Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John jumps at the sound of his phone ringing. He wasn’t sure who could be calling him so late. His boys were out on a hunt and didn’t need his help— not that they’d ask him even if they did. It was a surprise to him as he picked it up and read the contact. Sammy. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and did his best to sound awake as he pressed ‘accept’. 

“Hey.. Did I wake you?” Sam asked nervously. John could practically sense that Sam was scratching his neck and biting at his nails right now. Some habits don’t die out after childhood. 

“No, no. Don’t worry about that, Sam. What’dya need?” John sat up in bed rubbed at his eyes, getting up to splash some cool water on his face. He assumed that they needed him for a case. It was rare that they ever asked for his help, and the last time they asked was about 2 or so years ago. Even then they just needed someone to be a lookout because Bobby wasn’t available.  He wouldn’t miss this for the world, lord only knows when they’d ask again. Maybe in 5 years. He sighed. 

“I need you to come get Dean,” Sam spoke bluntly, just wanting to get it out already, rip the bandaid off. John was confused, of course. He didn’t understand what the boy meant. 

“What for? Somethin’ happen?” John questioned as he pulled off his night robe and pulled on his jacket instead. He tied the laces to his boots and listened as Sam gulped before responding. 

“Uh, nothing… bad. I guess.. depending on how you look at it. Me and Dean were on a case trying to find some local newbie witches that were turning people into kids again. Pretty weak spells, honestly, we didn’t worry too much. Plus, we.. kinda know someone that would be able to help if we did get caught up in a spell. Anyway, point is, Dean got hit with whatever spell they were doing and it hit him weirder than other people. The person that was supposed to be able to help us if something like that were to occur doesn’t know how to reverse it yet and.. we’re kind of out of ideas, man.” Sam talked fast, not taking any breaks. John could barely process everything that was just said to him. “We can’t keep him here. We're too busy to look after a kid right now, and in order to at least find a potential reversing spell we need ingredients and— and we can’t have him here for that,” Sam was looking at Dean now, apologetic eyes for speaking about him as if he were a baby. 

John grabbed the car keys off his night stand and sped walked outside, jumping into his truck and turning the ignition on. “How old is he?” John hoped that Dean wasn’t an infant or baby— he wanted to be able to speak to the boy, at least. 

“He was rapidly aging down for a few hours. But uh, he seems to have stopped at 14. He’s been the same for over 4 hours which is record time considering he was aging down within 1 hour intervals.” Sam was packing a bag for Dean now and Dean looked absolutely mortified. “You should see his face,” Sam cracked a joke and John chuckled at that. 

“Let me speak to him.” John pulled out of the driveway and started making his way down to the motel they were staying at. It wasn’t too far off, it would only take him about an hour to get there. Until then, he’d just stay on the phone with the boys— if they let him. They probably wouldn’t. 

Sam shuffled around for a few seconds before the phone went silent. John almost thought that the boy had hung up when he suddenly heard heavy breathing. “Dean?” John raised an eyebrow. Dean groaned. He didn’t want to talk, his voice sounded so stupid and young. 

“..yeah, it’s me.” He squeaked out, his voice cracking as he spoke. John found it adorable. He wished he was there when his son went through puberty for the first time. He should’ve been there for the voice cracks and the squeaks. Something inside him felt like it was aching. He’d often felt like he was rotting, like everything inside him was covered in maggots and begging to put him out of his misery. Hearing Dean’s young voice made that feeling die down just a little. 

“Hey, Dean. I’m almost there. ‘Bout 20 minutes away now. Wanna wait outside for me?” John proposed, hoping that Dean wouldn’t be in the ‘I-hate-my-dad’ phase of his teenage years. Although, he wouldn’t really blame him if he was. John wasn’t the best dad when Dean was actually 14. 

 “Sure, whatever.” Dean handed the phone back to Sam and hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder, slamming the door shut behind him as he sat on the outside curb. 

Sam blinked and picked the phone back, placing it up to his ear. “What did you do to him?” Sam joked, flipping through pages of books still trying to find a proper reversal spell that didn’t include too many risks. 

“Nothin’. Just told him to wait outside for me.” John shrugged, turning the truck and watching as he began to pull up to the motel. “Pulling up now. See ya, Sammy. Was good talkin’ to you.” John said affectionately as he hung up the phone. Fortunately for him he didn’t get to hear how Sam scoffed at the nickname and rolled his eyes. Only Dean could call him that. 

John parked the car next to Dean and stepped out. “Sam sent you out with a whole load of stuff! Damn, Let me take that from you.” John bent down and reached for the duffel. Dean flinched. John froze. He tried his best to act like he didn’t notice his son's flinching. Dean tried his best to act like he didn’t flinch. 

John loaded the duffel and small bag into the back of his truck and followed Dean into the car. “Got all your favorite mix tapes from when you were a kid.” John grinned as he pulled out of the motel parking lot. Dean blinked and shuffled through the bin, pulling out his all time favorite tape that was titled ‘Dad n Dee’s shit’ . He smirked seeing that. Dean pushed it into the player and laid back as he waited for the song to play. He started to examine other tapes, some of them were empty and didn’t have titles. He rummaged through the box until he found one hidden all the way at the bottom, scratched up real good. The wording on this one, though faded, read: ‘Mix for Daddy. From Dee.’ Dean stared at it for a minute, his thoughts completely vanishing. He had feelings boiling up inside his stomach that he didn’t want to deal with right now so he shoved it back into the bin and closed it, staring out the window. The rest of the car ride was silent except for the tape playing their favorite songs from when he was actually a kid and John was actually his dad. Not that he wasn’t his dad anymore or anything, but it’s not like you can really parent your almost 30 year old son. Well— he wasn’t exactly almost 30 right now. So maybe it almost didn’t count. 

John pulled into his driveway and waited for Dean's reaction to the house. He frowned as he saw that Dean was too zoned out to notice. “Got the house rebuilt ‘bout 5 or 6 years ago. Never told ya boys, wanted you to find out yourselves. Like a little gift. Tried to get all the details— even your old rooms. Sammy’s nursery. It’s all there.” Dean stared at the house in awe, his face growing red with emotion. He didn’t even know how to react, what to say, he just knew that he felt like jumping up and down and screaming at the top of his lungs until they died out. 

