![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: A World Of His Own Making
Rating/Warning: PG
Wordcount: 1,506
Spoilers: References to S2
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Category: Gen
Spoilers: None
Dean woke to a little boy curled into his stomach. He messed his hand through a mop of fine brown hair before he really woke up and realised that something was wrong.
“Sammy?” he hazarded and the little boy turned over and blinked large hazel eyes at Dean before a huge yawn swallowed half his face.
“No fair,” he grumbled. “How’d you get so big, Dean?”
000
“Gotta be a curse,” Dean mused, mostly to himself, keeping half an eye on Sam who was running a small truck around the carpet. He was using the various stains as a kind of road and Dean knew he was going to have to find a better place for them to stay, and soon.
“Like a swear?” Sam piped up from the floor and Dean looked at him for a beat, before realising he’d misunderstood.
“No kiddo, not a swear word. Someone has done a… spell and made you little.”
“What d’you mean? They made you big. Like Alice.” Sam studied Dean carefully, face comically serious. “Have you eaten any toady-stools?”
“Not that I know of,” Dean said but stranger things had happened. The whammy Sam had been hit by had obviously affected him in some way as well because he had no idea what could have happened. They hadn’t worked a case in over three weeks.
It would be just their luck to be hit by a delay-curse so he would have no idea where to start looking.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulled Dean back out of his reverie. “I’m hungry. Can we have ice-cream?”
“We’ll go get real food,” Dean offered and then looked Sam over again, Sam’s ugly purple whippet-shirt now down to little-Sam’s knees. “And maybe some pants,” Dean added with a grin.
000
Sam was looking a little green, but he was eyeing off the second free piece of pie the waitress had set down with a smile.
“Your son is just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.
“He’s not my daddy, he’s my brother,” Sam corrected, reaching out for the plate that Dean pulled out of his reach with a stern look.
“Well, ain’t you just darling with him,” the waitress’ smile turned to Dean and tipped towards sexy. Usually, Dean would take up such a blatant offer but instead he smiled politely and stood, prodding Sam to his feet, who was still mournfully looking at the untouched pie.
“Thanks for the pie,” Dean said, scooping Sam up when he lifted his arms up. Sam buried his face in Dean’s shoulder.
“I don’t feel so good,” he grumbled, rubbing a tiny fist into his eye.
000
“Were you ever really this small?” Dean laughed, holding up a tiny shirt in front of himself. Sam had on a pair of jeans and sneakers with Velcro so he could do them up himself. He was standing between Dean’s knees, waiting for his shirt with his arms held above his head and an air of exasperation that should have been beyond his years.
“How big do I get?” Sam asked, voice muffled when the shirt was tugged over his head. When his arms and head popped out again, he tucked the shirt into his jeans. Dean yanked it back out with a roll of his eyes.
“Always a geek,” he chuckled as Sam looked down at himself with a frown. “You get taller than me,” he added.
“Really?” Sam’s eyes grew round. “Am I taller than Dad?”
Dean looked down and then away. He knew the topic of their father couldn’t be avoided forever, at some point Sam would start asking for him. Dean had no idea how long Sam would stay little and whether it would be too cruel to tell Sam at such a tender age what had happened.
“Look, Sammy. About Dad…” Dean began.
“I know, Dad’s gone.”
“You know?” Dean blinked, taken aback.
“He’s with Mommy.”
Dean’s mouth dropped open. He’d been working under the assumption that Sam had regressed completely, only his five-year-old memories intact. It sounded like he actually knew what the adult Sam knew, just with a child’s filter.
Dean put a hand to his face, scrubbing over his forehead. It was too horrible to contemplate how a five-year-old was dealing with the kind of horrors Sam had born witness to.
“Sam, do you remember Jess?” Dean asked carefully, watching his brother frown.
“I think so,” Sam said slowly, twisting small fists into the bottom of his t-shirt. “She was pretty and nice and she was in a fire, like Mommy.”
Dean felt his heart turn over in his chest. He was going to find whoever had done this and make sure they suffered. He forgot his anger though when Sam threw himself into Dean’s chest and wrapped small arms around his neck.
“Then you came and saved me,” Sam said earnestly, his voice a tiny rumble against the skin of Dean’s throat. “You’ll always look after me.”
“Always kiddo,” Dean agreed, snugging Sam close.
000
“How long?” Ellen asked, resting a forearm on the glass of the observation room window. She watched Dean inside, sitting at a table, pushing a juice box towards an empty chair. There was something careful and so affectionate about his expression that it was almost hard to look at.
“We think since Sam went off the reservation in Indiana.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Ellen asked, the skin around her eyes tightening, the only outward sign of her anguish.
“It took a while to find him. I mean, everyone assumed when Sam went… we all figured if Sam was still alive and like that then Dean would be dead. Missouri called in a few favours and got him tracked down. You gotta understand, at the time we were looking for a body.”
“So no one knows what actually happened?” Ellen asked. As she watched, Dean stood and walked over to the other chair in the room. He dropped down onto his haunches and held his hands out. Something made him throw back his head and laugh.
