Disclaimer: None of the Winchesters, big or small belonged to me…just borrowing them. Oh yeah! I don't own Castiel either.
Betas: My amazing sidekicks, bia1007 and PsiChic
Summary: Castiel has had enough of the Winchester boys biting each others' heads off. Broken bonds need to be mended and he has just the perfect solution! (a/n: I think the title tells it all).
a/n: Hey everyone! I know you've been seeing a lot of me on the fandom lately, but I'm so in love with the Winchesters I couldn't resist writing another fic. I don't know whether this one could be regarded as de-aged fic but there will be a lot of Weechesters! and Winchesters around. You know you want to read it…and you know I want a review if you liked it. Okay then, tell me if this one's worth continuing.
It Takes Two to Tango
"I've had it up here with you Dean!" Sam yelled as he motioned at his throat.
"Oh yeah? It goes right back at ya'!" Dean yelled back. He had had enough of Sam lies, about his meeting with Ruby and his bloodsucking activity that Dean was well aware off. He was not an idiot if that what Sam was thinking of. 'So much for keeping a promise made to a dying brother.'
"You know what Dean…I don't need you!"
Dean's heart skipped a beat. He felt the blood rush to his face in a violent stream and baked his eyes with scorching heat. Sighing deeply, he squinted hard and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And I doubt you would…" Dean wearily responded. He had never really forgotten what Sam said to him before. In fact the words roared in his head every single day.
Sam bit his tongue, suddenly feeling guilty as hell. "Dean…" Sam tried to reach out.
"Enough Sam…I got it." Dean raised his hands in defeat then he headed for the door. "I know you don't need me anymore…a pathetic older brother, who needs this anyway?" he turned the knob and opened the door.
It made Sam stopped dead at his tracks. "I didn't mean…"
"Do whatever you want…I don't care anymore." Dean said as he stepped out into the night and slammed the door right in Sam's face.
Sam sagged down to the bed and buried his face in his hands. Dean's last words roared in his ears like thunder. 'Do whatever you want…I don't care anymore.' They broke his heart as much as his words had broken Dean's. He didn't mean what he had said. Sam needed his brother more than anything else in the world. But his loss had scared him immensely and he was so used to working alone – being alone – for four months, he had built his walls and had forgotten how much he needed Dean by his side.
However, it was not entirely his fault. Dean was not the Dean he used to know and to look up to years before. His big brother Dean was strong and tough, not the emotionally fragile and vulnerable man he was today. No, he was not the Dean that Sam so desperately wanted and needed. But then, Sam doubted he was the same Sam Dean used to know either.
Sam sighed. He'd lost too much and he silently prayed to get it back, get his big brother back. With that wish, Sam collapsed into bed and closed his eyes.
Dean was heading nowhere else other than following where his feet are taking him. He had no intention of going to the nearest bar. He just needed some time away, away from Sam – to hide the tears that were pooling fast in his eyes. Damn! He cried so much these days.
Sam's last words were like daggers stabbing his heart - which hadn't really healed from the last assault. But he bet what he'd said to Sam before storming out was one hell of an assault too. The truth was he cared as much as ever about Sam but Sam was just too busy to notice these days. Or maybe it was he himself who was never bothered to show that he cared since he was too engrossed in his own suffering.
Maybe Castiel shouldn't have dragged him out of the pit. Maybe the so-called angel should've just left him there. At least he didn't have to witness his little brother turning into a monster at his own will when Dean before he went to hell had sacrificed everything to save Sam from becoming one. He had lost his little brother.
Oh darn it! How he wished life could be the same as it was before. Just him, Sam, his baby and some of the old school gigs involving no demons or angels. This apocalypse thing sucked out loud!
"You don't look happy."
Dean almost stumbled head over heels as Castiel appeared round the corner. 'Speak of the Devil…' "I have an annoying angel in a tax collector jacket following me around and the fate of the world thrown at me…how could I be happy?" Dean frowned and continued walking ahead of the angel.
