Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

Sam was dreaming.

Right?

This wasn't really happening, because there was no freaking way he was shorter than the wardrobe and wearing diapers. It was all just one, freakishly screwed up dream.

He looked all around him, trying to take in the new aspects of his 'dream'. Everything was so big! It seemed like the whole world towered over him, making him feel even smaller and more insignificant than ever. He could feel his small, two-year old frame trembling with the sudden shock of being baby-swapped in his own persona. He shrank back as the door next to him opened, falling to the floor and crawling against the wall, where he huddled up in a fetal position. It didn't occur to him that he might have to fight because none of this was real. Right?

The door was open, but from his spot on the floor, Sam couldn't see anything to suggest a person had walked in the room. His eyes darted around the room with sudden awareness. It could be anything! A spirit of some type, or a demon…even Lucifer himself.

With that Sam sat up straighter, trying to force himself to stop shaking. He might be in baby-form right now, but he knew for a fact and personal experience that Lucifer could hurt him in his dreams whether physically or mentally. He had to be strong. He stood up on wobbly legs and strained to see past the darkness of the door.

Suddenly a voice spoke, calling out his name. It was so familiar… "Sam?" it whispered.

"Dean!" Sam flung himself off of the wall and ran smack into Dean, throwing his arms around him. He felt Dean gripping him just as hard, and for a moment almost forgot the size difference.

Almost.

Sam stepped back and gave his brother a once-over, shaking his head in amazement. Dean seemed to have been transformed into a six-year old at most. Either that, or this wasn't really his Dean.

"Sam…" Dean's hair was still a dark blonde, not yet having grown to a soft brown color, but almost there. He hadn't cut it yet either, so it was a mop of dark blonde hair on his head. Sam hesitantly reached a hand to touch his own hair, and automatically whipped his hand back.

His hair was curly. He tugged a curl and observed it curiously. A dark brown, darker than his hair now was. He scowled and tried to tuck it behind his ear, but the curls were persistent.

"What happened?" Sam asked Dean, snapping out of his stupor. Dean stared at him, and Sam fidgeted nervously. If this wasn't his Dean, then who knows what happened to his big brother.

"You mean with Gabriel…?" Dean said this in a rush, as though his thoughts were down the same row as Sam's.

"Yeah, oh God it's you!" Sam exclaimed, and out of pure joy, hugged his brother again. Dean seemed stunned. "Damn Sammy, it's been a while since I could see the top of your head."

Sam broke away from the contact and touched his hair self-consciously. "These stupid curls will be gone by the time I'm eight," he assured himself.

"Yeah, which means you have to wait what – six years?" Dean didn't wait for an answer. "At least my hair will be normal in a couple years…" he frowned and ran his fingers through a knot in his hair, which was almost as long as little Sammy's.

Sam scowled at his brother. "What the hell was Gabriel thinking!"

Dean looked confused, "You were the one with him at the time. I thought you knew!"

Oh yeah, Sam remembered with a scowl.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" Sam growled, leaping up from his chair and almost sending his laptop flying. Gabriel had literally appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the messy motel room.

"So nice, you Winchesters are. You're greeting's just make me feel so warm and tingly inside." Gabriel said with a blissful smile. Sam didn't return the gesture, he just glared.

Gabriel's smile faltered for a moment, but then he placed it back on his face. "So where's Dean-o?"

"It's Dean," Sam snapped.

Gabriel sighed and plopped himself down on a chair, helping himself to an apple that had been on the table. He crossed his legs over the table and smirked at Sam. "You didn't answer my question, Sam."

Sam felt his jaw clench. "He's out," he said shortly.

"Ahh," Gabriel smiled at Sam. "This should be fun." With a snap of his fingers, Sam was thrown by an invisible force down onto the chair opposite Gabriel. He tried to get up, but Gabriel simply cocked an eyebrow and Sam stopped trying. His hair in a disarray, Sam glared at him.

"What do you want?" he snapped. "I'm not going to say yes!"

Something flickered in Gabriel's eyes for a moment – Sam couldn't quite place the emotion, but it stirred something inside him. Then Gabriel put on his bold front and smiled at Sam again. He got up and walked forward until he was standing directly in front of Sam.

