Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue - The Phone Call

It was a Friday when Sam got the call that changed his, and his brother’s lives forever.

Sam was on his way home from school, with plans to tackle his huge pile of homework and start revising for next week's exam when his phone rang.

The caller ID told him it was his younger brother, who lived 5 states over. Adam had presented as a Submissive barely a year previously, and Sam had spent that time trying to convince the young lad to come to Sioux Falls to live with him and their late mother’s brother, instead of with their asshole father, who expected way too much of his children and was borderline abusive.

He hadn’t been expecting the call, as Adam tended to ring much later into the evening, but it wasn’t unusual for them to speak often. The earlier-than-normal call was probably so his brother could either complain about something trivial that had happened between him and a friend at school or to share something exciting that he just couldn’t wait to tell Sam about.

But, when Sam answered the call, he wasn’t greeted with the ranting or the happiness he expected. Adam was sobbing. He tried telling his older brother everything, but the only thing that made sense to Sam were the words ‘Dean’ and ‘hospital’ .

Sam wasn’t able to decipher in what context those words were meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. Dean was their elder brother, and the thought of him in the hospital made Sam’s heart stop.

Adam was waffling away on the other end of the line, and Sam could sense his panic. Sam made him stop and ordered him, kindly, to take some deep breaths. Although Adam was a Submissive, his body and mind were not yet mature enough to accommodate a sub-drop safely. That didn’t mean it was impossible; Submissives who went through traumatic events were known to drop before their physical and mental state was ready, which oftentimes led to complications in the future. Sam didn’t know what sort of thing his younger brother might have seen to get him in such a state, and so aired on the side of caution - spending a bit of time talking Adam down from a potential early drop.

Thankfully, Adam seemed to calm considerably, which reassured Sam that he hadn’t been as close of a drop as he might have first sounded. When he felt able to think and speak more clearly, he told Sam what he knew.

“Dean’s in the hospital.”

“What?” Sam had asked in shock. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. Dad said something about a seizure. I don’t know,” Adam sniffled. “He was fine this morning. He dropped me off at school with a corny joke and said we’d go for burgers tonight because he couldn’t be bothered to get groceries in. He was fine. He went to work, blaring Metallica out the car windows.”

Sam hated that running the house was Dean’s job. Sure, the guy was 21 and perfectly capable of helping out, but their father was barely ever home and when he was he was a lazy slob who relied on his eldest to do everything while he drowned himself in the alcohol he’d spent all his money on.

He’d pretty much been that way since their Mum had died when Sam had been 4 years old. He had been a little more present when they’d all been children but he would always have the stench of alcohol on him and he was harsh. He’d always done the bare minimum - leaving an 8-year-old Dean to pretty much raise his two younger brothers alone.

“But then, he never turned up to pick me up from school. I thought he might have been kept late at work or something. I tried calling him but got nowhere. I didn’t want to call Dad 'cause then he’d get pissed at Dean and it would be all my fault so I called the garage. Gordon answered,” Adam explained. Gordon was Dean’s boss. “He said that Dean had collapsed and had a seizure about 2 o’clock and that he had been rushed to the hospital. He said Dad knew about it. So then I called Dad in a panic and… shit… Sam, he won’t tell me anything. He’s angry. He’s so fucking angry. And I’m scared. Please, I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.”

Sam’s heart hammered away in his chest and he fought to stay rational, to be the support his brother needed right now. He told Adam to make his way to the hospital and promised that he’d be there as soon as he could. He invited Adam to call or text as much as he needed.

As Sam rushed home, wishing he hadn’t skipped the bus, he called his Uncle and explained everything to him. Bobby started gathering up a couple of changes of clothes for them both and promised that they’d leave for Kansas as soon as Sam got home. Next, Sam tried his father.

The two had never really gotten along very well, their Dominant sides butting heads way before Sam presented as a Dom. When Sam had been 15, he’d gotten into one-too-many arguments with the old man and John Harrison, in a drunken stupor had slapped his son and had told him to leave; ‘leave and don’t you ever come back’ . And so, Sam had. He’d tried to convince Dean to go with him, but Dean had stubbornly refused, saying something about Adam and not wanting to uproot their younger brother’s life and how CPS would just return them here anyway. Sam knew his brother was probably right, so hadn’t fought him on it anymore, but he promised Dean they’d get away from him together one day.

Sam had then packed a change of clothes in a rucksack and used the money he’d earned mowing lawns the other weekend to get a bus ticket to Sioux Falls, where he just turned up, unannounced on his Uncle’s doorstep. The man had accepted him into his home with no questions asked and happily accepted custody of him when his father signed him over the following week. Bobby would have taken both Dean and Adam on too, but their father refused to give them up.

Even though they hadn’t spoken properly since then, he hoped that John would have enough decency to answer his call, that he would understand why he was worried about Dean and maybe even give Sam an update on his brother’s condition.

The phone rang for ages, and just when Sam thought the man wasn’t going to pick up, the call went through and the voice of John Harrison greeted him.

Just like Adam had said, the man was angry.

He was angry at Dean for falling ill as if the eldest Harrison had inconveniently chosen to have a seizure on purpose. He was angry that he’d been taken to the hospital when “all he needs is to sleep this off, for fucks sake. He’s a fucking man, not a fucking pussy.”

He was angry because the hospital refused to tell him much. He was angry because they refused to let him self-discharge Dean because he was not the 21-year-old's Guardian. Dean, as a Neutral, didn’t even need a Guardian and he was old enough to make his own choices regarding his medical care.

And he was now angry at Adam for even daring to call Sam, and he was angry at Sam because it was apparently “none of your fucking business what’s happening to your brother. You’re the one who pissed off to live with Bobby. You’re the one that abandoned this family without a second fucking thought. So fuck off, and don’t fucking ring again.”

Sam ran the rest of the way home. Bobby had been ready to leave like he said he would and they’d sped off down the highway towards their home state.

Adam messaged frequently, but the updates didn’t really change until Sam received a frantic call about 2 hours into the drive to tell them;

“I don’t have long Sam. Dad’s been arrested.”

Adam was on speakerphone, so Bobby could hear him too. Although Adam was clearly riled, he wasn’t near the panic he had been in earlier. Still, Bobby softly ordered him to take some deep breaths.

“Why have they arrested Dad?” Sam asked, biting his nails.

“Because… Because Dean…” Adam stumbled over the words for a minute before he took a shuddery breath and uttered the words; “Because Dean’s a Little.”

Sam had pictured his father assaulting a member of staff, or purposely breaking hospital property. He’d expected the arrest to be for something petty, which was his father’s style. But he had absolutely not been expecting such a huge accusation; one that wasn’t even true. Dean was a Neutral; they had to be confused.

Bobby hadn’t been expecting that accusation either, as he suddenly slammed on the breaks and brought them to a screeching halt. Luckily, they were on an open, empty road and the abrupt stop affected no one but themselves.

“What do you mean ‘Dean’s a Little’?” Bobby asked gruffly after a second or two.

Sam couldn’t find his voice, instead just blinking dumbly at his Uncle as they listened to Adam’s next words.

“I don’t know much. They’re treating me like I’m an imbecile. All they’ll officially tell me is that Dean’s stable now and that Dad’s been arrested on suspicion of abusing Dean. But I heard them when they were arresting him. They were leading me to a different room, but I heard them. They said that Dad was being arrested on suspicion of abusing ‘the Little’ Dean Harrison. And the woman with me is wearing a POLASS lanyard.”

“The Protection of Little’s and Submissive’s Society?” Sam repeated back dumbly.

“Yeah. She’s gone to get me a drink. I used it as an excuse to phone you. She obviously doesn’t want me on my phone. Something about not panicking anyone until we know exactly what’s going on, but I had to tell you. She’s asked me a lot of questions.”

Bobby started the car again, but as he did he asked;

“What kind of questions?”

“She’s just asking about Dad and Dean and what things are like at home. Do I tell her the truth?”

“Yes,” Sam told him, without missing a beat. “Answer anything they ask you.”

“But what if they incriminate Dad because of something I said? He’ll go to jail.”

“Son,” Bobby reassured his youngest nephew. “If Dean really is a Little, and your sorry excuse of a father really has been abusing him - which probably includes forcing him to hide his Little side - then jail is the least he deserves.”

“But he’s not a Little… is he?”

Sam took a deep breath.

“I don’t know, Adam… I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Chapter One - The Hospital

Dean woke slowly. He blinked lazily up at the plain white ceiling above him for a moment before everything came crashing back to him.

He remembered it all in a haze.

He’d felt like crap the moment his alarm had gone off, but he’d put it down to not having slept well that night. Still, he got up and got ready to work, putting a smile on his face for his little brother as he drove him to school. He hadn’t felt much better by the time he’d arrived at work, but he’d powered on. And then, as he’d been cracking a joke with a colleague, he’d felt it; his body shutting down.

Darkness had crept in from around the edges, his body suddenly felt ridiculously heavy and as light as air at the same time. He hadn’t been able to get his limbs to work and the harder he’d tried to get a grip on reality, the faster it slipped away.

The last thing he remembered was the ground getting closer before he’d lost consciousness.

And now he was awake, with a body that felt like it had run 100 marathons, a head that felt like it had been bashed in with a baseball bat and no concept of the amount of time that had passed since that last memory.

A slight movement to the left of him pulled Dean from his thoughts. Dean turned his head slowly and blinked until the haze in his head cleared and he was able to fully comprehend what he was seeing.

It was Adam. The youngest Harrison was curled up in the tall-backed, uncomfortable-looking chair at his bedside. He was sleeping.

It then suddenly dawned on Dean that he was in the hospital.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he tried to gather his surroundings. He needed to see his Dad, he needed his old man to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that no one was going to find out his secret.

But as he glanced around the room, trying to locate his father, he felt his whole body seize with panic and he jolted upright, hands gripping the sides of the bed in an attempt to steady himself.

The walls around him were not painted the standard hospital beige. Instead, they were blue with an ocean mural taking up the whole wall opposite the bed. Dean took some deep breaths as his eyes fritted around, picking out the large rocking chair, the changing table and the soft, baby blue blanket, decorated with teddies that he was tucked underneath.

He was in a room, designed specifically for Littles. And that wasn’t good; because it could only mean one thing - they’d found out. And if they’d found out, then Dean’s life was practically over. John was going to be furious, and that in itself scared Dean more than anything else.

Adrenaline started pumping its way around his sore, exhausted body. He couldn’t stay here; he had to get out. He had to find John, explain everything and maybe, just maybe there would still be a way to salvage all of this, to make it all go away.

With that half-assed plan in place, Dean ripped the canular from his arm and flung the blanket off himself. He silently thanked the gods for the small mercy of being in a bed, rather than a crib, and moved to stand on shaky feet.

However, the movement brought his attention to the soft, plush feeling between his legs. He had never worn diapers before, but he knew without even looking that someone had put a freaking diaper on him, and he was still wearing it.

The humiliation he was feeling spiked along with a sense of anger and panic that was already wreaking havoc on his bruised and battered body. He was wearing a hospital gown (albeit, a white with multicoloured dinosaurs dotted all over it) which made it easy to rip the diaper off. He let it drop to the floor with a wet slap, trying to ignore the very obvious fact that he’d pissed in it.

With his cheeks burning red, he looked over his shoulder at his still snoozing younger brother and then made his way to the door.

The corridor was brightly lit and almost painfully colourful. It shouldn’t have, but it startled Dean enough that he had to prop himself up against the wall to steady himself and allow himself a moment to adjust to it all.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

Dean jolted at the sound of the kind, soft voice which was accompanied by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He ripped himself away from the woman who was dressed in spotty scrubs and standing way too close to him.

“Are you lost? Where’s your Caregiver, hunny?”

“No, no,” Dean shook his head, trying to sort through his thoughts. He needed to get his feet moving; he needed to get out of here.

“What’s your name, sweetheart? I’ll help you back to your room, yeah? And then I’m sure we can find your Caregiver who will…”

Dean didn’t stick around to hear the rest of her words. He counted to three and pushed himself off the wall and willed his feet to carry him down the corridor. He didn’t know where he was heading, he just knew he would find a way out of here if he just kept moving.

He paid no mind to the nurse following behind him in haste to try and catch up with him. She was calling out to him, but she was easy enough to ignore.

To Dean’s relief, he quickly spotted a front desk up ahead. That meant there had to be an exit nearby. The only disadvantage to leaving via the front desk was that there were more eyes to watch him and more hands to stop him. And it was obvious that he was a ‘patient’ here because of the silly, childish gown he was wearing.

There seemed to be a million people in scrubs standing around the front desk, and Dean tried to block them all out as he spun quickly on his heels to try and find the door he needed. Just as he spotted it, someone called his name.

“Dean?”

He stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he was greeted by a kind-looking woman. She was wearing baby blue scrubs and a white coat with a stork embroidered on the lapel - definitely a Dr.

“Where are you off to?”

Dean didn’t hesitate; he felt compelled to answer her.

“Out. I need out.”

“Out?” The woman questioned softly, almost as if the very notion was ridiculous. “But it’s so cold and rainy outside; it’s nice and warm in here. Your brother, Sam…”

“Sammy?” He cut across her, with a gulp, unaware of how desperate he sounded.

“Yeah,” The Dr nodded and stepped forward with a small smile. “Sam will be here soon. And your Uncle too. When they get here, we can all have a little chat. How does that sound, Sweetheart?”

Dean jolted back to himself at the pet name. He looked at her and then around at everyone in the immediate vicinity who had stopped what they were doing to watch him, to judge him.

“No,” He muttered, shaking his head. “No.”

He moved, feet carrying him quickly towards the door. Behind him, everyone scrambled into action.

“Lockdown all the exits. He can’t be allowed to leave,” Dean heard the Dr order before her voice called after him. “Dean.”

“No. I need to go. I can’t be here. I’m not supposed to be here. I need to find my Dad.”

A hand fell on his shoulder and Dean jerked in surprise. His body went into overdrive and he acted purely on instinct when he spun on his heel and punched the person behind him. It was a man, who let go of him with a cry, clutching his nose which had started to drop with blood.

“Okay, okay,” The Dr held her hands out in an attempt to look less intimidating, stepping in front of her colleague. She spoke to the man over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off Dean. “Ted, go and get that looked at.”

Dean stood still, his chest heaving and his heart rabbiting away in his chest as he tried to figure a way out. He couldn’t be stuck here. Dad was going to kill him.

“Dean,” She said again. “I know you’re really scared right now, and you don’t really know what’s going on. But you are safe here. No one is going to hurt you; we just want to help you.”

Dean started to retort with a comment about them keeping him here against his will, but he was drowned out by another voice. It sounded far off but rapidly got closer and whoever it was, was desperate.

“Dean? Dean? Help! Has anyone seen my brother? He’s gone! Dean?!”

No one seemed to move or say anything. Dean’s words caught in his throat, having gone to automatically reply. But before he could find his voice, Adam Harrison came skidding around the corner, looking distraught. He barely paused for half a second to take stock of what was happening in front of him.

“Dean,” Adam breathed, his shoulders sagging in relief the second he caught sight of his brother. He dashed forward, almost pushing past the Dr and threw his arms around Dean. He buried his head in the taller man’s shoulder and started crying. “Shit Dean. I thought - fuck - I don’t know what I thought. But I woke up and you were gone. You can’t… you can’t do that to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said automatically, but still with every ounce of meaning. He instinctively wrapped his own arms around his younger brother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Adam reassured him, pulling out of the hug. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “I wasn’t scared; I was just worried. You were gone.”

“I went to find…” Dean blinked. “Adam, where’s Dad?”

“Uh…” Adam looked uncertain, his mouth open as he tried to find the words. He shared a look with the Dr.

“We need to find him, okay? I can’t stay here. I don’t belong here. You know that Adam, don’t you? I’m a Neutral. A Neutral. I’m not… not a…” Dean shook his head, he was talking rapidly, couldn’t get his thoughts in order and suddenly felt really lightheaded again. “We can’t tell Dad I was here, okay? He’s can’t know. Shit… he can’t know. Don’t tell Dad, okay?”

“I won’t,” Adam shushed, his hands going to Dean’s elbows in an attempt to steady him. He ignored his own upset as he helped his brother. “I promise I won’t tell him.”

“I’m so tired, Adam,” Dean whispered.

“I know,” Adam sniffed. He stepped up alongside his brother and wrapped his arm around the older man’s waist. He slowly started guiding him back through the ward, back towards his room. “I think you should lie back down and have a nap.”

“Yeah,” Dean hummed happily, clearly almost completely out of it now. He didn’t even flinch when the Dr stepped up on the other side of him to help Adam. “Sleep sounds good right now.”

And while it really did sound amazing, a fleeting thought made Dean jolt, trying to snap out of the haze that had settled over him once more.

“No, no,” He whined. “I can’t sleep. I need to find Dad. I need to tell him… s’not my fault.”

“No, it’s not your fault, Dean,” The Dr shushed as they reached his room.

“But my Dad…”

“It’s okay, Dean,” Adam told him. “Sam’s going to be here in a minute and after your nap, we can explain everything, okay?”

“Sammy?” Dean repeated. “Sammy’s here?”

“Yeah, Dean. Sammy’s here,” Adam paused long enough to help him sit on the edge of the bed.

The Dr was in the corner saying something about getting another diaper, but Dean wasn’t paying her any attention. He could barely focus on Adam now, unable to stop himself from sinking back into the soft mattress.

“Sammy’s here, and Uncle Bobby’s here and I’m here. We’re all here, Dean,” Adam promised. “We’re all here for you.”

~Right Here All Along~

Dean had no memory of returning to his room or getting back into bed and he certainly couldn’t recall falling back to sleep.

But he realised those things must have happened because he woke up back in the hospital bed, warm and cosy underneath the teddy blanket.

“Hey.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to the highbacked chair at his bedside. This time, it wasn’t Adam sitting there snoozing, it was Sam and he was wide awake.

Dean hadn’t seen his younger brother since December.

He and Adam had spent Christmas at their Uncle Bobby’s, having to take an impromptu drive across states at 10pm on the 24th after their father had come home drunk off his head, shouting abuse at his sons and then with a slurred ‘merry fucking Christmas’ he’d thrown the turkey out in the back garden, opened and snapped the pre-owned movie Dean had managed to get for Adam as a gift and then pissed on their second-hand, 4ft tall, artificial Christmas tree.

Bobby and Sam had been more than happy to have them and they had all had a fantastic few days before Dean had decided it was time to go home. Sam and Bobby had tried to convince them to stay permanently, but Dean said he couldn’t leave home. And Adam, who had clearly wanted to stay, had dutifully followed his eldest brother even though the eldest Harrison wasn’t stopping him from staying if he wanted to.

It had only been three months since then, but it felt like a lifetime had passed.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed, feeling lighter for seeing his brother. “It’s good to see you, man.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Sam smiled dopily for a second before his face dropped slightly. “I just wish it was on better terms. How are you feeling?”

“Crap,” Dean admitted, eyes trailing away from his brother and around the room. It took mere seconds before the gravity of his situation came crashing down around him and Dean jolted, practically throwing himself out of bed working to get the diaper off.

“Woah!” Sam was on his feet, the book he’d been reading discarded without a second thought. He rushed around the bed, worried his currently unstable brother was going to fall, or make another run for it. He put his hands on Dean’s shoulders to stop the shaking man from falling. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t… I can’t… I don’t need this…” Dean muttered to himself, loosening one side of the diaper and letting it fall down his legs to the floor. He then pushed Sam’s hands away and kicked the wet diaper as far across the floor as he could get it before he crashed to the ground and hugged his knees to his chest.

“Hey,” Sam fell to his knees in front of his elder brother, his eyes sympathetic. “It’s okay. It’s okay to need it.”

“I don’t need it,” Dean hissed. “I’m not a fucking Little. I’m not.”

“Dean…”

“No,” Dean cut across him. “You don’t understand. I’m not allowed to be a Little. I’m a Neutral. That’s what my paperwork says.”

“Who says you're not allowed?” Sam asked kindly.

Dean scoffed and hid his face in his knees before he said anything else that might make this whole situation worse for him. Where was his Dad? John would know how to sort this mess out; sure he’d probably take it out on Dean for being so careless but Dean would manage.

“Where’s Dad?”

The question was left hanging in the air. Dean gave Sam a moment before he glanced up and asked again;

“Sam. Where’s Dad?”

“Maybe we should get you back into bed first,” Sam suggested, reaching out slowly to offer Dean a hand standing back up.

“No,” Dean sniffed, angling away from Sam. “Tell me where Dad is, right now.”

“Dean…” Sam started, clearly overthinking his words. 

“Sam,” Dean measured, breathing carefully. He felt so irrational, so unlike himself. He needed to know where his father was so he could finally get this all sorted and put to bed and go on living his life. “Where the fuck is Dad?”

“He was arrested.”

It wasn’t Sam that had answered.

The two eldest Harrison children looked up from their place on the floor to the doorway where their Uncle Bobby stood. The man was holding two paper cups and had a newspaper tucked under his arm. Beside him was Adam, who was holding another paper cup and looked into the room with uncertainty.

“Arrested?” Dean repeated back dumbly as the two newcomers approached.

“Yup,” Bobby confirmed, putting the coffee and the newspaper down on a side table before he came over and crouched down beside Sam. “He’s been arrested and he’s currently rotting away behind bars because the judge refused him bail.”

“But… but… but…” Dean looked between Sam and Bobby. “Why?”

“Because he’s been forcing you to take those suppressants,” Bobby said bluntly, clearly angry at the man in question, but not at Dean. “Because he’s been abusing you and neglecting you since the beginning of god-knows-when. Because he’s refused you your rights to the things you physically need. And because he’s literally ruined your very life, up until this very minute. But no longer, Dean. I won’t let him.”

“Uncle Bobby’s our Guardian now,” Adam spoke up quietly from behind them.

Dean looked at his youngest brother through tear-filled eyes. The youngest Harrison was smiling slightly, although he too looked like he was about to cry.

“Bobby?” Dean repeated back to him.

“That’s right, son,” Bobby nodded in agreement. “Your sorry excuse of a father has been stripped of his rights as both yours and Adam’s Guardian. I’m the nearest eligible relative you boys have; so until Sam turns 18, I’ll be your Guardian.”

“Now come on,” Sam decided, standing up and holding his hand out to his brother. “Let's get you back to bed.”

In a daze, Dean let himself be pulled up off the floor and led back to the bed. He led on his side as Uncle Bobby tucked the blanket back around him and Adam went to call a nurse in.

Dean was given a quick check-over and offered some pain meds when he complained of a headache. The pain meds were in liquid form, but Dean thought nothing of it as he dutifully swallowed down the purple syrup-like texture. The nurse then asked about another diaper, which instantly snapped Dean back to reality.

Dean kicked up a big fuss, with the nurse trying to convince him he might need one. Sam even had the gall to mention the one he’d just taken off had been wet, so maybe he would be better with one. But no, Dean refused. He would not be wearing one while he was awake. He didn’t need it.

It was only when Bobby told them that if Dean didn’t want to wear one, then he didn’t have to, that everyone seemed to back down. The nurse left quietly and Dean settled back against the pillows of the bed.

“What happens now?” Dean asked quietly as Sam took his seat again and Bobby pulled up another chair. Adam brought over the coffees from earlier, handing one to Sam and one to their Uncle. “What happens to Dad?”

“Hopefully your father will rot in jail for the rest of his sorry existence,” Bobby scoffed, taking a sip of the black coffee he’d ordered for himself at the hospital’s canteen. “It’s the least he deserves.”

“He’ll go to trial,” Sam explained quietly. “He’ll be put in front of a judge and a jury. We’ll all probably have to testify. And then, as long as they find him guilty, the judge will decide his punishment. Generally, in cases like this, the guilty party gets prison time. Long prison time.”

“That’s gone straight over my head,” Dean admitted with a whine.

Sam went to apologise and explain it differently, but Dean shook his head. He looked at his brother with round, wet eyes and asked;

“What happens to me?”

“To you? Well, I suppose you don’t have to hide your Little side anymore. You can…”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I can’t show my Little side. I can’t.”

“You might feel unable to right now, son,” Bobby offered kindly. “But you won’t forever. We’ll get there, okay?”

In response, Dean’s eyes filled with tears and before he could stop them they overspilled and he started sobbing loudly.

Adam, who had been standing beside Bobby, handed his cup to his Uncle and rushed to Dean’s side. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed before he cuddled up with his brother.

Dean clutched onto Adam as if his life depended on it and Adam held him back just as tightly.