Ellen didn’t think she’d ever seen him do that.
“What we do know is he ain’t crazy,” Bobby said with a grimace and Ellen turned a quizzical expression on him.
“He’s talking to thin air.”
“Look harder,” Bobby said.
Ellen turned back to the observation room. She tore her gaze from Dean and focused on the chair in front of him. For a split second, before she cut her eyes away and rubbed the heels of her palms into them, she saw a little boy with shaggy hair and big eyes, swinging his feet.
“Oh my God,” Ellen breathed, feeling ill.
“Exactly right.” Bobby nodded. “He keeps being moved around because his shrinks start seeing little Sammy too. He’s been whammied but good. It’s so powerful that it bleeds into your reality if you’re not careful.”
“Is there a way to break it?” Ellen asked, a small spark of hope igniting within but Bobby was shaking his head, looking pained.
“We’ve tried, but Missouri says that Dean has built up a whole delusion around the focus, around Sammy, to support it. He doesn’t see the hospital, us, nothing that’s outside of the world he’s created. He’s gotta come on back on his own. Missouri said trying to force him out would more than likely kill him.”
“You think Sam did this to protect himself? To make sure Dean couldn’t come after him?” Ellen asked. She’d turned away from the observation room when Dean had turned his back on the chair he’d been addressing and she’d seen a shadow climb onto his back.
“I dunno, maybe,” Bobby allowed, taking his cap off for a moment to scrub a hand through his greasy hair.
“You don’t think so?”
“Oh I know it was Sam. I just…” Bobby looked at Ellen for a moment, as if deciding whether to let her in. “Those boys, how close they were? I’d more likely believe that Sam did this to take Dean out of the equation altogether. Protect him and give him a little peace. Maybe the last good thing he would do, in a twisted kinda way.”
Ellen turned back to the room, seeing Dean weave a complicated path through it so that he kept walking but didn’t run up against any walls. She saw him make the motions of opening a car door and then lean sideways. She figured in his mind he was lowering a small Sam into the passenger seat of the Impala.
As Dean rounded the table again, there was a smile on his face.
“He knows. Some part of him deep down knows,” Ellen insisted.
“You’re probably right,” Bobby agreed. “But Dean never would have stopped. He would’a thought he could reach Sam somehow, believed that there was still a part of his Sammy buried deep.” Bobby let out a long, mournful-sounding sigh.
“Some small part of me is grateful that neither John nor Dean will be around to see what has to be done.”
Rating/Warning: PG
Wordcount: 1,506
Spoilers: References to S2
By:
kellifer_ficCategory: Gen
Spoilers: None
Dean woke to a little boy curled into his stomach. He messed his hand through a mop of fine brown hair before he really woke up and realised that something was wrong.
“Sammy?” he hazarded and the little boy turned over and blinked large hazel eyes at Dean before a huge yawn swallowed half his face.
“No fair,” he grumbled. “How’d you get so big, Dean?”
“Gotta be a curse,” Dean mused, mostly to himself, keeping half an eye on Sam who was running a small truck around the carpet. He was using the various stains as a kind of road and Dean knew he was going to have to find a better place for them to stay, and soon.
“Like a swear?” Sam piped up from the floor and Dean looked at him for a beat, before realising he’d misunderstood.
“No kiddo, not a swear word. Someone has done a… spell and made you little.”
“What d’you mean? They made you big. Like Alice.” Sam studied Dean carefully, face comically serious. “Have you eaten any toady-stools?”
“Not that I know of,” Dean said but stranger things had happened. The whammy Sam had been hit by had obviously affected him in some way as well because he had no idea what could have happened. They hadn’t worked a case in over three weeks.
It would be just their luck to be hit by a delay-curse so he would have no idea where to start looking.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulled Dean back out of his reverie. “I’m hungry. Can we have ice-cream?”
“We’ll go get real food,” Dean offered and then looked Sam over again, Sam’s ugly purple whippet-shirt now down to little-Sam’s knees. “And maybe some pants,” Dean added with a grin.
Sam was looking a little green, but he was eyeing off the second free piece of pie the waitress had set down with a smile.
“Your son is just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.
“He’s not my daddy, he’s my brother,” Sam corrected, reaching out for the plate that Dean pulled out of his reach with a stern look.
“Well, ain’t you just darling with him,” the waitress’ smile turned to Dean and tipped towards sexy. Usually, Dean would take up such a blatant offer but instead he smiled politely and stood, prodding Sam to his feet, who was still mournfully looking at the untouched pie.
“Thanks for the pie,” Dean said, scooping Sam up when he lifted his arms up. Sam buried his face in Dean’s shoulder.
“I don’t feel so good,” he grumbled, rubbing a tiny fist into his eye.
“Were you ever really this small?” Dean laughed, holding up a tiny shirt in front of himself. Sam had on a pair of jeans and sneakers with Velcro so he could do them up himself. He was standing between Dean’s knees, waiting for his shirt with his arms held above his head and an air of exasperation that should have been beyond his years.
