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Sam was the one who found the right spell and before words could even be exchanged Dean was dead set against using it.
"No dice, Sam. There has to be another option," he'd said, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
But, using his words, Castiel showed him that it was ultimately their only path. "We must do this, Dean," he'd said. "We cannot use anyone else's children as bait - it must be the three of us. We can lead the witch directly to us and it has to be tonight, before she leaves town again and continues her bloody trail elsewhere."
And so the three of them performed the ritual from one of the oldest books in the bunker, in the center of their motel room using special, rare herbs and, of course, their blood. The spell turned back the clock on each of them so that they appeared to be ten, eight and four years old (Castiel, Dean and Sam respectively). Their clothes also shrunk to adapt to their smaller forms.
They waited together for nightfall, Sam reading as usual and Castiel and Dean pacing around the room, trying to get used to their lower heights. At some point it began to storm outside and their silence was occasionally interrupted by a crash of lightning or the boom of thunder.
Once the witch finally arrived (literally at their bedroom door), the last thing she was expecting to find was an eight year old at the ready, wielding an adult sized shotgun and two other children by his side wielding a knife and gun themselves.
"Say good night, hag," Dean said and shot her with a shell mixed with a special concoction that rendered her totally powerless.
When everything was all said and done and the witch was gone, the boys knew they couldn't drive back to the bunker that night, despite Dean's protests that he could get them there ("Dean, you can't even see over the steering wheel," Sam said sagely despite his four year old stature) so they stuck to their room until the spell wore off.
"The book claims that the spell only lasts for a few hours anyway," Castiel said with the giant book balanced on his lap.
"But that could be anywhere from four to forty-eight hours though," Dean said with a whine, coming towards him and reading it over his shoulder.
A sudden, loud crash of thunder had both of them looking up towards the window and Sam cowering from his spot near the bed.
"What the hell, Sammy," Dean said, coming towards him and putting his hands on his shoulders, making him look him in the eyes. "You're thirty freaking years old!"
"Still loud," the youngest muttered, stepping forwards and putting his head against his brother's chest.
Castiel slammed the book shut causing Sam to gasp again and Dean to glare at him for upsetting his brother even more.
"Sorry," he apologized, sliding out of the chair and coming towards the brothers. "It is getting later by the minute so perhaps we should rest for the evening and hope that we are our proper ages again by morning."
Dean and Castiel had one of their silent staring matches before Castiel nodded and climbed onto one of the beds.
"Alright Sammy, looks like we're sharing tonight. You okay with that?"
“Yeah.”
Dean got into the other bed and helped his brother to settle down beside him. The storm rumbled outside and Sam consciously shifted closer to Dean and Dean again put his arm around his brother's small body.
"Cas, can you get the lights?"
Castiel reached over and pulled the beaded chord, shutting the light and plunging the room into darkness.
"Thanks, Cas."
"You are welcome. Good night, Dean. Good night, Sam."
"Night, Cas," Dean said before giving his brother a kiss on the top of the head.
"G'night," Sam said as well.
Thunder boomed overhead again and everyone jumped in shock.
"I do not like this," Castiel said.
“Me either,” Sam said, on the verge of tears.
"Just relax everyone and you'll get to sleep soon," Dean said and that was all.
Castiel did as Dean asked and he shut his eyes tightly, waiting for sleep to come upon him. And he waited. And waited. He turned to look at the clock beneath the lamp but it was too dark to read. Castiel wasn't sure what was going on but his body felt like it was a coiled spring, waiting to be released. An adrenaline rush probably from stopping the witch. There was so much potential energy he felt like...he felt like a young angel again. Yes, despite the fact that he'd told the brother about his nonexistent angelic childhood, he could not deny that when he was first created he had a vast well of power that syphoned away as the years passed by.
The rain was still pounding against the windows and door to their room but a selfish part of Castiel wanted to ignore that fact. He wanted to be outside in it. Perhaps there were even some deep, knee-level puddles to splash around in! Where had that thought come from?
"Who cares," he said aloud to himself and immediately covered his mouth with his hands, looking to the other bed.
Castiel leaned forward but nothing indicated that the brothers heard him speak. Not wasting another moment, Castiel got off of the bed and stalked towards the door, looking back every few steps to see if anyone heard him. He was just turning the knob when a boot struck the door, just a few inches away from where his head had been. A flash of lightning lit up the room just enough so that he could see Dean glaring at him in the dark.
"Where're you going?" he whispered harshly.
"Nowhere."
Dean extracted his brother's arms from around his waist and walked over to him.
"That's bull and you know it. Now I'll ask again - where're you going, Cas?"
It was amazing how even at eight years of age Dean could still manage to pull rank on an older child just through his disappointment alone. Let alone a former angel of the Lord.
Bashfully, Castiel looked down at his bare feet and muttered, "I was leaving the room to experience the outdoors."
"It's still pouring at there, you idiot! You'll catch a cold!"
Castiel crossed his arms against his chest and glared at his friend. "Nuh-uh."
Dean copied him, motion for motion. "Yeah-huh."
"No."
"Yes."
Castiel tackled Dean to the floor and pinned him beneath him.
"Cas, stop,” Dean said while struggling. “Stop!"
Getting his wits about him and remembering he wasn’t actually a child, Castiel did as Dean asked - and was immediately flipped (with a surprised yelp) and pinned beneath Dean in less than a minute.
Dean lifted one of Cas' arms and stretched it back. "Say uncle."
"What?"
"Say uncle!"
"I don't understand,” Castiel grunted, “Why must I state a relative I do not have?"
With an eye-roll Dean dropped the limb and Castiel stood, rubbing his now sore shoulder. "Ouch."
"Serves you right," Dean said retrieving the boot, "Now get back to bed because next time I doubt I'm going to miss."
Dutifully yet reluctantly, Castiel got back into his bed and laid down on his side listening as Dean walked back to his own bed in the dark as well. Castiel waited and waited but again sleep alluded him.
After the tenth time he shifted the sheets, he heard Dean say drowsily, "Dude, just get over here."
In less than five steps, Castiel crossed the threshold between beds and jumped up onto the other, jostling Sam ever so slightly. Dean and Castiel held their breaths and Sam turned over and lay on his stomach. Dean did his best to shift him a little more to give Cas enough room and the three of them fell into place.
"Good night, Dean."
"Night, Cas."
The next morning, the maid knocked on the room door and, upon receiving no answer, stepped inside. She froze at the threshold.
The three men renting the room for the last few days were laying side by side by side on the bed furthest from the wall. None of them had heard her enter.
They were all sleeping so soundly that the maid silently crept back out and moved on to the next room over. How could three full grown men fit on one bed anyway?