One

"Shit," Dean swore under his breath as he lifted the tiny infant from the pile of his brother's clothing on the bedroom floor.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Mary called from down the hallway, quickly making her way down to her youngest son's room.

"Um… we have a little problem," Dean replied over his shoulder, cradling the naked infant to his chest.

"What-" Mary began but the rest of her question was cut short when she stepped into the doorway and Dean turned to her.

"Is that… Sammy?"

Dean nodded.

"Guess that witch got Sam as good as he got her."

Mary stepped into the room, her hands beginning to rise to take the infant from her eldest son. Her face, usually stern and sharp, was now surprisingly soft, her blue eyes wet with nostalgia.

Dean swallowed thickly and had to resist the urge to pull away as his mother reached for the baby. Sometimes it was hard to remember that he and Sam had only been little kids when their mother was killed.

Dean watched Mary for a second, smiling gently as the infant held onto one of her fingers with his tiny hand, his chest tightening, before clearing his throat.

"Sammy can't stay like this."

Mary lifted her gaze and frowned.

"I know that, Dean."

"And we don't know what curse this is so we don't have a lot of time," he reminded her.

"The witch is dead. How are we going to change Sam back?" Mary asked, stepping further into the room and taking a wool blanket from the end of her youngest son's bed to swaddle the baby in.

"Your new friends seem to know a lot about magic and spells," Dean suggested, watching his mother expertly fold the blanket to clothe the infant, "Maybe they'll have an idea."

Mary nodded.

"I'll call Mick."

W

Dean found himself pressing his infant brother close to his chest as Mary opened the Bunker's door to the Brit. The well-dressed Man of Letters stepped inside, his gaze going right to the baby in Dean's arms.

"You weren't joking," he muttered to himself.

"How do we fix this?" Dean asked, not wanting to waste valuable time by observing the niceties with the pompous Brit.

"We don't," Mick told them, a small smirk curling his lips.

"You can't or won't?" Dean snarled, glaring at the Man of Letters before peering down at his baby brother and bouncing him lightly in his arms.

"Mick, please," Mary spoke up, "Sam can't stay like this."

"You're right," the Brit agreed, "He can't but unless you know the spell that changed him, you two are, what is it you Americans say? Up the creek without a paddle?"

"You ass-" Dean began, stepping towards Mick but Mary held an arm out, barring her son from the Man of Letters.

"Is there no way?" she asked, trying not to beg.

For a brief moment Mick lost his smug persona and sighed, "Look, we could go through the list and see which spells could fix your son but without knowing the exact curse that's affecting him, it's a slim chance we'd be able to help. Besides, we could just as easily hurt him if we go messing willy-nilly with magic."

Mary stared at the Brit for a long moment before she nodded.

"We understand," she told him.

"I'm sorry," Mick replied, "But think of this as a good thing, both of you."

Dean glared daggers at the man.

"Once we clear the country of the monster threat, your brother can have a real chance of growing up with a normal life. Think about it, he can go to school, he'll never have to hunt… this is his second chance."

Dean looked away from the Brit to peer down at his brother, with his thatch of chestnut hair and wide hazel eyes.

A second chance, he thought.

"You're sure there's nothing you can do?"

The Man of Letters smiled at the two elder Winchesters.

"You two make a lovely couple."

Author's Note:

This is my first de-aged Winchester fic. I hope you enjoy!

Please leave a review and I will update as soon as possible.