“I’ve got you, Dean,” The youngest Harrison promised before he too succumbed to tears.

Sam wasted no time, as he too clambered onto the bed. He was tall and lanky for his age and his arms easily engulfed his two brothers.

For a few minutes, Sam just held them both before he couldn’t hold back any longer. His own tears were slow to start but then the dam seemed to break and then he couldn’t stop.

Bobby watched his nephews sadly, wishing there was something he could say, or do that would right all the wrongs they’d been through; Dean especially. But there wasn’t. There was nothing that could be done to make the past okay.

His heart ached for them all and he hated himself for not seeing what was happening, and for not fighting harder for them. He’d known John Harrison was an asshole from day one, but he hadn’t realised that the guy was going to take it to a whole other, unacceptable level.

Bobby thought of his sister, also. He couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if she knew what her boys had been through. She would be turning in her grave and was hopefully planning a way to come back and haunt her ex-husband for the rest of his days for what he’d done to her babies.

After a moment or two, Bobby fluffed open his newspaper and made like he was reading it. He would say to anyone that asked that he was trying to give his nephews a semblance of privacy, but in reality, he’d hidden behind it just so he could have a minute to try and compose himself.

“We’re here with you, Dean,” Adam whispered, as he wiped his eyes unsuccessfully.

“Always,” Sam promised, resting his head on Dean’s and reaching over to clutch Adam’s hand. “All of us; together; through everything.”

From behind his newspaper, Bobby swallowed around the lump in his throat and did nothing to try and stop the two individual tears that formed in his eye and slowly trickled down his face.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two - The Doctor

“Good morning, Dean.”

Dean stirred at the soft voice, and the gentle fingers in his hair. He smacked his lips together and blinked lazily, not seeing what was in front of him.

“It’s time to get up, Sweetie,” The voice cooed at him.

After a moment, the fingers left his hair and Dean was able to drift back off, until his curtains were ripped open and the voice spoke again, a little louder this time.

“I’ve brought you some yummy breakfast.”

Dean grumbled as he was pulled from his slumber again. He hadn’t slept great the night before, and had every intention of telling the nurse to piss off so he could get some more shut-eye; but before he could open his mouth and utter the words, he turned over and slipped right off the edge of the bed.

The floor was cold and hard and Dean couldn’t hold back the sting of tears or the audible sob at the dull throb he could feel in his hands and knees.

“Oh, Sweetie!” The nurse called, rushing to his side instantly. “Are you hurt?”

“Get off me,” Dean grunted, attempting to push himself up and feebly knocking her hands away when she tried to slide them under his arms to help him. “I’m fine. I can do it myself!”

“That’s certainly one way to wake up, isn’t it?” She spoke kindly, trying to make light of the situation, as she stepped back. She didn’t go far, hovering close by in case she was needed.

As Dean managed to get his feet back underneath him, he became acutely aware of the wet patch on the front of his pyjama pants.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean hissed to himself, feeling the bubbling heat of humiliation. He turned his back on the nurse, steadying himself on the edge of the mattress as he subtly tried to assess the damage there.

“Are you hurt, Sweetie?” The nurse asked again. He didn’t think she had realised he’d pissed himself yet as she hadn’t said anything about it. Hopefully, it would stay that way.

“I… I’m fine,” Dean uttered, sniffing and wiping at his eyes. If he could convince her he was okay, which he was, she would leave him alone and he could deal with this mess in peace without the usual fanfare the hospital staff made whenever they knew he’d had an accident.

“Are you sure?” She probed, stepping closer to him again. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and hummed when Dean jolted away. She thought it was because he’d hurt himself, and not because he just didn’t want her touching him. “Okay, Sweetheart. That was quite a tumble, wasn’t it? I’ll call the Dr in, and she’ll take a look at your shoulder, okay? And I’ll see what I can do about getting you some bed guards, to stop any future falls, huh? How does that sound?”

“No,” Dean spun to look at her like she was crazy. “No bed guards. I don’t need bed guards. And I’m not hurt. I don’t need a Dr.”

The nurse looked him over, and Dean knew he was going to be getting a visit from a Dr whether he liked it or not.

“My shoulder doesn’t hurt,” He tried to convince her anyway. “Please. I don’t need to see the Doctor. I just want to sleep.”

“Okay, Sweetie. How about some breakfast first? Then you can nap as long as you like.”

“No,” Dean whined, starting to feel uncomfortable in his wet pants. “I’m not hungry. I don’t want breakfast. Please, just leave me alone.”

“Not hungry?” She repeated. “But it’s porridge for breakfast. There are lots of toppings to choose from. There’s jam, honey, sugar, bananas, strawberries, and blueberries and I’m sure if you wanted I could find some chocolate chips.”

“No. I don’t want anything. Please.”

“Okay,” The nurse smiled a little sadly, clearly recognising she wasn’t going to persuade him to eat. “If you change your mind, you just press your buzzer. Is your Uncle coming in today?”

“Later,” Dean muttered, a little taken aback at the sudden change of subject. He looked over his shoulder. “He’s coming later. Please. Leave me alone. I just want to sleep.”

“Well, you get cosy in bed and have a nice nap. I’ll come by and check in on you soon.”

Before she left, the nurse poured him a fresh sippy cup of water and traded it for the empty one on his bedside table, the one that he’d popped the lid off and drank from like it was an actual cup. Next, she went back across the room and pulled the curtains shut again, sending the room into semi-darkness once more.

“Sleep well, Sweetheart,” She spoke quietly into the room as she took the trolley of breakfast things with her.

Dean didn’t turn around to watch her leave, but he listened to the click of the door shutting and the sound of her rattly trolley moving to the next room. Only then did he move.

The first thing he did was rip the sheets and blankets off the bed and threw them into the corner of the room. His eyes were stinging with angry tears again and he tried, stubbornly, to hold them back.

Next, he stumbled towards the little ensuite bathroom connected to his room and slammed the door shut. He pulled the wet clothes from his body with a whimper and clambered into the shower. At least the cascading water wouldn’t make it obvious how hard he was crying right now.

He sobbed to himself as he stood under the water flow for a few minutes. He needed to clean himself off and wash away any sign of the accident he’d had while he was sleeping, but it was so much effort. Dean was so tired and felt so alone; and he couldn’t help thinking that this would all be so much easier if someone was here with him, helping him and loving him. It was something he’d never had before.

And that right there was the thing that jarred him back to reality. It was something he’d never had before because he didn’t need it. His father had taught him how to get by without it. After all, he was a man, not a pussy.

John Harrison had never even attempted to hide his hatred for Littles and Caregivers, and when it became obvious that his eldest was going to present as ‘one of them’ , he’d stepped in and done something about it.

He manipulated an almost 10-year-old Dean into believing that he would bring shame and embarrassment to his family for being a Little, that no one could know because they would take him away and lock him up somewhere, where the world couldn’t see him. And if they did that, who would look after his brothers? Because John couldn’t do it - he was always working so they could have enough money to pay the mortgage. The thought of his younger brothers having to fend for themselves was enough to scare Dean into doing what his father said, but the man didn’t stop there.

He made Dean believe that looking after his brothers was the only thing he was useful for. And if they didn’t need him, John would have either handed him over to the authorities himself or dumped him on the streets, because he wasn’t sure Dean was worth this much work.

And any time Dean dared to show even the slightest thing that might be considered too ‘childish’ or too ‘Little-like’, he was punished for it. Anything that John couldn’t beat out of him, the illegal suppressants dealt with.

By the time Dean turned 11, he’d learnt to repress and hate his Little side almost as much as, if not more, than his father.

By 14, Dean had learnt that almost everything John had had him believe about being a Little was utter crap; but by that point, it had become a way of living, and didn’t change the fact that Dean was scared of his old man, and scared of what embracing his Little side would really mean.

By 17, Dean had a job at his local garage, a driving license and a sweet car. He should have been happy, but he wasn’t. It felt wrong, in his very core; like he shouldn’t have any of it; like he was a fraud. But still, he forced himself to play the part, with a bounce to his step and a smile on his face.

And by 20, Dean had started to really live the life his father had forced him into, without much resentment. And he’d felt so disconnected from his Little side that it had barely felt like a part of him.

But today, his Little side felt all-consuming. And Dean didn’t know what to do with it.

It would be so easy to just give in, but Dean couldn’t. He couldn’t just embrace everything he’d been taught to fight against. Anytime he even considered doing so, he heard his father, spouting abuse and it made him step back from the edge and build his walls up higher in an attempt to trample down his instincts.

No matter how much he wanted someone here to help him, someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay, he couldn’t let himself have it. 

It was bad enough that he couldn’t always tell when he needed to piss anymore. And on the occasions he was aware of his full bladder, it was almost too late and he barely made it to the toilet on time anyway. He thankfully hadn’t had a soiled accident yet, but it had been a close call. And then there was the fact that he couldn’t seem to get food and drink in his mouth without missing completely, and smearing it all over his face - like he’d all but forgotten how to properly hold cutlery and feed himself.

And this was how his body was outside of his headspace; Dean couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he was to drop. The very idea of doing so made his whole body burn in humiliation.

So, with that in mind, he picked up the shower gel Sam had brought in for him yesterday, squirted a generous amount into his hand and started scrubbing himself clean.

Dean forced himself through the motions of washing, drying and dressing. He wore pyjamas now, after begging his Uncle to bring him in some so that he didn’t have to wear the stupid hospital gowns any more.

When he was done, he stepped out of the bathroom and back into his room. He was trying to figure out a way to get fresh sheets without a fuss, but when he looked up, the waterproof mattress was made up with clean sheets, the pile in the corner was gone and his Uncle was sitting in the highbacked chair to the left of his bed.

“Another accident?” The gruff man asked sadly, looking up from his newspaper.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dean grumbled, heading towards the bed and climbing underneath the pale green blanket. “Where’s Sam and Adam?”

“At school. Sam’s emergency transfer came through late last night and they left early so he could enrol and attend today.”

“Just in time for his exam tomorrow,” Dean hummed, feeling pleased for his brother.

Sam was in his last year of school and had three weeks of exams coming up which would determine what kinda college he could get into. He tried to brush it off, but it was obviously important to him and the thought of missing them made him anxious. Dean told him to go back to Sioux Falls, to stay and sit the exams, but the stubborn mule refused. Sam said he couldn’t leave Dean and Adam in a time like this, that if he couldn’t get an emergency transfer then he’d just resit them next year; apparently, it was no big deal. But everyone around Sam knew it clearly was.

“Yup. He’s definitely relieved. They said they’d be by after school.”

“I’d have thought Sammy would have rushed home to study or something.”

“He did mention it,” Bobby nodded with a chuckle. “But, while he wants to get good grades, I think it’s fair to say that you are more important to him than some exam.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere,” Dean complained, throwing his head back against his pillow and looking up at the ceiling.

“You’re not?” Bobby asked, feigning surprise. When Dean turned his head slightly to look at him in confusion he carried on. “It’s just I thought we could go down to the cafeteria and get some breakfast burgers.”

“Wait,” Dean sat up again, a slight lift in his shoulders. In the week since he’d been here, he hadn’t set foot off the ward. Even when he’d spoken to the police and given them his statement, they’d come to him. “Are you serious?”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Bobby shook his head and reached to the bag at his feet and brought out a pair of slippers. He handed them over to his nephew. “They told me when I arrived that you hadn’t had breakfast, and I figured I’d get sick of porridge and toast too. Not only that, but I could really go for a breakfast burger myself.”

“Yes! Please! That sounds amazing!” Dean beamed, shoving his feet into the fluffy slippers and climbing out of bed in record time. “I’m going to have extra bacon in mine!”

~Right Here All Along~

Sam and Adam turned up straight after school, just like they’d said they would.

Adam wasted no time, kicking his shoes off and climbing straight into bed with Dean so they could snuggle. This type of affection hadn’t been something the two brothers had been prone to before, but it was nice.

Sam had brought his bag up from the car and started sorting through his books, trying to figure out what he should study first. He had lots to say, telling them all about his first day back at his old school and how he’d reconnected with a few friends he’d left behind when he’d gone to live with Bobby.

There was a loud knock on the door, about an hour later.

Sam was tucked away in his books, his serious face on as he worked away at retaining as much information as he could for his exams. Dean and Adam were playing some deformed game of naughts and crosses they’d made up a few years back and Bobby was sat in the chair, flicking through an old motorcycle magazine he’d picked up in the waiting room.

They all looked up at the disturbance. Stood in the doorway was Dean’s named Dr, Dr Spencer.

“Sorry to interrupt,” She smiled apologetically. “I was hoping we could have a chat?”

“Of course,” Bobby invited her in. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, we got Dean’s test results back today,” The Dr explained as she walked further into the room. She stopped at the end of Dean’s bed.

Bobby closed the magazine and sat up straighter; Sam untangled himself from the pretzel-like shape he’d put himself in; Adam shuffled to sit on the edge of the bed as if worried he’d be scolded for sitting so close to his brother and Dean sat back against the pillows in apprehension. They all gave the Dr their full attention.

“The bloods?” Sam asked her, referring to the umpteen vials of blood they’d taken from Dean yesterday afternoon.

“Yes,” She confirmed. “The bloods confirmed that Dean has built up a high intolerance to the suppressants he was using, which we pretty much knew already.”

“Are there any other suppressants I can take, instead?”

There was a tense moment where everyone paused to take in the question Dean had asked so confidently. The Dr looked almost taken aback by his forwardness, but she gently cleared his throat and addressed Dean.

“The short answer is no, I’m afraid,” She explained. “Most suppressants are illegal for a reason. They can cause serious issues, including organ damage, heart failure and sadly, some have died from taking these drugs. The few suppressants that are FDA-approved can only be prescribed for a maximum of 3 days in any 6-month period.”

“For you, at this stage,” She went on, not unkindly. “I cannot write you up that prescription. Your body… is in attack mode, so to say. You’ve taken suppressants for so many years that you’ve built up an intolerance to them. If you were to take suppressants again so soon, your body would see it as a threat and fight it. That means, at the very least, another seizure, potentially worse than the last, among any number of other things.”

“In fact, your body will almost certainly never be able to tolerate suppressants again. The data we received from your blood results tell us that the antibodies you’ve built up are highly unlikely to ever allow your body to accept a suppressant drug again.”

“I’m sorry Dean,” She rounded off sympathetically. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

Dean closed his eyes, took a few shuddery breaths and willed himself not to cry. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or devastated by that news. As much as he didn’t want to give into his headspace, and the very thought of doing so was enough to heat him with embarrassment, he also didn’t really want to have to keep pumping his body full of drugs that forced him to go against every biological instinct. Yet, he had almost always lived like that, and the thought of going without the suppressants terrified him.

“Have the drugs caused any damage?” Sam asked quietly after the Dr had finished. “You said something about organ damage? Heart failure? Dean doesn’t have those things, does he?”

“No,” The Dr reassured them all. “Dean has been very lucky. The seizure seems to have been the worst of things. However, Dean… your heart is working overtime, and your brain is slightly enlarged.”

“That explains the headache,” Dean tried to joke, rubbing at his temple.

“I’ll have the nurse bring you some painkillers if you’d like?” The Dr offered. Before Dean could respond, Adam spoke up, clearly very worried.

“His heart is working overtime? His brain is enlarged? That’s bad right? I mean, it sounds bad.”

“It probably sounds worse than it is,” The Dr admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the best news, and if we don’t try and nip it in the bud it can and will become more of an issue later down the line.”

“How do we fix it?” Bobby questioned seriously.

“We fix it…” The Dr started, turning to look at Dean as she spoke. “With a drop.”

Dean didn’t miss a beat.

“No.”

“Dean…”

“No, Sam. I won’t do it.”

With that declaration sounding so final, no one said anything for a moment. The Dr had her hands in her white coat pockets, assessing the people before her and trying to figure out whether to carry on or come back later when things might have calmed down some.

It was Bobby that broke the silence.

“Would just the one drop fix it?”

“No, Bobby,” Dean snapped. “I don’t want it. I won’t do it. You can’t make me!”

“Mr Singer,” Dr Spencer addressed the older man, honouring him as her patient’s Guardian, and momentarily ignoring the fuming Little on the bed. “Dean’s body has understandably been through a lot. Of course, the irregular heartbeat and the enlarged brain can be and are quite serious things, but they are, for any classification, typical signs of someone that hasn’t dropped in some time. We can give Dean some medication that will take any of the immediate danger away, but it isn’t a long term solution, nor will it solve the problem completely.”

“Great. I’ll take the meds, but still, ain't dropping.”

“Dean, please,” Bobby said, voice firm but not scolding. In response, the lad huffed and crossed his arms but said nothing. Bobby nodded his appreciation and then turned back to Dr Spencer.

“How often would he need to drop, and for how long?”

“That was something else I wanted to discuss with you all today. Part of the blood test we did yesterday was a basic presentation test; exactly like the one they do in eighth grade.”

Dean had conveniently missed Presentation Day. It was a day, every year on the 1st of March when every eighth grader across the country went to school and came home with a shiny certificate detailing their classification, and information regarding the help and support they could receive.

It was a simple, painless procedure that included taking a single vial of blood. The blood was tested for any of the four hormones that corresponded with each of the four classifications. If your blood didn’t contain any of the distinguishing hormones, you were a Neutral. If your blood contained a low-hormone count, you were less likely to need to spend time in your headspace compared to someone with a standard or high-hormone count.

Neither Sam nor Adam had missed their Presentation Day.

When Sam had come home with his certificate proudly declaring him a High-Level Dominant, John had been over the moon and had taken his second eldest out for a steak to celebrate. It was one of the only times father and son had managed to go 10 minutes without butting heads over something.

John had been just as happy when Adam had presented as a Standard-Level Submissive. The youngest Harrison had been treated to ice cream at the fancy ice cream shoppe across town and had been promised a suitable Dominant one day, who would care for and love him.

Dean hadn’t had any of that though.

John had kept him off school for a few days on either side of his Presentation Day. He’d then ‘appeased the state’ by taking him to the ‘Doctor’ to get the test done when he was ‘well enough’. But in reality, what he’d done was pay someone a handsome fee to forge the documents. All the while he made Dean feel like he was too much hassle for such a thing; and then made him offer his help to their neighbours for six weekends straight, washing their cars, mowing their lawns and walking their dogs, just so that he could earn back the money John had spent to illegally register Dean as a Neutral.

“This is where you tell me that I’m not a Little and I’m actually some kind of weird fifth classification,” Dean grumbled with an eye roll.

“Not quite,” The Dr told him. “But Dean, your Parva hormone count is off the chart. I have specialised in Little’s for almost 15 years and I personally have never seen anyone with hormone levels as high as yours.”

“What does that mean?” Adam asked quietly when Dean didn’t instantly respond as he’d expected him to. His eldest brother just sat there dumbly, staring at a spot on the wall just above the doctor’s shoulder.

“Dean’s a High-Level Little,” Sam answered, almost blankly.

“Yes; Dean is a High-Level Little,” The Dr echoed Sam’s words in confirmation. She watched her patient carefully to see how he was taking in this newfound information, but he seemed to be zoned out as they had the conversation around him. “A High-Level Little who is on the higher end of ‘High-Level’.”

“I know they exist but aren’t High-Level Little’s really rare?” Bobby contemplated out loud.

“They are. Only 0.4% of the Little Population is classified as High-Level. In my 15 years, I’ve come across only a handful of cases.”

“Right. And, so I resort back to my previous question… how often would Dean need to drop, and how long for?”

“Mr Singer…” The Dr started before turning to her patient. “Dean… your Parva hormone count is so high that being outside of your headspace for any prolonged period of time is going to be detrimental to both your physical and mental health.”

“I don’t mean to sound as if I’m doubting your professional judgement,” Bobby clicked his tongue. “But, if that’s the case then why hasn’t it been an issue up until now?”

“Because of the suppressants. From what I can gather they were potent and successfully did the job of dampening down his hormones. And I’d hazard a guess that it took more than one attempt to find a suppressant that worked. Most of the Little Population are classed as ‘Low-Level’, so the market will cater more specifically to that and I imagine it would have been harder to find something that did the job for Dean.”

Everyone turned to look at Dean, watching and waiting as if expecting him to just spill the story of how he’d tried 4 different types of suppressants before they started working. Dean said nothing though, lowering his eyes from the wall to the green blanket covering his lap. He picked at a loose string there, ignoring them all as his vision went blurry with big fat tears.

“Dean is almost ready for discharge, Mr Singer,” The Dr spoke softly and sadly, feeling like an asshole for delivering this blow to her patient. “We need to have a chat about his care requirements and options.”

“Can it wait a bit?” Bobby questioned, not unkindly. He knew it was important, but right now Dean was upset, and rightly so. “I think my nephew needs me more urgently right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be around till about 8 tonight. If you don't catch me tonight, I'm on all day tomorrow,” She nodded her understanding before quietly taking her leave.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three - The Meeting

It had been just over two hours since Dr Spencer had informed them of Dean’s High-Level Little status; two hours since they’d learnt that Dean needed to spend more time in his headspace than out of it, or risk becoming extremely poorly, extremely quickly.

Dean had understandably been upset and had spent some time after the Dr left ranting and raging about it all. Eventually, though, he’d tired himself out and started sobbing into his knees about how unfair his life was, how much he hated his father, and how he just wanted someone to hug him.

Bobby wasn’t sure if Dean realised he’d voiced that last request out loud until Sam had climbed up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around him. Dean had tensed up, and they’d all expected him to push his younger brother away; but, in the next second, Dean was uncurling himself and relaxing into Sam’s hold. Sam had rubbed soothing circles onto Dean’s back and whispered promises of making things better, for all of them.

And Dean had cried. He was so exhausted from his outburst that he cried himself to sleep on Sam, clutching onto him as if his life depended on it.

Sam had then invited Adam back onto the bed as well. He spoke quietly with his younger brother, so as not to wake the eldest Harrison in his arms. He was gentle and kind and didn’t speak condescendingly to his Submissive brother when Adam voiced his concerns and feelings regarding the whole situation.

Bobby had watched them all fondly. He knew that when Sam had to legally take the reins in 2 months’ time, he was going to do well by his brothers; he was going to be a fantastic Guardian for them both, no doubt putting their own wants and needs above his own and making sure they got as much out of life as they could.

Bobby was proud of him. Bobby was proud of all of them.

He knew that together, they could, and would, get through anything.

~Right Here All Along~

“I’ve gotta have that chat with Dr Spencer today,” Bobby reminded Sam and Adam over breakfast the next morning. By the time Dean had calmed down yesterday, it had been too late and the Dr had already headed home. “About Dean’s discharge.”

Sam looked up from the textbook that was spread out in front of him, trying to get in some last-minute studying before he left for school in 20 minutes and sat his exam.

Adam was beside him, munching his way through a bowl of lucky charms. He paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth as he looked between his brother and his Uncle.

“Right…” Sam dragged the word out anxiously. “You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d be a part of it.”

“You… do you think they’d let me?” Sam asked apprehensively. “I mean… I’m still a minor; you’re still technically my Guardian for another two months. I don’t know if they’re going to appreciate you bringing ‘Dean’s kid brother’ to such an important meeting.”

“I should think they’d allow it in these exceptional circumstances,” Bobby shrugged. “You said it yourself. In two very short months, you’re going to be your brother’s Guardian. I want you to be a part of the discussion regarding Dean’s future care. Because by the time it’s up and running properly, you’re going to be the one overseeing it. I don’t want to decide on anything without your opinion.”

Sam seemed to think on it for a minute before he nodded.

“Okay, yeah,” He finally agreed, clearly grateful for his Uncle treating him as the adult he almost was, for trusting him with this. “I’d like to be there.”

“Good, ‘cause I wasn’t going to take no for an answer,” Bobby told him. “I’ll see if I can find Dr Spencer when I get to the hospital and arrange to have the discussion when you come by after school.”

~Right Here All Along~

Dr Spencer had been more than accommodating and was happy to wait until Sam arrived to have the chat regarding Dean’s discharge. She informed the older man that a POLASS social worker was going to be present during the meeting, but she reassured him that it was nothing to worry about.

Dean was beyond pissed that he wasn’t allowed to be a part of his own care, but Bobby reminded the eldest Harrison that both himself and Sam had Dean’s best interests at heart, and would do nothing but their best for him. It didn’t make things better, or easier to stomach, but Dean could do nothing but reluctantly accept it.

Adam, thankfully, distracted Dean with youtube, showing him a video he’d apparently seen last night that had had him in hysterics.

