most important things off the bat.
His arms were tied, and by the tight feeling around his ankles, they’d been tied as well. There was a gag in his mouth, a gentle push with his tongue showed very little give, so unless he could get his hands free, it wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t feel anything around his head, not blindfolded then, but he wasn’t ready to open his eyes yet, in case he alerted whatever had hold of him that he was awake.
Sam tried to sense things further. He was laid on his back, the surface slightly padded. There was some sort of light circling, changing even through his closed eyelids. His arms and his legs were freezing cold.
There was a pungent smell, sweat and piss, and if Sam listened hard enough, a multitude of soft whimpers and sniffs.
He wasn’t alone.
Sam cracked open his eyes, and he instantly froze.
He was in a crib, his limbs pulled spread eagled and tied to the bars with thick leather cuffs buckled around his wrists. Sam twisted his head around as best as he could, looking out of the bars to see other cribs, with other men and women trapped inside. He caught the eye of the one nearest to him, a woman, one of the missing Littles. She had a pacifier clasped behind her head, tear tracks running down the side of her pale and sunken face. She seemed so…young, despite everything. Here eyes were large and defeated, looking absolutely terrified.
Sam tore his eyes away, his heart sinking. His gag must be a pacifier too. Looking up, he saw the source of the spinning light, a baby mobile that was dirty and broken. But it spun lazily, the reflective sides of some of the shapes flashing the dim overhead light over Sam’s face periodically.
Panic started fluttering in Sam’s gut. He pulled on the wrist restraints, seeing how much give the straps gave him, but was sorely disappointed. He started pulling his feet as well, lifting his head to look down, when he caught sight of what he was wearing.
His legs were cold because there was nothing covering them. He’d been dressed in a deep purple onesie, one that clipped together at his crotch, and there was a definite bulge around his waist, white plastic sticking out from the legs. He’d been put in a diaper.
Sam let his head fall back to the mattress, letting slip a groan as his heart began to beat madly.
“Seems like somebody was a sleepy boy!”
Sam’s eyes shot back open at the familiar voice. In complete disbelief, Sam looked up at the daycare worker from the library. The shtriga.
His face was much more gaunt than it had been before, and the hooded cloak was a dead giveaway as his gaping mouth pulled up into a sickening smile. “I sense a lot of potential in that soul of yours,” it said, his long fingers curling over the top of the bars. “So desperate to be small. I never knew that adult souls could be as delectable as children’s. But it turns out they just need a small push.”
The shtriga began reaching down towards Sam’s face, and Sam tried to jerk away, but there was nowhere to go as the cold and clammy digits closed around his jaw. The creature’s pulled the ring to Sam’s gag, removing the rubber nipple and leaving his mouth forced open as it stretched its mouth wide and began to suck…
Sam could feel the pull on his soul, desperately clinging to it as fear raced through him, pulling against his restraints hopelessly.
The shtriga stopped, releasing Sam’s face roughly. “Not quite,” it hummed to itself. “Still feeling a bit too big, aren’t we? But it’s no matter. I’ll have you feeling Little soon enough.”
The shtriga pushed the pacifier bag into Sam’s dry mouth, leaving Sam shaking slightly where he was tied. The shtriga moved to the next crib over, the Little girl. Sam watched in horror as the shtriga removed her gag, completely unresponsive to the girl’s terrified screams and wails, and fed from her soul until her limbs stopped kicking all together.
Eventually, it left her, gliding back towards Sam with a satisfied look on its face. Sam didn’t dare move as it reached back into his crib, its hand reaching towards him. Sam jerked as the shtriga inserted its finger through the leg of the onesie and diaper without any warning.
“Still dry,” it rasped mockingly, “for now. You should have used the potty when you had the chance to be a big boy. But little babies will learn their place soon enough.”
It’s hand struck the mobile, causing a haunting melody to begin playing.
“Sleep tight, little one,” the shtriga called as it left. “Little things like you need their sleep.”
Sam was left, feeling dread shaking his whole body. Pulling on the bars again, feebly, Sam couldn’t stop one thought from repeating over and over in his mind.