“Wh.. how? Why? What?” Dean stepped out of the car and admired the lawn, trying to force back tears that were threatening to fall down his face. He’d never cry in front of his dad. Ever. 

“Don’t know. Got up one day and decided I didn’t want to hop motel to motel anymore, I guess.” John sounded condescending but Dean chose to ignore it. He hoped that wouldn’t be an issue later. He wanted his stay here to feel nostalgic and welcoming, but it wouldn’t feel that way if John was going to be… John. Dean went quiet after that and John noticed. He cursed himself for not wording himself better. He hated how easily Dean shut down when around him. How badly had he messed this kid up? 

“C’mon, let’s go. Nice and warm inside.” John grabbed the duffel and bag from the back and headed towards the door. Dean followed closely behind, his head hanging low. John bit at his lip in frustration. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. 

Chapter Text

Light filled the room as John flipped a switch, nearly blinding himself. Dean wiped his tired eye with his fist, a gesture that made John want to audibly say ‘awe’.

“Does it look how you remember?” John smirked as he hung up his jacket on the coat rack and headed towards Dean’s old room.

Dean poked around the house, examining everything. Truth be told he hardly remembered anything, he was only 4 when the fire happened, after all. It was just vague nostalgia. He flipped through some books and huffed at them to get dust off. He realized that he hadn’t answered John’s question yet— he was so interested in exploring that he had tuned it out. He looked behind himself, fully expecting John to be scolding him, but there was no one behind him. There was no tension or angry aura. Everything was okay, and that made Dean feel… weird. “Uh.. I think so.” He shrugged and ran over to catch up with John.

The door to Dean’s room was cracked. Dean’s body filled with an instant need to investigate— fight or flight activated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his silver pocket knife, holding it up as he slowly stepped into the room, ready to attack. John peeked around the corner and it scared the life out of the him, making Dean jump and completely drop the knife.

“Jesus, boy. Relax. Nothin’ here except us. I had warding engraved into the walls, kid. Nothing’s getting in, nothing’s getting out.” John raised an eyebrow and bent down to pick up the puny knife, part of him being proud of his boy for the fast reflexes and the other half being upset that his kid got his hands on a knife at all. Kids shouldn’t have weapons. A very ironic thing for him to think, considering he’d given Sam a gun at the age of 9, just because the boy was scared of something being in his closet.

Dean turned to look at the room and felt embarrassment wash over him. The room was toddler themed, toys stuffed in a big football shaped bucket, blue walls with paintings of cartoons and a bed that had baseball sheets. The bed would be tolerable if it weren’t designed to look like it was for a little boy. He swallowed, eyeing the childish room. “Please don’t make me stay here.” He rubbed at his temple and sighed. John cracked a laugh at that.

“Hey, I didn’t have much to go off of. Like I said, I had the place rebuilt from scratch, an exact replica. I just told them to build what I remembered. Never planned on you or Sam living here again, was just supposed to be a visiting kind of thing.” John chuckled, soaking in his son’s embarrassment. “We’ve got a spare room. Let’s just leave your stuff in here and take care of it tomorrow. For now you can sleep in the spare, alright?” John offered.

“Yeah. Alright.” Dean took off his own jacket and threw it on the bed. Dean was walking out of the room when John threw something soft at him— something fluffy, light. Dean squinted, unamused. It was his childhood teddy bear. “Funny. Haha.” Dean rolled his eyes. John couldn’t seem to pull himself together, he was laughing nonstop.

“Come on, why’re you so sour? This was your best friend when you were little!” John placed the teddy back into bed and tucked it in. Dean was confused on why he put all that effort into tucking the bear in when he could’ve just thrown it back into the toy bin. “Force of habit. You used to go nuts if I didn’t tuck your bear in with you. You’d cry like… ‘Daddy tuck him in, too! Daddy! Daddy! We won’t be friends anymore if you don’t tuck him in too!’ It was priceless. Your mother always got mad at me for laughing at you, but it was just such a silly thing to cry over, I couldn’t help it.” John reminisced. Dean didn’t have much to add, he was too old to remember anything like that now.

They made their way into the spare room and Dean nearly collapsed. Being 14 again was really messing with his ability to stay awake, it was only around 9pm and he already felt like he was going to pass out any second. He yawned, sitting down on the bed and untying his shoes.

“Hold on tiger, are you hungry? That was a long ride. Don’t know if you ate before I got you, either.” John was checking around the room to make sure there were only age appropriate dvds and magazines. This was a weird feeling, he never used to do this when Dean was actually 14. Back then he didn’t care if Dean read the most grotesque porn known to man so long as he kept up with his hunting and training. He found himself nearly jumping upon seeing a horror movie that was rated R/Mature. He shoved the movie into a drawer and sighed. Could never be too careful.

“Mm..” Dean yawned and rubbed at his eyes, barely able to form a sentence now. John’s heart melted. He wanted to hear Dean mumble and whine more, just like when he was 4, begging to be carried to bed.

“What was that, kiddo? You think we should wait until tomorrow and eat a huge breakfast to make up for tonight? Hm?” John teased.

“Mhm.. sleepy.” Dean yawned one last time and crawled under the covers of the bed, not even bothering to get into pajamas.

“Okay. Sleep tight, kid. Dream about the amazing breakfast we’re going to eat tomorrow.” John whispered and closed the door gently behind him. He knew the perfect spot for breakfast in the morning, it was a small diner not too far out. Dean would like it for sure, they had great pie.

Chapter Text

Dean was woken up to the sound of John shuffling around the house. He yawned, looking at the alarm clock. 7am. He groaned and pulled the pillow over his face, not wanting to be awake yet. He felt himself drifting off again right as John walked up to the spare room and knocked on the door. John never knocked when Dean was actually a kid. He raised an eyebrow. “Uh.. come in?” 

“You’re up! Are you ready for breakfast?” John leaned against the wall and watched Dean rub at his eyes, barely even being conscious for longer than 5 minutes. “I’ll take that as a no.” John chuckled and threw a small bag towards Dean. He was impressed when the boy caught it with ease. His motor skills still haven’t rusted after all these years. Well, it could be that they did rust, his 14 year old body likely just revived them. 

“What’s this?” Dean yawned and stared at the little bag, puzzled. 