“How big do I get?” Sam asked, voice muffled when the shirt was tugged over his head. When his arms and head popped out again, he tucked the shirt into his jeans. Dean yanked it back out with a roll of his eyes.
“Always a geek,” he chuckled as Sam looked down at himself with a frown. “You get taller than me,” he added.
“Really?” Sam’s eyes grew round. “Am I taller than Dad?”
Dean looked down and then away. He knew the topic of their father couldn’t be avoided forever, at some point Sam would start asking for him. Dean had no idea how long Sam would stay little and whether it would be too cruel to tell Sam at such a tender age what had happened.
“Look, Sammy. About Dad…” Dean began.
“I know, Dad’s gone.”
“You know?” Dean blinked, taken aback.
“He’s with Mommy.”
Dean’s mouth dropped open. He’d been working under the assumption that Sam had regressed completely, only his five-year-old memories intact. It sounded like he actually knew what the adult Sam knew, just with a child’s filter.
Dean put a hand to his face, scrubbing over his forehead. It was too horrible to contemplate how a five-year-old was dealing with the kind of horrors Sam had born witness to.
“Sam, do you remember Jess?” Dean asked carefully, watching his brother frown.
“I think so,” Sam said slowly, twisting small fists into the bottom of his t-shirt. “She was pretty and nice and she was in a fire, like Mommy.”
Dean felt his heart turn over in his chest. He was going to find whoever had done this and make sure they suffered. He forgot his anger though when Sam threw himself into Dean’s chest and wrapped small arms around his neck.
“Then you came and saved me,” Sam said earnestly, his voice a tiny rumble against the skin of Dean’s throat. “You’ll always look after me.”
“Always kiddo,” Dean agreed, snugging Sam close.
“How long?” Ellen asked, resting a forearm on the glass of the observation room window. She watched Dean inside, sitting at a table, pushing a juice box towards an empty chair. There was something careful and so affectionate about his expression that it was almost hard to look at.
“We think since Sam went off the reservation in Indiana.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Ellen asked, the skin around her eyes tightening, the only outward sign of her anguish.
“It took a while to find him. I mean, everyone assumed when Sam went… we all figured if Sam was still alive and like that then Dean would be dead. Missouri called in a few favours and got him tracked down. You gotta understand, at the time we were looking for a body.”
“So no one knows what actually happened?” Ellen asked. As she watched, Dean stood and walked over to the other chair in the room. He dropped down onto his haunches and held his hands out. Something made him throw back his head and laugh.
Ellen didn’t think she’d ever seen him do that.
“What we do know is he ain’t crazy,” Bobby said with a grimace and Ellen turned a quizzical expression on him.
“He’s talking to thin air.”
“Look harder,” Bobby said.
Ellen turned back to the observation room. She tore her gaze from Dean and focused on the chair in front of him. For a split second, before she cut her eyes away and rubbed the heels of her palms into them, she saw a little boy with shaggy hair and big eyes, swinging his feet.
“Oh my God,” Ellen breathed, feeling ill.
“Exactly right.” Bobby nodded. “He keeps being moved around because his shrinks start seeing little Sammy too. He’s been whammied but good. It’s so powerful that it bleeds into your reality if you’re not careful.”
“Is there a way to break it?” Ellen asked, a small spark of hope igniting within but Bobby was shaking his head, looking pained.
“We’ve tried, but Missouri says that Dean has built up a whole delusion around the focus, around Sammy, to support it. He doesn’t see the hospital, us, nothing that’s outside of the world he’s created. He’s gotta come on back on his own. Missouri said trying to force him out would more than likely kill him.”
“You think Sam did this to protect himself? To make sure Dean couldn’t come after him?” Ellen asked. She’d turned away from the observation room when Dean had turned his back on the chair he’d been addressing and she’d seen a shadow climb onto his back.
“I dunno, maybe,” Bobby allowed, taking his cap off for a moment to scrub a hand through his greasy hair.
“You don’t think so?”
“Oh I know it was Sam. I just…” Bobby looked at Ellen for a moment, as if deciding whether to let her in. “Those boys, how close they were? I’d more likely believe that Sam did this to take Dean out of the equation altogether. Protect him and give him a little peace. Maybe the last good thing he would do, in a twisted kinda way.”
Ellen turned back to the room, seeing Dean weave a complicated path through it so that he kept walking but didn’t run up against any walls. She saw him make the motions of opening a car door and then lean sideways. She figured in his mind he was lowering a small Sam into the passenger seat of the Impala.
As Dean rounded the table again, there was a smile on his face.
“He knows. Some part of him deep down knows,” Ellen insisted.
“You’re probably right,” Bobby agreed. “But Dean never would have stopped. He would’a thought he could reach Sam somehow, believed that there was still a part of his Sammy buried deep.” Bobby let out a long, mournful-sounding sigh.
“Some small part of me is grateful that neither John nor Dean will be around to see what has to be done.”