He wanted Dean.
Ten minutes. He’d been gone for ten fucking minutes.
“Shit,” Dean cursed, kicking the side of the bed as he paced. The crib from the room was gone. Sammy was gone, and there were black marks around the door he’d left wide open.
Dean sat down on the bed hard, running his hand over his face. Obviously the shtriga took Sam. Hell, everyone else in this town thought Sam was a Little, the monster must have felt the same way. Not that Dean could really blame them.
Dean shook his head, feeling a little guilty. He knew how much it was bothering Sam that people seemed to think of him that way, but in all honesty, he completely understood where they were coming from. Ever since he was an actual kid, Sammy always just had an air about him that made people want to take care of him. It wasn’t a bad thing, in fact it was damn useful on cases. People took one look at Sam’s big, dewy eyes, and would trust them enough to let them help.
There was something just inherently young about Sam, something that Dean had never really given much thought to before. But Sam thrived off of attention, off being taken care of. It wasn’t like he wasn’t capable of looking out for himself, but dammit. Dean was his big brother. So what if he wanted to make sure Sammy was safe and happy?
Of course, he really wasn’t safe in the hands of a shtriga.
Right. He needed to find Sam, and the other Littles, pronto. Like hell he was going to let this thing hurt his brother.
Sam was slipping.
He had no idea how long he’d been here. The shtriga had come in and out of the room many times, sometimes feeding on Littles, sometimes humiliating Sam.
Sam knew what it was doing. It was trying to make him feel young and small, like the Littles around him, so his soul would “taste” better. And tried, he tried so hard to keep himself from feeling helpless. But it was so damn hard.
Once, the shtriga came in with something new. It removed the pacifier part of Sam’s gag and replaced it with something larger. A feeding bottle.
Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew there had to be something in it. But after who knows how long, thirst made Sam give in, and he began to suck down the thick milky mixture, leaving the aftertaste of drugs on his tongue.
Sure enough, after another long period of time, he felt his body tingling all over. Suddenly there was something warm growing between his legs, and Sam felt himself releasing his bladder into the diaper taped around him, with absolutely no warning.
Despite the surprising heat, Sam felt utterly cold. No. No no no, Dean he wanted Dean!
The door opened, and the shtriga came back through. Sam felt panic rise up in his chest, and he hastily tried to squash it down, struggling against his restraints again for good measure.
The shtriga smiled as it approached, reaching its hand in between Sam’s spread legs. Its grin grew even wider.
“Poor little thing, all wet and icky!” it cooed sickeningly. It pulled the bottle from Sam’s gag, leaving his mouth open as it began to suck on Sam’s soul.
Sam screwed his eyes shut, pulling back from the shtriga as much as he could manage, but he could feel his whole body shaking.
Suddenly the creature stopped, shoving the pacifier back in Sam’s mouth. “Still not there, but getting close.”
Sam let his head fall away, his breathing labored, as the shtriga moved away from him to feed on a different Little, out of his line of sight. Sam clenched his jaw around the pacifier, willing his heart to slow down and his breathing to even out, when the shtriga was standing over him again.
“I think I’ll just wait to change you, little thing,” it hissed, making Sam’s gut do a funny twist. “Diapers can hold much more than one little accident.” The monster smiled cruelly as it left, and Sam had to hold his breath until he was sure it had left the room.
Tears began gushing down Sam’s face. He knew. He could feel the drugs still in him, could feel what they were doing to his body. Soon he’d be forced to make a different mess, if Dean didn’t come soon…
Dean.
DeanDeanDean he wanted Dean!
Travis had been taken, and Sheriff Rhodes was beside himself with grief.
“I need you to think! Have you done anything unusual these past few days?” Dean pressed, trying to keep his voice even through his frustration.
The sheriff shook his head, wiping his eyes with a shaking hand. “I don’t know…I don’t…I just can’t believe my little boy…”
Dean gripped Rhodes’ shoulder, resisting the urge to shake him. “Take it easy. If Travis was just taken last night, then there’s a good chance we can still save him. We may be able to save the others too, but I need you to calm down and help me!”