“Open it and find out.” John made a mental note on how Dean waited for a command. He didn’t know what to do unless he was told to do it. 

Dean shrugged and unzipped the bag. Inside laid a new toothbrush and some other simple toiletries. Most of them were… a little bit childish. The toothbrush was fine, but John had gotten him flavored toothpaste. The bubblegum kind. There wasn’t even a razor in there for shaving. “Thanks..” Dean looked unamused. “I can use regular toothpaste, I’m not 4.” Dean wrinkled his nose and zipped the bag back up. 

“Yeah, I guess you can. But bubblegum tastes better.” John dismissed the concern. 

“Alright, get out. I need to change.” Dean hopped up out of bed and placed the bag on the nightstand. John blinked, staring at him with faux confused eyes. 

“You don’t need help?” He teased. Dean fake laughed and pointed towards the door. 

“I can dress myself fine, thank you very much.” He spoke sarcastically. The door shut with a giggling John on the opposite end. 

Rummaging through his duffel bag he pulled out a simple flannel, black t-shirt and some blue jeans. Casual wear. This wasn’t exactly a fancy get together. He quickly undressed and pulled the t-shirt over himself, soon followed by him pulling the flannel on top of it. He squinted and looked down at himself, immediately noticing something was wrong. The sleeves on the flannel were so much bigger then he remembered, and the t-shirt was almost down to his mid thigh. he silently cursed. “Go to hell, witches.” He spoke out loud, gritting his teeth. A wave of emotions started to fill him, something he hadn’t experienced since he was actually a teen. It felt harder to control them, he felt unregulated. He was frustrated, angry, and inpatient all at once. Not to mention how humiliating it is for your clothes to look like they don’t even belong to you, appearing to be 3 sizes too big. 

The door creaked open and Dean sluggishly made his way out. “Dad!” He called down the hall. 

John peeked around the corner. “..did you actually need help?” He made his way over to the room. 

“No! I— ugh,” Dean was more frustrated now. He understood that John was just messing with him but he didn’t want to laugh right now. He just wanted clothes that fit. 

“What’s up?” John stood in front of his boy and immediately recognized the issue. However, in his eyes, this was the cutest issue that Dean could have possibly had. The oversized clothes really seem to put an emphasis on how small Dean was now. He was pushed out of his thoughts when Dean spoke. 

“None of my damn clothes fit me anymore,” he huffed out, and John noticed how frustrated the poor kid was. 

“Alright. Breathe, kid. This isn’t the end of the world. I’m sure I still have some of your old clothes laying around somewhere.” John reassured, but this only seemed to upset the kid more. 

“Oh yeah, I'm sure I can fit into one of my old Sesame Street shirts from when I was 3.” Dean felt his face getting hot. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He repeated to himself. 

“No, bud. I’m sure I have some of the clothes you used to wear when you were 16. Take a deep breath, okay?” John seemed to feel bad for Dean, and this shocked the teen down to his core. 

Dean wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to his dad being this nice to him. He wasn’t used to his dad sympathizing with him. And even worse, his dad was trying to comfort him. It was all so overwhelming, but he refused to cry. He sucked it up as much as he could, not wanting a single tear to fall. “Okay,” he squeaked out. 

——————-

A couple minutes passed before John walked back over with a large bin in his arms. Dean perked up upon seeing it. “Is that all my stuff?” 

“Sure is.” John placed it down on the ground with a huff and pulled back the lid, revealing piles of old clothes and some random childhood trinkets. Dean pretended not to notice the porn magazines stashed at the bottom. Jeez, John really kept everything. Probably to make fun of him when he was older. 

“Jesus, you let me wear this?” Dean pulled out an old shirt that read ‘ Milf Magnet’. John only shrugged. 

“Not like I could’ve stopped you. I was never home.” John said it mindlessly, and it took Dean by surprise. He wasn’t expecting the subtle accountability. 

Dean rummaged through the bin until he found something that didn’t look too much like he was a feral rogue teenager that didn’t have parents. A simple white band t-shirt with a brown flannel. He was pleased with the outfit, even thinking that he pulled it off really well. John smiled at him. 

“Oh, forgot to tell ya. Sam wants to talk to you later. Told me to tell you to give him a call after breakfast.” John closed up the bin and started to carry it back off to the closet. 

——————-

They arrived at the diner and Dean immediately asked for the dessert menu. All he wanted was pie right now. He hadn’t had such a bad sweet tooth in a long time. Being 14 was really changing him in dumb ways. John chuckled and took the dessert menu, handing him the main one instead. “You can order pie after you eat, kid.” 

Dean squinted but listened nonetheless. He skimmed over the menu and decided on a stack of pancakes with a side of bacon. The waitress came over and took their order and Dean of course attempted to flirt with her, forgetting that he was in the body of a teenager. She blinked and ignored him. He frowned. 

Their food arrived and Dean housed it down as if he hadn’t eaten in years. John was simple, all he ordered was a black coffee and some scrambled eggs. He really only came here for Dean, anyway. Watching his boy enjoy a warm meal made him happy. 

“Pie?” Dean asked with a stuffed mouth, crumbs falling off his chin. 

“Jesus Dean, chew.” John handed the kid a napkin. “Yeah, I’ll get you a pie. They have some nice options here. Apple, blueberry, chocolate—“ Dean cut him off. 

“Blueberry.” He was full of excitement. He waited almost an hour for this and he was expecting it to be the best pie he would ever have in his life. 

A hot plate was placed in front of him and his face lit up. “Oh my god,” He spoke eagerly. “This looks delicious.” 

“Yeah? Well, eat it, tell me how it is. I’ve had their apple pie, it’s really..—“ Dean was already wolfing down the pie. “..good.” John smirked. 

——————

They arrived back home and John left the house to give Dean full privacy. He suspected they wouldn’t be on the phone too long so he decided to go grocery shopping to pass the time. Dean held the phone up to his ear and listened as Sam breathed into the mic. 

“Hey, Dean. How’s it over there? Is dad driving you crazy?” He joked.

“Actually, no. Dude, dad is like… weirdly different. I mean, he left the house. To give me privacy. Privacy, Sam.” He sounded mind blown. 