Sam and Bobby then met Dr Spencer at the front desk of the ward, and she led them to a conference room.

Waiting for them at the overly large table was a kind-looking woman, dressed smartly with a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. A clipboard was on the table in front of her and a POLASS lanyard was around her neck.

She greeted them with confident handshakes and introduced herself as Lucy Hopkins. She assured them that she wasn’t there maliciously, that she was there to offer her support and guidance and to ensure the outcome here truly benefited Dean as best as possible.

Dr Spencer invited them all to take a seat and then the meeting got underway.

“It’s been 5 days since Dean was first admitted to the hospital,” Dr Spencer started. “He has recovered well, despite some residue withdrawal symptoms which are being managed by medication when they flare up. The suppressant he was on doesn't appear to be as addicting as some that are on the black market, which, considering how long he was on them, I think we can all agree is a tiny win.”

“Of course, there is still the issue of Dean’s irregular heartbeat and enlarged brain,” The Dr continued. “As I explained last night, these issues are typical signs of someone who hasn’t dropped in some time. Low-Level and even some Standard-Level Classifications can get by without engaging with their headspace for weeks at a time, sometimes even months. But High-Level Classifications tend to have to facilitate a drop at least every few days.”

“As I know you’re aware, Dean’s parva hormone count is almost unusually high,” Lucy explained. “This means that any time spent outside of his headspace is going to do him more harm than good. The doctors believe that Dean’s irregular heartbeat and enlarged brain have been an issue for some time and that this is why the suppressants failed.”

“I was reading up on it all last night,” Sam spoke up. Everyone turned to look at him. He looked close to tears as he took a deep breath and carried on. “The irregular heartbeat and the enlarged brain could kill him, couldn’t it?”

Bobby had known that, but he hadn’t realised Sam had gone home last night and researched it himself. He could clearly see this had been playing on his nephew’s mind, and he felt bad for just assuming the anxiety Sam had been displaying earlier that morning had been over the exam he’d had coming up.

“In a worst-case scenario, yes,” Dr Spencer said sadly. “Thankfully, we are not there yet. The medication we have Dean on is doing its job and helping some, but it isn’t a long-term solution. However, if Dean doesn’t connect and engage with his Little side soon, his symptoms are only going to get worse which will only lead to more complications.”

Everyone knew that the word ‘complications’ was just a polite way of saying that Dean would die if he refused to drop. This time, Sam’s eyes really did shine with tears at that knowledge.

“So… he doesn’t really have a choice?”

“No, not really,” The Dr told the 17-year-old, sympathetically. 

“But that’s what we’re here to discuss,” Lucy declared brightly with a soft smile at Sam, clearly trying to help the young Dominant feel like his brother wasn’t facing imminent death. “Dean can’t be discharged without a care plan in place. Hopefully, by the end of this meeting, we’ll have the basis of one written up and can fine-tune it over the coming days to really suit Dean’s needs before his discharge.”

“I assume that care plan is going to say Dean needs a Caregiver?” Bobby asked, speaking for the first time.

“Yes,” Dr Spencer confirmed. “Dean is going to need a full-time, ideally High-Level Caregiver. Someone who wants to and is able to keep up with Dean’s biological needs.”

“Well that’s going to be next to impossible,” Bobby huffed, although not unkindly. “For starters, do you really think I’m going to be able to convince Dean to accept a Caregiver? And where am I supposed to find a High-Level Caregiver? It’s my understanding that they’re just as rare as High-Level Littles - so it’s not like I can just go pluck one off the street.”

“High-Level Caregivers are also very rare, you’re right,” Lucy nodded. “While that can and probably will make it harder to find someone suitable for Dean’s needs, it’s not impossible.”

“Why can’t he have a Standard-Level or Low-Level Caregiver?” Sam questioned.

The lad knew that typically, Low-Levels matched better with Low-Levels and so on, but Sam had been taught at school, during his Dominant and Submissive classes, that it didn’t have to be exclusively that way. It had only been last night when he’d been doing some research online, that he’d truly appreciated how different it was for the other Classifications.

“Because a Standard or Low-Level Caregiver will not have the capacity to care for Dean full-time like he needs. Of course, they will be able to help him temporarily but they do not have the biological ability to stay in their headspace for the long periods of time that would be needed to help Dean. Most High-Level Caregivers will need to spend as much time in their headspace as Dean does, which would make them an almost perfect match.”

“But… how do you suppose I find someone like that for Dean?” Bobby asked, sounding defeated. “Because Dean isn’t going to actively look for himself. And I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“It can feel daunting when faced with finding a match suitable for one of your wards,” Lucy sympathised. “POLASS can help you make an account for Dean with the government’s match-making service and you could also look at joining some independent services too. That is probably the quickest and easiest way to find a suitable match.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, you could rely on family,” Dr Spencer suggested. “Perhaps there’s a few Caregivers in the family that could take it in turns caring for Dean?”

“Caregivers don’t really run on my side of the family,” Bobby explained, feeling more and more helpless as the seconds ticked by. He wanted to do the best for Dean, and it was seeming impossible. “I mean, there’s Great-Aunt Lizzie, but she’s 98. And my third cousin, Tyler; but he lives in London, he’s Low-Level and already has a Little of his own.”

“What about on Dean’s father’s side?”

“Oh, god, no,” Sam scoffed, with a loud fake laugh, as if what the Dr was asking was ridiculous. “The Harrison’s are just a long line of Dominants and Submissives. Dad was proud of it; made sure we all knew it. There’ll be the occasional Neutral, which is why no one was too surprised when Dean ‘presented’ as one. But there has never been a Harrison who presented as a Caregiver or Little… well, until Dean, I guess.”

“That’s okay,” Lucy reassured them both, flipping through the paper on her clipboard until she found what she was looking for. “There are other options we can explore. And, in actual fact, these are options that I feel Dean would benefit more from at the moment, options that can help him learn to embrace and accept his Little side and help him feel more comfortable in his own skin.”

The papers that Lucy had retrieved from her clipboard were slid across the table towards the two men. It was two different leaflets, and Sam and Bobby both reached, almost cautiously, to pick one up.

“North Star Care Home for Littles,” Sam read aloud from his leaflet. He leaned over his Uncle’s shoulder to glance at his. 

“Angel Wings Fostering Agency,” Bobby offered the room. His eyes flicked across the words at the bottom of the leaflet. “Helping your Little settle and find their forever home.”

“There are, of course, other care homes and foster agencies out there, but these are two that have availability now and are close to home, which I thought would benefit Dean, and yourselves,” Lucy said. “These two also specialise in helping Littles, such as Dean who have not had the opportunity to readily accept their headspace yet.”

There were a few moments of pause as Bobby opened up his leaflet and glanced quickly inside. He looked over at Sam’s and looked at the pictures of the kinds of rooms they offered in the care home before he spoke.

“Which one do you think would be better for Dean?”

“Ultimately? The fostering agency. It is my professional opinion that Dean would benefit more from a 1:1 relationship with a foster Caregiver. They would be able to give their undivided attention to Dean, really cater to his needs, and it would all come with a much more personal touch, which I think would be great for Dean. Living with a fosterer would also take away the distraction of a busy care home, which would allow Dean more privacy to explore his Little side without the feeling of being judged and the pressure of being watched by those around him. And at the end of it all, once Dean is all settled in his headspace, they will help him find his forever-Caregiver.”

“However,” Lucy went on with a big sigh, and it was obvious she was going to throw a curve ball and name a reason as to why the fostering route wouldn’t work. “For the relationship between Dean and the fosterer to work, the fosterer would need to be a High-Level Caregiver. As we previously mentioned, High-Level Caregivers are rare anyway; but they’re even rarer in fostering jobs. So the chances of finding Dean a suitable foster home, although not impossible, are extremely slim.”

“Can’t we try anyway?” Bobby questioned, trying to feed his hope. “If there’s even a slight possibility of finding a suitable Caregiver, surely we could try? I mean, maybe we’d get lucky.”

“Absolutely,” Lucy agreed. “The wait for a High-Level Caregiver home is a long one, but there is a priority list and I think there would be ample reason for Dean to go at least near the top, if not at the top. Unfortunately, though, the wait could still be extensive and it would be wise to put other things in place to bridge the gap between that time.”

“You mean… the care home,” Sam muttered, looking over his leaflet with uncertainty.

Sure, it looked bright and inviting and the rooms looked cosy, but it still looked a lot like a hospital. He wasn’t sure it was right for Dean. As it was, his brother wasn’t going to like the potential of having to have a Caregiver, let alone have to live with them. Sam didn’t even want to think about the reaction they’d get if they had to tell Dean that he was going to live in a care home for Littles.

“Yes. Right now, I believe the care home is the most viable option. This is purely because of Dean needing to be in his headspace full-time and the unlikelihood of finding a High-Level Caregiver to accommodate that. The care home staff will be Low-Level and Standard-Level Caregivers who take shifts. This allows them to have time off from their headspaces while still ensuring Dean will benefit from being surrounded by Caregivers full-time.”

“But even considering all that, you still recommend the foster agency?”

“Yes, Mr Singer,” Lucy folded her hands together over her clipboard. “The foster agency would be my preferred care route for Dean, despite being likely he could be waiting 6 months to a year for a High-Level Caregiver to become available.”

Bobby took a look at Sam, trying to gauge the young Dominant's opinion.

What the social worker was saying did make sense. The fostering route sounded more pleasant and would be better accepted by the eldest Harrison, but it didn’t give them the immediate care Dean needed. The care home would ensure that Dean got that help instantly. And while it wasn’t the only option here it was really the only one available to them until a High-Level Caregiver became available to foster him.

“I want to do the fostering. I don’t think Dean will like the home,” Sam deadpanned. “No, I know he won’t like the home.”

“I think it’s our only choice here, son,” Bobby grunted, hating it as much as Sam did, but needing to do this for Dean. He knew though that if they didn’t make this hard decision that the state would take his Guardianship rights away and make the choice for him. “I think we sign him up to the foster agency now and while we wait for a suitable placement to become available, we send him to one of these homes.”

“Okay, yeah,” Sam nodded. “I think that sounds good. But uh… you can tell him.”

Bobby and the two women chuckled at Sam’s resistance and the meeting moved on.

The POLASS lady brought out a laptop and helped set up an account with the fostering agency there so they could get Dean’s application started and sent off.

They also talked about the different care homes in the area and which one they might consider sending Dean to, for the time being. Bobby refused to commit, saying that he would go visit two tomorrow before securing Dean a place.

Bobby was just as dubious as Sam about breaking the news of all this to Dean. The reaction they were going to get was not going to be positive. He didn’t think that Dean was going to accept any Caregiver, let alone one they forced on him. The kid was so against his headspace that his Uncle was genuinely worried that Dean was just going to keep getting sicker and sicker until the unthinkable happened.

And of course, Bobby didn’t want that to happen; not for Dean, not for Sam or Adam, and not for his sister. She’d never forgive him if he didn’t try his best for her boys; in fact, he’d never forgive himself.

So, if keeping Dean alive meant doing something he knew that Dean was going to hate, then he’d do it.

And hopefully, one day, Dean would come to learn and appreciate that his Uncle Bobby had only done what he thought was right.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four - The Reaction

Dean was pacing. He was clearly agitated, tugging on his hair and mumbling to himself. Adam had no idea what Dean was saying, the words he spoke were spoken so quietly that the youngest Harrison had no hope of deciphering them.

Adam was sat on the bed, back right up against the pillows as he fiddled with the corner of Dean’s blanket. He’d tried to distract his brother with silly videos and games on his phone, but that hadn’t worked for long.

“Seriously, what the fuck is taking them so long?” Dean cried, as he pivoted on his heel and started marching his way back along the length of the room. Adam jumped at the sudden, loud sharpness of his brother’s voice.

“I don’t know,” Adam replied, even though he wasn’t entirely sure if his brother’s question had been rhetorical. Immediately after Adam’s response, Dean started up his grumbling again.

He could understand why Dean was so anxious; it couldn’t be nice to have to sit here knowing that there were people out there who almost literally held your whole future in their hands, and there was nothing you could do about it. As a Submissive, Adam could sympathise with how that might feel, there could be a day when he was told to stand back while a decision was made over something that regarded him. But while that was a scary thought, he knew he could trust that his Guardian, whoever that might be at the time, would do their best for him.

And Adam knew that that’s what Sam and Bobby would do for Dean. Both his brother and Uncle were heading into that meeting with the intention of listening to everything the Dr had to say before they made any decision on Dean’s care. And whatever was decided upon wouldn’t be made lightly.

“What is there to even discuss?” Dean grunted, voice loud and clear again. “I mean, if I’m ready to be discharged, just fucking discharge me already. I want to go home.”

Adam looked over at his brother and frowned. Did Dean really think they were just going to sign his discharge papers and let him return to his old life? Dean was officially a Little now, he legally had to have a Guardian. POLASS were involved and with everything the Dr had told them yesterday, it would be a failure on the system’s part if they sent Dean home without some sort of Caregiver intervention. Dean had to know that.

“And why the hell does Sammy get to be involved? Kid’s still a kid himself!”

Even though Adam was certain that his brother wasn’t looking for a response, he felt compelled to give him one.

“Bobby thought it would be good for him to be a part of the meeting… considering he’s going to be our Guardian soon.”

“I don’t want Sam to be my Guardian,” Dean seethed. Adam rolled his eyes when his brother turned his back on him to walk in the other direction. “I practically raised that kid. I’m older than him…”

“You know that doesn’t matter when it comes to Guardianship,” Adam muttered, although Dean practically ignored his youngest brother and carried on.

“I don’t need him lording over me like he fucking owns me. It’s not right. It’s not fair.”

Adam wasn’t going to argue the Guardianship point with Dean any further. They’d all been over it a million times with the eldest Harrison these past few days. It didn’t matter how often they discussed it, Dean could barely accept that Sam was going to be his Guardian, whether he liked it or not.

Dean paced for a few more minutes, becoming more and more agitated as time went on. Just as Adam was worried that Dean was about to storm out of the room, the door opened and Sam and Bobby piled in.

“About fucking time,” Dean growled, turning to look at them. “What the hell took you so long?”

It was clear that neither Sam nor Bobby knew where to start. They exchanged a glance, almost as if trying to decide between them who was going to break the news to Dean before Sam found the courage from somewhere and stepped forward.

Sam didn’t want to have to be the bad guy and basically dictate how his brother was going to live his near future, but he knew he was the one who needed to do it. Dean wasn’t going to like it, not by a longshot, but Sam was going to be his Guardian very soon and he’d come to the daunting realisation that Guardian’s stood up and did the hard things. He could do this. For Dean.

“I think you’re going to want to sit down,” Sam started, nodding his head in the direction of the bed and the high-backed chair beside it.

“I think you need to stop pussy-footing around me and just fucking tell me what the hell is going on!” Dean snapped, crossing his arms and levelling his brother with a harsh glare.

“Okay,” Sam shrugged, although not uncaringly and moved closer to his brother. In his hands were two leaflets; he said nothing more as he held them out towards Dean.

Dean snatched them away and took a moment to turn them the right way.

Adam had no idea what was on either leaflet but knew it probably wasn’t a course of action his eldest brother wanted to take. Adam watched cautiously as the colour drained from Dean’s face, and he waited with bated breath for the inevitable outburst that was about to start.

“No.”

“I’m sorry Dean, but…”

“I said, no, Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “We spoke with the Dr and the POLASS lady, Lucy…”

“That's nice,” Dean sneered as he shoved the leaflets into his brother’s chest. “But the answer is still no.”

Adam pulled his legs up to his chest and watched the scene play out in front of him. Dean turned his back on Sam and resumed his pacing and mumbling. Through his raging, Adam could just about make out him muttering in disdain about a care home or something, but the rest was inaudible. Sam looked over his shoulder at his Uncle in desperation and Bobby frowned.

“Dean,” The older man tried.

“Unless you’re going to tell me that those ideas…” Dean motioned vaguely in the direction of the leaflets Sam was clutching in his fists. “...were completely vetoed, then I don’t want to hear it.”

“These ideas are your only options,” Sam said sadly, moving to perch on the corner at the end of the bed.

“Bullshit.”

“The only thing that’s going to keep you alive is a Caregiver,” Sam told him bluntly but not unkindly, deciding there was no point trying to sugarcoat it any longer. “The care home and the foster agency can give you that."

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Dean raged, turning to shout at his brother. “I’ve managed perfectly fine without a fucking Caregiver so far! What on earth makes you think I need one now?”

“You heard every word the Dr said yesterday,” Sam reminded Dean. “You are so extremely High-Level that you will literally die without accepting your headspace. The only thing that’s really going to help with that is a Caregiver.”

“And your answer to finding me one is to stick me in a fucking home, or fob me off to a stranger?”

“We’re not trying to fob you off, Dean,” Sam sighed, his heart feeling heavy with emotion. He hated that he was part of the reason Dean was so upset over this. He hated that it was the only thing he could do to help him. “We’re trying to save your life.”

Adam choked on a sob, the tears that had built up in his eyes overflowed and he hid his face in his knees as everyone turned to look at him.

Bobby moved immediately, putting a comforting hand in the young sub's hair and allowing him to fall into his side. He made some shushing noises, although the emotion of this whole situation was gutting him too. He wanted to try and help Sam explain all of this to his eldest nephew, but he knew Sam was determined to tell Dean the majority of it himself.

“Adam…”

“I don’t want you to die, Dean,” The youngest Harrison wailed, lifting his head again at the sound of Dean calling his name. “I love you. I don’t want you to die.”

“For the record,” Sam offered. “Neither do I. You’re my big brother, I can’t lose you.”

“And if you still care about the opinion of your old, grumpy Uncle,” Bobby added. “I don’t want to lose you either, Dean.”

Dean turned to look at each of his family members in turn and felt a large lump form in his throat. He tried to swallow it down as his eyes went blurry and his heart began to ache. Because despite the pounding in his head and the nausea coiling low in his stomach, he could feel the love pouring off each and every person in the room.

“I don’t want to die either,” He sobbed, sinking down into the high-backed chair and burying his head in his hands. He sobbed and repeated; “I don’t want to die.”

“Then let us help you,” Sam whispered, scootching closer to his brother, He put his hand on the eldest Harrison’s arm and squeezed gently. “Please.”

“I don’t know how to,” Dean cried into his hands. He didn’t know how to let his family help him. He didn’t know how to accept his Classification, or how to give into his headspace. He didn’t know how to be a Little or how to drop. He’d never done any of it before, and it was terrifying. He was scared and had no idea how to proceed from here.

“Dean,” Sam said quietly. He waited until his brother looked up at him with his wide wet eyes. “We’ll figure it out. Together. I promise.”

~Right Here All Along~

Adam jolted awake.

He was disorientated for a few moments before he realised that the sound of the landline ringing, and Uncle Bobby’s feet pounding down the stairs was the thing that woke him.

Groggily, he reached across to his bedside table and tapped his phone screen. It lit up, blinding him for half a second before he could read the time. 04.28. It was stupidly early and someone was calling. There were only a select few people who would phone at such an ungodly hour. However, the most likely one was…

“Dean!” Adam cried as that realisation dawned on him. He shoved the covers off and almost fell out of bed in his haste to get to his feet.

As he threw his door open, Sam was darting past his room, clearly just as anxious and agitated as Adam was feeling.

“Who is it?” Adam asked in a panic, thundering after his brother.

“I don’t know,” Sam rushed, taking the stairs at almost breakneck speed. Somehow, Adam managed to keep up, the adrenaline pumping around his body pushing him through. “But it’s probably the hospital.”

If Sam thought it was, then it most likely was. The two youngest Harrisons reached the bottom of the stairs and veered into the kitchen where the really old landline was still plugged into the wall on a cord.

Bobby hadn’t long answered it, the shrill ringing that had penetrated the silent house and ignited panic had blessedly stopped.

The older man turned to look at his two nephews as they skidded to a stop. He held up his hand to stop the hurried whispered questions he could see on the teenager's tounges so that he could listen to the person on the other end of the line.

When Bobby’s face dropped, Adam’s heart rate picked up. Thoughts whirled around his head at 100 miles an hour and he just prayed that Dean was okay.

Sam wrapped his arm around his youngest brother and pulled him to his side. He said nothing as they tried desperately to listen in on the conversation, but he did rub soothing circles on Adam’s arm. It helped some, but it didn't take away the worry about his eldest brother.

“No, no,” Bobby spoke into the phone, shaking his head. “We haven’t... Of course.”

There was a slightly longer pause as the caller rattled on about something. Bobby listened carefully before he replied.

“Absolutely. Thank you for letting me know.”

It had been a quick phone call, but clearly a harrowing one. Bobby took a moment to take a few breaths after he put the landline back into place.

“Who was it?” Adam asked impatiently.

"The hospital," Bobby explained, voice monotone.

That confirmation just sent Adam and Sam into overdrive as they couldn't contain their imaginations, trying to picture just what could have happened to cause the hospital to phone at this hour, and for that spooked look to be sat on Bobby's face.

"Why? What's wrong?" Sam questioned desperately, clutching Adam to him tighter again.

“We’ve got the police coming around,” Bobby deadpanned, even though that didn't answer the 17-year-old’s question and just sent his nephew's panic soaring.

“Why?" Sam repeated. "Is Dean okay?"

Bobby looked over the two lads in front of him. They were both in pyjamas, hair ruffled from lying in bed and had sleep crusted around their eyes. They were also both wide awake and clearly worried, anxious to hear what their Uncle had to say.

Bobby took a deep breath and decided to just rip the band-aid off.

“Dean’s gone missing.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Five - The Runaway

Dean blinked awake, instantly feeling stiff and sore. His bum was incredibly numb and the jumper he was wearing provided very little protection from the rough bark of the tree he was resting against.

To begin with, he believed his discomfort was the thing that had woken him. But then, Dean caught sight of a figure crouched in front of him and startled backwards in shock.

“Hey,” The figure shushed. Dean didn’t respond, letting his eyes slowly focus on the woman. She was dressed in running gear, with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and had a band around her arm, where her phone was safely secured away. Her face was flushed pink, and she was breathing a little faster due to the obvious workout she’d been on, but she looked friendly enough. However, the concern that was etched on her face put Dean instantly on edge. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Uh…” Dean’s voice was heavy from disuse and he coughed to clear his throat. He wasn’t sure how to reply to her, so his words ended up sounding more like a question than a reassurance. “That’s… okay?”

“I just noticed you here and wondered if you needed a hand getting home?”

Dean realised the picture he must have painted. It was light now, but the sun was still low in the east, which meant it was still early. And he was passed out against a tree in the middle of a hiking trail. She’d probably come to the conclusion that he’d been out drinking last night before collapsing and crashing here on his way home.

“No,” He grumbled. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” The lady asked sweetly. “It’s early and I reckon someone might be missing you.”

Dean tensed up at her choice of words. Only children, Littles and Submissives were ‘missed’ by anyone. Which meant, for whatever reason, from looks alone, she had put him in one of those categories. But why?

He had a sudden horrifying thought that perhaps he’d wet himself while he’d been asleep - that had embarrassingly been happening more often than not lately - and she’d noticed. He stood up and took a shaky step forward to subtly check the condition of his trousers against his legs, but he was completely dry.

He couldn’t think of what else might have given him away, and he didn’t want her getting her nose stuck in a place it wasn’t needed, so he brushed her off in the best way he knew how.

He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to make himself seem larger than he was and tried to channel the cocky persona his father had forced him to create and live to trick the world into thinking he was a Neutral.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, lady,” He grunted, trying to sound like his old self instead of the panicked kid he felt like on the inside. He wasn’t sure how successful he was, but he carried on regardless. “But no one is ‘missing me’ . I’m a Neutral.”

“Oh,” She got to her feet slowly. The surprise in her voice sounded slightly feigned, but Dean barely focused on it. “I’m sorry; I just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought. I just saw you here and wanted to make sure you were okay, mostly.”

“Well, like I said - I’m fine,” Dean huffed, trying to come across as impatient and rude. Most people didn’t want to deal with rudeness and it was pretty much a sure way to get out of an unwanted situation fast - another thing he’d learnt from his father.

He took another step forward, in an attempt to wake up his legs which were throbbing with a terrible case of pins and needles. The slight movement made him become acutely aware of the slippers on his feet. No normal Neutral would be out this early, sleeping against a tree with slippers as their choice of footwear. He completely ignored it, in hopes that she would too - in hopes that she hadn’t yet noticed.