Rhodes took a shuddering breath, nodding his head jerkily as he sat up a bit straighter in his chair. “Nothing was out of the ordinary yesterday. Travis came in with me, I haven’t wanted to leave him with a sitter since this all started, and we decided to call it an early day. We stopped by the library on the way home like we sometimes do, and I let Travis in to meet the new… the new…”
The sheriff got a far away look, his eyes drawing in confusion, and Dean felt a brief pang of hope.
“We have a new resident here. He just moved in about two weeks ago, started working at the library. It couldn’t be – "
“Where did he move to?” Dean demanded, his heart pumping. He was going to get his little brother back.
Sam was scared.
He lay in his crib, shivering, tears dripping into his hair down the side of his face, his privates feeling cold and itchy, the mess under his bottom squelching every time he moved.
He wanted Dean. Where was Dean? He didn’t want to be here anymore…
A shadow passed overhead. The shtriga. Sam tried to stifle his wimper, but it came out anyway, fresh tears gushing from his eyes as the monster leaned over him, holding his face as the pacifier was taken from his mouth, and his soul began leaving his body.
There was the sound of gun shots, sounding oddly distant, the monster released his face and was gone. Sam could hear screeching and screaming, running feet and many voices, but he couldn’t respond.
Then there were hands, warm hands, rough and calloused, wiping sweat and hair from his forehead. Sam’s heart sped up, and he tried to turn away, but there was nowhere to go.
DeanDeanDean!
Suddenly, his hands were free, the gag buckled around his head was falling away, and he was being pulled into someone’s lap.
“Sammy… Sammy I’m here. I’m right here. Its okay, Dean’s got you.”
It was Dean!
With a sob of relief, Sam curled into his brother’s arms. Sam was crying hard, a mess of snot and tears pressing into his brother’s shirt, but he didn’t care. He was just so happy to have his big brother…
Exhaustion, and maybe fear, had worn Sammy down to the very end. And in his brother’s arms, feeling safe for the first time, he passed right out.
A full day later, Sam still hadn’t woken up.
Dean sat by the hospital bed in the only chair available, a very wide seated rocking chair, staring at Sammy’s still form.
The hospital bed had rails on the side, higher than they normally would be. Dean knew this was a room for Littles, and he was a bit worried at how Sam would react when he woke up. But arguing with the nurses about Sam’s treatment had gotten him nowhere.
“He was found with the others, completely soiled. If he was in his headspace, waking up with the comforts of Little space will help keep him calm.”
Dean had tried to argue with the busy nurse that Sam didn’t have a headspace, that he’d been held captive, and had been tied down and made helpless for over 48 hours, but the woman didn’t stop to listen. It was a tiny hospital, and it was filled almost to capacity with all the Littles still recovering, many who were still unconscious like Sam.
Dean blinked slowly, looking at Sam’s slightly sunken cheeks with a pang of guilt. He would have gotten rid of the baby junk himself, if only to save Sam’s feelings when he finally woke, but without knowing when Sam would regain consciousness, and with nothing else he could use to keep Sam clean, Dean knew that he had to leave Sam as the nurses initially dressed him.
They put Sam back in a diaper, an even thicker one than the one he’d been wearing when Dean finally found him in the shtriga’s home. Dean figured that Sam would be mortified when he woke up, but truthfully, Sam had used the diaper a few times since being brought here. Without anything else, Sam needed it. At least for now.
Dean’s eyes flickered down towards Sam’s waist. The chair Dean was sitting in was so close, he only had to lean forwards to unsnap the side of the hospital gown, and test the puffy plastic. Sure enough, Sammy needed a change.
Dean didn’t even have to think about it. He stood up, reaching into the cabinets beside Sam’s bed for a new diaper, wipes, gloves, and powder, and folded back the blanket from Sam’s legs to get better access. Unsnapping the rest of the gown, Dean slipped on the rubber gloves and got to work removing Sam’s dirty diaper.