Without any warning, he lifted Sam's head up by the chin. Sam tried to flinch back, but Gabriel had a strong grip on his chin. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it was enough to paralyze him. "So young," he heard the Archangel sigh, "such a glorious soul wasted."

Anger churned in Sam's belly. Since when was he a 'glorious soul'?

"You and your brother both," Gabriel said, finally letting go of Sam's face and staring straight into his eyes. "You're little brother had a normal life though – well, for the most part…but you two…" Gabriel shook his head, "you two have grown up too quick."

A smirk took over his features again, and his eyes brightened. "I know the perfect solution!" he cried, and Sam felt his heart sink. He just hoped it didn't involve any deaths or torturing. Knowing Gabriel, it was probably both.

"But Dean-o isn't back yet," Gabriel continued, looking disheartened. "We'll have to wait for him."

"Why? What does Dean have to do with this?"

Gabriel scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "Dean has many things to do with this…I'm doing this for you, Sam, and for your brother."

"Doing what?" Sam hissed.

"You'll see."

Sam clenched his fist, glaring at Gabriel. It was only then he realized he had use of his body again – and had had it for quite some time. He had simply been too wrapped up in his own fury to realize it.

"Why won't you just tell me."

"Why don't you make me?" Gabriel challenged, his eyes gleaming as Sam jumped up from the chair. He stepped towards the Archangel, but Gabriel didn't seem intimidated.

"Hit me with your best shot Sammy. I dare you."

Sam didn't move, but the fires of Hell seemed to blaze in his eyes.

"Come on Sammy? What's wrong? You can stand up to Lucifer but not to me? Oh I'm disappointed – after all the things that you've done, especially with Ruby, and – " Gabriel was cut off as Sam sent a sharp punch to his face, releasing all the fury and agony that Gabriel had put him through back with Dean's hundreds of deaths and the mortifying challenges of surviving TV land.

"Sam?"

Sam froze at the sound of Dean's voice. He turned to see Dean and Castiel staring at him with wide eyes.

"Sam…did you just punch an Archangel in the face?" Dean asked, sounding impressed and confused at the same time.

"I – I…" it was only then that the reality of what happened sunk in. His eyes widened in horrification, "I'm so going to Hell…" he managed to get out.

Castiel either agreed with him, or was too stunned to reply, because he didn't add in his two-cents. He heard a laugh from behind him and saw Gabriel touch his own face. With a snap, his broken nose was repaired and the blood had vanished off of his face.

"Excellent aim, Sammy! My, my! John raised you well!"

Sam didn't say anything, he wasn't even sure what would set him off again.

"Well, now that we're all here, why don't we join in on the fun?"

Gabriel's gaze flickered to Castiel, who's eyes suddenly widened. "Gabriel, don't –"

But that was all Sam and Dean heard before they both had the same sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube, the onslaught of air suffocating them, the feeling that their organs were being shoved inside out, before –

"Holy shit!" the curse definitely didn't seem right coming out of a two-year olds mouth, but Sam didn't care at the moment. "Dean, what do we do?"

Dean blinked. "That was a nice right hook you had there, Sam."

"Dean, focus!" Sam yelled. Without warning, the door to the room opened and the boys eyes widened as they saw who was behind it. A confused John Winchester was looking at them, his eyes tired.

"What are you boys doin' up so late?" he asked. Sam and Dean couldn't respond for the life of them.

"Sammy, how'd you get out of your crib…Dean did you do this?"

Dumb-struck, Dean could only shake his head no.

John sighed and walked into the room towards the two boys. Sam and Dean's eyes widened and they both inevitably took steps back, but John had already grabbed Sam around the middle and was hauling him up into his arms.

"NO!" Sam kicked out. "Dean! Do something!"

Thinking fast, Dean went to tackle his Dad's legs, but it barely seemed to effect John, much less make him put Sam down. "Dean, what's the problem. Sam stop that hollering!"