"It's your destiny Dean," Castiel reminded him.
Dean swiftly turned around, shooting Castiel a deadly glare. "You know what?! I'm sick of this destiny thing!!" he retorted – eyes filled with anger and frustation. "I'm sick of fulfilling what other people want or need…how about what I want? What I need?"
Castiel's eyes looked awfully calm and it made Dean feel guilty all out of the blue. But he bit back his guilt and turned away from the so-called guardian angel - of who he doubted was really like the guardian angels his mom used to tell him about.
"What do you want Dean?"
"I want my little brother back…how about that for a change?" Dean asked sarcastically. He waited for an answer but received none. Dean's shoulders sagged. Sighing deeply, he continued "Just as I thought," and walked away.
Castiel watched as Dean walked away and disappeared - swallowed by darkness of the night. The angel sighed heavily. The fighting between the Winchesters had intensified tenfold over the last days. From squabbles and bickering that occurred once in a while, it had worryingly turned into a series of severe fighting. It was frustrating and upsetting to watch as the brothers fought with one another when it had been the Winchesters' bond that made Castiel appreciate the job in the first place. He was in awe of their bond and Castiel thought it would be their best weapon to fight the apocalypse.
How could he fix the broken bond? How could he make them brothers again?
"Matt! I need help here!"
Castiel's thoughts were disturbed by a couple of young men coming out of a 24-hour mart across the road. One of them was about Sam's age and the other was in his early twenties. The older one was carrying loads of shopping bags and the younger one was having the greatest time of his life munching on a luscious apple.
"Aww Kyle…it's your turn to do the shopping…and I'm doing you a favor by coming here with you." The one called Matt replied nonchalantly. From the look of it, Castiel guessed both of them were brothers.
"Geez, you're mean!" the older one rebuked. "I liked you better when you were still a baby."
"Face it dude, I'm not a baby anymore…live with it!"
"I wish you were a baby again." The one named Kyle whispered but Castiel, being an angel of the Lord, could always eavesdrop. And he was thankful he did as he had a crazy idea pop into his head. Now he knew what to do to repair the broken bond between the Winchesters.
Castiel smirked. Neither Sam nor Dean would like this, but he was positive about it, that they would be brothers again. This one would definitely work. No doubt about it. Castiel didn't wait any longer and disappeared into thin air.
Castiel now was an angel on a mission.
Sam woke up to the blaring sound of a truck outside the motel. The road was the main route for freight traffic and Sam started to think it was a bad idea to reside here. Neither he nor Dean was a heavy sleeper and the noise would just add to their insomnia. He quickly glanced at the motel's digital clock and saw it was half past midnight. He'd been sleeping for just one hour.
The bed across him was empty. No sign it ever held an occupant. Sam doubted the bed would be used at all tonight. It had been only one hour. When Dean was out, he would take more than an hour to return. Most likely he would only come back at dawn. Thinking of what had happened before Dean left, Sam sighed with regret.
Was he the bad one? Didn't he understand enough?
The questions weighed heavily on him. He wished he could just go back to sleep again and wake up when Dean would come back with breakfast, pretending nothing happened. But his mind betrayed him so badly Sam couldn't find the peace to sleep anymore. So, he got up and put on his jacket. He eyed the bedside table – the Impala key was there. That Dean had not taken the car meant he hadn't gone far. Maybe he was at the nearest bar getting himself drunk.
That was another thing that bothered Sam terribly. Dean seemed to be punishing himself with liquor these days. He basically had no other fluid stuffed into his system than alcohol. The habit was taking a toll on his health and alertness. Sam never missed Dean's violent heaving in the toilet every single morning no matter how hard his brother tried to cover it all up. Every time he was finished, Dean would just turn into jelly which again he covered up by faking sleep. No! Sam never missed a single thing.
Sam went to the door and opened it. Staring into the dark night, Sam inhaled deeply and let out a weary sigh before he stepped out of the motel room.