Perhaps it was strange, Dean felt like it should be strange, but Dean was completely at ease cleaning up Sam like this. Maybe it was because he’d already done this for Sam before, after their mother died and when Dad had needed the help. But Dean had easily fallen right back in to diaper duty, after all these years. In fact, the moment Dean realized Sam would be in diapers, at least until he woke up, he insisted on being the one to change Sam. He felt like it should be his job, not the nurses’. Sam was his little brother, and it was his job to take care of him. Not anyone else’s.
Dean shook his head a little as he lifted Sam up from under the knees, changing out the dirty diaper for the clean one as he finished the change. Once the clean diaper was taped on and Sam’s gown closed up, Dean stripped off the rubber gloves and went to wash his hands, trying not to think how used to this he was already.
As he was drying off his hands, Sam’s heart monitor picked up a bit, accompanied by a small strangled sound. Dean turned around quickly to see Sam stirring for the first time, his back arching off the bed as his eyes began to blink open.
Dean rushed back towards Sam, putting his hand gently over Sam’s wrist. “Sammy, Sammy you there? Come on kid, wake up.”
Sam’s hazy eyes found Dean eventually, and his whole body seemed to relax into the bed, even as tears began welling up in his eyes.
“Hey, its okay. No need for that, I got you Sammy,” Dean ran his hand gently over Sam’s hair. “You’re safe.”
That didn’t stop Sam’s tears. They continued to flow, running down his face silently, even as Sam raised a shaky hand to try and wipe them away.
“‘M’sorry,” Sam mumbled, his cheeks slightly red on top of everything else. Dean’s heart broke a little.
“You got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Dean said gruffly, the hand on Sammy’s wrist squeezing reassuringly. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find the damn thing. I should have had you out of there a lot sooner.”
Sam shook his head, his body shaking slightly as he continued to cry, and Dean could see the frustration in his little brother’s face as he was unable to calm down.
“Scoot over a little, will ya?” Dean kept his voice light and easy. “I haven’t gotten any rest since you went missing, and I don’t want to sleep in the hospital chair.
Sam scrambled to slide over, Dean saw him pause for a brief second, and Dean wondered if he’d felt the diaper around his waist. Thankfully, Sam didn’t stall for long, and scooted over to the edge of the bed, allowing enough room for Dean to crawl on.
Dean sat himself mostly upright, and wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders, pulling Sammy against him. He felt Sam give a shuddering sigh, and he watched, slightly fascinated as Sam’s eyes fluttered shut again, his cheek resting against Dean’s chest.
Sam’s face looked so…childish? No, that wasn’t the right word. There was something almost always serious about Sam’s face. But he did look young, vulnerable, needy, Dean couldn’t really describe it. Whatever it was, it made every protective instinct in Dean stir, all at once. He just wanted to wrap Sam up in his arms and take him somewhere safe and secure, keep anything from hurting him ever again.
Though Dean really hadn’t slept in the last three days, he couldn’t fall asleep now. He was too preoccupied staring at Sammy as he drifted off in Dean’s embrace.
Dean didn’t want to lose this feeling.
Sam wasn’t allowed to sleep for long. The nurses were unnecessarily pushy about that, especially after Sam had been sleeping for so long. They checked Sam over, asking him how he felt, if he had any owies, if he could stick out his tongue and say “ahhh.”
Dean saw Sam blush heavily at the treatment, but he didn’t say a word to the nurses, merely nodding or shaking his head at their questions. When they finally left, Dean was tempted to lie back down with Sam, but there was an uncomfortable, pinched look on Sam’s face that kept Dean from offering.
Sam had to realize that he was wearing a diaper by now. That and the nurses’ collectively treating him like a child probably didn’t help matters. But Dean didn’t say anything, and surprisingly Sam didn’t complain.
The knock on the door was another surprise.
Dean looked up to see Sheriff Rhodes and his Little. “Sorry for barging in,” the sheriff said looking a bit sheepish. “Travis wanted to come by and check on Agent Avory, and I wanted to thank you both for your help.”
Travis bounded into the room, only the small scab above his eye giving evidence to the shtriga’s abduction. He stopped directly by Sammy, bouncing on his heels slightly as he twisted his hands. “Are you ‘kay?” Travis said, his voice very quiet.