“What? Wow, man.” Sam sounded genuinely shocked by that. He didn’t think John was actually capable of being an okay-dad. Not good, not great. Just okay. He didn’t know any further details to make an impression just yet. 

“Listen, Dean, I’m working hard on finding a reversal spell, Rowena is trying her best, too. Closest we’ve got so far is a spell that’ll age you up a few years.” Sam offered. 

For some reasons, Dean felt compelled to say ‘no’. He wasn’t sure why, all he wanted was to be an adult again. He bit his lip, every bone inside him telling him to say ‘yes’. He breathed shakily. “Nah. I’m good. I don’t want it unless it’s the full thing. What good will I be at 18 anyway? Can’t even buy alcohol at that age.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. “Uh, you sure, man? I mean, it would be better than nothing.” Sam offered again. 

Dean stood his ground. “I’m good, Sammy.” He fiddled around with his flannel sleeve and waited in anticipation for Sam to call him weird, or make fun of him somehow. However, that didn’t happen. 

“Alright, man. If you say so.” Sam shrugged it off, not thinking much else about it. Dean sighed from relief.

 The call ended and Dean sat in the living room, awaiting John’s return.

Chapter Text

John returned shortly and in his hands was 3 large grocery bags full of what seemed to be ingredients for dinner and some extra snacks for Dean to munch on throughout the day. Dean perked up upon seeing John. He’d been researching a bit while he was gone at the store and found a case they could easily crack, it wasn’t that far away either. “Dad, what’d ya get?” Dean watched as John put away cold groceries in the freezer and smirked at him. 

“Just some stuff for dinner and a few things for you to eat when I'm not here. Remember the Winchester special?” John teased, reminding Dean of the gross greasy meal that Mary used to make when he was little. 

“The Winchester special? Of course I remember! It was the only— and the best— meal that mom ever made.” Dean practically jumped up and down with excitement. 

“Hey, dad, I found us a case. It’s not too far out, I think it’s just some werewolves.” Dean opened the fridge and pulled out a small juice box. John stopped what he was doing and placed the last bag in his hands down. He looked confused. 

“What do you mean a case?” John raised an eyebrow, his hands sitting on top of the counter top, watching Dean. “You’re in no state to tag along on hunts, Dean.” John put away a milk carton to avoid looking at the disappointment that filled his son's eyes. 

“Huh? Why not? Just because I'm smaller doesn't mean I can’t shoot a gun anymore,” Dean joked, chuckling to himself, but John didn’t reciprocate the laughter. 

“No, Dean. I mean.. you’re a kid. You’re not going on hunts. Besides, me and Sam already took care of that case last night while you were asleep. Those news articles should be taken down soon.” A silence filled the room for a moment. 

“You went on a case without me?” Dean walked towards John. “Why would you go without me?” His voice sounded hurt. 

“You’re 14.” John said plainly, firmness in his voice. He felt bad talking to his son that way, but Dean just couldn’t seem to get it through his head that he was too young to be tagging along with him on hunts. He couldn’t risk it. 

Dean’s face felt hot. He grew red, clenching his fist in frustration. He remembered what it was like to argue with his dad now. He remembered what it felt like to not be heard. “I’m not 14. I'm a grown man stuck in a teenager's body.” Dean spit out, refusing to make eye contact with his dad. 

“Damnit, boy. Why do you always have something to say? You don’t know your place? You’re 14, I'm your dad and what I say goes. You don’t like it, you can leave.” John found himself raising his voice, which he immediately regretted upon seeing the way Dean shook, frozen in his tracks. He seemed terrified. 

“You haven’t changed. I’m so damn stupid.” Dean shouted, walking out of the house with nothing but a trail of rage behind him. John called out to him but he tuned it out, he was way too deep in his own thoughts.

 By the time Dean gained consciousness and was no longer on auto pilot, he was blocks away from the house and he no longer knew where he was. He checked his pockets for his phone but to no avail. He must’ve left his phone in his room. To be fair, he wasn’t exactly thinking about it when he stormed off. He just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He looked around himself to try and find any landmarks, something that stuck out. Nothing looked familiar. Was this what it was like to panic? To lose your parent in the grocery store? He never experienced those feelings when he was actually a kid. He felt panic when he was a kid, of course he did. But he had never lost his dad. He always knew where his dad was, and sure, he might’ve taken longer to come home at times… or he’d leave unexpectedly… but he never lost him. This time was different. John didn’t know where he went and Dean didn’t know where he was. But did that really matter? John made it clear he didn’t want him anyway. “Don’t like it? You can leave.” He repeated to himself over and over, it drummed inside his head. Why was he never good enough for someone to fight for? All he ever wanted was his dad, and his dad didn’t even want him back. He tried to hold it back, he really did, but tears started to prick at the corners of his eyes and the rapid blinking only made it worse. Soon enough, tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was hiccuping. He sat on the curb of the road and placed his face into his knees, wetting his jeans with tears. He sat like that for a few minutes, in shambles, before he heard a familiar honk. Dads truck. He sniffled and looked up. 

“Dean!” John called out, parking the truck and rushing out. “Damnit, you scared the life out of me! I couldn’t find you!” John was breathing heavily, having been running around looking for Dean for nearly an hour. “Dean?” His voice softened. Dean looked like a mess. He wouldn’t even raise his head to look at his dad, and John could tell that the boy was sniffling. Was he crying? He hadn’t heard or seen Dean cry in a very long time. “Oh, Dee..”

 Dean flinched at that nickname. He hadn’t heard it in so long and it used to be his favorite when he was a kid. John rarely ever used it, but when he did, it was a huge reward. It made him feel like he was a normal kid, even if it was just for a few seconds. Just a normal kid who’s dad gave him a normal nickname. “You don’t want me anymore. I don’t care. Have Sam come pick me up.” Dean hiccuped, still refusing to look at his dad. John bent down until he was nearly at eye level with his son. 

“I do want you.” John didn’t care how long he had to wait there. He didn’t care if it took all night. He was going to make Dean feel better, he was going to fix his mistake. “Look at me.” 

It wasn’t a demand, more like a plea, but Dean took it as a demand nonetheless. He feared what would happen if he didn’t listen. Would his dad send him away to a boys home? Leave him all alone again? Dean forced himself to look up, his eyes puffy and red, his lip quivering. John felt himself break into a million pieces. Had he really done that to his son? 

