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Well, of course Dean hated witches, why would he not? If a witch could do something like this...Sam sighed again in frustration looking at his brother. His tiny, confused five year old brother. He'd already called Bobby and they were working on how to reverse the spell that had turned Dean into a child. They were getting close, too, had a few leads. Not that they didn’t already have enough work to do with a looming apocalypse.
For the first day or two, it hadn't been too taxing because Dean didn't speak. He looked at Sam like he was the boogeyman, but he never said a word. Bobby was the one who told him that Dean stopped talking after their mother died, and didn't start again for a good long while. This led Sam to believe that the age Dean was stuck in coincided with this period of time.
Dean allowed Sam to change him into clothes that fit, coax him into brushing his teeth, that kind of thing, but he was clearly terrified and didn't trust Sam for anything.
Sam was a stranger.
Dean thought Sam was a stranger. As much as he ought to be concentrating on his brother's predicament, he couldn't deny the sting he felt at not being recognized. Not logical, clearly, as this Dean only knew a Sam that was an infant, not a six and a half foot tall man who bore no more than a slight physical similarity to his father.
After that, though, a wrench got thrown into the works. Dean was sick. It wasn’t just a bout of the sniffles, either. He had a fever and had vomited several times in just a couple of hours. Sam brought his still completely silent (except for the coughing and sneezing) brother with him to a drugstore and asked the pharmacist for help. Had Dean not been an actual child at the time, he would have been able to handle this situation himself. But Sam didn’t know a damn thing about children. To be completely honest, they made him incredibly uncomfortable. But the pharmacist pointed him toward multi-symptom cold medication for children, and Dean surprisingly swallowed it down when they got back to the motel.
There was a change at that point. Dean still had not a single word to say, but he climbed into Sam’s lap and held onto him for dear life. Obviously, Sam had no freaking clue what to do with that. When he tried putting Dean to bed, he only held on tighter and Sam had no choice but to lay down in the bed and let Dean sleep on his chest. As the day and night wore on, Dean refused to let go, to the point where Sam had to carry him to the bathroom and use one hand to balance the child against his shoulder while he used the other hand to aim at the toilet.
Nothing changed the next day, and Sam, sadly, just could not cope any longer with the constant physical connection that Dean seemed to need so badly. Bobby couldn’t help with this, being 850 or so miles away. So, carrying Dean, wrapped up in only a bathtowel, Sam swallowed his pride and did the only thing he could think of. He called Cas.
Less than a minute later, a slight shift in the air signaled Castiel’s presence in the room.
“Hello, Sam.”
There was a slight pause as Castiel studied the child stuck like glue to Sam’s chest before he continued. “What’s happened to Dean?”
“It’s a curse. He pissed off some witch, Bobby and I are working on it. I think we can fix it, probably pretty soon. But now he’s got sick and he won’t let go of me. If I’m going to do anything to reverse this spell, I have to be able to at least put him down for a minute. Which I can’t. Also, you should know, the age he’s stuck in is the time after our mom died and he stopped talking. He hasn’t said a word to me since it started, and he has no idea who I am, certainly no idea who you are. But I need help, Cas. Please.”
Castiel didn’t hesitate a moment before he responded, “Of course. Anything I can do.”
Sam whispered into Dean’s ear, “This is our friend Castiel. I know you don’t remember him, but he’s a good guy, I promise. He’s going to help me get you better. Okay?” Why he bothered asking the question, Sam had no clue, because it wasn’t like Dean was going to answer him.
Moving across the room, he got as close as he could to Castiel and said, “Here, take him.”
And all right, maybe when Cas said “anything I can do”, he didn’t mean “hold a kid”, because the look on his face was almost comical. Still, he held out his arms and accepted the transfer. Dean squirmed a bit, and looked up at Cas quizzically before sneezing all over his face. Sam held back a laugh as he handed Castiel a handful of tissues.
“We’re almost there, Cas, I swear, I just need you to do this while we figure this last part out. For him. For Dean.” Sam knew that was what would work, so he used it.
“I understand.”
Castiel sat on one of the motel beds and shifted Dean into his lap, and Dean automatically raised his arms and wound them around Cas’ neck. As Sam continued his internet research and intermittent cell phone conversations with Bobby, Cas got up once to methodically measure out another dose of children’s cold medicine, then sat down stiffly again on the edge of the bed.
A few moments later, Sam almost fell out of his chair, because he heard Dean actually speak for the first time in almost three days. He’d pulled back a bit from his choke-hold around Cas’ neck, and looked him in the eye.
“Cassstel. Casstel?”
“Castiel. Yes. Is there something you require, Dean?”
Dean just looked at him quizzically and said, “Sleepy. Lay down?”
Surprisingly, there was no hesitation before Castiel slid further onto the bed, moving himself into a prone position. Dean let go of him for just a moment, then settled his head onto Cas’ chest before speaking again.
“Hold you.”
“You are not large enough or strong enough to hold me, Dean. I am sorry.”
Dean just gave him a pleading and confused look before he repeated himself. “Hold you.”
Sam had a sudden flashback to his preschool days and solved the puzzle. “Cas, when he says ‘hold you’, he means he wants you to hold him.”
Castiel looked down again at Dean and said, “Of course, I – well, no, I don’t understand, I have no idea what this is, but I will hold you.” And with that, Cas wormed one arm underneath Dean’s small body and wound the other around his chest and shoulder. “Is this satisfactory?”
Dean didn’t answer because he was fast asleep. Somehow, Sam was absolutely certain that Castiel was not as uncomfortable as he seemed to have this childlike form of Dean sleeping in his arms. He caught Cas looking down at him fondly several times, and once saw him hold his palm against Dean’s cheek as if he were gauging his temperature.
An hour later, the spell was broken and Dean opened his eyes, sitting up quickly enough to make his head spin. “Cas, why the hell are we snuggling on a bed? With me in freaking towel?”
“You asked me to hold you.”
Dean looked at Sam with wide and wild eyes. “Witch”, Sam replied. “Curse, de-aging, you were, like, five for a couple days, and you got sick. Apparently you’re a snuggly little thing. It was adorable, really”, he finished, trying valiantly to stifle a laugh.
When Dean started to look indignant and ready to spout off a stream of obscenities, Sam just said, “Cas was a huge help. I couldn’t have gotten the curse lifted without him stepping up to take care of you.” The look he shot Dean with those words clearly broadcasted don’t be a jerk, so Dean took a minute to compose himself before he opened his mouth again.
“Thanks, Cas. Really. I know that was probably sucky for you.”
“Actually, I’ve never had occasion to hold a child in my arms like that before. It was…not unpleasant. I am pleased that you have recovered.”
Another gust of air, and Castiel was gone.
“Dean, you were so freaking cute. I wish I would have taken a picture.”
“You, Sam, are so fortunate that you didn’t. Because if you had, I’d kick the crap out of you.”