“Look, I might’ve had one too many last night,” Dean told her, almost coldly. He decided to play the ‘too-drunk-to-get-home-last-night’ card, in hopes that it would feed the thoughts he hoped she’d originally had about him when she first stumbled across him. “And I definitely didn’t mean to pass out against this fucking tree. But I’m going to head home now. If that's okay with you?”

“Oh,” This time, the woman seemed genuinely shocked at the almost harsh, sarcastic tone Dean’s voice had taken on. She took a few steps back, almost returning back to the path. “Yeah. I mean… sorry… for disturbing you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean scoffed to himself, turning his back on her and walking in the opposite direction as fast as he dared. He had no destination in mind, he just needed to move on and get away from this situation as quickly as possible.

He didn’t look back.

If he had, he would have seen the lady reach to her armband for her phone. He would have seen her thumb across the screen, looking for the social media post she’d read before she’d left for her run earlier that morning, to confirm her suspicions. He would have seen her dialling a number and holding the phone to her ear. He would have heard her quoting the reference number from his missing person’s case and would have heard her say the words;

“I think I just saw Dean Harrison.”

~Right Here All Along~

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but it had been dark when he’d left the hospital. Now though, the sun had well and truly risen and Dean knew that enough time had passed that someone would have noticed him missing by now.

There was no doubt that they’d have told his brothers and his Uncle; Dean knew that his family was going to be riddled with worry and would probably be angry too. Dean knew he would be if the roles were reversed. He just hoped they’d understand why he’d run.

The simple answer for that was, he’d panicked. There was no other word for what had happened.

Dean hadn’t been happy with the outcome of the meeting Sam and Bobby had attended, but he had honestly tried to accept it, knowing that his family had and were only doing their best for him. However, no matter how hard he tried, that knowledge hadn’t been enough to soothe his growing panic. And then they’d left, the three of them headed home after staying an hour later than they normally would, and that was when the creeping anxiety Dean had felt simmering started to boil.

Dean had tried to manage it by getting comfortable and trying to sleep, but his brain had refused to cooperate and had kept him awake with thoughts and visions of just what his future was going to look like.

Images of a dark, cold, concrete cell that would become his whole world if he stepped foot inside a Little Home. A foster Caregiver keeping him locked up in the cupboard under the stairs like some fucked-up version of Harry Potter. Never seeing the sun or the stars again because no matter where he was sent, they’d keep him inside, away from civilisation so that he couldn’t contaminate anyone else with the disgusting part of him that made him a Little.

He’d been unable to stop those thoughts from plaguing him, no matter how hard he’d tried to drag himself out of it. He knew it was all irrational and that Littles weren’t really shut away from the world, but his father had fed him every terrifying story that he could find or make up and now those stories were just fuelling his panic.

And of course, he was crying over it all; he shouldn’t have expected anything less from a stupid-ass Little.

But everything became too much when he’d turned over to bury his face in the dry side of his pillow and he felt his pyjama pants growing steadily wetter. He’d wet himself without even feeling the need to go, and he certainly hadn’t felt himself going either. But his PJs, bed sheets and mattress were soaked in pee and that had been the last straw.

He’d angrily thrown the wet sheets to the floor, stormed to the bathroom, haphazardly cleaned himself up and then dressed in record time. He wore the grey tracksuit bottoms Bobby had brought in for him the other day when he’d complained about not having any pants. The jumper that was 2 sizes too big for him, that actually belonged to Sam and had accidentally been left here when he’d gone home last night went on over his head. And the slippers the hospital had provided him when he’d first arrived, but hardly worn, went on his feet as they were the only footwear option he’d had available.

It took him less than 10 minutes to sort himself out, and without really thinking, Dean had left his room.

It had been easy getting out; the corridors were empty and the man who had been put in charge of the ward’s reception happened to be asleep at the desk, meaning Dean was able to slip out undetected. He’d then silently followed the signs to the exit, only passing the odd member of staff who barely glanced in his direction and had left the hospital without being stopped once.

He hadn’t planned it. Even when he’d been in the midst of his panic back in his room, he hadn’t thought about running. But here he was, and it felt good to be outside. Part of him was scared; he wanted to go crawling back to his room where it was warm and safe. But a bigger part of him, which was being ruled by adrenaline and anxiety saw him taking a few tentative steps before he was almost jogging to get away.

He’d thought about going home, but Bobby, Sam and Adam wouldn’t have let him hide there without telling someone where he was. He thought about the Impala - the car his dad was letting him use until Adam became old enough for it to be passed to him (because god forbid John Harrison passed down a family heirloom to a Little) - but he had no idea where it was. He’d driven it to work the day he had his seizure and he hadn’t thought to ask anyone where it was now.

So, with no idea where exactly to go, he’d just walked. His feet had led him through town, towards a popular hiking trail that went for miles and miles.

After he’d been out for a little while, the adrenaline started to wear off and he’d felt exhausted. He’d allowed himself a little reprieve against a tree, to try and pull himself together, but had found himself sinking to the floor so he could sit down. He’d barely been able to stay awake and he’d convinced himself that a 10-minute cat nap would do him the world of good. But 10 minutes had obviously turned into at least an hour, if not more, because he’d been waking up and the sun was up and the creepy lady, who’d seemed to have a sixth sense for his classification, was in front of him.

Dean had been dawdling for a few hours since then, sitting on benches and watching the world slowly start to wake up. He never stayed in one spot, and he wondered how long it would be until someone found him. He was starting to get cold and hungry too and he remembered how warm Sam’s arms were when he’d hugged him last night.

And the fact that he wanted someone here to wrap him up warm and take care of him scared him.

It was the sort of yearning that had once earned him 5 stripes from his Dad’s belt and no food for 3 days straight. He’d learned very quickly not to open up to his father, and to suppress not just physical reactions, but thoughts too - anything that might be even slightly considered ‘Little’ was shoved in a box, locked up tight and thrown into the ocean. It was the only way to make sure he was allowed food, the only way to make sure his father didn’t find a reason to beat him, and the only way to ensure he was there to care for his younger brothers because God knows their old man wasn’t going to be.

And that behaviour was still ingrained in him now; it wasn’t something that just went away. His father was locked away in police custody, but he was still terrified of him. The idea that John might discover Dean had been wetting himself, regardless of whether he’d had any control of it or not, was absolutely petrifying.

Dean just wanted it all to stop. The accidents, the tears, the emotions that felt too big for him to handle, the need to be held, the fear, the anxiety. And the only way he knew how to make it go away, was with suppressants.

Of course, Dean had no idea where he would be able to find some. It wasn’t like he could just walk into a pharmacy and ask for some; nor did he have the money for it even if he could. He wasn’t above stealing for them because he was desperate for them, but suppressants weren’t something pharmacies stocked. If someone had a prescription for them, they had to be ordered in especially.

And while he had once had a supply of them at home, he knew the police had raised them. Adam had told him all about how the police had shown up with a warrant to search every inch of their home in those first few days, to find anything they might be able to use as evidence to convict their father. And of course, they were thorough - they’d found his main stash in his sock drawer, and the backup stash in the hollowed-out book he had on the single shelf of books in his room. And because the suppressants in question were both illegal and completely vital to the case, they’d been seized.

And in terms of buying them off the black market, Dean wouldn’t know where to start. His father was the one who secured the drugs and brought them home, never divulging where he got them from - keeping Dean dependent on him, despite making it plainly obvious that he thought he was too much hassle and would rather be without him.

So, taking all of that into consideration, John was the only person Dean knew who had any knowledge of how he could get his hands on some of the damned things.

Dean tried so badly to convince himself that he didn’t need suppressants anymore, that they were just going to end up killing him in the long run. And no, despite everything, he didn’t want to die; but he didn’t know how he could embrace his Little side and survive either. He was scared of it all, and the only way he knew how to make that irrational fear go away was with 2 orange pills and a bottle of his favourite cheap beer.

He had no clue how long he spent trying to talk himself out of it, but the anxiety building inside of him again wouldn’t let him. He had to deal with this the only way he knew how, and if that meant facing the man who had put him in this mess in the first place, then so be it.

He stood abruptly from the bench he’d been sitting on, tucked away at the back of the park where no one really paid him any attention. As he walked, he kept to the shadows, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes in case they too recognised him as a Little.

When he got to the street, he paused for three beats. He looked left, in the direction of the hospital and willed himself to make the right choice and walk that way. But the voice of his father, calling him disgusting for wetting himself, whispered in his ear and Dean shuddered before turning right instead.

John would be embarrassed and repulsed at the sight of him, no doubt, especially considering that he was the reason the man was behind bars right now. But surely, some part of John would be proud of his son for using his initiative to find and take suppressants, wouldn’t he?

~Right Here All Along~

Jody looked up at the sound of the door opening and immediately recognised the kid approaching the desk. She took a few moments to ensure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

An email had been sent out early that morning, to every officer in the local force. It had included a picture of Dean Harrison’s face, which happened to match the face of the lad in front of her right now, and big red letters at the top of the page which announced him as ‘MISSING’ and a slither of information that declared he was ‘an extremely vulnerable, High-Level Little’ .

Jody hadn’t been working last night, but she’d heard all about how Dean had just up and left the hospital in the early hours of the morning, without a Caregiver or a Guardian and then pretty much vanished off the face of the Earth.

Half the police squad was out scouring the local area and chasing up calls and reported sightings of the boy in question. He could have been anywhere, anything could have happened to him.

And yet, here he was, walking into the police station like he hadn’t just caused widespread panic over his whereabouts for the past six hours.

“Hi there,” Jody greeted warmly. She was glad Dean was here, that he was safe and appeared to be unharmed, but something told her that he wasn’t here for help, or to turn himself in. So, with that in mind, she decided to play along and see where things went. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah… hi…” Dean greeted nervously, fidgeting slightly. There was a flash of uncertainty on his face before it disappeared, replaced with a look of determination. “You’ve got my Dad in custody; John Harrison. I’d like to visit him, please.”

Jody blinked, completely taken aback. That was the last thing she’d expected to hear.

John Harrison certainly was in police custody, but he wasn’t in the holding cells at the police station anymore - he hadn’t been for almost 4 days now. When he'd been denied bail, he'd been moved to the nearest prison where he would wait for his court date.

Not only that, but Jody had spent the morning reading up on the Harrison case; John Harrison had used and abused his son for the majority of his life… why would Dean want to visit him?

Something told her that Dean was going to do and say anything possible to get what he wanted. It didn’t sit right with her, but she kept up the facade a little longer in hopes he might divulge some more information on his intentions.

“Okay. Can I just get your name, please?”

“Um…” Dean glanced at his hands, then shook his head and looked back up again. “It’s Sam. Sam Harrison. I’m his son. I need to speak with him please, it’s really important.”

Jody nodded and jotted a few details down on the pad in front of her. She knew, from the case files she’d read, that Sam was Dean’s younger brother. Why would he pretend to be his brother? It made alarm bells ring in her head, and she realised that her instincts had been right - Dean wasn’t here to turn himself in.

“Okay, no worries, Sam. Help yourself to a drink, take a seat and I’ll see if I can get someone out here to help you.”

Dean looked around the reception area and clocked the drinks area and the hard plastic seats tucked up against the far wall.

“Thanks,” He smiled at her, clearly having to force his mouth to make the shape.

She nodded and picked up the phone and dialled the extension code that would patch her through to the Captain. As she waited for the call to be answered, she watched Dean approach the coffee machine and look over it with apprehension.

“Captain Smith,” The gruff voice of the Captain greeted her.

“Good morning, Sir,” Jody greeted. “It’s Officer Mills here. I’ve got Sam Harrison in reception.”

“Impossible. I just got off the phone with Sam Harrison and he was at home worrying about his brother.”

“Well,” Jody tried to subtly emphasise the words in hopes that the man on the other end of the line would catch on. “Sam’s here now and he wants to visit his father.”

There was an annoyed sigh down the phone and Jody could hear the clicking of a keyboard.

“Mills, Sam is at home. I told you, I just spoke to him. And besides, I think the last person he’d want to see is the man who…” There was a pause. “That’s… that’s not Sam…”

The Captain had clearly logged into the CCTV cameras and had realised just what Jody was trying to say.

“Son of a bitch… you do know that’s Dean Harrison; the Little we’ve been looking for all bloody morning?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jody nodded. The ‘I did read the email and I’ve been reading his case file all morning’ was left unsaid.

“Jesus. He just turned up here?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But… why?”

Jody shrugged at the camera above her and the Captain hummed in contemplation.

“Did he introduce himself as Sam?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And he wants to visit his father?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

Jody looked at the camera and raised her eyebrows. She wanted to respond, but doing so might alert Dean that they had worked out that he wasn’t really ‘Sam’ and then who knows how he’d react. He could make another run for it.

“Right, yeah,” The Captain acknowledged her lack of an answer. “Okay. I’ll be down in a minute. I’m going to call POLASS and let them know we’ve got him here. Then I’ll try and invite him up to my office to keep him shut away safe. If he agrees to that, I want you to inform the others that he’s been found and then get Jordan and Middleton over to the Harrison household to tell them the good news. And then once the POLASS social worker gets here, fill her in with what's happened here first, and then bring her on up.”

“Of course, Sir.”

With her acknowledgement, the line went dead. Jody placed the phone down and turned to Dean.

“Mr Harrison?” She called over to him. Dean jumped, dropping the thankfully empty cup; he still hadn’t worked the drinks machine out. “Someone will be down for you in a moment.”

Dean nodded, muttered quiet thanks and bent to retrieve the cup. He fumbled a little and then just decided to fill the cup with water.

Jody pretended to be busy, but she watched the lad out of the corner of her eye.

He took a large gulp of water, but he pulled the cup away too soon and at a slight angle, causing half of the water from the cup spilt down the front of his hoodie. He’d obviously not been expecting that to happen because he spluttered in shock, which caused some of the water in his mouth to dribble down his chin.

He quickly swallowed down the rest, then cursed quietly and turned his back on the reception desk in an attempt to hide. The paper cup was discarded on the side a little too hard, causing the rest of the contents to spill over the edges and onto the side. Dean grabbed a few tissues out of the box and started attempting to clean up his mess and then himself.

Despite being a Dominant herself, Jody’s heart went out to the boy and she just wanted to help him. She didn’t think that he would appreciate that though, and so bit her tongue and continued to pretend like she hadn’t seen anything.

It was only a few seconds later that the Captain appeared, like a whirlwind. He stopped for a second to assess the sight before him, glanced over to Jody who shrugged back at him and then approached the man in the corner.

“Mr Harrison?”

Dean turned around at the sound of his name. He crossed his arms over his chest, but it wasn’t for any other reason than to try and hide the wet patch there.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.”

“Captain Smith,” The Captain offered, holding his hand out for Dean to shake. Dean slowly unwrapped himself and took the man’s hand in his own, clearly trying not to draw attention to the fact that he’d spilt his drink down him. “Officer Mills tells me you want to see your Dad?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean nodded, voice strained. The boy was clearly nervous. “It’s... it’s really important. It can’t wait.”

“Okay,” The Captain nodded. “If you want to come through to my office, I can get you all caught up with your father’s case.”

“Wait…” Dean sniffed, crossing his arms again. He wasn’t playing it as cool as he thought he was. “I just… I just want to see him… I just need to ask him a question.”

“Of course. But first, I’ll need to explain where we are with your father’s case before we can arrange a visit.”

Dean looked over the Captain’s shoulder at Jody. The woman was tapping away at her laptop, documenting the conversation happening in front of her, in case they needed it for evidence. Dean didn’t know that though, as it appeared she was only busy doing her job and paying them no mind.

“Okay,” Dean admitted defeat. “But please, it’s got to be quick.”

~Right Here All Along~

Lucy Hopkins had been busy all morning, trying to find Dean a place in a secure Care Home. It was a last resort, something neither she nor Bobby Singer wanted for the boy, but at the moment, it was his only option; the only way they knew how to imminently keep him safe while they explored other avenues for his future.

However, the Care Homes she had tried so far were all completely full. Even North Star Care Home, the one Lucy had suggested to the boy’s Guardians only yesterday and which had definitely had spaces when she did, was now full.

And then, just when she was starting to lose hope, she’d received a call from Captain Smith. The relief she’d felt when the man uttered the words ‘Dean’s here. At the station. He’s safe.’ was immense. Dean had been missing for almost seven hours now and there had been serious concern over how far he could have travelled in that time, and what trouble he might have stumbled across.

Lucy had momentarily forgotten all about Care Homes. She’d packed up and made her way to the station in record time.

The lady on the desk introduced herself as Officer Jody Mills. She got someone to cover her and took Lucy into a back room where they could talk more openly.

Jody was kind and filled her in with more details of what exactly had happened since Dean had turned up, including how he pretended to be his younger brother and that he was requesting a visit with his father.

“A visit with his father?”

“That’s what he said,” Jody nodded. “Apparently it was really important.”

“I wonder what he was hoping to achieve by visiting him though?” Lucy mused aloud.

“Well, if I may,” Jody started, clearly with some ideas in mind but not wanting to overstep. Lucy waved her hand in invitation. “I’ve been reading John Harrison’s case file all morning. I believe there’s potential for Dean to be feeling some sort of survivor's guilt. And perhaps Dean feels at fault for his father’s arrest, and thinks to set things right again he needs to apologise.”

“Maybe…” Lucy contemplated.

“However,” Jody continued. “I understand that Dean has been finding it hard to accept his classification. Taking into account that he obviously felt he needed to run, the fact that he’s never, according to his file, been allowed to explore his Little side, and considering he’s been on suppressants pretty much all his life, I think it’s fair to make the assumption that… maybe Dean was looking at getting his hands on some more suppressants.”

“And he knows that his father knows the ins and outs of that trade,” Lucy sighed, clearly angry at just the thought of the black market. “That makes sense, unfortunately.”

“What will happen to Dean now?” Jody asked a few minutes later when she was leading Lucy towards the Captain’s office.

“It’s hard to say. He’ll have to go back to the hospital for now, where we’ll probably put him under 24/7 monitoring,” Lucy explained downheartedly. “The ultimate, dream goal is to find Dean a fosterer. A High-Level Caregiver who has experience in cases similar to Dean’s, who can help him settle and accept his headspace. However, someone like that is almost impossible to find. Then the only other option we’ve got is a Care Home.”

“I take it you don’t think Dean will adapt to a Care Home?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I think a Care Home will be too much for him and the pressure of ‘performing’ while surrounded by his peers will overwhelm him and force him to reject his headspace even more than he already does.”

“But…” Jody sounded almost heartbroken. “Dean’s file says he needs to drop, he needs to regress.”

“I know,” Lucy admitted woefully. “I’m just hoping I’m wrong and that Dean will flourish in a Care Home.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Jody asked as they came to a stop outside the Captain’s office door.

Lucy didn’t say anything in response, she just looked at Jody sadly and that was all the answer the woman needed.

“Wait.”

Lucy froze, hand inches away from the door, about to knock to announce her arrival. She glanced back at Jody, who had a look of determination on her face now.

“What if I could get you a Caregiver who fits all the criteria you need for Dean?”

“Then that would sort all our problems,” Lucy almost scoffed, feeling like the officer was almost teasing her. She slowly lowered her hand and fixed Jody with her undivided attention. “Why? Have you one hidden in your pocket or something?”

“No,” Jody shook her head, a small smile playing on her face at the social worker’s light jab. “But I do have this friend. He lives two states over, he’s a High-Level Caregiver and he used to foster Littles.”

“Used to?” Lucy asked apprehensively.

“He gave it up 6 months back now, with the intention of settling down with his own Little. But last I knew he wasn’t having any luck. He’s got a heart of gold and I’m sure if he heard about Dean he wouldn’t be able to say no.”

Lucy almost couldn’t believe her ears. Jody was basically offering her an answer to all her prayers. While it sounded amazing, it almost sounded too good to be true.

Jody knew it seemed silly to want to help a man she barely knew, but she’d read through Dean’s file and knew exactly what he’d been through. She could sympathise with him too, to a certain degree. Her own Submissive, Donna, had once been in an abusive relationship which had included consuming illegal suppressants at the insistence of her partner. And yet, after receiving some help to get out and to find a kind and caring dominant in Jody, Donna was now flourishing - she was a strong woman who was working her way up through the police academy and doing a damn good job at it too. And that, more than anything, is what made Jody more determined to help Dean, so that maybe one day, it could be him thriving.

“I tell you what,” Lucy decided, trying not to sound too giddy. “I’ll get Dean settled back at the hospital, and I’ll speak with my boss and Dean’s Guardian. I’ll explain your proposition, as well as insist that at the moment it’s just talk; just an idea. If it’s something he wants to explore, I’ll be in touch.”

~Right Here All Along~

Later that afternoon, Jody received a call from Lucy’s boss, Simone Walters, wanting some more details.

When Ms Walters had heard the name of Jody’s friend, she’d been pleasantly surprised. She didn’t know the man personally, but she knew him by name; he’s apparently helped many a Little who had come through POLASS’s care and the system had been devastated to lose such a great man when he’d retired from fostering.

Ms Walters then phoned her an hour or so later, after she’d spoken with Dean’s Guardian and gave her the official go-ahead to call her friend and ask him if he’d consider coming back to fostering one more time.

And just like she’d suspected, her friend hadn’t been able to refuse once he’d heard Dean’s story.

~Right Here All Along~

It had been two days since Dean’s escapades.

Dean was sat by the window, scowling out at the drizzly weather and wishing more than anything that he hadn’t stupidly walked into the police station in an attempt to see his father. He should have known they’d have his picture, that the second the hospital had noticed him missing they’d have got the police involved.

He was so mad at himself for not thinking straight about the whole situation, because now he was back in his hospital room, a guard on his door at all hours of the day and still no closer to getting any suppressants.

Adam was reluctantly at school after Dean had told him he shouldn’t sacrifice any more of his education for him. Adam tried to convince Dean that he was better off here than in school, but Dean could see right through him. Adam only trundled off to school when Dean promised him he was going to be right here when he got back, and that he wasn’t going to run away again.

Sam and Bobby had been called out of the room by Lucy about an hour earlier for another meeting. Dean had shouted profanities after them all, cursing about how it was unfair he couldn’t be a part of the meetings that were about him. He knew Sam felt guilty about it, by the way, he looked back at him and muttered a half-assed apology before disappearing out the door.

He hadn’t seen anyone since. And while he’d pretend that suited him fine, it actually didn't. He felt lonely and bored and he just wanted someone to hold him. He knew that was the Little side of him, and he tried to despise it, but he couldn’t.

“Dean?”

Dean spun round in his chair at the sound of his name being called. Stood just inside the threshold of the room was Sam, Bobby and Lucy. He felt a flash of anger at them.

“Finally done conspiring against me?” Dean spat, turning back around and glaring out the window again. “What have you discussed this time? Come to the decision that I’m too much work, maybe? Going to lock me away for good? Tell me that it’s with the best intentions or some other bullshit?”

“Dean…”

Dean didn’t glance up, but he observed Sam’s reflection in the window. He’d taken a step forward, as if to comfort him but stopped. The downtrodden look on his face made Dean instantly regret his words, but he couldn’t find it within himself to apologise.

“We’d like you to meet someone, Dean,” Bobby said instead, not acknowledging Dean’s outburst.

“I’m not in the mood to entertain guests,” Dean grumbled, a little kinder this time in a wordless attempt to apologise.

They didn’t listen to him, for the door opened and someone else was invited inside. Dean purposely didn’t look at the reflection in the window and instead watched a heavily pregnant lady climb out of a taxi on the street below and make her way towards the ER.

Whoever it was that entered the room had a huge presence because Dean felt drawn to them before even setting eyes on them. He had to fight so desperately to keep his eyes trained on the comings and goings of the people below instead of on the newcomer as they walked closer.

A hand came to rest gently on the back of his chair, and Dean glanced up on instinct to meet blue eyes. Whatever protest Dean had been about to sprout died in his throat as he found himself almost hypnotised by the kind face of the stranger who was crouching down beside him.

Dean’s ability to speak was lost, and he found himself unable to look away from the man in front of him. He was like a ray of sunshine, like everything he hadn’t known he’d been missing.

“Hello, Dean,” The man smiled up at him warmly and genuinely. Dean blinked; he wanted nothing more than to just fall into this man’s arms and let him soothe every worry and concern he’d ever had. “My name’s Castiel. And I’d like to be your Caregiver.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Six - The Caregiver

Dean stared at the man, almost dumbly, unable to find his voice to form a reply. Not that he knew how he’d respond, even if he could speak.

