Wee Little Love Child
in which de-aged!Sam ships Destiel harder than everyone
☆
“Okay, Rowena,” Dean said with forced patience, clutching his cellphone to his ear, eyes pinched closed by the tips of his fingers. “Tell me what you did. Tell me how to undo it. And maybe – maybe – the rest of your day will turn out fine.”
“Dooooo?” Rowena’s melodic voice warbled through the phone speaker. “What could little old me have possibly done, from so many miles away?”
Dean snorted, sticking his empty hand on his hip. He turned on his feet, gazing with discontent at his brother. Sam sat on a cushion at the bunker’s banquet table, feet sticking off the edge of his chair, elbows on the tabletop. Both hands were wrapped around a sippy cup. He was drinking milk, watching Sesame Street on his phone screen. Dean gestured to Sam, making an aghast, incoherent noise in explanation.
“Really now,” Rowena went on. “Your brother and I get along parfectly well, I’d have ab-solutely no reason to do such a horrible thing to a poor wee creature.”
Dean squawked. “I didn’t even say what you did! I know you did it, okay. Tell me how to age him up again. Right now, Rowena! Or I’ll—”
“Oh, all right, all right,” Rowena sighed, as if Dean had already listed the most gruesome witch-specific tortures, applicable from afar. “You win. I’ll tell you how to undo the spell.”
Dean met Sam’s eyes, considering him warily. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Now get a notebook, because these ingredients may prove hard for you and your handsome angel friend to find, and take a wee while to gather up. Don’t want either of you forgetting them in the meantime.”
Dean scowled and muttered, “I can remember. Just tell me.”
“If you say so. Now listen carefully. This is what you’ll need…”
· ☆ ·
“The Sands of Time?” Dean yelped, pacing back and forth. He shook his head, panting to himself, hands tucked tightly under his arms. “Where am I gonna get that, Cas? Does that even exist? I have no clue where to start.”
The cellphone on the table sighed.
“Is Sam gonna be stuck like this forever?” Dean looked over at Sam, who was stacking library books on the marble, ordering them by size. “Am I gonna have to raise him? Again?”
“I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel said placatingly through the speaker, and Dean snatched up his phone, holding it like having Castiel closer might bring him some comfort. “I’m driving right now. I can meet you in an hour, we can discuss it then.”
Dean wandered over to Sam, crouching beside him. Sam looked up with his innocent hazel eyes, and gave Dean a big smile.
“I made a howse,” Sam said, patting his pile of books. “Luk.”
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