"I'm coming bro."
It was way past midnight and Dean had nowhere to go. He was tired and he'd lost every will to move on. His feet hurt. His eyes were burning and his heartfelt like a shattered piece. Dean thought about going to the park and sleep there. He'd just go back to the motel in the morning while Sam was still asleep and would pretend nothing happened between them. Pretending had been Winchesters' pattern lately so Dean wouldn't have any problem being evasive.
Dean was passing a sweet shop when he heard a small sob – sad and mournful. He looked down as he walked by and saw a little boy plastered to the display window. The boy had a brown mop of hair which resembled a lot like Sam's when he was small. Though his feet didn't stop walking, Dean's eyes were fixed on the kid's back. His face was hidden from Dean's view and Dean had to stretch his neck to get a better look – not working.
Following his hunch, Dean stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. Come to think of it, what was a kid so small doing out so late? He was supposed to be in bed, lulled to sleep with dreams of candies and happy times.
Dean crouched next to the boy, trying to be as gentle as possible. Physical contact was avoided to prevent the little guy from feeling intimidated. The kid seemed to be around three. A defensive time of your life that was. It was proven by how the boy jerked away from Dean and cowered behind the shop's wall round the alley.
Sighing tiredly, Dean gave up. He got back on his feet and was just starting to walk away when he heard soft whimpers from behind him. Dean turned around and found patches of brown hair popping from behind the wall, followed by one glassy hazel eye. Staring the kid straight in the eye, Dean felt a surge of sympathy building inside him.
"Don't be afraid…I'm here to help." Dean assured softly, almost mother-liked. He reached out to the kid with a gentle motion. "Tell me where you lived and I'll bring you home,"
The boy didn't budge and Dean had yet to get a good look at his face. But the unruly brown bangs covering the kid's face were bothering Dean so much – as much as the one hazel eye glinting under the dimmed beam from the candy shop.
"Come on now," Dean persuaded, almost pleading. There was something about the young one that made Dean swear to himself he wasn't going to leave without the boy.
"Want my brother," the boy sobbed. His breathing hitched and there was tremor in his raspy voice.
Dean's heart faltered. 'Me too, boy…me too'. "Where's your brother?"
"Dunno," the boy whined sadly.
"Aww…now, don't cry." Crying girls Dean could handle but crying little boys…Dean always had a soft spot for that. He fell for them easily. Especially when it involved a certain brown haired with wide hazel eyes boy. Since this little one resembled that certain boy so much, Dean was helpless.
"Am not!" The little one retorted.
Dean smirked. Irritating someone to chase away their fear was his expertise. A three-year-old was no exception. He was a natural charmer. "Now, why don't you come out and I'll help you find your brother?"
Mopped hair disappeared from sight. Dean huffed. 'This is one stubborn fella'.' He had forgotten how hard it was to handle a three-year-old. Remembering how stubborn Sammy could be when he was at that age, Dean snorted. Those were the good old days.
"Hey! How about we make it this way?" Perhaps resorting to bribery was a good idea to lure the kid out from hiding. "If you come out now, I'll buy you chocolate?"
"You lie mister…no choclit shop open now." The boy's response stunned Dean completely. What type of a kid didn't fall easily to adult's white lies?
"You're one smart ass aren't you little guy?" It was unbelievable. He was negotiating with a three-year-old.
"Mister! You cwursed!"
A pouty face popped out and Dean involuntarily yelped. He was dumbfounded as the boy emerged from the alley and stood right ahead of him with his chubby arms akimbo. Dean felt his breath catch in his chest as the boy's features became clearer to him. He was staring at such a familiar face – the mopped brown hair, the wide and round hazel eyes, the pouty lips, and the innocent feature. It was the face that had disappeared over the years which Dean only got the chance to relive once in a while by looking at old photos.
Dean wondered if he had actually went to the park, fell asleep on the bench and dreamt of their past. This had to be it! A dream!
"I'm not little!"