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Dean softly spoke, hiccuping. John cooed. 

“I want you, Dee. You’re my son. I’m always going to want you here. I’m sorry for telling you to leave. I don’t want you to leave. Do you know how much I’ve missed you boys? Having you here with me is a blessing. Hell, I don’t think I ever want this damn spell to wear off. I want you to be my little boy, always. But even when you do go back to your adult body, and you’re not psychically little anymore, you’ll still be my little boy, even then. I know that the things I say might not always be agreeable— but trust when I say this, Dee, I only want what’s best for you. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt in a hunt that I agreed to take you on.” John huffed, sitting down next to Dean on the curb. 

“I don’t understand. You never cared this much when I was actually a kid.” Dean sniffled, trying to calm himself. 

“I know. But I care now.” John looked at Dean sympathetically. 

Dean’s crying calmed down until it was nothing but sniffles and hiccups. He looked up at John, who was staring down at him lovingly. Patiently. “Can I tell you something? and you have to promise not to get mad,” Dean spoke quietly. 

John was taken aback, but remained calm. “Of course you can.” John moved in closer to listen. 

“I think.. I want to.. stay little. Just for a while longer. Sam told me he found a spell that could age me up a few years, but.. I said no.” Dean fidgeted with his fingers, biting at his lip. 

John paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. He cooed. “Can I tell you something, Dee?” 

“..Yeah. What is it?” Dean asked curiously, eyeballing his dad who appeared to dodge his question. 

“I think I want you to stay little for a while longer, too.” He whispered into Dean’s ear. 

“Really?” Dean looked ecstatic. He figured his dad would find it weird that he wanted to continue being a teen, but he was wrong. He was so happy he was wrong, just this one time. 

“Of course, kiddo. You don’t know how amazing it is having my kid back at home with me; I’m a dad, I always need something or someone to take care of. I want to take care of you, Dean.” It was starting to get colder out and John ushered for Dean to make his way to the truck. He was happy to see that Dean easily followed the instruction, not hesitating. He must be cold, too. 

“Do you still want Sam to come get you? I won’t be mad if you do.” John gulped, the lingering guilt cutting into him. 

“No. I want to stay with you, dad.” Dean felt an overwhelming urge to be held by his dad. He refused to dig into those feelings right now. He still wasn’t up for physical touch that was more than a pat on the back or a handshake. He wasn’t ready yet. Maybe he’d be ready another day. 

Chapter Text

The drive back home wasn’t awkward, just quiet. Silence lingered in the air. Nothing was to be said, they had already spilled their feelings out like a faucet. It was a comfortable emptiness. Neither of them felt they had to say anything. And yet, John persisted. 

“Hey, look at that. New cowboy movie is coming out next week.” John pointed out as he drove past the theater. He knew that dean would be excited, but he wasn’t expecting the boy to practically jump out of his skin. 

“Cowboy! Cowboy? Oh my god, I love western films!” Dean began to flap his hands without noticing. John picked up on his stimming, but decided not to question it. He was just happy that his boy was excited. “Dad, dad, can we see it? Please?” Dean’s hands continued to flap, his eyes nearly glowing with tears. 

“Yeah, ‘course we can, kid. I remember how much you loved western movies when you were younger.” John reminisced, smiling. He should probably stop saying ‘ when you were younger’ considering Dean was young again, not just physically either. His entire brain was reworked back into his teenage mindset. 

“I still do! I still do, papa!” Dean let the word slip out of his mouth, and his stimming came to a halt. He bit at his lip. John nearly swerved the car by how surprised he was to hear that. 

“Me? I’m papa?” John teased, grinning down at the teen that was now a blushing mess. “I’m just messin’ with you. You can call me papa, kid. Hell, call me daddy, if you want. I don’t mind. I actually kind of like it. Makes me feel like I'm not getting that old, and you’re still my little boy. Makes me forget that I'm going to drop dead soon.” John joked, and Dean did not find it funny. 

“‘Don’t want you to die, dad.” Dean looked genuinely concerned. His mouth formed into a pout. John had missed that sweet face for so long; so filled with emotion. He remembered all the times that Dean had that face when John tried to leave to go on a hunt without him. He bit at the inner of his cheek and silently cursed himself for ever hurting his boy in that way. 

“I’m not going to. I’m sorry for joking like that, kiddo. I shouldn’t have said that. Tell me more about the western stuff you like, yeah?” John smiled at the kid and Dean perked back up instantly. Western talk really got him going. He couldn’t help but notice how his son began to rock back and forth, his hands flapping in a rhythm. “Did we ever get you tested for ADHD, kid?” 

“No, why?” Dean blinked, confused. “Anyway, about the western— Dad! Dad, look! Pie stand! Pie stand! Can we get some?” John almost bursted out with laughter. The kid couldn’t focus on one topic even if his life was on the line. 

“No reason.. and no, you can’t have any. I’m making dinner when we get home.” 

Dean groaned loudly and pouted.

Chapter Text

“Dude.. seeing you like this is like, really…” Dean shot him a piercing look. A dare to even finish what he was going to say. “Alright, alright.” Sam laughed and swatted his hand in the air, a simple gesture, almost as if to plead peace. Dean accepted, rolling his eyes. 

“Listen, me and Rowena have been rummaging through books and we think we found something.” Sam took a sip of his water, cracking his knuckles. He seemed proud of himself. 

Dean should be proud, too. But something inside him cringed at the idea of being grown up again— he cringed at himself for feeling that way. He searched around in his brain to find a way out of this somehow; how could he prolong this? Make it last just a little longer? 

“Rowena says it isn’t like the last spell, which is obviously great, right? But there’s a downside. So, it’s going to age you down a few years. Don’t panic, alright? I’m not done,” 

Dean didn’t panic, in fact he was way too calm. He had to pretend to panic a bit, just to give off the idea that he wanted to be an adult again. Sam seemed to buy it, despite it being outlandish and very overdone. A loud sigh and an eye roll.

“I know, I know, dude. But listen. The aging down will only last around a week. After that, you should be back to normal. I bet dad’s driving you nuts.” Sam joked, feeling a bit embarrassed at how Dean didn’t even laugh. 