“Uh, y-yeah,” Sam answered, looking timid. “You?”
“I’m real good,” Travis nodded his head animatedly. “Daddy’s takin’ me home today. Says we’re gonna get ice creams. Maybe me and Daddy can bring yous some?”
Dean tried not to smile too obviously as Sam stumbled to respond. Travis was a really sweet kid. Rhodes sidled over to stand next to Dean his eyes soft as he watched Sam and Travis. “Travis has been acting younger since he was taken. Not that I mind at all. I love Travis when he’s big, and when he’s little. No matter how little he gets.”
Dean nodded, unexpectedly understanding the sheriff’s feelings. “That monster, the shtriga, it likes young children. The younger the better. I think it was trying to make the Littles feel as…well, Little as possible.”
“Listen, Agent,” Rhodes said softly, “I know this isn’t any of my business, but maybe Agent Avory isn’t always as big as he wants to be.”
Dean looked at the sheriff out of the corner of his eye. When Dean said nothing, the sheriff must have taken it as a good sign, as he hastily continued in a hushed tone.
“I mean no offence, but I don’t see it as something shameful to begin with. Especially considering the ordeal he’s been through, and seeing how much he trusts you, I wonder if it might be good for him to try, even for a few days, to be a Little?”
Dean turned to look back at Sammy. Giant as he was, he still managed to look tiny in the hospital bed next to the nervous and excited Travis. He sighed. “Maybe your right, Sheriff. Trouble is, I can’t see him allowing it.”
Rhodes hummed, leaning back as his hand slipped up to grab the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. “I really do think it’d be good for him, if he just gave it a chance.”
Dean gave something that was neither a smile nor a grimace. “Yeah. Me too.”
Rhodes was silent for a moment, his finger scratching against the bag’s strap, before seemingly making up his mind. Dean’s eyes followed Rhodes as he reached into the bag and pulled out a medium sized plastic bag with the hospital’s name stamped across it. “Here, take these,” Rhodes said, shoving the plastic into Dean’s hand.
Curious, Dean took it, and peaked inside. There was four or five diapers, pale blue with orange and green designs. A real, giant baby diaper. Dean closed the bag quickly.
“You may not need them,” Rhodes said sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, “but they might help. You know, establish a clear indicator of “Little time.” It was really good for Travis in the beginning.”
Dean felt like he should refuse them, but he found himself reluctant to return the bag. “You sure you don’t need these?”
“No, we’ll stop by the gift shop and get more on the way out,” Rhodes gave Dean a relieved sort of smile. “This brand is Travis’ favorite. The green aliens disappear when they get wet.”
Dean just nodded, not exactly sure what the sheriff meant, but his head was spinning with the thought of what this might mean for him and Sam.
Rhodes called Travis away, and went over to Sam, placing his hand on his shoulder as he thanked him for his work. Rhodes took Travis’ hand in his, and shook Dean’s hand as he left, whispering quickly, “Give me a call if you need anything, or if you have any questions. My number’s in the bag.”
Sam jumped out of bed the moment that Travis and the sheriff left.
He spotted the bathroom in the corner and rushed inside, slamming the door behind him, even as Dean’s worried voice called after him.
He leaned against the door, breathing heavily, his cheeks burning in shame.
He’d wet himself.
He didn’t know how it had happened. One moment he was listening to Travis tell him how his Daddy like chocolate ice cream and would share it with him, when he felt himself letting loose into the diaper around his waist.
Sam had frozen, not knowing what to do as Travis continued to talk. He was so afraid someone would notice. What if Dean noticed? He’d think Sam was an idiot.
So the second that Sam was alone with Dean, he bolted.
Sam could feel his legs trembling, spread wide from the full diaper. He stumbled over to the sink, using his arms to brace himself upright. With one hand, he gingerly pulled up the material of the hospital gown, grimacing as the diaper was revealed.
He looked silly. The diaper fit him perfectly, taped snuggly around his hips, even as it sagged between his legs. Sam ripped off the tabs, letting the sodden disposable fall to the floor.
