Seventeen

Mary did as her son wanted and left. She didn't take the Impala- she didn't have the keys to her late husband's car anyway- or her own vehicle- she didn't want to drive right now- and instead walked down the road.

She didn't care where she went, as long as she continued moving. Her entire body was thrumming with hurt and anger and fear.

She wanted to grab Dean and shake him, make him understand why she'd done what she'd done, despite all the risks. She had only been trying to protect her baby. No less than what he would do.

But what if he was right and Ketch had had ulterior motives for giving her the spell? What if he had lied to her and was actually working with Ladies Hess and Bevell to get Sam?

A lump formed in her throat and threatened to be released as a sob of frustration.

The sudden ringing of her cell phone made Mary stop and fish the phone from the pocket of her jeans, thinking maybe it was Dean calling to apologize to her.

"Did the spell work?" Ketch's voice answered instead of her son's.

For a moment Mary did not say anything but then nodded, replying.

"Yes… I don't know."

"Did it work or didn't it?" the British Man of Letters asked in a condescending tone, "Surely that is not a difficult question to answer."

"Dean…" Mary began but paused when the lump in her throat throbbed painfully, "He stopped me. But… I think it worked. Sam was older…"

"How old?" Ketch asked, "Is he an adult again?"

"No," Mary answered, "No, he's still a little boy. About Dean's age when I died."

Ketch didn't speak for a long moment.

"Are you still there?" Mary asked. She stepped closer to the trees on the side of the road as a transport truck blew by her, the gust of wind that followed her buffeting her to one side.

"Does he remember who he is?"

"I don't know," Mary replied, "He's unconscious."

"You aren't with him?" Ketch asked, sounding surprised.

"No," the huntress admitted, "Dean wasn't happy about the spell. We… we had a fight and I left."

There was a noise on the other end of the phone that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

"Why don't you come here?" Ketch suggested.

"And do what?" Mary asked.

"At least you'll have someone on your side," the British Man of Letters told her.

Mary turned around to face the direction of the Bunker.

"I really should go back," she hesitated.

"Sounds to me like Dean needs to cool down right now," Ketch told her, "And you could use some support."

Mary raised her free hand and ran her fingers through her long hair- the same tic Dean had when he was nervous or indecisive- and sighed.

"Okay," Mary acquiesced.

Maybe if she went to the Men of Letters' headquarters she could find out more about their plans for Sam.

Ending the call with Ketch, Mary picked up her pace and started back towards the Bunker, checking she had the keys to her car so she wouldn't have to go inside and possibly face Dean. She didn't think she could that right now anyway.

SPN

Dean stared at his cell phone in his hands. He had taken it out with the intention of calling Mary but then stopped. He didn't want to talk to her, not really. He was still angry with her for sneaking around. But he felt bad for pushing her away. She had only been trying to help Sam; he knew that, even if she had gone about it the wrong way.

A stirring from the figure on the bed dashed any thought of calling Mary from Dean's mind and he leaned forward.

"Sammy," Dean murmured, "Hey, Sammy, are you okay?"

Two hazel eyes opened halfway, glassy, dazed and rolled in their sockets.

"Sammy," Dean said again, frowning.

The eyes closed again but the mouth opened ever so slightly.

"D'n?"

"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean whispered, "I'm here."

The boy on the bed shuddered and the hunter reached forward, fearing his sibling was having some kind of seizure but then the child raised himself on his elbows and peeled his eyes open again.

Hazel eyes met green ones, sharp and clear.

"What… what happened?" Sam asked, frowning, "Why am I in your room?"

Dean smiled.

Sam glanced down, his eyes widening, then he lifted the blankets before quickly dropping them.

"Why am I naked?"

"What do you remember?" Dean asked, trying not to notice the two red spots that appeared on Sam's cheeks.

"We were hunting a witch," Sam answered slowly, "And right before we killed her she started mumbling these words… maybe an incantation… and then we came back to the Bunker and… and…"

Sam frowned, "Everything kind of... goes weird…"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I didn't black out but… all I remember are colours and smells and sounds and…" Sam shook his head and then looked down at himself.

"I'm a little kid," he said without much surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, well," Dean hesitated, "Long story short, you were a baby at first and then Mom had this spell to try and bring you to your proper age but… but it didn't work."

He was not going to tell his brother he had interrupted the spell.

Sam looked up at Dean, panic in his eyes.

"I can't stay like this! I have to change back!"

"I think you're kinda cute as a little kid," Dean chuckled; trying to lighten the mood, incredibly relieved his brother- for the most part- was all right.

Sam flung the blankets off- now was not the time to be shy- and jumped out of bed.

"We have to do it again," he insisted, "We'll get Mom and have her do the spell again."

Dean hesitated, torn between the seriousness of the situation and the humour of seeing his four-year-old brother standing in his birthday suit in front of him.

"She's, uh, out right now," Dean told his brother, his anger towards their mother once again rising up inside him.

"Then we can do it ourselves," Sam insisted, padding in his bare feet to the bedroom door.

"Sam, wait," Dean reached out a put a hand on his sibling's narrow shoulder.

"What?" Sam asked, hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Dean didn't want to tell his brother he didn't know how to perform the spell.

"Let's wait until Mom get's back," Dean told his brother, "She can help us out."

Sam pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, looking very much like a Kindergartener.

"Dean," he whined, "Please, I can't stay like this."

"I know, Sam," Dean said, "We'll get this fixed."

"But, ah, let's find you something to wear in the meantime."

Author's Note:

Thanks to Rafaela Amanda, mandancie, Trucklady53, EmilyAnnMcGarrett, jensensgirl3, elliereynolds777, Blondie 20000, Mama's Stories, SamReid, Kas3y, whatnosheep, and lenail125 for reviewing.

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