“Dads been alright.” Dean responded lowly, his eyes shifting down to his lap. He couldn’t pinpoint what the dread in his stomach was, but it was eating him alive. On one hand, he was excited to be aged down, but on the other, being an adult again wasn’t something he was particularly jumping with joy for. He nodded after an awkward minute. “Sounds good.” 

“You sure?” Sam raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. 

“What do you mean?” Dean tilted his head in confusion. 

“I mean, not to dig or anything, but you don’t seem exactly thrilled to be an adult again. Actually, you seem kind of down, dude.” Sam was picking at the wound too much. Dean needed him to stop. 

“Who wants to be an adult, dude?” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I don’t want to be an adult again. I get free food and a warm bed here, dad doesn’t even let me tag along on hunts anymore unless they’re guaranteed to be safe and easy, and even then, he still insists on doing everything for me. I’m living the best life.” 

“Huh.. you’re right.” Sam laughed, shrugging. His suspicions seemed to wash away. Dean felt relieved. “Hey, you think we can age me down, too? I’m tired of diners and vending machines. I want a home cooked meal..” Sam was obviously joking, but Dean didn’t hate the thought. His little brother being aged down with him, getting to relive childhood together. It actually sounded rather nice. 

“Your crib is still here, move in whenever you want.” Dean shoved Sam playfully and Sam scoffed. 

“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll stick to my big-boy bed.” 

—————————-

John heard the boys laughing upstairs and immediately felt himself perk up. It’d been a long time since they were all in the same house together, without anything hunting them, without looking over their shoulders every second. “Boys, foods ready!” 

Sam fought Dean through the door frame, both of them trying to make it to the stairs first. Typically, Dean would be the one to win, but due to his now scrawny and small figure, he was on the ground within a minute. Sam bolted past him quickly while laughing at him and pointing at him childishly. He rolled his eyes. Was he the one who was aged down or Sam? 

——————————

“Sam! Are you staying for dinner?” John grabbed 3 plates from the drying rack and placed them down on the table, a soft grin laying on his face. Sam looked sad for a moment before responding. 

“Sorry, dad. I have to get the ingredients for the age reversal spell. The one I told you about a few hours ago, remember? Me and Rowena finally found something.” Sam grabbed a large spoonful of food and placed it onto his plate, holding tinfoil in his hands. “But I will take a to-go plate…” 

“Awe.. alright, Sam.” John started to fix Dean’s plate. He’d fix his own last. He knew exactly what Dean did and didn’t like. 

Dean finally made his way down the stairs, out of breath. He growled at Sam, who was too busy stuffing his face to even notice. “Hey, can I get my plate?” Dean licked his lips staring down at all the food. John shook his head. 

“I already made yours.” John handed the plate down to him.

Dean blinked, but after inspecting the plate, he realized that it was perfect— the right amount of everything, the perfect platter. He smiled. “Thanks, dad.” 

————————--

“How old do you think the spell will make me?” Dean yawned as he walked up the stairs, John trailing behind him. Sam left right after packing up his plate, waving them goodbye. He had a lot to do— the ingredients they needed weren’t the kind that you could just pick up at the grocery store, after all. 

“Hmm.. I'm not sure. Sam said a few years, didn’t he? I’d think 10, maybe 11.” John shrugged, a yawn escaping his mouth as well. 

“Booo! No way! I don’t want to be 10, what the hell kind of shit is that?” Dean groaned. 

“Watch it, kid.” John shot a glare at Dean, to which Dean only laughed. 

Chapter Text

Cold air fills the room. Dean had forgotten to shut the window before going to bed, and his blanket was way too thin to keep him warm. He shivered. Teeth clattering. A soft whine escaped his throat as his eyes blinked open. “Cold..” he rubs at his eye with his palm, silently wishing he remembered to close the window. He was too tired to get up; his body felt far too heavy. As his eyes began to adjust to the moonlight, he caught a glimpse of the shadow of his coat hanger that spooked him enough to cause him to hide under his blanket. Everything is so much scarier when it’s 2am and you’re alone in your freezing cold room. Dean internally fights himself, wondering if he should call out for John. Was being scared of the dark a reason that warranted needing his dad? To his demise, the negative thoughts won, and he decided against it. He was a big boy, after all, he shouldn’t need his dad to coddle him because he’s afraid of a coat hanger’s shadow. 

However, his decision didn’t last for long, as a sharp gust of wind came through the window, mimicking a growling sound. Dean yelped. “Dad! Dad!” 

John springs up out of bed, rushing over to Dean’s room. “What’s wrong, Dean? What is it?” John is huffing, scanning the area. “It’s freezing in here!” 

“Please shut the window. And.. get rid of this stupid coat hanger.” Dean whispered, almost embarrassed. 

“What? The shadow of it scare you or somethin’?” John was joking but that’s exactly what happened. 

“N..no.” Dean blushed, happy that the darkness of the room was covering his facial expressions. 

“Alright, well.. get back to sleep, kid. We have a big day ahead of us. I don’t want to deal with a cranky Dean, got it?” 

“Oh come on! I’m not 5.” Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Yeahhh, but you might be. We don’t know just how young Sam’s spell is actually turning you. 10 was just an estimate. Who knows if you’ll be 5 or not…” John was just teasing, mostly, but it really got Dean thinking. 

“Jesus I hope not. Then I’ll actually have to sleep in that stupid baby room.” Dean sighs.

“Oh come on, you loved that room when you were 5!” 

“Yeah! And I'm not 5 anymore, dad.” 

“Not yet…” John smirked. 

“Just get out already.” Dean pulled the covers over him farther and turned away from John, but John could still hear the light giggles coming out of him. 

“Goodnight, Dee.” 

Chapter Text

The morning sun peeks through the window, shining down onto Dean’s sleeping face. He shifts, pulling his arm over his eyes to shield himself. A huff leaves his mouth. He forces himself up, stretching and scratching the back of his head. Making his way out of the room he passes the bathroom. John is walking by when he notices.

“Hey. Get in there and freshen up, kid.” He scolds.

Dean groans. He already has to deal with being a kid again, why should he have to take care of his hygiene on top of that? Besides, aren’t all 14 year olds gross and grimey? He’s just acting his age. Nonetheless, he stomps over to the bathroom and brushes his teeth. He has a faint memory of John setting a 2 minute timer for him when he was 3. He counted the 2 minutes in his head.