Sam shuffled, fighting the urge to cry. No. No more crying, he had to take care of this himself. Bending down slowly, well aware of how weak his legs were, Sam started to awkwardly roll of the diaper while avoiding touching the inside. He dumped it into the trash under the sink, and began stuffing paper towels on top to try and hide it.
A knock on the door nearly made Sam hit his head on the sink.
“Sammy? You okay?”
Sam’s heart sped up at the sound of Dean’s voice. “I-I’m fine,” Sam said, cursing his cracking voice. “Just give me a second.”
Looking around, Sam wasn’t sure what to do. Feeling slightly panicked, he grabbed a handful of paper towels, wetting them in the sink so he could try and wipe himself down. Sam grimaced slightly. It wasn’t perfect but it would have to do.
Pulling the gown down self consciously, completely commando under it, Sam opened the bathroom door, doing his best to ignore Dean’s concerned looks as he sat himself back on the bed.
Dean was worried.
Sam had been withdrawn since the hospital. He was skittish around everyone except for Dean, flinching every time a nurse came near him. They’d finally released him on the premise that the hospital was causing him more stress, and Dean had never seen Sam look so relieved in his life. But things didn’t get better.
Sam had insisted that they leave Tarnstead, immediately. And Dean, well he couldn’t tell Sam no. They’d gotten straight in the impala, and on the road towards Kansas.
But it wasn’t long until Sam was begging Dean to pull over.
Dean watched as Sam had sprinted from the car, off towards the trees, presumably to take a leak. Dean watched as it happened, just as suddenly, four more times on the road.
In between the stops, Sam sat rigidly in the car, staring down at his hands, not saying a word, and hardly responding to anything Dean did or said.
Finally, Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled off the main road, and stopped the car in the nearest motel.
When the car came to a stop, Sam finally looked up. His face instantly twisted into an displeased expression. “Can’t we keep going? I just want to get back to the bunker.”
“No, we need sleep,” Dean said, getting out. “And I want a shower.”
Dean went into the office, quickly obtaining a two queen room, and headed back to the car. Sam was standing against the car, each of their bags on the ground by his feet. He didn’t look up as Dean approached.
Dean snatched both of their bags up, snapping Sam out of whatever daze he was in.
“I can get my own,” Sam said, reaching out, but Dean ignored Sam’s hand.
“I got it, lets just go on in,” Dean said, trying to give Sam an easy smile.
Sam didn’t return it. Instead, he grimaced, but offered no more complaint as he started following Dean towards the room.
The shower was just what Dean needed. The steaming water felt like heaven, but he just couldn’t shake everything from the past week. His mind kept drifting back to worrying about Sam, whatever was making him so unhappy, and the plastic bag tucked in the top of Dean’s duffle.
He wanted Sam to see it. He wanted Sam to consider it. But what if it just made Sam even more upset? Dean wanted Sam to feel better. He didn’t want to be the one to make things worse. It wasn’t that he thought that Sam needed it, but maybe…maybe he did.
Dean shook his head under the spray. He couldn’t pressure Sam into doing anything. Especially not after how the shtriga had treated him. But Dean truly thought that ageplay might be good for Sam. For them both.
Maybe…maybe he would just wait. Wait until they were back at the bunker, back in a familiar and safe location. Let the funk from this hunt wear off, and then…
Dean shut the shower off, drying himself off quickly and pulling on his night clothes.
No sooner had Dean walked out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, then Sam was pushing past him into the bathroom.
“Hey!”
The only response Dean got was a slammed door. Dean felt a bit of annoyance flare up.
He rolled his eyes and continued to dry his hair, and settled for sitting on his bed, waiting for Sam to come back out.
A few minutes later, Sam came out, his face tinted pink, a scowl twisting up his mouth.
“You good?” Dean said, his eyes following Sam as he went to his duffle.
Sam didn’t answer, he just grunted noncommittally as he rooted through his bag, wrenching out his toothbrush and heading back towards the bathroom.
Eyes narrowing, Dean stood up, and followed.
