Changes

I think that this is properly labeled "crack." If I understand the definition correctly.

Um. So, here you go…

xxxx

"Dean!"

In the black of the cave, Sam's voice seemed to come from everywhere, high-pitched and frightened.

"Sammy!"

"Dean!"

Dean could hear the relief in the word, and he stopped, trying to figure out where his brother was.

"Where are you?" he called.

"I… I don't know. I fell." Wavering, though still loud enough for Dean to hear.

"Are you hurt?" Dean demanded, not liking the tone he heard, flashlight in constant motion as he started off in the direction of Sam's voice.

"My arm." Dean clenched his teeth at the pain in Sam's voice. "I fell wrong, Dean. I'm sorry." There was a slight sob at the end and the apology itself was wrong. Dean faltered.

"Dad's gonna be mad," drifted miserably towards him. Dean felt his heart thump hard once in his chest.

"Sammy…" He cleared his throat. "Sammy, did you hit your head when you fell?" He stopped again waiting for the answer, eyes closed, ears straining.

"I don't know. I don't think so."

To his right. Dean shifted the duffel bag over his shoulder.

"Does your head hurt? Did you lose consciousness?" Dean asked, moving carefully along the passage.

There was a pause.

"Yeah, my head hurts really bad." The slightly wondering sound of the admission, made Sam sound ridiculously young. "I… I kind of remember waking up, I think." Sam's voice was soft and uncertain; Dean had only just heard him.

"You gotta speak up, kiddo, if I'm going to find you," he said. "Is your vision blurry? Are you having a hard time seeing?"

There was a shorter silence this time.

"It's dark," was the answer. In hindsight, the pause rang with duh. "I can't see anything."

Dean grinned in spite of himself. "Right." He took a couple more steps in the direction of Sam's voice. "Did you drop your flashlight?"

He was close enough to hear the sound of scrabbling ahead of him, and he quickened his pace.

"Yeah, I can't… Hey! I see your light!" Sam cried.

"Where is it in relation to where you are?"

"Above me! I see… Here's my flashlight!"

Ahead of him, Dean saw a beam of light appear suddenly from the floor, illuminating the low ceiling of the cave.

"Dude, I see it!" Dean crossed the space in just a few long strides, dropping carefully to his knees at the edge of the precipice.

He shone his light down into the darkness and breathed a sigh of relief as Sam's dark head turned up toward him.

At the same moment, a shaft of light struck Dean in the face, and he watched, astonished, as the face below blinked up at him.

What the hell?

"Who are you?" The young voice cracked in confusion. "Where's my brother?"

Dean could only stare at the figure below him.

It was Sam. God, he recognized it as Sam. But it wasn't Sam. It was a child.

The boy started to back away staggering slightly, tripping over the shoes and jeans that no longer fit him, confusion and fear blossoming on the young face as he looked down at himself. He looked back up at Dean. The question clear in his eyes. What happened to my clothes?

"Dean!" he called. The beam of light bobbed up and down erratically as Sam tried to hold it steady, clutching his left arm to his chest. Dean could see a trickle of blood running from the boy's hairline and a darkening bruise on his cheek.

"Dean!" Sam yelled again, panic in his voice.

"Sam!" Dean cracked it out, made it an order.

Sam stopped. His breathing was uneven, and Dean could tell that all the kid wanted to do was run.

"Sam, listen to me." Dean kept his voice low and steady, brain abruptly catching up. Don't spook him.

"Listen to me, OK? Just listen."

Sam had started to inch away, eyes flicking desperately around him, looking for a way out.

"I'm Dean."

That stopped the boy. Sam blinked owlishly up at Dean, eyes almost black against the whiteness of his face.

"You're not Dean," he said. As if that was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard in his life.

"I am. I'm Dean."

"No, you're not." Sam said it without any doubt, but he was looking at Dean curiously, surprise seeming to have overshadowed panic for the moment. The kid didn't seem quite certain how to react to such a bald-faced lie.

"I'm not a baby," the boy said abruptly, brow wrinkling in a combination of affront and confusion. "I know you're not my brother."

Dean could see the lines of pain on Sam's face, and the way the child was wobbling slightly as he cradled his arm was beginning to concern Dean. Maybe this was a battle better fought elsewhere.

"Of course you do," Dean agreed, changing tack. "I know you're not a baby, Sammy. How old are you? Nine?"

Sam nodded hesitantly.

"So your brother's, what, thirteen?"

"Fourteen," Sam said.

Dean nodded.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you I was Dean. I wasn't thinking—I just wanted to make you feel safe and get you out of here."

Dean paused. He could see Sam was wavering.

"I'm a friend of your dad's, OK?" Dean swallowed back the grief at lying to Sam about this, about feeding his belief that Dad was still alive. "We've been looking for you."

"Is Dean OK?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's fine," Dean said.

"Why isn't he here, then? Where's my Dad?"

Fear and pain had worked tears into Sam's questions, and Dean gritted his teeth against the desolation in the little boy's voice.