“If you’re done up there I’ve got breakfast waiting, Dee.”

Dean perks up, rushes down the stairs. Bacon, eggs and pancakes! All waiting for him. A buffet. He grins. “Yum.”

“You want any syrup, kiddo? Got maple and… blueberry.”

Dean nods and points towards the maple. John knew he’d pick that one. “Got it. Here you go.” He hands the syrup to Dean and watches as he goes to town on the food. He must’ve been really hungry.

“Hey, Dean..” John puts his own plate down, which surprisingly has nothing on it. Dean thinks it’s strange that his dad isn’t eating, but he decides to leave it alone.

“Yeah?” Dean looks up from his food, mouth full.

“You know, last night… if this spell that sam is getting turns you a lot younger… you’re more than welcome to sleep in my room.” John takes a sip of his coffee and looks off into the distance. It’s clear he doesn’t want to make eye contact.

Dean swallows a mouthful of food and hesitates before nodding. “‘Kay.”

—————————-

An hour has passed, and a knock on the door grabs John’s attention. Must be Sam, he thinks. “Coming.”

John makes his way over and pulls the door open, revealing a stressed sam. John instantly begins to worry. “Sam? Sam, what’s wrong?”

Sam rushes inside, 4 books carried messily in his arms. “Rowena’s a pain in my ass. She had me running around all day, reading through books that made no sense and had no correlation to Dean's condition.” He sighed.

“You’ve got it though, don’t you?” John closed the door and walked Sam over to the couch, motioning for him to sit down.

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Turns out she was just bored and made me her damn errand boy before rewarding me with the spell.” Sam reaches into his pocket and pulls out a s all blue elixir. “Dean’s gotta drink this while I say the words. It’s really gross, but drink it all, otherwise there’s no telling what the hell could happen. You could be turned into an infant, an old man. We don’t know.”

Dean pokes his head out from the kitchen. “You couldn’t add any flavoring to it?” He jokes. Sam isn’t amused.

“Don’t make me leave.” Sam rolls his eyes.

“Jeez, who woke up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

Sam stares daggers into Dean’s eyes and then throws the elixir towards him. To no one surprise, Dean is an amazing catch.

“I’ve got the words here. We can get this going now. I’ve got a case later today.”

“Man, you’re excited to have me back as an adult. Hope you’re excited for the dinner bill when we’re out eating at diners, too.”

“Shut up.” Sam opens a page and pushes his finger on the ink. “Okay, when I start reading, drink. Don’t stop. Not until the vile is empty.”

Dean nods. Seemed easy enough.

———————-

“That… was disgusting.” Dean is gulping his second glass of water while Sam and John snicker behind their hands.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Sam grins.

“So.. when does it kick in?” John is clearing plates off the kitchen table and placing them in the sink— trying to distract himself.

“Actually, the process should have started already. That’s why it tasted so bad. The bad taste was to ensure a speedy age change.” Sam examines Dean closely. “There’s also the possibility that you just didn’t change ages. You could stay 14 and then turn back into an adult after the week is over. It’s an uncommon chance, but it’s possible.”

“Eh, I don’t really mind that.” Dean shrugs and lays his feet on top of the couch.

“Feet off, Dean, we aren’t animals. And, Sam— how do we know it won’t kick in randomly? Maybe later on tonight? What if he turns into a 6 year old while we’re eating dinner?” John sounds genuinely concerned.

“Dad. Relax. If nothing has happened yet, nothing will happen later. Dean’s just going to stay 14 until the Re-Aging happens, I guess.”

Sam grabs his books and bundles them in his arms again. “Okay, I’ve gotta go. Keep me updated if you notice anything— though I really doubt you will. It’s a seamless transition.”

With that, John says his goodbyes to Sam and walks him out. The house is silent as the door shuts.

——————-

John is just about to head upstairs and shower when he hears a yelp come from Dean. He rushes over, nearly slipping as he reaches him. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“Hehe. Got you.” Dean snickers.

John rolls his eyes. “Keep doing that and we’ll have a boy who cried wolf situation. You used to do that when you were little, too. I remember you did it on a hunt— you thought it would be funny to prank Sam.” John smiles and reminisces.

This isn’t a fond memory for Dean. Not at all. “You broke my arm for doing that.”

John stiffens. He certainly didn’t remember that part of the story. “What?”

“Yeah. You got pissed at me for scaring Sammy, pushed me back and I fell down the goddamn stairs.” Dean looked down at his feet. The air felt thick now.

“I.. don’t remember that.” John mumbles.

“Yeah, well, it happened.”

“The worst part wasn’t even the pain. It was that you told me to stop crying, and to suck it up, like a man should. I was 10.” Dean clutched his hands into fists.

“Dean— im.. im sorry, kid. I really am.” John tried to reach for Dean but he stumbled back.

“Don’t touch me.” Dean stormed off upstairs, shutting the door behind him as he reached his room.

John sat there, taking in what had happened. He figured he should go and check on Dean. Try and apologize again. Bring him water. Do something, anything.

Instead he pulled out his flask and slumped on the couch. Drank until the alcohol lulled him to sleep.

Chapter Text

John is being shaken awake. He nearly falls off the couch, luckily catching himself. “What the hell?” He sputters. Still hungover. 

Dean looks down at him. Disappointed. “You smell gross.” He hisses. 

John’s face softens. He remembers the night before. He feels awful. He knows he should’ve gone up and talked to Dean, but he didn’t. He couldn’t fix that now. “Sorry. I’ll shower.” 

“It’s 2pm. You slept all day.” Dean sounds like he could cry. Could this be striking some triggering memories? Possibly.

John hated the idea that he was taking 5 steps back and going back to square one. He’s just gotten Dean to trust him, he can’t lose that now. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?” 

“No. I ate.” Dean hurriedly putting his shoes on. For what, John doesn’t know. 

“What’d you eat? I doubt it was nutritional. You ain’t the best at making your own meals.” John meant it as a joke, but he could tell it hurt Dean. He just can’t stop making mistakes, it seems. 

“I ate.” Dean repeats, venom in his voice. John backs down. 