Sam ignored him as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom. “Sam,” Dean said sharply, “are you okay?”
Sam leaned over the sink to spit, jamming his toothbrush under the spray and shaking it off. “Yes, Dean. I’m fine,” he said, once again shouldering his way past Dean.
Dean felt a flash of irritation, and was about to turn around and follow Sam back into the room, when something caught his eye. Peering down into the trash bin near the sink, Dean saw a familiar plaid pattern. Giving the waste bin a gentle shake with his toe, he saw that it was a pair of Sam’s boxers. There was a large area, directly in the middle, looking discolored. Wet.
Dean turned out of the bathroom, searching out Sam, who was seated on his bed pulling off his socks.
“Sammy – ” Dean started, but Sam didn’t give him the chance to continue.
“I’m fine, Dean! Seriously!” Sam snapped suddenly. But Sam’s glare left almost immediately, and Sam went still, looking rather sorry for his outburst. Something snapped into place for Dean.
Right. That was it.
“Okay, real talk,” Dean said, moving suddenly to stand in front of Sam. “No filter. I’m tired of pushing things under the rug. We got a damn mountain there already.”
Sam looked up at Dean cow eyed, his mouth slightly open, looking every inch the little brother that Dean had taken care of his entire life.
“What those people are doing in that town, yeah. It’s different. But it ain’t weird. People are getting taken care of, and it doesn’t hurt anyone. They’re just…just happy.”
Dean stepped over to the bed where Sam sat, ripping open the zipper of his bag. He grabbed the adult diaper sitting on top in the plastic bag, blue with spaceships and aliens, and held it under Sam’s nose. Sam’s eyes widened.
“This,” Dean said, giving the diaper a crinkly shake, “isn’t stupid. Not if you want it. Not if it would help you relax a little. Not if it’d make you happy.” Dean knelt down in front of Sam, keeping the diaper in his face while searching for his eyes. “Dammit Sammy…don’t we deserve a little happiness too?”
Sam’s eyes darted back and forth between Dean and the diaper, his eyes filling up with tears. A choked noise escaped from Sam’s throat. “I… I can’t…”
“Sammy, its okay,” Dean said, his voice softer now, placing his hand gently on his little brother’s knee. “You can. You can if you want to. It doesn’t make you a freak. It doesn’t make you any less of a hunter, or any less of my brother. It just means that sometimes, you’re my little brother again. Just like it used to be. It’s not like I haven’t changed your diapers before!” Dean slid his hand up Sam’s thigh, squeezing gently at Sam’s tickle point.
Sam’s breath hitched, wet sounding from his throat, and suddenly the tears were spilling over. Dean surged up, pulling Sam into his arms, so that Sam was leaning against him.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean gently stroked the back of his little brother’s head. “You’re okay. I can take care of you, I promise. Please just let me.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, Sam crying into Dean’s shoulder, hardly making any noise.
Finally, Sam nodded against Dean.
Sam’s “Little time” quickly became a regular thing.
When Sam was feeling stressed from the last case, when nightmares crept up on him, Dean was there with a soft blanket and a diaper.
It was embarrassing at times. Diaper changes in particular normally had Sam covering his face with his hands. But Dean never let Sam hide for too long.
Yeah, it was an adjustment. Dean had to get back into monitoring everything about Sammy. What he ate, when he slept, when he’d wet or messed his diaper. But it came so swiftly and easily, that Dean never doubted for a second that caring for Sam like this filled him with so much peace.
Dean held Sam curled into his lap, the rocking chair he’d ordered giving the tiniest creak as he lulled his baby boy to sleep with a warm bottle of milk. Sam’s eyelids were drooping, but he was looking steadfastly at Dean, his fingers twisting lazily in Dean’s shirt. Dean could only smile. No words were needed at a time like this. Sammy would finish his bottle, and Dean would lay him in his crib for the night. Tomorrow, Dean would spoon feed his little brother, change his diapers, and play with Sammy until the kid was tuckered out.
But for now, they’d sit here together, quiet and safe, nothing between them except the devotion and love of a big and little brother.