While just the presence of the man made Dean feel whole for the first time ever, it also terrified him. The man, Castiel, was the very embodiment of everything Dean had ever wanted but wasn’t allowed to have. And yet, here he was, like a temptation from the devil himself; like a slice of chocolate cake that Dean knew he’d never be able to taste.

If there was a God, he was cruel. He probably thought he was hilarious, dangling Castiel in front of Dean when He knew the eldest Harrison wouldn’t be able to accept him or what he was offering.

“What do you think, Dean? Does that sound okay?”

Dean just blinked at the man still crouched before him. Dean felt both relaxed and safe in a way he never had before. He felt whole for the first time ever and all from just being near Castiel. And yet, he was petrified; he didn’t know if his heart was thudding from fear or desire.

Castiel smiled kindly. He threaded his fingers together over the arm of Dean’s chair and rested his chin on top of them, not looking away from Dean once.

“Your brother and Uncle have told me all about you,” Castiel explained, his voice filled with wonder. “They’ve told me about how you’re kind, and funny, and brave!”

He paused for a beat before continuing, this time in a slightly sadder tone.

“They also told me that you are very poorly and that you need some help to get better again. Your family; well, they love you very much, Dean. And having spoken with them, I know that they would do anything in their power to help you get better. But they can’t help you in the way that you need, can they?”

Dean swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat, but still could not find his voice. Castiel seemed unfazed by his lack of response and carried on, not at all unkind or condescending.

“No,” The man shook his head, to answer his own question. “But that’s not their fault. They know, and I know that their bodies and minds just don’t work the same way as mine and yours. And that’s okay, we all need different things in life. Your brother and Uncle know that too. That’s why they called me.”

Dean almost looked over at the men in question, but then Castiel tilted his head to the side and Dean found himself copying the action unintentionally. Castiel’s face lit up when he realised what had happened, but he didn’t outwardly acknowledge it other than that.

“They called me because they know you need something that they physically can’t give you,” Castiel went on. “Because they know that what you need is the kind of love and attention you can only get from a Caregiver. I’m truly honoured that they think I can be that person for you, that they think I can help you get better again.”

Dean blinked twice before Castiel spoke again.

“I’d like to help you, Dean. I’d like to be your Caregiver.”

Moments ago, Dean had been dreaming of suppressants. Now he was being offered the very thing he’d almost never dared to hope for. It was certainly something he thought he’d never get. And yet, it was almost like a nightmare. He couldn’t even entertain the idea of accepting, because he wasn’t allowed to be Little. It went against everything he knew, and it scared him.

“I need to sort a few more things out with your family, and your social worker now, okay?” Castiel paused long enough for Dean to respond or object if he wanted to; of course, he stayed stubbornly silent. “But I will be back here tomorrow morning, in time for breakfast!”

Dean’s whole face turned down as he realised what those words meant; Castiel was about to leave him. He opened his mouth slightly, in an attempt to speak, but nothing came out; not that Dean knew whether he’d be begging the Caregiver to stay or telling him to piss off.

“I’m not going far,” Castiel hummed. “If you need me, or want me at any point between now and tomorrow morning, you just tell one of the nice doctors or nurses and they’ll give me a ring. And I’ll be here as quick as I can, okay?”

Dean’s vision went glassy and unshed tears stung his eyes. There were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around inside of him that Dean wasn’t sure what the tears were for. Probably because the Caregiver was telling him he was leaving, potentially in heartbreak for the thing he couldn’t ever accept, or maybe just in fear of everything he was being offered.

Cas reached across to rub gentle circles on Dean’s exposed forearm, and he smiled comfortingly. Dean jolted at the soft touch but didn’t pull away; he looked down at his wrist where the Caregiver was touching him before glancing back up to the man’s blue eyes.

“It’s okay to be scared Dean,” Castiel shushed, as if he was able to read everything going through Dean’s mind. “I get scared sometimes too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. This is all just so new and uncertain, isn't it? But you’re not alone in this. I promise you, Dean, we will tackle this… together.”

Dean’s eyes were wide and wet as he listened to the Caregiver’s words. He wasn’t sure how to take them. Castiel was a complete stranger - they’d literally only just met; but the way he was talking, it as was as if Castiel believed their bodies and minds were intertwined already, which was crazy. Yet, something inside of Dean liked the idea of not having to face his uncertain future alone, he liked the sound of having someone like Castiel there with him every step of the way.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, sweet boy,” Castiel reiterated tenderly as he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

Dean made a quiet keening noise at the back of his throat and Castiel’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. Dean looked up at him and watched as Castiel’s whole face softened.

“I don’t have to go,” Castiel explained, voice barely above a whisper. “I can speak with your brother and your Uncle and then I can come back?”

Dean wanted so desperately to say yes, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Sure, a big part of him wanted to feel Castiel’s arms wrap around him and let the Caregiver just take care of everything for a while. But a bigger part of him stayed stubborn and defiant - his father had taught him how to live without a Caregiver, how to suppress his instincts and it wasn’t something he could just switch off; he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to anyway.

So, with that in mind, for the first time since the Caregiver had walked into the room, Dean responded. He didn’t say a word, but a minute shake of his head seemed to get the message across.

“Okay,” Castiel acknowledged, sounding almost sad and making Dean feel a small stab of guilt. “You just let someone know if you change your mind, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean.”

Dean watched almost in desperation as Castiel turned and walked away from him. It was almost painful, and Dean nearly called after him in an attempt to get him to stay - to tell him he’d changed his mind and wanted him to come back. But then Castiel passed by Sam and Bobby and Dean’s mouth snapped shut, the words dying in his throat instantly.

Sam looked over at him with sad, heavy eyes. Dean sniffed and turned back to the window.

“We’ll be back in a minute, son,” Bobby explained calmly, his voice sounding too gruff now compared to Castiel’s soft one.

Dean chose not to respond, staying stubbornly silent as everyone quietly piled out of the room after the Caregiver. When his visitors were gone, Dean just stared aimlessly out of the window, not moving until his emotions got too big to hold back anymore. He shifted into a more comfortable position in his chair, pulled his legs to his chest and started sobbing into his knees.

~Right Here All Along~

When Lucy had first mentioned two days ago, completely out of the blue, that she might have found a Caregiver to foster Dean, neither Sam nor Bobby could believe it. It was like all their prayers had been answered.

Lucy had rushed through an initial appointment between them all early yesterday morning so they could all meet and discuss the potential of Castiel taking on the job. Sam had known within the first two minutes that this was the Caregiver he wanted for Dean. The man had listened to Dean’s story, asked relevant questions and explained some of how he’d fostered other Littles before, who, like Dean, hadn’t had the best start in life.

That afternoon a POLASS officer had gone around to Castiel’s house to assess it and ensure it was ready and safe for Dean. The Caregiver had invited Sam and Bobby along too so that they could see the house that Dean would soon be calling home for the foreseeable future.

As Castiel had only been out of fostering for just over half a year, it didn’t take long to get him set back up. Lucy and her boss, Simone pushed things through even quicker than normal too, due to how severe they classed Dean’s situation; they wanted Dean with Castiel full-time ASAP.

Lucy had called another meeting this morning, with the intention of going over the contract that would be put in place between POLASS, Castiel and Dean’s Guardian. They also went over the real nitty-gritty details that Castiel might need to help him care for Dean to the best of his ability. Sam had been worried that the Caregiver might have been scared off when he properly understood how Dean was currently dealing with everything and just how against his headspace he really was. But the man had just taken it all in his stride and reassured Sam by outlining some of the ways he hoped to help Dean while the Little was in his care.

Although Castiel seemed like the perfect foster Caregiver for Dean, there was still the potential that the two might be incompatible; it was unlikely considering they were both High-Level, but it wasn’t impossible. So, before the contract was signed, Sam and Bobby cautiously introduced Dean to Castiel.

“Okay, that went awful,” Sam declared with a disappointed sigh as they all returned to the meeting room they’d been conducting business in these last few days. It was clear he believed that Dean and Castiel weren’t a good match and was concerned about what was going to happen now.

“Actually, I thought that went rather well,” Castiel smiled encouragingly as he went around the table and took his original seat. “In fact, considering what you’d all told me beforehand I think it went a lot better than any of us expected. Not because I thought we weren’t going to be compatible, but because I was expecting there to, at the very least, be shouting and cursing.”

“Oh sure,” Sam agreed, sitting in the chair across the table from the Caregiver. Sam had expected Dean to lob something across the room and try and escape again. “But he didn’t say anything .”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. And it doesn’t mean that Dean and Castiel aren’t a match,” Lucy explained kindly. “In fact, it means just the opposite. What you just witnessed was Dean’s body and mind recognising Castiel as a compatible Caregiver. In response, Dean’s brain let out a sudden influx of the parva hormone he so desperately needs. His body didn’t know how to react to it properly, hence his inability to speak.”

“He certainly responded to me,” Castiel tried to reassure Sam in a warm tone. “I have cared for a good few neglected and abused High-Level Littles in my time and not once have I garnered such a strong reaction.”

“Sam,” Bobby put his hand on his nephew's shoulder. “Dean couldn’t even look away from Castiel. They’re compatible; this will work; Dean will get better, okay?”

Sam looked at Bobby with eyes and took a deep breath.

“I just worry about him,” He whispered.

“He’s your brother,” Castiel spoke quietly, but completely understandably. “Of course, you’re worried about him. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t.”

Castiel smiled kindly, and continued;

“You’re a Dominant Sam, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have the compulsion to care for and protect your brother, even though he’s a Little. In fact, I should think that considering everything that has happened this past week, your base instincts have gone haywire.

Everything you thought you knew about Dean a week ago has been turned on its head and you’re now facing a new reality - a different future, perhaps, than the one you expected, not just for yourself but for both your brothers too. You’re going to be the Head of your family very soon, and that is a lot of pressure for anyone, let alone for an 18-year-old. Before you even properly inherit that title, you are, and rightly so, helping your Uncle decide on what is best for Dean. To keep him alive, you are having to sign over your rights as his upcoming Guardian to a stranger you met only two days ago.”

Castiel’s look softened as Sam’s eyes started to shine in much the same fashion as his brother’s had only moments previously.

“You are having to blindly put all your faith and trust in me to care for your brother in the way he needs to be cared for. And while I know there is not much I can say or do to ease much of your concern and worry, I can say this. He will be in safe hands with me; I will care for and love Dean with all my heart, which is the very least he deserves. And I promise to do everything in my power to help him back to full health.”

Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat, his Adam's-apple bobbing as he nodded. He blinked away the tears and sniffed.

“Thank you,” He whispered, then coughed to clear his throat. He looked up at Bobby and confidently asked. “Shall we sign the contract then?”

~Right Here All Along~

Castiel arrived at the hospital the next morning, with a bounce in his step and butterflies in his tummy.

It had been nearly seven months since he’d had a Little in his home full-time and there was no denying that he was excited. But he was also riddled with nerves. It was always nerve-wracking bringing a Little home for the first time. But, Cas also knew that by lunch time he’d be feeling happy and content again, and he’d be wondering why on Earth he’d been anxious in the first place.

Castiel stopped briefly to sign himself in at the reception and then made his way towards Dean’s hospital room. He stopped just outside of it to greet the security guard that was stationed there to make sure a certain someone didn’t put himself in more danger by trying to leave again.

“You had an easy night, I hope?” Castiel asked dubiously as he glanced through the window of the room.

Dean looked pissed off, sitting in the middle of the bed with his arms crossed as Sam clearly lectured him. The younger Harrison was standing at the end of the bed, arms moving about to express himself. Adam, the youngest Harrison who Cas had only met for the first time briefly yesterday afternoon, was sat next to Dean, looking teary-eyed. The boy’s Uncle was sitting in the hospital chair next to the bed, resting his chin in his hand as he observed the scene before him.

“Yeah, how about no?” The guard laughed, not unkindly. “He tried to leave 3 times before he gave up. He seemed to come to the realisation that no matter how many times he tried, someone was going to be here to stop him from getting any further. I don’t think he’s slept very much at all though.”

“Ah, well,” Cas shrugged with a shine in his eye as he looked away from the window and back at the guard. “A couple of naps will sort that, won’t it?”

The guard said nothing more, but he chuckled at the Caregiver. He stepped to the side so that Castiel could knock on the door to announce his arrival.

Cas watched as every head inside the room turned to look at the door. Dean was starstruck the second he recognised Cas through the window of the door. Sam had stopped speaking, eyebrows furrowed at the disruption, but when he realised who it was, he smoothed his features and waved Cas in.

Castiel took a deep breath to calm his shaky nerves and then pushed the door open.

“Good morning,” Castiel greeted with a big smile. He put down the paper bag he’d brought with him and started shaking his coat off. “How are we all this morning?”

“Sam and Adam were just about to leave for school, weren’t you boys?” Bobby prompted before anyone else could say anything. Sam scowled at his Uncle but nodded and reached to his feet where his school bag was.

“Dean hasn’t slept,” Sam dobbed his brother in, as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

Dean looked away from Castiel for the very first time in his presence, his head snapping towards his brother.

“I already told you,” Dean hissed, balling his hands into fists. “I did sleep!”

“You had what? 30 minutes?” Sam asked, clearly trying to keep his cool in front of Castiel, but mostly failing. “That’s barely a catnap!”

As child number 3 of 5, Castiel could see that Sam and Dean were arguing in exactly the way siblings do. Sam might be due to become the Head of the Harrison family, but he was first and foremost a brother and brothers bickered with each other all the time. He was also only a teenager, with barely any life experience and this situation the Harrison children had suddenly been forced into wasn’t exactly a calming one. So, Castiel really couldn’t hold Sam’s reaction against him.

“You are not my father,” Dean spat in response. “I am more than old enough to decide my own sleeping habits. If I wanted your opinion on the matter, I’d ask for it.”

“C’mon boys,” Bobby sighed, shifting to the edge of his seat. “That’s enough now.”

Sam looked over at his Uncle and then back at Dean. He sighed and nodded in resignment.

“You’re right, that’s enough,” Sam decided, sounding remorseful. He readjusted his bag strap and stepped closer to the bed. “You’re going with Castiel today and all I’ve done is lecture you. I’m sorry.”

“Wait…” Dean blinked as Sam’s words registered. He looked at Cas quickly, then Bobby and then back at Sam. “What? Today?”

“Yeah, today,” Sam confirmed. “We went over this last night.”

“You never told me it would be so soon!”

“What did you expect?” Sam snapped the agitation from before back in full force. “You’re dying Dean. You literally need Castiel.”

“I’m not going - you can’t make me.”

“I hate to do so, but yes we can,” Sam explained in a harsh tone. “If we didn’t, POLASS would remove you from our care and shove you in a home for Littles. This is the better end of the fucking bargain.”

“I don’t need a Caregiver.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Enough,” Bobby spoke, voice like a whip crack. It garnered the attention of the three boys in the room. “Dean, your brother is right. If we hadn’t made this choice for you, the state would have. And there’s no saying where they would have put you, or what they’d have drugged you up with. We haven’t made this decision lightly, but what’s done is done. You’ve seen the contact. Castiel is currently your temporary Guardian. I’m sorry son, but you will be going home with him today.”

Dean silently fumed at his Uncle for a minute before he pushed himself out of bed. He stormed past Sam without a word and threw himself in the chair by the window.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Castiel,” Sam sighed, running his hand down his face, clearly in regret. “ It’s not an excuse, but I’ve been up half the night too; stressing about my exam today, stressing about Dean and Dad and I just…”

“It’s okay,” Cas reassured him softly, completely understanding the pressure these boys were under. Cas nodded in the direction of Dean. “Hopefully, I can help a bit now, yeah?”

Sam nodded slowly and then made his way over to Dean. He crouched down next to the chair in much the same way Cas had done yesterday and spoke quietly to his brother.

“I’m sorry. I am. I feel like a dick. Yes, I want you to come home, but more than that - I want you to get better. I’m so sorry that this is the way it has to be.”

“You’re abandoning me,” Dean grumbled, not looking away from the window.

“No, Dean. I promise we’re not.”

“But you’re basically pawing me off to some stranger because I’m too much work.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed sadly. “I literally can’t be what you need. None of us can; because if we could, we would - I swear. Castiel on the other hand… he’s exactly what you need. And me and Bobby helped screen him. Sure, we didn’t have many options exactly, but I wasn’t just going to agree to any old Caregiver. I ran him through the mill before I decided we were making the right decision. I’m not going to send you off with someone I don’t trust.”

Dean sniffed but said nothing.

Sam reached out and took Dean’s hand in his. He squeezed it comfortingly.

“Just wait; everything’s going to be okay,” Sam told him confidently. “I’ll phone you after school, okay?”

Dean nodded mutely and then Sam was engulfing him in an awkward sideways hug.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Sammy,” Dean mumbled into the younger boy's hair.

As Sam stood up, Dean found himself with a lapful of Adam who immediately started crying into his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” Adam sobbed.

“I’ll miss you too,” Dean shushed, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes. He ran his hands through Adam’s hair in the same way he always used to when the boy was younger. “But I’m going to be okay. I promise.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to call you later too, okay?”

“Good; I want to hear all about how your day went.”

The three brothers shared a few more minutes together before Sam declared that they needed to make their way to school before they were late. The goodbyes were long and teary, but soon enough they were gone.

“Dean,” Bobby spoke after a few moments of silence. He stood up and moved over to stand beside his eldest nephew. “I’m going to make a move; is that okay?”

Dean shrugged.

“Hey, you can call me any time day or night, for anything, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean whispered. “Thank you.”

Bobby patted Dean’s shoulder. After a few more kind, encouraging words, Bobby gathered up his coat, got Castiel to promise to keep him updated throughout the day and then he too disappeared.

Dean brought his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.

Castiel watched him for a few seconds, wondering how Dean was feeling. He probably felt like he’d been dumped by those who were supposed to love him most, but unfortunately, this was a stage that needed to happen. It had been agreed yesterday that the family would be here when he arrived and then they would all then start making their way out. They had decided to transition his care from family to Castiel in the early morning so that Sam and Adam could leave with the excuse of school and Dean might not feel like he was being completely abandoned by them.

“So, you didn’t sleep much last night, huh?”

“Piss off,” Dean muttered, although the words didn’t seem to hold much meaning. Even if they had, it wouldn’t have deterred Cas; he’d had worse words thrown his way doing this job.

“You must be tired,” Cas carried on, moving across the room. He perched himself on the windowsill, facing Dean.

“I’m not,” Dean groaned. “I’m not tired.”

“Okay. How about some breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry either.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Castiel declared cheerfully. “What would you like to have?”

“I told you. I’m not hungry.”

“I know,” Castiel carried on, completely ignoring the grumpy boy momentarily. “I’ll order you some toast with jam.”

“You’re not listening,” Dean snapped, his legs dropping back down again. “I’m not hungry.”

“Hey,” Cas soothed, moving closer. He spoke as if he was talking to a two-year-old, or a Little, and was surprised when Dean didn’t react to the tone. “I am listening, sweet boy. I will always listen.”

Dean looked up at him glumly and wearily, like he didn’t believe him and that broke Castiel’s heart. The poor boy had been through a lot.

“And I hear you. You’re not hungry. And that’s more than okay. I’m still going to order you some toast -” He paused when Dean opened his mouth to argue. Castiel said nothing, but he raised his eyebrow and was impressed when the Little sunk back into his chair silently. “- But I’m not going to force you to eat it, not even a bit. But I know you might change your mind in a minute and then breakfast is going to be there already if you do want it. And if you don’t, that’s okay too; we can have some snacks later, okay?”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled.

It didn’t take long for the toast to arrive. It wasn’t buttered, and Dean watched as Castiel spread the butter and jam on the bread with such care and attention, like it was the most important job in the world.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered when Cas handed him the paper plate.

“You’re more than welcome, sweet boy,” Castiel smiled at him, pressing a soft hand into Dean’s hair.

With the toast now in front of him, Dean couldn’t deny he was hungry. He considered not eating it though, out of principle, to prove a point, but his tummy rumbled and he quickly vetoed that idea and took a bite out of the top slice.

“Good boy,” Castiel praised, wholeheartedly.

Dean felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment, but his heart soared at the praise.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven - The Diaper

Castiel perched himself back on the large windowsill and gave Dean his full attention.

“Once you’ve finished breakfast,” He explained softly as Dean slowly munched his way through his first slice of toast. “We’ll see the doctor about formally discharging you, then we’ll gather your things and start making our way home.”

“Home,” Dean echoed back, his voice almost a whisper. He said the word like it was foreign and he was only just hearing it for the first time. He fixed Cas with a weary look. “Where’s home?”

“It’s a small town on the Nebraska-Kansas border, called Cosleton,” Cas offered kindly, voice filled with pride as he spoke. “It’s a sweet little town; I’ve lived there my whole life. Everyone is kind, and friendly, and the crime rates are fairly low. I live in a quieter neighbourhood, on the outskirts of town. If the weather is good, the backyard gets sun from dawn to dusk - although, that doesn’t seem to help my abysmal vegetable patch none.”

Castiel chuckled to himself at the thought of his veg patch and the very few things he’d managed to grow successfully since he’d first brought the house 5 years back.

“The house isn’t massive,” He continued. “But it’s got three decent-sized bedrooms; one of them will be yours, of course. If you don’t like how it’s decorated, we can change it.”

“I like blue,” Dean muttered. He’d eaten one slice of the toast, but couldn’t bring himself to eat the other.

“Blue is a good colour,” Castiel agreed enthusiastically. “Your room is grey and white at the moment, but if you like, we can paint it blue!”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but he froze, the words catching in his throat. Talking about decorating a bedroom to match his tastes felt like setting down roots; Dean did not want that.

“I’m done,” He told the Caregiver, handing him back the paper plate and the half-eaten breakfast. “I don’t want any more.”

“That’s okay; that should be enough to carry you over till snack time,” Castiel smiled at the boy as he took the plate. “I’ll get rid of this and I’ll see if I can get the doctor to come round and see us. Why don’t you start gathering your things, huh?”

Castiel left the room and was gone for all of two minutes.

He wasn’t expecting Dean to follow his suggestions, knowing that the boy wasn’t exactly excited to come home with him.

But, when he got back, Dean was out of the chair, rummaging around in his bag of clothes as if his life depended on it. There was an air of panic in the room that hadn’t been there before, and Dean looked close to frustrated tears.

Although, from his angle, Cas couldn’t see Dean’s wet trousers, he could smell the faint scent of fresh urine and knew immediately what must have happened when he’d momentarily left the room.

Sam, Bobby, Lucy and Dr Spencer had all, on separate occasions over the past two days, explained Dean’s aversion to the diapers he obviously needed. So, Castiel had been under no illusions that Dean had been wearing one this morning; this accident was really not a surprise.

What Dean didn’t know was that Castiel had a rule regarding diapers and Little boys who had accidents as frequently as Dean did.

“Get out,” Dean snapped, the second Cas stepped back into the room.

“Dean?” Cas asked, gently, deciding to play dumb. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

“Get out,” Dean shouted. “Get the fuck out! Leave me the fuck alone!”

“I can see something’s upset you,” Castiel spoke calmly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“ No. I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” Dean hissed, snatching up the first change of clothes he could get his hands on and storming towards the bathroom. “What I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone!”

“You had an accident, didn’t you?” Castiel broached the subject since Dean hadn’t exactly hidden the clean trousers and boxers he had in his hand. Cas stepped across the room to follow the Little.

Dean said nothing in response, but the bathroom door slammed shut in Cas’ face said enough.

Castiel tutted and opened the door again before Dean could flick the lock of the other side and completely shut him out. Cas felt like a right ass for so obviously invading the man’s privacy in this way, but unfortunately, this was another bridge they were going to have to cross sooner or later, and Castiel knew that this was an issue better tackled as early on as possible.

“Dean…” Castiel started, with the intention of apologising and explaining himself, but he had to duck instead when Dean lobbed a slipper his way. Cas moved just in time for it to go sailing past his head and land somewhere behind him in the hospital room, with a dull flop.

“Get out!” Dean screamed, his green eyes round and wet. His clean clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, and Cas could now clearly see the large wet patch on the trousers Dean was currently wearing. “Get out ! Leave me alone!”

Before Castiel could respond, Dean collapsed on the floor and started wailing. The tears came thick and fast and the heartwrenching cries that came from Dean’s mouth resonated deep within Cas and called urgently to his Caregiver.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas breathed, feeling his heart break at the sight of the boy. He crossed the bathroom floor, unthinkingly lowered himself down next to Dean and moved to wrap his arms around the Little.