Sam couldn't help it, at his dad's commanding tone, he shut up. His eyes were huge as he stared at his father, and his chest heaved as though he had run a marathon. Dean was still pushing with all his six-year old might against John's leg, trying to get him to release Sam.

"I'm just putting Sam back in his crib, and you will be in your own room sleeping mister." His dad said, no sympathy in his gaze. "I don't know how you got out, Sammy, but this isn't going to happen again." John obviously wasn't looking for a reply, because he knew he was talking to a two-year old who should (seemingly) not know what he was talking about.

Dean was still pushing John's legs.

"Hey, buddy, cut that out!" John exclaimed, placing Sammy in the crib. Sam struggled and tried to flail away, almost succeeding, but John pushed him back in at the last minute. "Woah there, you don't wanna get hurt do ya?"

"Nooo!" Sammy yelled, struggling to get out of his father's vice-like grip. John let go of him as soon as Sammy was placed in the crib, and placed a small kiss on his forehead, from which Sammy flinched away. John looked at him in confusion for a moment, before turning to look back down at Dean.

"Hey buddy, what's wrong?" John asked, rubbing his sons hair and looking amused at Dean's attempts at getting him on the ground.

Dean dodged the hand and glared at his father. "I want Sammy!"

John raised an eyebrow. "Well it's way past both of your bedtimes, come on little man."

Dean screamed as John picked him up and hauled him over his shoulder. From behind them Sammy was yelling, "Put him down! Put him down!"

Shocked, John put Dean back down on the ground. "Mary!" he yelled, looking overwhelmed. Both Sam and Dean fell silent, looking at each other with wide eyes. There's no way…

A petite woman slipped into the room, her blonde curly hair stopping just past her breasts. Her eyes were warm and a small smile was tugging at her lips. She was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen in his entire life.

I guess there is a way…

"Dean, be good for your father," she gently scolded him. With a smile she lifted Dean up into her arms, giving him a kiss on the head. Dean seemed too shocked to do anything other than lie limp in her arms.

John frowned, "How do you do that?" he asked his wife, who gave him a cheeky smile. "They like me more," she teased him. John growled good-naturedly and brought his lips to hers, giving her a short but tender kiss.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Mary said, looking down at Dean. As they started to leave the room, Sam, in a desperate attempt at getting Dean back, started crying and wailing as loud as he could.

Both John and Mary stopped, and turned to look at him. Dean was giving him a torn look.

"You want your brother?" Mary sighed. Both Sam and Dean nodded. "Alright," she gave in. "I guess you can sleep in his crib for tonight."

John looked like he was about to protest, but at the look on his wife's face, he shut up. She hoisted Dean over the bars of the crib and laid him down next to Sammy. She gave them both a quick goodnight-kiss (while wiping Sammy's tearstained cheeks) on the head before smiling at John and walking out of the room with him, hands intertwined.

It was almost completely dark in the light blue room except for a nightlight, which was in the shape of a half-moon. Immediately, Dean turned to Sam.

"What do we do?" he hissed. Sam shrugged, looking lost. "Do you think it's a trick? I mean…" he broke off at the look on Dean's face.

"It can't be a trick!" he all but yelled, and Sam had to smack a baby-soft fist over Dean's mouth to get him from shouting out. Dean let out a few more muffled yells before falling silent and glaring at his little brother. He pushed his hand away angrily and glared at the soft bedding they were sitting on.

"Look maybe – maybe we should um…" Sam was looking embarrassed. Dean gave him a curious look, cocking his head to once side. "What, Sammy?"

"Well um, maybe we should talk about this in the morning…"

Dean smiled, "Up past your bedtime, squirt?"

"I'm not a squirt!" Sam replied indignantly.

"Face it kiddo, you're going to be a little runt for another sixteen years." Dean's grin grew wider as Sam glared at him. "You're right though," Dean said, suddenly tired too. "We should get some sleep."

Sam nodded sleepily, curling up into a ball. Within seconds he was snoring gently, with Dean brushing his curls back off his head. "'Night Sammy," he whispered, throwing his arm around the little baby. He closed his eyes, and then he too, was sound asleep.

How was the first chapter?