The demanding voice jolted Dean away from his reflection and he realized it was not a dream. What he saw was very real. Just to be sure he reached out and poked the boy's shoulder with a trembling finger. The kid was flesh and muscles, not a projected image or a figment of his imagination.
The voice…Oh my God! How could he not recognize it before? It was the ever familiar voice – the whine, the cry, the whimpers – and he'd been living with it for so long. It might be huskier now, but they never really changed.
"Sam?!" Dean braced himself for the answer.
"Ya' know my name?"
Dean was dumbfounded. He was staring at Sam. A three-year-old Sam!! And he was not dreaming.
'Castiel!' was the last word that crossed his mind.
Dean looked down to little Sam who now was holding his hand as they walked abreast along the forsaken street. His baby brother – mind the pun – looked awfully tired and sleepy. Once in a while the kid would yawn and rub his eyes groggily. He was basically dragging himself to follow Dean's much bigger and faster steps.
"Heya big guy? You're sleepy?" It was over Sammy's bedtime already. When they were little, he had always put Sammy to bed right after dinner, which was hours ago. The boy looked up to him and pouted.
"No!" The hazel eyes widened with determination.
"Okay! Point taken." Dean understood very well. Who was Sammy kidding? He was the one who was taking care of Sam since he was just as big as a toe. He was immune to little brother's stubbornness. Dean bent down and picked Sam up into his arms.
As if on cue, little Sam gave a big yawn. Again, he rubbed his eyes and mumbled "I'm not sleepy."
"Yeah," Dean snorted. All this was too familiar. His smile broadened when Sammy hug his neck and snuggle closer to him. Another yawn was heard and then it was replaced by tiny snores.
Dean, albeit angry at the so-called angel for de-ageing Sam, couldn't help but reminisce the feeling of being a big brother again. Yet, if Castiel dared to appear now, he intended to knock daylights out of the angel of the Lord. He wouldn't mind atoning for another sin if it meant he was going to get his payback.
"Dean?" suddenly the little one called softly. Maybe he was talking in his sleep.
Dean didn't know how to respond. In Sam's head now, his big brother Dean was not as big as this. If Sam was three years old, the Dean he knew had to be around seven. Dean cleared his throat and attempted to sound as natural as possible. "Yeah Sammy?"
The toddler tightened his embrace around Dean's neck and sighed contentedly. "I luv you," Sam whispered before the soft snores emerged again.
Dean was stupefied. He felt his eyes burned with unshed tears. So he blinked the tears away. Big brothers don't cry they said. Wrapping protective arms around Sammy's small figure, Dean inhaled deeply. "I love you too Sammy," Dean whispered back as he planted a kiss on Sammy's unkempt hair.
"Don't worry little bro…we'll work this out." He promised and continued walking towards the motel room. For the first time since their relationship was heated by dissatisfaction and treachery, Dean didn't feel nervous about coming back to Sam. How could he feel nervous when he had Sam sleeping in his arms instead of being out somewhere with the demonic bitch doing God knows what.
Twisting the doorknob, Dean wished Castiel wouldn't be in the room because he didn't know if he could hold himself back. The door opened to an unexpected sight.
"Dean?!" There was Sam, sitting on the bed – all big and grown up.
Dean gaped, disbelieving. Sammy squirmed in his arms, and his eyes cracked. Yawning, the three-year-old stretched and looked into the room. Then he giggled happily.
"Deannie!!" The little Sammy in his arms called out.
"Deannie?" Sam was perplexed, seeing Dean and the little brown haired boy in his big brother's cuddle. Then again, he was damn sure Dean was confused too judging at how his brother stupefied over a person standing before Sam.
"Sammy?!"Dean called back and it went in sync with a much younger voice.
Or to be correct, a seven year old Dean's voice.
"Holy crap!!" Dean, Sam and the mini Dean hollered in chorus.
a/n: There! Hope you liked it. Now a review would feed my muse! Thanks for reading.