“ Noooo ,” Dean howled through his tears. He tried to push the Caregiver away, but his attempt was weak and Castiel merely shushed him and pulled him into his lap, ignoring the poor boy’s wet trousers, and hugged him tightly.

Castiel understood that Dean was truly distraught and confused, and most likely was having some really conflicting thoughts. There was no doubt that Dean wanted to deny who he was and what he needed, and one of the many ways he would try to continue doing that was by holding Castiel at arm’s length - both literally and metaphorically. But all Cas could feel was Dean’s Little desperately calling out to him and all he could see was a poor, hopeless babe who just needed a Daddy to scoop him up and make everything better.

As soon as Dean was completely surrounded by the feeling and the scent of the Caregiver, he quickly gave up on his hopeless fight. Now, instead of pushing Castiel away he clutched tightly to his top and pushed his face into the man’s shoulder so he could sob loudly and openly.

“Alright, alright,” Cas cooed, rubbing circles on Dean’s back in an attempt to both ground him and soothe him. “You’re okay, sweet boy. I’ve got you; you’re okay.”

For some time, it was just Castiel and Dean, on the bathroom floor. Dean cried and sobbed, making a decent-sized wet patch on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel just continued holding the Little tightly and kept quietly reassuring him, until eventually, Dean started to calm.

“There we go,” Castiel praised quietly, rocking himself, and by extension, Dean, from side to side. “There’s a good boy. You’re okay.”

Slowly, Dean’s body started to go limp and heavy in Cas’ arms and his breathing started to slow. Castiel wanted nothing more than to let the boy have a much-needed nap, but he also needed him to be wearing a diaper before that could happen.

“Okay, sweetheart,” He coaxed, gently guiding the Little off his shoulder. Dean complained with a deep, low whine and Cas chuckled at him kindly.  “I know, you’re just a tired boy; I know. You can sleep soon, sweetheart, but we need to get you cleaned up and in a diaper before you get sore.”

Cas didn’t need to dissect his words to know which one caused Dean to jolt back to reality.

“No,” Dean mumbled, sounding beyond exhausted. He sluggishly pushed himself out of the Caregiver’s lap and started gathering up his clean clothes on his hands and knees. “I don’t need… I’m not a baby; I don’t need diapers.”

“I know that you want to believe that, Dean,” Castiel acknowledged tenderly and carefully. “But you just had an accident, sweet boy.”

“Fuck you,” Dean snapped, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up more. “I didn’t… I didn’t have an accident. I just didn’t make it in time.”

“That’s okay, sweet boy. These things happen,” Castiel reassured him, choosing not to explain that Dean's excuse was basically the definition of a 'wet accident'. He stood up and brushed himself down. “That’s why we’ll get you in a nice, cosy diaper. That way then if you don’t make it the next time, your pants won't be wet.”

“But I don’t need diapers,” Dean whined, throwing his head back in exactly the same fashion an overtired toddler would. He was still sitting on the floor, clutching his clean pyjama bottoms like they were his lifeline and there were tears in his eyes again.

“Hey,” Cas shushed him, crouching down in front of Dean and laying his hands over the Little’s. “I know you’re scared, sweet boy; you have every right to be. I know you’ve been lied to in the past, but diapers aren’t as terrible or horrible as you think they are. There are many people who need them, and not all of them are Littles.”

Dean scowled at him, and then his bottom lip wobbled.

“But I don’t need them,” Dean tried to reiterate with a frown.

“Yes, you do,” Castiel told him sadly. “And it’s more than okay that you do. Sometimes, we need things that help us in life, and you need diapers. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Dean closed his eyes and the tears that had been stinging his eyes moments ago started trickling down his cheeks.

“Come on,” Cas continued, pushing himself back up to his feet again. “You can’t stay in these wet trousers any longer.”

His voice was soft and understanding, but confident with a slight undercurrent of firmness so that Dean knew that Castiel had decided on the outcome of this little debate.

Dean blinked up at him, and it was clear he was trying to formulate an argument, but before he could, Castiel continued.

“We’re going to go to the changing table, I’m going to clean you up and put you in a diaper.”

“No,” Dean complained, voice hard.

“Yes,” Castiel contradicted, not too fused at the obvious tantrum he was dealing with.

Dean was going to put up many a fight during his time in Castiel’s care, especially at the beginning; Cas knew that. Castiel also knew that the diapers were going to cause the biggest, hardest and longest battle.

He’d done all he could right now to try and convince the Little that the diapers weren’t something to fear or despise; that they weren’t bad or scary. But Cas knew that the fight was far from over. It would take time, and exposure, for Dean to start accepting the diapers. But Cas was nothing, if not patient.

“No,” Dean repeated, from the floor. “Get out. I’m going to change.”

“Would you like to shower?” Cas asked, hearing but not responding to Dean’s words. He moved across the bathroom to the cabinet, where he’d been told there would be diapers in three different sizes. “Or do you just want to wipe yourself down?”

“I want you to leave,” Dean said, finally clambering to his own feet. He swayed for half a second before steadying himself and crossing his arms. “I want you to get out, and leave me to it. I can clean myself up.”

“Shower, or wipes?” Castiel asked again, looking over his shoulder as he picked out a tub of baby powder and a medium-sized diaper. They were rather medical looking and were nowhere near as snazzy as the cartoon ones he had at home, but they would do the job momentarily until he could get Dean home. “Choose, please, or I will choose for you.”

“No. You’re not my Dad!”

“No, but I am your Caregiver,” Castiel informed him, turning around to look at him. His tone wasn’t unkind, but it was solid and to the point. “So I’ll ask you one more time; shower or wipes?”

“I want to shower,” Dean grunted in response, voice subdued before he reared back up in an attempt to compromise. “But I can do it myself. You can leave.”

“You can do it yourself,” Castiel agreed, nodding towards the shower. “But I am not leaving. You are half asleep as we speak, it would be negligent of me to leave you unsupervised in such a state.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“And then,” Castiel continued, over Dean’s remark. “If you need or want help, I’m here.”

“I am not getting my junk out for you.”

“You can go behind the shower curtain to get undressed if that makes you feel better,” Castiel shrugged. “But you don’t have nothing I don’t have; and nothing I won’t see when it’s time to put your diaper on.”

“ I’m not putting a diaper on ,” Dean emphasised every word, through gritted teeth.

“Why don’t you shower first, and we’ll chat about this after, hmm?”

Dean mumbled to himself and stomped his way towards the shower in the corner and hid himself behind the curtain. His dirty clothes came off and were thrown to the ground just outside the shower.

When the shower went on, Castiel moved forward and picked up the soiled clothing, folding them up to put them in a separate bag to be washed when they got home.

Dean didn't take his time in the shower. He dried himself off behind the curtain and then emerged, the white towel wrapped around his waist.

“There he is,” Castiel smiled. “All nice and clean again!”

“I need my clothes,” Dean grunted.

“You need a diaper first,” Castiel reminded him.

“I do not .”

“I have a rule, for when you’re in my care, Dean,” Castiel hummed, his voice firm but still kind. “Do you want to hear it?”

“No.”

“Ah, well. That’s a shame. Never mind then.”

Dean watched Castiel uncertainly for a moment, sure that the Caregiver was playing him, that any minute he was going to tell Dean the rule anyway, regardless of whether Dean wanted to hear it or not. But, when the man busied himself, picking up Dean’s clean clothes and putting them neatly by the changing table, Dean found the curiosity eating away at him.

“What is it?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s the stupid rule?”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t call it stupid. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it was the most important rule.”

Castiel knew he was winding the boy up, but he wasn’t going to take it any further; he had an inkling that the boy might be able to take some teasing when he wasn’t in such a foul mood, but that wasn't today. Dean needed a diaper before he wet again, or worse, and then he needed a good, long nap.

“What’s the damn rule?”

“Little bums, at least in my care, should always be padded.”

Dean felt like punching something. He should have seen that coming. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from a man who wanted to reduce him to nothing more than a drooling, baby incapable of even pissing in the toilet. He silently fumed, turning his back to the man and pulled tightly on his hair.

He had a headache from all the crying he’d done already today, and yet he just felt like crying again. Dean hated how quick to tears he was nowadays, but the last 24 hours took the piss. He felt like he’d cried more in the last day than he had in his whole life.

“Hey,” Castiel cooed, coming up beside Dean and reaching up to take his hands in his own. He squeezed them gently until Dean loosened the grip on his hair. “Come now. Everything’s going to be okay. I know it’s scary right now, but things will get better. And, as I promised you yesterday, you’re not in this alone. I’m going to be here with you, every single step of the way.”

Dean slowly lowered his hands back to his sides and then turned to Castiel.

“But I don’t want a diaper.”

“I know, sweet boy,” Castiel shushed, running his fingers through Dean’s hair and soothing down the areas of the boy’s scalp he’d just tugged at. Dean practically melted under the touch. “It’s a big step, a scary step. But it’s one we’re going to make together, okay?”

Dean nodded, but the movement was so slight that if Cas wasn’t close enough, if Cas didn’t literally have his hands on the boy's head, he would have missed it.

“Okay,” Cas repeated, taking his hands back, trailing them down Dean’s arms and taking the boy’s hands in his own. “Are you ready, then?”

Dean closed his eyes against Cas’ intense stare. Everything inside him was telling him to run, to fight, to not submit. He didn’t want to admit defeat in their fight over the diapers, but he was so tired and Castiel was being so kind, and Dean found himself nodding again.

Cas felt his heart do a happy backflip. He’d been starting to think that he might have to really take the reigns soon and lift Dean onto the changing table involuntarily. He had no doubt that there were going to be times in the future, both near and far, when he would have to do that; but right here and right now, this was a huge step in the right direction.

“Good boy,” Castiel praised quietly, leading the boy away from the shower area and towards the corner of the room where the changing table was tucked away. “I’m going to lift you onto the table now, Dean, okay?”

Dean whimpered, gripping Castiel’s arms tightly when the Caregiver hoisted him easily off the ground and guided him to lie down.

“Oh, it’s cold, isn’t it,” Cas pouted down at the boy when Dean gasped at the cool touch of the plastic mat. “I’m sorry baby. Daddy’ll be quick.”

The title slipped out. It wasn’t one he was going to introduce until they got home, but Dean just pulled his Caregiver right to the surface. Cas didn’t react on purpose, waiting to see if Dean would, but the boy’s eyes merely blinked at him, like he hadn’t truly recognised the word in his sleep-deprived brain.

Castiel nodded once to himself and carried on.

“I’m going to remove your towel,” Castiel gave a running commentary. Mostly because this was Dean’s first time and he wanted the boy to know what was happening and what to expect next, but also out of respect. Dean hadn’t wanted to get naked in front of him, and although Cas understood it was an inevitable thing, he wanted to warn Dean that it was about to happen.

Dean merely whimpered in response and threw his arms over his face to hide away.

This would have been an ideal time to have introduced Dean to the soft blue dinosaur Castiel had gone out and brought especially for him last night. He could see the boy holding the dinosaur to his face, using it both as a source of comfort and something to hide behind. But, the stuffed toy was sitting in the other room, in a paper bag that Castiel hadn’t had the chance to grab, nor had he even thought to, when he’d followed Dean into the bathroom.

The diaper change was uneventful, which really was the exact opposite of how Castiel had envisioned the first one going. Dean laid perfectly still, his limbs lose and his breathing even as he let Castiel lift his legs, sprinkle powder over his groin and tape him up nice and securely in the white padding.

While he was still on the mat, Castiel slipped the boy's chosen, clean, pyjama bottoms on over the diaper. The pyjamas would allow easy transitioning from the car to the crib if the boy was still asleep when they reached home.

“There we go. All done!”

Dean jolted slightly at the sound of the Caregiver’s voice and pulled his arms away. He blinked sleepily, a tell-tell sign he’d been dozing during the change. His cheeks immediately heated, but Cas gently pulled him into a seated position and reached for the boy's shirt before he could complain.

“I’m so proud of you, Dean! You’ve done so well!" 

“I’m just tired,” Dean yawned, as his head popped through the hole in his shirt. He threaded his arms clumsily through the correct holes with Castiel’s guidance and then, surprisingly, fell into the man's chest.

Cas wrapped his arms around the boy instinctively and lifted him to his hip.

“You can sleep if you want, sweet boy. Daddy’ll sort everything out.”

Dean hummed because he liked the sound of that.

He let Cas carry him back to the hospital room where the doctor was waiting for them. She was apologising, saying something about not wanting to disturb them in the bathroom. Castiel replied, but the words went over Dean’s head as he fell further and further under. The last thing he remembered for a while was being lowered back onto his hospital bed.

When he woke again, it was to Castiel lifting him back into his arms. Dean whined as he was ripped from his sleep, but the Caregiver just shushed him and guided Dean’s head to his shoulder with a gentle hand.

“Wha’s go’n on?” Dean slurred. “Where’r we go’n?”

“We’re going home, sweet boy,” Castiel reassured him with a soft kiss to the boy's temple.

He came awake again when he was being lowered once more.

“Noo,” He complained when he felt Castiel’s touch start to leave him. Cas shushed him, smoothed his hair and started strapping him into something.

“My poor boy,” Cas murmured. “You’re so tired, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Dean nodded, tears squeezing out the corner of his eyes once again.

“You sleep then, sweetheart.”

Dean took a shuddery breath and watched through glassy eyes as Castiel shut the car door and walked around the vehicle and climbed behind the wheel. Dean’s tired brain finally caught up and he realised he was in a car, strapped in a car seat.

He tried to ask why; he didn’t need to be in a car seat. But his words were too slurred and quiet to really be legible.

Castiel started the car and glanced in his rear-view mirror at Dean.

“You can sleep, if you want, sweet boy,” Castiel repeated softly. “It’s a little ways to home, yet. And Daddy’ll be here to watch over you, the whole time.”

Castiel thought the boy would be adorable with a soother, and could probably benefit from one, but Cas wasn’t sure if now was the right time to introduce it. He checked to make sure the road in front of him was clear before pulling out of his parking spot and starting the journey home.

Dean threw his head back against the car seat headrest and grumbled something inaudible, even to himself. He felt like he should be fighting, that he shouldn't just be accepting this. But he was so tired, and there was no denying the fact that the Little inside of him was flourishing under the attention of the Caregiver.

Despite being a stranger, Castiel made him feel warm and relaxed, safe and wanted. And Dean… Dean kinda liked that.

In the front of the car, Castiel flipped the radio on quietly in the background and began singing along to some old-style 80’s band that was from before his time. It was soothing and Dean, couldn’t fight the sleep that called to him any longer.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight - The Dinosaur

The journey home took just under two hours and went relatively smoothly; there was little traffic, the weather was kind and Dean only started stirring when Cas pulled the car to a stop on the drive in front of his house.

Castiel knew that no matter what, Dean was going to be grumpy, and most likely angry about his situation for a while longer yet. And those feelings were only going to be amplified by the lack of sleep he’d had the previous night. Taking all of that into consideration, Castiel would have liked Dean to nap for at least another hour, but for some reason, Cas didn’t think he would be that lucky.

Dean whined sleepily when the car door opened and the cool March air ghosted over his skin.

“Hey, sleepy-head,” Cas cooed at him, momentarily taking advantage of the boy’s sleep-addled mind, to unclip him from the car seat and lift him out of the car and onto his hip.

Cas was expecting an epic fight at any moment, and he hoped to get Dean inside the house before that happened. He wasn’t worried about the neighbours seeing and what they might think; they all knew what he did for a living and were really understanding - many a tantrum had taken place out in the front yard for the world to see before now. No, Cas was more worried about Dean taking every opportunity to try and physically escape from his care, especially while everything was so new and he was still settling. For that reason alone, it was going to be safer for Dean’s outbursts to happen behind closed, locked doors so that he couldn’t just run off and potentially get lost or hurt.

“That was a big sleep you had, huh?” Cas shushed, bouncing Dean once on his hip as he reached into the footwell for the paper bag he’d taken to the hospital. “You slept all the way home!”

“Home?” Dean blinked sleepily. Cas couldn’t help but wonder if Dean was someone who was generally slow to wake, or if he was just so tired still that he couldn’t get his body and mind to properly cooperate right now.

“Yeah, Sweetheart - we’re home,” Cas repeated softly, as he locked up the car and started for the front door. “C’mon, let's get you inside. I think someone needs his bum changed.”

If any words were going to garner a reaction out of the Little, it was, of course, going to be those ones.

“What? Wait. No,” Dean breathed, seemingly snapping back to reality and realising precisely where he was and what was happening. “No. No; put me down, right now!”

“Hang on, Sweet Boy,” Cas hummed, trying not to focus on Dean’s rapidly building panic, and instead turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. He took two steps inside before Dean was pushing at him.

“Put me down! Put me down! Let go of me!” Dean fought, squirming and pushing at Cas’ chest in an attempt to dislodge himself.

As a Caregiver, Cas’ body was able to produce a hormone called paramold; a hormone that was not unlike adrenaline, and was only exclusive to Caregivers. It activated automatically and gave him the ability to lift, hold and securely carry a fully-grown Little for short periods. It certainly made carting around what was technically a fully grown ‘adult’ body easier. However, the effects wore off eventually and Cas could feel his arms weakening quicker from Dean’s struggle and quickly guided the Little back to his own two feet.

“Fuck; where are we?” Dean cried, pushing away from Cas and further into the house. He looked around wildly, trying to take everything in all at once. He may have seemed slightly regressed before, but that, Cas knew, was through pure exhaustion and his body reacting to the presence of a highly compatible Caregiver for the first time. Now though, it was clear that Dean was anything but Little.

“We’re at home, Jellybean,” Cas reminded the boy calmly, shutting the door behind him and subtly flicking the lock. “I know this must be scary for you…”

“I’m not…” Dean spun on his heel, clearly mapping out possible exits. Cas waited him out until the Little faced him dead on again. The boy’s voice wobbled as he spoke, giving him away. “I’m not scared. I just… I want to go home.”

“You are home, Dean,” Cas reassured him calmly, taking a step closer to him.

“You know what I mean,” Dean hissed, hands gripping his hair and tugging in desperation. Cas frowned at the obviously instinctual action and wondered if maybe Dean might need some mittens to stop him from hurting himself. “ This is not my home!”

“I know it feels that way right now,” Cas acknowledged kindly. “But, hopefully, in time, you will be able to come to think of this house as your home.”

Dean said nothing, eyes shining with unshed tears as he shook his head and turned his back on the Caregiver.

“You are safe here Dean. This house, this home, will always be a safe place.”

“I don’t need… you make it sound like I need protecting,” Dean leered. “I don’t! I don’t need protecting!”

“Okay,” Cas shrugged, not uncaringly, but not wanting to overly push the matter. “That’s okay. But, if you ever decide that you do , I’ll be here.”

Cas watched for a moment as Dean’s shoulders shook slightly with silent sobs. The boy was almost literally crying out for a Caregiver, and Cas ached to hold him. Cas was desperate to comfort him, protect him, and promise him that nothing else in the world would ever hurt him again. But those kinds of promises were not likely to be appreciated right now.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Cas shushed, stepping up towards the Little and not reacting when the boy flinched away from him. “That wet diaper can’t be comfortable, and if we don’t change you soon -”

“Fuck off,” Dean hissed. He turned wide, wild eyes on the Caregiver and Cas’ heart broke for him. “No, seriously; piss right off. It’s your fault I’m wearing this blasted thing in the first place! Where the fuck is the bathroom?”

Castiel blinked after the Little as he stormed down the hallway to the first available closed door. Dean yanked it open with such force it was a wonder it didn’t fly off its hinges and then slammed it shut again so hard that Cas was certain the whole house shook. The door had led to nothing but a cupboard. He tried the next one, but that only opened up to Castiel’s home office.

“The bathroom’s upstairs, Dean,” Castiel informed him gently, moving back a step to allow the boy to march past him and up the stairs. The Caregiver followed closely behind him.

Before Castiel could tell him that the bathroom was the second door on the right, Dean had tried the door to the master bedroom and the spare room before he finally found the door he was looking for on his third attempt.

“Dean…” Cas started, holding the door open with his large hand before Dean could slam it in his face. “Wait.”

“Fuck off!” Dean shouted, pushing on Castiel’s chest in an attempt to get him out of the way so he could shut the door. “Leave me alone!”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was kind, but hard and he was barely affected by the Little’s attempt to remove him. He gently, but firmly took Dean’s hands in his own and stepped further into the room, the Little instinctively taking a step back to allow him some space. “You are okay.”

“I AM NOT OKAY!” Dean screamed, his eyes rapidly growing wet. He yanked his hands out of the Caregiver’s hold and moved across the room to swipe at the soap and toothbrushes that sat on the side beside the sink. They went clattering to the ground with an almighty crash, but Castiel didn’t react to it. Nothing was broken, and Dean wasn’t physically hurt by what he’d done; the items could be picked up and put back later.

Dean rounded on Cas again, his chest heaving as he seethed.

“I am fucking far from okay! My whole life has been stripped from me! Everything and everyone I’ve ever known and loved has been taken away! I won’t ever be allowed to work again, I won’t ever be allowed to leave the house unaccompanied; hell, I won’t even be allowed to make decisions on my fucking health care anymore! I’ve been shoved into this… this nightmare and everyone just expects me to accept it and move on! I don’t know how to do that!”

Dean collapsed to his hands and knees and started hitting the floor with his fists.

“I don’t know how to do that!” He wailed, the angry tears now falling thick and fast down his cheeks.

“Oh, baby,” Cas shushed, sinking to the floor in front of Dean, ignoring the sense of Deja Vu and the flashback to the hospital room where they’d sat on the bathroom floor together like this only a few hours previously. He put calm hands over Dean’s to still them, and squeezed them gently in an attempt to provide unwavering support and comfort. “I know this must be so hard for you. Your whole life has changed completely in such a short space of time. I can’t begin to imagine how you must be feeling, how hard it must be to come to terms with all of this and how difficult it must be to try and move on…”

“I don’t want to move on!” Dean snapped, voice thick with tears. “I want to go back to my old life!”

“You can’t, Dean,” Cas cooed sympathetically. He took a risk and wrapped his arms around the Little, surprised when he wasn’t immediately pushed away. “I wish you could, but you can’t, Sweet Boy. If you did, you would become very poorly very quickly, and we don’t want that, do we?”

“I want my old life,” Dean continued, pulling away from Castiel’s hold. “I want my job, my friends, my fucking car!”

“Your life is going to look very different from now on, Dean,” Castiel agreed softly. “I’m not going to deny that. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not your life . Maybe you won’t be able to keep a job or drive a car, but those rules are only there to keep you safe. And…”

“ Safe ,” Dean scoffed, interrupting him. “I fucking managed just fine before.”

“That’s because you were on suppressants which stopped you from spontaneously dropping, Sweetheart.”

“Exactly! They worked; why can’t I just take some more and be done with it?”

“You know exactly why you can’t, baby.”

“This is fucking horse shit!” Dean screamed, hitting the floor with his fists again. “You won't even let me piss in the fucking toilet!”

“Hey, I never said that,” Cas corrected him gently. “I never said that you couldn’t use the toilet.”

The admission made Dean stop. He looked up and blinked through bleary eyes at the Caregiver, in disbelief.

“But…” The boy’s voice was strikingly quiet all of a sudden after all the shouting. “But… you said… at the hospital… you said that… that…”

“Ah,” Cas smiled softly, glad that Dean recalled their conversation. “I see what’s happened. I didn’t make myself clear, Dean, and for that I am sorry.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Dean sniffed, sitting back up on his knees.

“Back at the hospital, I told you about my rule; Little bums should always be padded. This is a very important rule Dean, and one that I will not be lax on. But, baby, just because I have a rule that says you have to wear a diaper, doesn’t mean you have to use it.”

Dean said nothing, taking a few minutes to heave some deep breaths and calm his racing heart some. He used the back of his sleeve to wipe at his eyes and coughed twice to clear his throat.

“So… I… I can use the toilet?”

“Of course you can, Sweet Boy,” Cas smiled. “The only thing you’ve got to do is let Daddy know when you need to go.”

“Jesus,” Dean flew to his feet, turning his back on the man and threading his hands into his hair. “I am not calling you that .”

“What, ‘Daddy’?” Cas asked, pushing himself to his feet too. He didn’t feel regret for slipping the title into their conversation. Dean was going to have to get used to it sooner or later, and Castiel had no intention of allowing Dean to get used to calling him by his given name. He was going to be the boy’s Caregiver for some time and calling Castiel ‘Daddy’ would help him acknowledge and accept his headspace sooner.