"They're just looking for you in another part of the caves, Sammy," Dean said softly. "They'll be there as soon as we get you out of here."

Sam hesitated.

"I promise, Sam." Dean said soothingly. "I promise I'm here to help you, OK? Your dad and your brother are out of their minds they're so worried about you. We don't want to keep them waiting, do we?"

In a daze, Sam shook his head slowly.

"That's my boy," Dean said. He eased toward the edge of cliff Sam had gone over, flashlight searching for a way down. He found one to his left and gingerly started toward his brother.

When he got to the bottom, he turned to Sam, who had sunk to the ground, and was huddled against the cave wall, swallowed up by a t-shirt that had been too snug just that morning.

"Hey, buddy," Dean said gently.

Sam was still eyeing him warily, but he tolerated Dean's touch. Dean put a hand against the boy's cheek and kept his voice low and calm through a running commentary of his exam. Sam had gasped twice—one when Dean had moved his arm, the other when he'd run careful hands over Sam's ribs.

When he finished, Dean cupped Sam's chin quickly with his palm.

"You really did a number on yourself here, kiddo," he said teasingly. Sam's lips curved up tiredly. "Well, your arm's not broken. But I think you've sprained your wrist."

Sam gave a little sigh, curling somewhat protectively around his hand. "'K," he sniffed.

Dean sat back on his haunches and considered his options. The fact that Sam's wrist was sprained rather than broken meant they could avoid a trip to the hospital. And that gave Dean some time to figure out what to do with this little Sam.

Digging through the old army duffel, Dean found a bottle of water that he uncapped and gave to Sam. Next he pulled off his outer shirt and rigged a makeshift sling for Sam's arm, binding it as tightly as he could to the boy's narrow chest. The kid was so small.

"Alright, buddy. You ready to get out of here?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, looking up toward where he'd fallen from.

"How?" he questioned, peering apprehensively at Dean.

Dean considered. He didn't think there was any way Sam could climb back up the path that Dean had taken down. Especially not with the enormous clothes that were covering him.

"I think we're going to have to do something about what you're wearing," Dean said speculatively.

Sam looked at him nervously.

"You can't walk in those shoes or those pants, buddy. I think you're going to have to take them off." Sam clutched at the waist of his jeans, eyes wide.

Dean made his voice as gentle as he could. "You'll have your t-shirt, kiddo, OK? You won't be naked."

Sam bit his lip. "I think my underpants are too big," he whispered.

Dean wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "It won't matter, Sammy. The t-shirt will keep you covered."

Nodding, still uncertain, Sam shucked off everything that didn't fit, leaning slightly against Dean as he stepped out of his shoes. Dean gathered the clothes up and put them in the bag. Sam would need his jeans when he got big again.

Dean hoisted the canvas bag that held their supplies over one shoulder. He looked at their exit route again and then down at Sam, swimming in the shirt, unsteady where he stood. Maybe expecting the kid to make the climb was too much. Maybe better just to carry him.

Rather than put his decision to a vote, Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam and with a grin, put a hand behind Sam's knees and his arm around Sam's back, picking him up easily.

Sam stiffened uncomfortably as he was lifted in Dean's arms, but Dean pretended not to notice, flipping his flashlight into Sam's lap.

"Light our way, OK, Sam?" He jerked his head in the direction of the precarious path down to Sam that he'd taken.

Sam fumbled with the switch, but got it on, swinging the beam as directed. He raised his head trying to see where they were going.

"Can we get up there?" he asked quietly.

"Course we can," Dean said. He eyed their route critically. He shifted his load, looking down at Sam. "Ready?"

Sam nodded. "Ready."

It was not an easy climb. By the time they reached the top, Dean was winded—not just from the exertion of the climb itself, but from the added responsibility of carrying a burden he couldn't drop. He'd almost gone down once, terror spiking through him as he felt his feet slip on the loose shale, realizing in a flash how catastrophic a fall would be. When the solidness of Dean suddenly rocked under him, Sam gasped, turning into Dean's chest, one thin arm wrapping desperately around his brother's neck. Heart pounding, Dean had finally managed to get his feet back under him.

"We're OK," he'd said shakily, trying not to let Sam know how close a call they'd had. Sam had nodded into Dean's shoulder, the hammering in Dean's chest giving the truth away.

Dean set Sam down once they were on even ground, and Sam leaned heavily against his brother briefly before he pushed off.

"You got it?" Dean asked. He wasn't sure about the floor of the cave on Sam's bare feet.

"Yeah."

"Good." Dean took the flashlight from Sam and pointed it down the passageway. "This way."

xxxx

So. You can blame Janissa11 and her wonderful, amazing Under a Haystack series for this bit of insanity. I fell absolutely in love with her little Dean and wanted Jo to meet him. :) But, of course, that couldn't happen, because I could never write a little Dean as awesome as hers. Sniff. But that did get me thinking about Jo meeting one of the boys as a child. Which left poor Sam. Here was the beginning. More to follow…

xxxx