“Okay. I’m not trying to pry, I just care about you. That’s all.” John sits up and soothes his headache by rubbing his hair. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m going out with Sam for a little. Gonna see if we can quicken this process. I’ll be back tonig— tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

John raises an eyebrow. This was sudden. “Do you just not want to be around me? You know, excuses aren’t needed. I’m a man, tell me like it is.” 

Dean freezes in place. 

“Dad, it really hurts..” Dean sobbed in the passenger seat of the car. He didn’t mean to scare sammy so badly, all he did was prank him! But dad was so, so angry. 

“Shut up. Can’t hurt that damn bad, you’re whining about it. How come you’re not passing out from the pain, huh?” John’s voice is laced with irritation and Dean can tell in this moment that John doesn’t like him. He wonders if his father has ever liked him. 

“Dad, please..” Dean’s arm pain worsens as they drive over bumps. It takes his sleeve being soaked in blood for John to finally take him seriously. 

“Be a man. Quit your whining. How’d I get stuck with such a sissy of a goddamn son? I’d expect Sam to be a crybaby, sure, he’s little. He’s got time to be a bitch about things. But you? You know better. You are better, Dean. Suck it up. Now.”

“Daddy, i feel dizzy..” Dean remembers passing out in the car and nothing else after that. 

He’s pulled out of the flashback when John places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo, you alright?” 

Dean jumps back. “Stop.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

John’s soft expression doesn’t change. And Dean hates it. He hates that his father can be so soft now but never when he actually needed it. 

“I hate you. I hate you.” Dean can’t stop himself from crying now. The tears come fast, they sting as they roll down. 

“Oh, Dee..” John opens his arms. He’s not expecting Dean to take his invitation but to his surprise… Dean angrily falls into him, melting. He’s mumbling curse words and flailing like he’s being forced, but voluntarily he clings to his dad. 

John wraps his arms around him and rubs his back. “Did i say something wrong, buddy?” He whispers. Soft. Gentle. He doesn’t want to scare Dean even more. 

Dean sniffles. “Stop talking.”

“Okay, okay.” John hums and rocks his kid back and forth, occasionally brushing hair out of his face. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I love you. Know that i love you.” John can feel Dean stiffen. He hopes he didn’t say the wrong thing again. 

“I know.” Dean whispers. 

The situation definitely aided in sobering John up, or at the very least, caused him to stop thinking about the raging headache and urge to vomit. His son needed him. Dean needed him. 

Chapter Text

A knock on the door startles both John and Dean. “Who the hell is that?” John grits. He treads over to the door, after reluctantly letting go of his boy. 

“Dad! Dad, it’s me.” Sam’s voice rings through the house. Dean perks up slightly. He has a strange sensation of missing his brother, like he hasn’t seen him in ages. He misses his brother. He really, really misses Sam. 

“Alright, alright, get in here, boy. Gonna freeze to death out there.” John opens the door and pats Sam on the back as he walks in. “Did ya’ forget something, kiddo?” 

“No. Just…” Sam eyes Dean. Dean tries not to notice. “Dee, come here.” 

Dean blinks, confused. “What for?” 

“Nothin’. Just thought I'd give my kind-of-little-brother a hug before you turn big and mean again.” 

And Dean doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even spit some snarky, stupid, sarcastic insult at Sam. He practically falls over himself trying to get to Sam. 

Once Dean reaches him he can’t hold himself back— he’s all over Sam. Clinging for life. Begging to be held. 

“My baby brother.” Sam whispers, hugging Dean tightly and running fingers through his hair. 

“Shut up. You’re still my little brother.” Dean insists, though he’s not really going to defend the honor. He’s aware he technically is the little brother now. 

“Sure. Sure.” Sam grins. 

“The roles are reversed, huh? You gonna start saying bitch, Sam?” John teases. 

“No! That’s my word.” Dean barks back. 

“Hey, you shouldn’t even be cursing.” Sam shakes his head. 

“I’m 14.” Dean rolls his eyes. 

“Can’t be mad at him, Sammy, he’s being true to how he actually was at 14, you know?” John grins. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam ruffles Dean’s hair before finally pulling away. “Rowena did send me over for a reason, though.”

John and Dean stiffen. “What reason?” John urges. 

“She’s found a way to make the process faster. Like, today faster. I know a week isn’t long, but she figured you wanted to be out of this kid body as soon as possible. Should I.. tell her you’re interested?” Sam almost sounds like he regrets relaying the news. Dean realizes that Sam wants him to stay small just as much as John does. 

“I..don’t know.” Dean stares down at his feet. 

“Take your time, kiddo.” John rubs his back. 

“Actually— I don’t want to rush you, Dean, seriously… but we are on a time limit. You’ve got to make a decision within the next 5 hours.” Sam scratches the back of his neck, nervous. 

“Fuck.” Dean feels himself begin to shake, and he’s confused, because nothing scary is happening, but his body is reacting as if his life is in danger. Tears begin to form in the corner of his eyes. He’s not ready to make a decision. Not yet. He doesn’t even want to be big again— oh god, he doesn’t want to be big again. How can he say that? No, no, it’s his responsibility to be the big brother— to hold the weight of every problem on his shoulders and shield everyone from everything— that’s his purpose, isn’t it? It’s always been his purpose.

“Oh, baby..” John coo’s and lifts Dean up with ease. Dean wraps his legs around John’s torso. Wants his daddy. 

“Hey, you know what.. let’s just wait the week out, hm, Dee? Sound like a plan?” Sam is crouching to meet Dean’s eyes. He’s also speaking in a very gentle and childish tone, as if Dean’s much younger than he really is. Dean likes it. 

“Mhm.” Dean sniffles. 

“No more tears from our pretty boy, yeah?” Sam cards a hand through Dean’a hair and smiles. 

“‘Kay, Sammy.” Dean bites his lip before deciding that he doesn’t care how stupid or kiddish he’s acting— he wants his brothers comfort. Dean wriggles his arms and makes grabby hands for Sam. 

“Me?” Sam sounds honored, almost. “You got it, bub.” Again, Dean is lifted with ease. John has no issue handing him off to his brother. This time, though, Sam cradles him like a baby. Dean likes it. He likes the way they’re treating him like he’s a toddler and not a 14 year old. He fits perfectly in Sam’s arms, like he was made to be there.