“Yeah,” Dean snapped. “You can forget it if you think for one second I will ever call you that.”

“Why, baby? What’s wrong with ‘Daddy’?” Cas asked innocently, tilting his head to the left slightly and watching as Dean tugged on the roots of his hair. He was seriously contemplating mittens for the boy right now, but Castiel was currently in pick-your-battles mode and he considered the diaper battle and the ‘daddy’ battle more important than a mittens battle right now. “If you don’t like ‘Daddy’, you can pick something else. Maybe Dada? Papa? Baba?”

“No, fuck you!” Dean spun on his heel to face Cas again. “I am not calling you anything like that. Your name is Castiel and that’s what I’m going to damn well call you.”

“My name is Castiel,” Cas nodded. “But I am your Caregiver, Dean. And you will address me as such.”

“No.”

“I know you are upset, and scared right now,” Cas started, standing firm. “You are also tired and no doubt stressed. This is all new and strange and uncertain. But you are not going through this alone. That is what I am here for. I am going to be your Caregiver for the foreseeable future and as such I will be putting some rules into place.”

“I don’t need rules like some belligerent toddler! I am an adult!” Dean seethed.

“You are a Little, Dean,” Cas corrected him, softly. “I don’t make these rules up to be cruel or unkind; I do it to help you and support you. As we get to know each other, I will introduce you to more rules; and while I understand that it will take time to accept and follow them, I would like you to try .”

“And if I don’t abide by your stupid rules?”

“It depends how and why you don’t abide by them,” Castiel shrugged. “I will always assess the situation beforehand and if I feel it necessary, then there will be consequences.”

“What? You going to hit me? Beat me?”

“Never,” Castiel promised wholeheartedly without missing a beat.

His heart ached at how broken and worried Dean sounded, how his eyes flew around wildly trying to map out the exits. The man responsible for abusing and neglecting Dean had a lot to answer for.

Cas stepped towards Dean and slowly placed confident hands on either bicep. He ignored the wild look of panic in the boy’s eyes and the way he initially flinched at his touch.

“I promise you, Dean,” Cas spoke with passion. “I will never raise a hand to you. You will never know physical pain by my hand, and I endeavour to never allow anyone to harm you in that way again.”

“But… but…”

“ If I feel there should be consequences for your actions it will always be in the way of a time out or restrictions. Never will I hit you or beat you.”

Dean said nothing in response, but his look of disbelief was enough to say a thousand words. Again, Castiel cursed the man who had done this to Dean, who had broken him so much that he couldn’t trust someone not to hurt him. Castiel endeavoured to change that for the boy - to be everything he’d never had before and to show him that the world wasn’t as bad as he’d been led to believe before.

“Now,” Castiel continued. “I bet you’re hungry, huh? And tired. Let’s get your bum changed…”

“I don’t need…” Dean tried to interrupt, but Castiel raised a single eyebrow that had the boy falling silent again.

“Let’s get your bum changed,” Cas repeated. “And then we’ll grab a snack and maybe have a little nap, yeah? How does that sound?”

“I can change myself,” Dean sniffed, shrugging out of Cas’ hold.

The Caregiver didn’t doubt that right now, in his Big headspace, Dean would be able to change himself. However, he didn’t for one second believe that Dean would replace the diaper with another. Disregarding all of that, though, having his diaper changed by someone else would be something that would happen all the time when Dean finally regressed - it was another thing that Castiel was going to insist on to get Dean used to accepting his Presentation.

“I know you can sweetheart, but you’re not allowed to, okay?” Cas stepped over to the changing table that was tucked away in the corner. The one he didn’t believe Dean had properly taken note of yet. “Little boys aren’t allowed to change their own diapers.”

“Why not?”

“Because that way then, Daddy can make sure that the diaper is on properly and that there won't be any pesky leaks,” Castiel offered, which was half true.

“I… I don’t need… I don’t need to wear diapers.”

“Dean, Daddy’s already been over this,” Cas told him, not looking over his shoulder as he grabbed a fresh diaper and a pack of wipes. “Little bums should always be padded. There is no way around it I’m afraid baby.”

Dean fumed silently, crossing his arms when Cas turned back around to face him.

“C’mon then, Jellybean. Let's get this done, yeah?”

“I need to pee,” Dean grumbled in response.

“Okay,” Cas nodded. “Do you want to wee in the toilet?”

“Yes,” Dean spluttered like he couldn’t believe Cas had even asked such a thing. “I want to pee in the fucking toilet.”

“Okay, baby,” Cas hummed. “Let’s take that wet diaper off and you can go, yeah?”

“I can take it off myself.”

“Maybe you can. But Daddy’s going to do it for you anyway.”

“Wait,” Dean held his hands out as the Caregiver stepped towards him. Castiel stopped and tilted his head to the left with a small smile. Dean looked almost shocked that the man had listened. “I… I don’t… I’m scared.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas told him honestly, feeling an intense swell of pride for the boy. It took a lot of guts to admit something like that, let alone for someone like Dean who had been through so much in his lifetime. “Thank you for telling me that. You are very brave, and I am proud of you for admitting it. It’s okay to be scared, though. This is new and different and unknown. But you are not in this alone; I am here to help you every step of the way, okay?”

Castiel stopped for a minute, but Dean didn’t respond.

“We’re going to take it slow,” Cas explained. “I will talk you through everything, okay?

Dean took two shuddery breaths, but eventually, he nodded.

“Good boy,” Cas beamed at him. “C’mon then, let's get started. Do you still need to wee?”

Again, Dean nodded. Cas wasn’t sure if Dean was being completely honest or if he was simply trying to hold on to some form of adulthood, but even so, Castiel wasn’t going to stop him.

“Okay then. Daddy’s going to take your pyjama pants off and undo your diaper now.”

Castiel stepped towards the boy and crouched to do just that, but Dean’s hands came to rest on the Caregiver’s shoulders. The man stopped and looked up at the Little, nothing but calm and understanding in his eyes.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

Dean’s Adam's apple bobbed and his eyes welled with tears again. He closed his eyes, removed his hands from Cas’s shoulders and nodded minutely.

“There’s a good boy,” Cas shushed, slowly and gently guiding Dean out of his pyjama pants and making quick work of the tabs on the diaper. He grabbed it before it could hit the floor and stood up. He discarded it on the changing mat behind him temporarily and stood back up.

“There we go,” Cas murmured. “D’you wanna go have that wee now?”

“With you watching?!” Dean squawked in horror, his hands instinctively moving to cover his crotch.

“No, baby,” Cas reassured him. “No, I’m not going to watch you. You go and have your wee, and Daddy will get the stuff ready for your change, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, he moved back to the changing table. He busied himself with putting the wet diaper in a sack and throwing it in the diaper pail. He opened the pack of wipes, pulled a few out ready and grabbed the baby powder off the side.

“Can’t you wait outside?” Dean asked. Cas refused to turn round, wanting to give the boy some semblance of privacy.

“Sorry Jellybean, no can do I’m afraid. Daddy needs to be here to make sure you’re safe. Don’t worry though, I won’t look.”

Behind him, Dean finally shuffled his way to the toilet, muttering to himself under his breath about how Castiel was not his Daddy and about how unfair this all was. Castiel chose to ignore him and waited until he heard the slightest trickle of urine hit the porcelain bowl before he acknowledged the boy again.

“All done, Sweetheart?”

“‘M done,” Dean confirmed. “But I don’t need a diaper. I swear I don’t need one.”

Cas turned around and, not acknowledging the boy’s statement, took two steps towards Dean.

“I’m going to pick you up now, Dean,” He told the Little, giving him enough opportunity to refuse or to tell him to wait. When the boy did nothing of the sort, Cas slid his hands under the boy's armpits and hoisted him onto his hip.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean cried like he hadn’t been expecting such a thing to happen.

Castiel stopped, but he did not let Dean back down. He had a feeling that if he did that, the boy would refuse to be lifted back up again.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked him, holding on to him securely, expecting any minute now for the boy to throw himself backwards in an attempt to get out of the hold.

“I just…” Dean screwed his eyes tightly shut and shook his head. “I just don’t like being picked up.”

“Hey. This is a learning curve for the both of us,” Castiel explained. “Thank you for telling me, because now I know I won’t do it as much. Unfortunately, though, I do have to pick you up so I can lift you onto the changing mat, okay?”

“But I don’t need a diaper,” Dean reiterated once again, starting to sound more and more wound up. Castiel knew they were moments away from another kick-off.

“Yes, you do, Jellybean,” He started walking towards the changing table again. “Remember what Daddy said about Little bums?”

“Put me down,” Dean ordered, as they reached their destination.

“Daddy said that Little bums should always be padded,” Castiel reiterated once again. He had a feeling he’d get sick of repeating that particular rule, but repeat it he would. “I’m going to lie you down on the changing mat now.”

“No!” Dean bucked as he was lowered, arching his back like a 2-year-old throwing a tantrum. “No! I peed in the toilet! I can do it! I don’t need a diaper!”

“Look at this, Jellybean,” Castiel boasted, using one hand to hold Dean so he wouldn’t roll off the changing table and hurt himself. The other hand held up the diaper for him to see. “It’s got ducks on it; isn’t that cute!”

“No! No!” Dean screamed. “No! I refuse to let you put me in that thing !”

“C’mon baby,” Cas tried to calm him. “It won't take long and then we can get a snack, huh?”

And Cas was right. It didn’t take long, but Dean didn’t make it, by any means, easy. He fought to no end, trying to push Cas away, buck himself off the changing mat and screaming like he was being murdered.

When it was done and the diaper was finally taped securely around his waist, Cas hoisted him up and held on to him tightly. Dean sobbed openly and loudly into the Caregiver’s shoulder.

“You did so well, Jellybean,” Cas tried to reassure him. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I don’t want it,” He complained. “I don’t want it! Take it off! Please just take it off!”

“No baby, it’s there for a reason. Daddy knows it’s hard, but this is important, Sweetheart. The diaper will keep you warm and safe and it will stop any potential accidents.”

“No,” Dean wailed, clutching onto Cas like he was his lifeline. “I don’t need… I don’t need…”

Cas took a few moments to calm Dean some. He bounced him a little and shushed him, his hand cupping the back of the babe’s head as he worked his way through his upset.

Cas’ heart went out to the poor boy once again, hating that he’d had such an upbringing that he found accepting a diaper change difficult. A diaper change that should have been more than normal at this stage in his life, not something to be feared or unwanted. Castiel even hated himself for ultimately having to force the boy into one, but he reminded himself it was a necessary evil; it was something he had to do and would have to continue doing, to help Dean. He’d been brought in to help Dean, to make the hard decisions and ultimately help him live - and that’s what he’d do, even if it meant having to be the bad guy who forced Dean into the diaper he needed.

“Hey,” Cas whispered when Dean’s crying slowed and he let out a long, loud yawn. “Shall we get that snack now?”

Dean nodded his head and Cas couldn’t resist planting a chaste peck to the boy's temple.

“You wanna walk to the kitchen?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay then,” Castiel lowered the boy gently to the ground. He helped Dean step back into his pyjamas and then held out his hand for the Little to take. “Come on then, Jellybean. Let’s see what yummy things we can find, eh?”

Dean stopped for a minute, blinking down at the outstretched hand and debating whether to take it or not. So far, Castiel had been nothing but kind and understanding. He had been open and honest and a part of Dean, the part Dean openly tried to ignore and shove into a box in the deepest, darkest depths of his mind, actually liked Castiel and connected to him in a way Dean imagined only a Little could connect with a compatible Caregiver.

He wanted nothing more than to give in, to let this man take over. He was desperate to be held and coddled, snuggled and loved. But another part of him, the part that John Harrison had beat into him, wouldn’t let him have any of that. He had to fight it because it was disgusting and wrong and he shouldn’t need it. He was a grown-ass man and he should be able to act like it.

“You going to hold Daddy’s hand, Jellybean?”

Dean blinked up at the man, having momentarily forgotten that they were standing in the bathroom waiting on Dean to decide whether he was going to hold the hand of another man like some overgrown toddler who couldn’t be trusted to walk around the house by themselves.

He shook his head, because no, god damn it . He was an adult who was perfectly capable of walking around the house unaccompanied.

The Caregiver didn’t seem too upset about Dean’s rejection and led him back through the house, down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was the room at the back of the house and while wasn’t overly large, it was cosy.

What surprised Dean most of all was that there wasn’t a highchair in there. He almost questioned it but thought better of it. If it had been something the Caregiver had neglected to buy in preparation for Dean’s arrival, then Dean was not going to be the one to remind him. He did not need the humiliation of a high chair along with everything else.

Castiel worked quickly and efficiently, and within a few minutes had a small snack plated up. Dean watched him, almost transfixed as the man chopped a banana and poured a cup of milk. As Castiel popped a lid on the cup, Dean was overcome with a sudden wave of tiredness.

“Do you want to have your snack in the living room?”

Dean merely yawned in response and received a fond chuckle from the Caregiver.

“My sweet, tired boy,” Castiel cooed. “Let's have snack in the living room. You can curl up on the couch, in front of the TV.”

So, Dean followed the man blindly. He sat on the large couch and accepted the plastic plate of chopped bananas and rice cakes. He immediately started gobbling down the bite-sized food as Castiel fussed in the background.

“Here we go, sweet boy,” Cas shushed, coming back into view. He was holding a blanket and a brown paper bag that Dean belatedly recalled him having back at the hospital. Castiel tucked the blanket over his knees, and Dean was immediately enveloped in warmth.

“Daddy also brought you something,” Cas explained as he sat next to him on the sofa.

He watched with interest as Castiel delved into the paper bag and pulled out the softest-looking dinosaur teddy. She was blue and fluffy and although Dean couldn’t recall the type of dinosaur it was, he was instantly in love with it.

Castiel held it out and almost cautiously, Dean reached over to gently take it in his hold. It was softer than it looked and he carefully rubbed his fingers through the fur on its head.

Dean felt his eyes begin to fill with more tears as he held the stuffy in his hands. He wanted to cuddle it and squeeze it tight, but he couldn’t bring himself to take that step. His father wasn’t there, but Dean couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the man. If he knew that Dean was even holding a toy, that Dean wanted to seek comfort from it, he would be beyond furious and he would most certainly beat Dean until he was black and blue.

Castiel’s hand touched his forearm, chasing all those thoughts away in an instant. Dean turned his wide, wet eyes on the man and sniffed in an attempt to will the tears away.

“Do you like it?”

Dean nodded but then stopped.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered before he suddenly and abruptly pushed it back into Castiel’s hands. “I can’t.”

“Dean?” The Caregiver sounded so heartbroken. Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at the man. He shoved his plate onto the side table beside the sofa and hid himself in his knees. “Don’t you want the dinosaur, baby?”

Dean shook his head almost violently.

“Why not?”

Dean felt his breathing quicken as he tried to bury the want for the soft toy and the want for Castiel to make everything better again. He didn’t reply, hoping that the Caregiver might get the message and just leave him the fuck alone, and let him work through this by himself.

“Do you not like the dinosaur?”

Dean nodded, because he really did and he was unable to lie about it. He tried wiping the tears away in his pyjama pants, but they just kept coming thick and fast.

“Then why don’t you want it, sweetheart?”

“My… my… my Dad,” Dean wailed, clutching his knees to himself even tighter.

“Your Dad?” Castiel repeated. If Dean had looked at the Caregiver at that very moment, he would have seen the murderous look on the man’s face.

Gently, the Caregiver reached out and guided Dean out of his hiding spot. He shushed at the whinging and tucked Dean into his side and held him close.

“My Sweet Boy; I am so sorry for what the man has done to you. He has hurt you in unimaginable ways, and that is not okay.”

Dean choked on his tears and curled himself further into Castiel’s chest.

“I know, baby, I know. But he is not here and he will never be allowed to hurt you again. I promise you.”

“He said I can’t have toys,” Dean whispered, sounding so broken.

“He lied to you, Sweetheart,” Cas reassured him. “Having toys is not a bad thing; it’s completely natural. You are allowed to have toys, Dean; you are allowed to have as many toys as you like.”

Dean took some shuddery breaths but didn’t make out like he was going to respond.

“Do you want the dinosaur?” Castiel asked again softly, gently squeezing the boy in comfort.

Dean hesitated but eventually, he nodded.

“Then, my Sweet Boy, you can have it,” Castiel offered, picking it back up and holding it back out to the boy. Dean’s fingers were doubly hesitant this time, but still, they reached out and sunk into the fur of the stuffy. Slowly, he pulled it into his hands. 

“I brought it for you,” Castiel explained, watching the boy weigh up whether to accept the toy or not. “I saw it in the toy store, sitting on the end of the aisle by herself. She looked at me, with those big round eyes and they immediately reminded me of you. I couldn’t leave her there alone, just like I couldn’t leave you alone at the hospital.”

Castiel was half expecting a negative response to his admission, but instead, the Little slowly pulled the dinosaur into his chest and wrapped his arms around it. Like a balm on a graze, having the dinosaur close had an instant calming effect and Dean relaxed completely into the Caregiver’s arms, his eyelids suddenly so heavy that he could barely keep them open.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered, barely registering the chaste kiss on his forehead and the muttered ‘you’re welcome, Jellybean’ he got in response.

The last thought he had before he fell asleep was of his father, and how mad the man would be if he ever found out that Dean had accepted the teddy or was falling asleep so soundly in the arms of a Caregiver. Dean tried to assure himself that if that ever happened, he would deny ever wanting it and hoped that, that would be enough to save him from his old man’s belt.

Chapter Text

“What is that?”

“It’s an iPad,” Castiel deadpanned, looking from Dean to the electrical tablet he was offering the Little.

“I can see that. But why does it look like it’s being swallowed by a solid, rubber brick?”

“It’s the case. It’s just there to protect it from any knocks, bumps, or drops,” Castiel shrugged, suddenly understanding the boy’s issue with the object. The tablet’s protective case was very clearly designed for a clumsy child and anything that was even just the slightest bit childish was immediately vetoed. It was a wonder that the soft dinosaur toy hadn’t been lobbed across the room yet. As it was, Dean had woken from his nap and had pushed it to the other end of the couch, and (despite occasionally sparing it longing glances) had not touched it since.

“I’m not going to fucking drop it,” Dean grumbled in disgust, narrowing his eyes at the Caregiver.

“Maybe you won’t,” Castiel smiled softly, unaffected by the stare. “But if you did, the case would be there to protect it, okay?”

“No, not okay!” Dean snapped. “It’s a kid’s case, and I am not a kid!”

“You are a Little, Dean,” The Caregiver supplied as if this would answer all of Dean’s questions.

“Fuck off,” Dean muttered, crossing his arms and turning his head away from the man who was standing above him.

“Okay then,” Cas sighed, withdrawing the tablet and taking a step back. “I just know your family will be calling you soon, and I thought you might like to video call them.”

“Thanks,” Dean bit sarcastically. “But I don’t need your stupid iPad. I’ve got my own…” He paused mid-sentence and looked suddenly stricken like a blood-curdling thought had only just occurred to him. “Where’s my phone?”

For a second, Cas said nothing as he gently placed the tablet on the coffee table in front of him. He then perched himself on the edge of the couch and fixed Dean with a kind, caring look. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to go over so well.

“The police have it, Sweet Boy,” Castiel spoke. Dean’s eyebrows immediately furrowed, like he had no idea when or why that had happened. “They seized it as evidence.”

“Evidence for what?!” Dean seethed, bringing his knees up to his chest and hugging them tightly.

“Any evidence that might help them pin your father for his crimes.”

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. It’s my phone! Not his! It wasn’t me who was in contact with the fucking dealer…” Dean stopped, eyes growing wide as he realised exactly what he’d just said.

“Shit,” He cursed, hiding his face in his knees and muttering quietly, berating himself for being so stupid and admitting something so openly like that.

“Dean,” Cas placed his hand on Dean’s arm, not removing his touch when the Little flinched. “It’s okay, you know? To talk; to me. Or to anyone.”

“Oh, yeah? And have you go scuttling off to the police to report every little morsel of potential evidence? I’m sorry, but I am not willing to incriminate my father any more than I already, unintentionally, have! Because when all of this is over, you’ll move on and forget me, and I’ll be back at home with him and it’ll be my ass on the line!”

“You are right, Dean,” Cas admitted, almost sadly. “I have a duty, as your Caregiver to report anything that happens or is said between us, that I deem as evidence, no matter how insignificant it may be, to the police. I understand that knowing that might make it hard for you to trust me, or talk to me. But I don’t do it because I want you to hate me. I do it because I have an obligation; to you. An obligation to keep you safe and to ensure that you are cared for in every way you need. I do it because I want to ensure that from here on out your life can, and will be, different.”

Dean scoffed and hid his face back in his knees.

“And as for potentially incriminating your father, he’s done enough of that himself. The evidence is piled high against him, Dean. He is being charged on multiple accounts, all of which he is currently pleading ‘not guilty’ to. If he continues to do so, the case will go to trial and maybe, just maybe, the jury will agree - that he isn’t guilty on all accounts. But never will you have to go back to living under his thumb.”

“How do you know that?” Dean asked, voice muffled from his hiding spot, but still full of venomous fear. “You can’t know that. If they find him not guilty of…” He couldn’t say the words. “Then they’ll ship me back to him. You can’t say they won’t.”

“They won’t,” Castiel reassured him. “For starters, in a few months, Sam will be your legal Guardian; they won’t take that away from him now without good reason. Also, the state now knows about your real presentation. You won’t have to hide that anymore.”

“They’ll keep an annoyingly close eye on me again, you mean,” Dean spat. “To make sure I’m not taking suppressants again.”

“That as well,” Cas sighed. “My point is, you won’t have to go back to him, Dean; even if they find him not guilty of your abuse and neglect. He is no longer, and will never be your Guardian again.”

“Oh yeah? And what if Sam gets fed up with my needy ass? And transfers my Guardianship back over to him, huh? Then what?”

“Do you really think your brother would do that?” Cas asked, so matter-of-factly. He was outraged on Dean’s behalf that he had even suggested the 17-year-old would do such a thing. “That he would just abandon you, and throw you back to the wolves if life got difficult?”

“He’s practically done it before,” Dean snapped.

“Has he?” Castiel asked, tone quiet and knowing. Dean peeked at him and realised that the Caregiver had been given the story of how Sam had come to live under their Uncle’s Guardianship.

Dean immediately regretted the words he’d said. Because Sam hadn’t done that. He hadn’t abandoned them. He’d practically begged Dean to go with him, to let him at least take Adam. But Dean had been selfish - he’d known that his father would have happily signed Adam over to Bobby just as quickly and as heartlessly as he’d done with Sam. But John Harrison would have never let Dean go - despite despising the very ground he walked on, he’d have kept his son under lock and key if needed, to ensure that his dirty secret stayed just that… a secret. Having known this without having to ask the man, Dean had decided that he didn’t want to live alone with him. Dean hadn’t known how he’d survived without his brothers there; so when his attempts to convince Sam to stay had failed, Dean had made up some bullshit excuse about Adam and CPS to get Sam to leave their youngest brother at home with him and their asshole father.

And Dean suddenly realised that maybe he was the asshole. For making Adam stay. For not getting him out when he could have; for not letting him leave any of the other times Bobby had offered.

“Your brothers love you,” Castiel spoke after a few minutes of silence, letting Dean have those moments to himself with his thoughts. “And so does your Uncle. They worship the very ground you walk on. I’ve met many, many families in my time as a fosterer, Dean, and I don’t think I’ve seen one love each other the way your family loves you. Sam alone has messaged me no less than 4 times already today to check in on you.”

Dean felt his eyes growing wet and hid them again. He didn’t need Cas to know his words were affecting him. He sniffed and rubbed his face in his knees, but continued to listen.

“I’ve not known them very long, but I know they’ll do anything in their power to keep you safe and protected.”

“I don’t need…”

“Would you do the same for them?”

Dean was clearly taken aback by the question. He sat back up and fixed the Caregiver with a dirty look.

“What sort of question is that?” He hissed. “Of course, I fucking would!”

“Even though Sam’s a High-Level Dominant?”

“Even then.”

“So why can’t they do the same for you?”

Dean opened his mouth, the words stuck in his throat. After a quick moment, he shook his head and looked down.

Castiel smiled somberly and placed his hand on Dean’s knee.

“We all have someone who loves us and wants what’s best for us. It just so happens that you have three of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, on your side.”

