Trick-Or-Treat

                                    

                                          
[Rayne – One Day Ago]
                          
The toddler sat in front of me on the bed; irises a brighter green than usual, freckles scattered under his eyes and across the nose like stars in the night sky. He was adorable, if not a little goofy looking. I crossed my arms and stood looking down at the four-year old Dean. I was ecstatic when I woke up my own age, but it didn't last long when I realized that he and I had apparently switched positions during the night. I didn't remember much from my day of being a toddler again; it might have been quite nice for all I knew, but growing up once was painful enough. I didn't think I could go through puberty a second time and retain my sanity.
                          
"Well, what are we going to do now, Dean?" I asked the toothy little boy. 
                          
He ignored me and instead climbed off the bed and ran to turn on the television. How he knew how to work the remote at that age, I had no idea, but before I could blink, he had switched the channel to some sort of cartoon and plopped down in front of the screen to watch it. 
                          
If I remembered correctly, Dean had made some progress the previous night about who he thought was behind the whole thing. To my luck, the motel notepad lying on the bedside table had Dean's messy scribblings on it. After digging his cellphone out of the jeans that he 'grew' out of in the middle of the night, I scrolled through the contacts till I found Bobby's name. 
                          
He picked up right away. "Dean? What is it?"
                          
"Um, it's actually Rayne," I replied. 
                          
"Rayne?" 
                          
"Yeah...hi, Bobby." 
                          
"I thought you were too young these days to know how to use a phone?" 
                          
"I was...now it looks like it's Dean's turn." 
                          
He swore. "How did that happen?" 
                          
"I don't know...I woke up myself again only to find a pesky little toddler in the bed next to mine." 
                          
"How do you know it's him?"
                          
I looked over at Dean who was staring at the screen with one finger stuck up his nose. There was a commercial playing for women's deodorant and his gaze was fixated on the women that were running down the beach in slow motion. "Oh, it's him all right."
                          
"Balls," he muttered. "All right, well, hold tight. I'm almost there." 
                          
"Hurry, Bobby. I have a feeling that toddler Dean is a little hell-raiser." 
                          
He started to laugh heartily and hung up before I could ask for any advice. It looked like Bobby suspected the same thing. I turned out to be correct in my assumption. Dean just about screamed his head off when I tried to dress him in the clothes that he bought for me the other day. The sparkly overalls and pink shirt were apparently just to my four-year-old liking, but Dean was deadly opposed to it.
                          
"These are girl clothes!" he screamed, throwing the shirt across the room where it landed in a bunch in the corner. "I'm not wearing them!"
                          
"Well, it's either these or nothing, Dean," I shot back, getting beyond annoyed with his attitude. There was no way I was as sassy when I was four. 
                          
~~~ 
                          
It seemed that Dean's unusually high comfort level with being naked went back all the way to his younger years.
                          
His little butt cheeks wiggled with every hop as he skipped his way proudly out of the motel room and towards the Impala. It was a warmer day than usual, and I figured he'd be fine until I got him some 'boy' clothes. He ran over to the driver's side of the car and started to pull on the handle. "Open the door, Ray! Open the door!"