Dean blinked, sniffed again and subtly tried to wipe his wet eyes. When he next spoke, his voice was quiet and thick with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey!” Cas cried, shuffling closer and pulling Dean into a hug. He couldn’t resist and was pleasantly surprised when the Little went easily. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Jellybean. Nothing.”

Dean said nothing, but Castiel could feel the wetness of the boy’s cheeks soaking through his shirt. It broke his heart, that this sweet, sweet boy had been treated so badly that he questioned everyone and everything around him; that he couldn’t just readily accept what he needed.

“And also,” Castiel continued, voice sweet and almost whispered as he remembered another false point Dean had made only minutes ago; one that he wanted to correct. “I could never forget you. Maybe one day you will move on from my care, but I swear I could never forget you, Dean. Because while I’m here to make a positive impact on your life, you make just as positive of an impact on mine.”

~ Right Here All Along ~

Dean sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, the tablet propped up in front of him as he scrolled through the childish apps already downloaded on its system, in an attempt to entertain himself. He grumbled to himself about Castiel’s strict parental controls, which the man had refused to remove in case Dean accidentally stumbled across something ‘inappropriate’, and finally chose the ‘YouTube Kids’ app.

The app’s home page loaded up, and Dean was greeted with several videos, one of which was literally titled ‘Baby Learning! Part 1’. Another’s thumbnail was filled with some big-ass, creepy-looking puppets, there was a full episode of Sesame Street up for grabs alongside a video which advertised ‘1 hour of Baby Shark!’, whatever that was.

“Jesus,” He muttered under his breath, as he scrolled through the videos, trying to find one that wasn’t overly childish.

“What’s what matter, Jellybean?”

Dean looked up at the sound of the Caregiver’s voice. Castiel stood on the opposite side of the island, where he was expertly dicing onions for dinner, glancing occasionally over at Dean as he waited for the boy’s response.

“‘Preschool for Littles’, ‘The Veggie Dance’, ‘4 hours of nursery rhymes’,” Dean read the titles of videos out loud for the benefit of Cas. “Can’t I watch some normal Youtube?”

“No, Dean,” Cas shook his head softly, as he picked up the chopping board and carried the onions towards the oven. He scraped them into the frying pan, where they immediately began to sizzle. “The YouTube Kids app ensures me that you will be watching appropriate content.”

“I’m not a child,” Dean scowled at him.

“But you are a Little,” Castiel repeated the words from earlier, not unkindly, as he turned back around and set the chopping board back on the island. He looked Dean over and tilted his head before grabbing a cloth and wiping his hands off. “What would you usually watch on your ‘normal YouTube’?”

“I dunno,” Dean grumbled, as he watched the Caregiver round the island and come stand behind him. “Something about cars maybe?”

“Okay,” Cas spoke quietly, as he gently knocked the iPad on its stand to face him slightly. He tapped out the word ‘cars’ in the search bar before returning the tablet to Dean. “What about one of these videos?”

Dean raised his eyebrows in disbelief, huffing as the Caregiver returned to the chopping board. The options here were worse than the ones he’d had on the home screen. Half the videos were about the Disney movie, and the other half were either badly animated or had chunky, plastic toys in their thumbnail.

“This is stupid,” Dean sighed, pushing the tablet away, not caring how it fell backwards against the table with a dull thud. He wasn’t overly a video person and didn’t peruse YouTube often, but he was annoyed that the option of what to watch had been taken away from him. It was another restriction that didn’t seem fair.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Jellybean,” Cas spoke softly. “We could have a look on my YouTube account for car videos together a little later if you’d like?”

The offer was sincere. Castiel didn’t seem like a guy who was remotely interested in cars, so the fact that he seemed willing to sit down for an unprecedented amount of time, to spend time with Dean while he potentially watched video after video about a subject that probably bored him meant a lot.

However, the thought of sitting with the Caregiver and watching videos on someone else’s YouTube account with the man hanging over his shoulder ‘just in case there was anything inappropriate’ didn’t make him feel too comfortable.

“What I would like,” Dean emphasised the words. “Is not to be treated like a fucking child who can’t watch YouTube video’s without a parent present.”

Castiel didn’t have time to reply, for in the next second, the tablet started ringing. Both men had been expecting the call, the Harrison brothers having said they’d be calling just after 4pm, but their little discussion about videos and parental controls had momentarily distracted them, and they both jumped slightly at the upbeat, popping tune.

Dean reached across the table and dragged the tablet back towards him. He hurried to plug in the wired headphones Cas had given him so that he could take this call in semi-privacy (because, for some reason, the Caregiver was against leaving him unsupervised; it was like the man was scared he was going to hurt himself or cause some kind of trouble if given even 30 seconds to himself).

Just before he accepted the call, Dean looked over the edge of the tablet at the Caregiver. The man was paying him no mind, now busy slicing mushrooms.

“About time!” Sam’s lighthearted tone rang roundly through the headphones. “Was starting to think you weren’t going to pick up.”

“Sorry,” Dean apologised, as the video finally loaded. His brothers sat beside each other on the couch, beaming at him like loons. “I was just connecting the headphones.”

“Hi, Dean!” Adam called, waving at the screen.

“Hi, little brother,” Dean smiled sadly, his heart aching at the sight of them both. It was strange, being away from the house, with no idea if or when he was going to return; and it was even stranger to be without his brothers. “You okay?”

“I miss you,” Adam sighed, his eyes growing wet.

“I miss you too,” Dean promised in a whisper, willing himself not to get too upset. The last thing he wanted to do was cry. He was not a child; he could deal with a few silly emotions without wearing them for all to see.

On the other side of the tablet, Castiel moved. Dean looked instinctively, the man moving back to the oven and feeding the mushrooms into the frying pan alongside the onions.

“How was school?” He asked, to change the subject. “How did your exam go, Sammy?”

“Really, really well, actually!” On the screen, Sam’s shoulders slumped in relief. He beamed like he’d just found out he could have ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner. “I don’t know what I was so stressed about. Pretty sure that was the easiest exam so far!”

“You should have seen him when he got out of school, Dean,” Adam chuckled, reaching forward, past the screen. When he sat back he had a chocolate biscuit in his hand and a smile on his face. He wiped the unshed tears out of his eyes and took a massive bite of his biscuit. “He practically danced all the way home!”

“Yeah, well,” Sam shrugged, also helping himself to a biscuit. “That’s it though! That was my final math exam and I can finally say goodbye to the blasted subject! If I never see another algebra equation, it’ll be too soon!”

“Well, I’m proud of you, Sammy,” Dean smiled back at his brother, finding the younger Harrison’s happiness a little contagious. “What’s next?”

“Physics and chemistry and then economics and sociology,” Sam listed off in one big breath. “Then English Lit in two weeks and I’ll finally be done.”

“Jesus. I’m so glad I dropped out,” Dean shook his head, forcing a small smirk onto his face. Whilst not sitting the exams had felt like a blessing in disguise at the time, and it certainly saved him the stress of studying and worrying, it hadn’t been his decision to drop out. It was his father who had made him, saying there was no point in sitting any fancy college exams because he was too stupid to pass them, nor was he going to pay for Dean to go through college anyway, so what was the point in even trying? It also meant he could stay home and look after Adam on a more permanent basis, and get a job to pay for his god-damn expensive suppressants himself.

“Is that Dean?” Bobby’s voice suddenly called, somewhere off camera.

“Yeah!” Adam called, back, looking over his shoulder as their Uncle came into the living room. He had his signature, fraying cap on his head and his hands and face were grubby.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean greeted the man, as he leaned over the back of the couch and pulled his hat off.

“Alright, son?” He asked, smiling fondly. “Sorry about not being in sooner, I was just out the front fixing that damn fence.”

“Oh…” Dean muttered, feeling suddenly guilty that he hadn’t got to it sooner and that someone else had had to pick up the pieces and do his god-damned job. It had been broken for almost two months now. John had returned home in a drunken stupor, reversing his car into the fence and knocking it over. He’d been mad at Dean like it was his fault the fence had got in the way of his awful driving and had ordered him to fix the paintwork on the car and put the fence back up. Dean had only managed to sort the car out and had been too busy to even look at the fence, let alone fix it before his suppressants had failed. “I’ve been meaning to get to that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bobby waved him off. “You’ve been a bit preoccupied these last few weeks, eh? And besides - I needed something to keep my hands busy this afternoon.”

“Maybe, but it was my job, Bobby,” Dean tried to reiterate. “Dad said…”

“Fuck him,” Bobby grunted at the same time Adam said;

“The fence wasn’t your fault Dean. Dad could have fixed it himself.”

“Well… thanks then, I guess,” Dean mumbled, ready to move on from this part of the conversation. They were just going to go around in circles otherwise.

“No worries. It’s all sorted now,” Bobby patted Adam on the shoulder and ruffled Sam’s hair. “You boys alright if I go make a start on dinner?”

A few moments later, after Dean had said goodbye to Bobby and the older man had reminded him that they were only a phone call away, any time of day or night, it was just the three Harrisons brothers again.

“Anyway,” Sam started up their conversation again, as soon as Bobby had left the room. “Enough about us and what’s going on here. How are you?”

And there it was. The question Dean knew had been coming. He didn’t want to talk about himself, or how his day had been. He’d rather forget about it all if he was being honest. And besides, what was he supposed to say?

Did he tell them about how Castiel had had to almost literally wrestle him into another diaper this afternoon after he’d wet the one the man had put him in when they’d first arrived home? Or that he’d barely made it to the toilet in time before wetting again, only 20 minutes before the start of this call?

Or maybe, he’d tell them about how he’d thrown a fit when Cas had given him a sippy cup after his nap, and how the man had happily compromised by allowing him to take the lid off it so that he could drink out of it like it was just a normal cup, only for him to knock the cup over seconds later.

And what would they think if he told them how he had somehow succumbed to 2 naps today; one of which had seen him falling asleep against Castiel’s chest while cuddling a soft toy like some little bitch. He certainly would not mention that he’d woken up an hour and a half later, surrounded by more love than he’d felt in probably forever, and how he didn’t hate the blue, fluffy dinosaur soft toy that was sitting in his space on the couch in the living room right now.

Dean glanced at the Caregiver again, who still had his back to him, singing quietly to himself under his breath as he now added mince to the frying pan.

“I…” Dean looked back at the screen, trying to find the words. He couldn’t leave his brothers guessing, otherwise they’d ask more questions. They’d poke and prod and probe until they knew everything, and wouldn’t that just be humiliating? But he couldn’t bring himself to honestly tell them the whole truth, because saying it out loud would be like admitting it. “I guess I’m okay.”

“You guess?” Sam repeated the words back at him.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged.

“Is that it?”

“Well, what do you expect me to say?” Dean grumbled at the 17-year-old. He then put on a fake, uplifted voice to take the piss. “Wow, yeah; now I’m here all my problems have been solved and I’m just so excited to live out my life as a stupid, brainless, drooling baby.”

Even though Castiel could only hear one side of the conversation, Dean’s words made him freeze. Dean noticed the way the Caregiver tensed up and shifted uncomfortably. No doubt, the man wanted to hug him or sprout another lecture about how Dean was wrong.

On the other end of the call, the two youngest Harrison's fidgeted awkwardly, unsure how to react to Dean’s slight outburst.

“I’m sorry if that’s what you wanted to happen,” Dean huffed, sounding anything but apologetic. “But it hasn’t.”

“We never…” Sam stumbled over his words, clearly feeling like an asshole. “No Dean. We never expected things to just snap into place. These things take time.”

“No, no; it’s not going to take time. It is a waste of time,” Dean gritted his teeth and shook his head. “A waste of everyone’s time. Because I don’t think I’m ever going to be happy pissing in a diaper or drinking out of sippy cups!”

His cheeks heated the second the words were out of his mouth. He had all but told his brothers what he had been subjected to since arriving here, and he waited with bated breath for their reaction.

But there was nothing. Not a flash of shock, not a recoil of disgust, not even the start of a taunting smirk.

Dean didn’t know if that made him angrier or not. Shouldn’t they be repulsed by him? He was acting and being treated like an overgrown toddler; that wasn’t right. It was downright shameful. He almost cut the call off right there and then, unable to look them in the eye a second longer, but Adam spoke before he could.

“You’re not a waste of time, Dean.”

“That’s not what I said,” Dean snapped harshly, before feeling a stab of regret over the way he’d just spoken to his younger brother.

Adam though, who would have once shied away from such a tone, looked unaffected and merely continued.

“I know you didn’t,” And boy, was the teenager scarily calm. Dean was almost taken aback by it, considering how emotional Adam had been these past two weeks. “But it was heavily implied. Don’t try and deny it. We all know that you believe you’re not worth it. But you are, Dean; you are worth more than the whole world.”

“No. I’m not.”

“You are,” Both Sam and Adam chorused together.

“Yeah… well…” Dean muttered, unable to look at the screen while they were watching him with such heartfelt love. He didn’t feel like he deserved such a thing. He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Maybe.”

“You are,” Sam reiterated, voice hard, but kind. “And believe it or not, we really do care, Dean. I know it must feel like we’ve just dumped you on a stranger, that we’ve all but abandoned you; but I swear we haven’t. I… we want nothing but the best for you Dean. And this… it hurts to send you away, but I know in my heart of hearts that this is what’s best for you.”

Dean took a shuddery breath and closed his eyes. Because he believed Sam. He understood that they’d done this out of a place of pure love, and while he couldn’t find it within himself to hate them for it, he still hated it.

“Maybe we’re a few hours away from each other, but we’re still here for you, Dean,” Adam added. “We’re only a phone call away.”

“And God help me, Dean,” Sam cursed passionately. “If you needed me there… if you were hurt, or upset, or even if you were just missing us… if Castiel wasn’t - isn’t treating you right, then you can bet your ass I’d be there in a heartbeat. Just say the word. Okay?”

The tears were burning in Dean’s eyes before he realised they were building. He sniffed, wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and closed his eyes in an attempt not to let the tears fall.

“He is though, Dean; isn’t he?”

Dean looked through glassy eyes at the screen. Adam looked just as close to tears as Dean did.

“Castiel,” Adam continued, at the clear confusion written on Dean’s face. “He’s treating you okay, yeah?”

Dean looked up at Castiel, who was still humming to himself. He was pushing the mince, the onions and the mushrooms around the pan, making sure the contents were completely cooked; and it was starting to smell good.

The man was a Caregiver; he was a physical reminder of what Dean’s life had become and why. Castiel pulled his Little side out of nowhere, and he hated that. But actually, the man was wholly kindhearted. He was calm, and understanding and made compromises. Dean hadn’t been under Castiel’s Guardianship for very long, but so far the man had been good to him. It would be unfair to throw him under the bus just so he could go home.

“Yeah,” He sniffed, looking back at his brothers on the screen; they looked at him, waiting expectantly. “Yeah. He is.”

~ Right Here All Along ~

Castiel was a tad apprehensive about making the announcement. It would, without a doubt, cause Dean to get upset and the Little was more than likely going to fight tooth and claw against him. But, Castiel was the Caregiver in this relationship and despite having had two naps today in an attempt to combat his lack of sleep the previous night, Dean was rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Okay, Sweet Boy,” Cas spoke, to grab Dean’s attention. The Little blinked but didn’t look away from the tablet screen. It was Cas’ iPad, and the boy had YouTube open, playing an hour-long video of a classic car show. However, the video was only 40 minutes in, and Cas wanted to get Dean up to bed before he fell asleep on the couch. “It’s time to start getting ready for bed.”

That garnered Dean’s attention. The boy looked up at the clock above the TV before rounding on Cas.

“What?!” Dean garbled, clearly outraged. “It’s six-fucking-thirty!”

“It is,” Castiel nodded, putting his book down and getting up from the couch where he’d been sitting beside Dean and supervising his tablet time. “It’s nearly bedtime.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Dean spat, pausing his video and throwing it onto the cushion beside him without care. “I haven’t had a bedtime since I was twelve! I can’t even remember the last time my bedtime was half-fucking-six!”

Castiel really resented the swearing coming from the boy, but he understood that this was all new and scary and Dean was still settling. Castiel had already introduced so many new things today, and the day wasn’t over yet, despite it being bedtime. And asking for the boy to stop swearing was a fight for tomorrow.

“Well, your bedtime is actually at 7,” Castiel stated kindly, picking up the tablet and locking it. “But it’s time to start settling down. That includes a cup of milk if you’d like one-”

“No, I don't,” Dean snapped, cutting across him.

“That’s okay. Would you like some water then?”

“No!”

“Well those are your two options for a drink right now, Jellybean,” Cas explained. “Other drinks, like hot chocolate and juice have sugar and caffeine in them which might keep you away at night. Okay?”

“I don’t want a drink anyway,” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms and looking at the other end of the living room.

“Okay, well if you change your mind just let me know,” Castiel paused, waiting to see if Dean had anything else he’d like to say on the matter before he delved into the next part of his explanation. “Then after a drink, we’ll go to the bathroom, you can use the toilet if you need to, change your diaper if it needs it and…”

“I don’t…!” Dean started, at the mention of the diaper, but stopped abruptly, his face going red. Castiel hadn’t known the boy very long but knew immediately that the boy’s diaper did, in fact, need changing, his sudden avoidance of talking about the object in question being the thing that gave the game away.

Cas raised his eyebrow, waiting to see if Dean was going to continue, but the boy merely shrunk back into the couch cushions and fixed a deep scowl on his face.

“After that, we’ll brush your teeth, get you changed into some warm pyjamas and choose a book to read. After the book, we’ll pop the nightlight on and get you all tucked up into bed.”

“What if I don’t want to read a book?” Dean mumbled into his knees.

“Then you don’t have to, sweetheart,” Castiel spoke softly, placing the tablet on the coffee table and picking up the plush dinosaur he’d gifted Dean earlier in the day. “C’mon then, let’s go upstairs.”

“I don’t want to go to bed.”

“I know you don’t, Jellybean. But it’s time to start getting ready for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Dean grumbled with a loud yawn.

“That’s okay,” Castiel smiled, even though he knew this was far from the case. “But it’s time to go up to bed. If, after getting ready for bed, you’re still not tired, you can sit up in bed with your tablet or a reading book.”

Begrudgingly Dean got up from the couch and followed Castiel up the stairs to the bathroom. Castiel unwrapped a new, green toothbrush, and handed it to Dean with some toothpaste.

“Do you want to use the toilet?” Castiel asked when Dean had been through the motions.

Dean yawned and nodded, suddenly struggling to keep his eyes open. Castiel recognised the slight regression in the boy and proceeded softly and gently.

“Okay, sweetheart,” He soothed. “Daddy’ll help you, okay?”

“I can do it,” Dean yawned again, rubbing stubbornly at his eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

“I know, Jellybean,” Cas shushed. “But Daddy needs to take your diaper off first.”

Castiel worked fast, helping the Little step out of his trousers and un-taping the wet diaper. He rolled it up and disposed it in the diaper pail as Dean stepped up and used the toilet.

“All done?” Cas asked as Dean stepped away from the toilet.

Dean jolted like he’d forgotten that the Caregiver was there. He shied away from Cas, covering his lower half from sight and whined.

“Ready for your diaper now?”

“Can’t I just have some pants?”

“No, sweet boy,” Cas shook his head, but not unkindly. “C’mon, we’ll make this quick and then you can curl up in bed, and go to sleep, hmm?”

Dean whined again when Castiel hoisted him up and laid him down on the changing table. Of course, despite being ridiculously tired and the slightest bit regressed, Dean fought.

“No,” He sobbed, fighting weakly against Castiel’s hold as the man expertly cleaned him up and taped the new diaper around his waist. He was crying, fat tears falling thick and fast from his eyes. “Please… I don’t need it! I’m not a baby… I’m not…”

“Hey, hey,” Cas shushed, leaning close to the boy and brushing his hair back, off his forehead. Wide, wet, tired eyes found his and Castiel’s heart softened. Castiel’s inner Caregiver was rearing its head, and he wanted to just engulf the boy, protect him from the whole world and baby him half to death. He resisted though, understanding that it wouldn’t be beneficial to Dean right now, and would more than likely just end up pushing the Little further away from Castiel and from his headspace. “You’re okay, Jellybean. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.”

“Please. Please… I don’t…”

Castiel shushed him, sliding his hands under the boy’s arms and lifting him onto his hip. He sat down on the toilet lid and held the boy close. 

“No diaper,” Dean wailed, clutching onto Cas as tightly as possible. “Please… I don’t… no diaper!”

“Hey, the diaper isn’t going to hurt you, baby,” Castiel cooed. He placed a kind hand against Dean’s head and pressed a chaste kiss to the boy’s temple. “You’ve worn one all day and Daddy is super proud of you! You’ve done so well! You’re such a good boy!”

Dean just cried into Castiel’s shoulder and after rocking him for a moment, Cas stood and carried the weeping boy into the nursery, across from the bathroom. He grabbed some pyjamas from the chest of drawers and lowered the side of the grey crib.

“Oh, Jesus; shit!” Dean cursed, seemingly snapping back to himself as Castiel lowered him to sit on the edge of the crib’s mattress. His face was wet and Castiel made a mental note to grab a wipe before laying the boy to sleep. “What the fuck!”

“You need some pyjamas, Dean-Bean,” Castiel hummed, showing him the orange pyjamas; the trousers striped like a tiger and the top with a cartooned tiger head.

“No,” Dean sniffed, looking around at the large crib headboard. “Why… why?”

"Why what, baby?" Castiel asked, sliding the boy's trousers over his feet, pleasantly surprised when he didn't fight that. He was certain the new upset was about the crib.

"Crib," Dean wailed, looking around at it wildly. "Why a crib?"

"To keep you safe, Dean," Castiel explained, sliding Dean's worn top up over his head.

"I don't need... the sides..." Dean muttered desperately, his panic clearly building. "The sides... I can't..."

“Hey,” Cas took the boy’s face between his hands and made him focus on him. “Look at me. You’re okay. Daddy’s here with you. The crib is your bed, but you don’t need to have the sides up if you don’t want to. Daddy won’t make you.”

His own heart thudded away rapidly in his chest at the thought of Dean wriggling around in bed without some sort of guard to stop him from falling out. He could hurt himself badly, but it was a compromise the Caregiver was willing to make if it meant Dean would calm and sleep well tonight.

“I don’t… I don’t… I don’t wanna…”

“Okay, sweetheart, okay,” Castiel shushed, brushing his hair back again and wondering about some clips to keep it pressed back, or a haircut. “You don’t have to. Daddy will leave the sides down, okay?”

After that, Castiel was quickly able to get Dean dressed in the orange pyjamas, wipe his face and settle him back against the pillow and under the blanket.

“The side,” Dean reminded him when Castiel stood up from tucking him in.

“Of course, Jellybean,” Castiel acknowledged, even though he hadn’t forgotten. He went round the other side and lowered it, locking it into place. The sides of the crib were something they could and would work up to. Castiel didn’t think he would ever be able to sleep at night again if Dean never had the sides up.

He quickly gathered the soft, blue dinosaur that he’d brought up from downstairs. He offered it to the Little, unsurprised when the boy snatched the teddy and clutched it to his chest, and relaxed like a whole weight had lifted from his shoulders.

“There’s a good boy,” Castiel cooed, sitting back on the edge of the mattress and smiling softly down at the boy who was already more than half asleep. “Now, would you like a story?”

“Nuh-uh,” Dean shook his head and yawned. The clock on the wall dictated how it was barely 6.50, and Cas wondered just what had happened to the Little who only 20 minutes ago had declared that he wasn’t tired.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Castiel whispered, smoothing down the cover and watching as Dean fought to keep his eyes open. “Daddy’s going to leave the door open, okay? You just call me if you need anything.”

Dean yawned and turned onto his side. He blinked up at the Caregiver with large, wet eyes. Castiel shushed him, smoothing his hair back again before standing up. He turned on the mobile that was above the crib, letting the soft lullaby fill the room. Next, he flicked on the moon-shaped night light and the baby monitor that was on the bedside table beside the crib and crossed the room to flick off the main light. The room suddenly felt warm, peaceful, cosy and calm. Perfect for sleeping.

“Good night, Dean,” Castiel whispered into the room. “Sweet dreams, my little Jellybean.”

Castiel pulled the door partly closed and crept back down the landing, towards the stairs. He wondered whether Dean would stay in bed all night, or if the Little would try and go on some late-night adventure in an attempt to escape.

Either way, his heart was so happy to have a Little in his home and under his care again after so long. And there was no doubt about it, Dean was going to make such a wonderful, positive difference in his life.