Sam stared up at Dean, awed at his first full look at the size difference, now that there were no walls between them. Even sitting down, from the table up Dean was the size of a building. Dean slowly leaned forward, eyes wide and locked on Sam the whole time. He rested his head on the table softly to get closer to Sam's level, meeting Sam's eyes in a shared expression of dismay. Sam couldn't help but notice even with Dean's chin flat against the table like that he would barely come up to Dean's nose. If that. It was hard to tell at this distance.
Sam took a small step back from Dean's whispered exclamation, still getting used to the sheer volume of the world and the hot breeze that hit him with the whispered words. At least Dean didn't have bad breath (currently), and Sam was starting to get used to how loud his brother was.
While Dean was staring him down, Sam shifted uncomfortably on the table. His arm was starting to throb more with time, reminding him he needed to take a look at it, make sure nothing was hurt too bad. As though he could read Sam's mind, Dean locked eyes on the arm, reaching a hand forward slowly.
Sam froze at the sight. Dean's hand alone was longer than the Impala, and each finger was thicker and longer than Sam. Seeing them like this, outside of the protection of the car's walls, made him realize again how helpless he was here. How easy it would be for him to get hurt from a careless move.
It was clear from the concentration on Dean's face he knew exactly what he was asking of Sam. The only thing that stopped Sam from backing away from the hand was the familiar expression covering Dean's face. Make sure Sammy's ok combined with the same unique determination Dean saved for life or death situations. After all, for Sam this was a life or death situation. Seeing that familiar look on Dean's face was reassuring, a reminder that Dean would never do anything to purposely hurt him.
Keeping his arm steady, Sam forced himself to stay still while Dean's hand approached. The last thing either of them needed was Dean to misjudge even the slightest because Sam couldn't stay in one place. He closed his eyes when the hand came almost close enough to touch, unable to watch the size of the fingers grow anymore. For a few seconds, he could almost feel the heat rising from Dean's skin. Then, out of nowhere, it was gone.
Sam let out a small yelp when he opened his eyes, not expecting Dean to suddenly sit straight up and push his chair back. Sam still wasn't prepared for how huge Dean was. The entire table quaked with the movement, almost knocking Sam flat on his ass. Dean's eyes went wide again, staring at Sam in disbelief, almost as though he couldn't believe what he was looking at.
He saw Dean fumble for a few seconds searching for something to say before he settled on "I'll get you some ice," in a soft mumble. Dean stood up, almost stretching into the sky before quickly walking to the mini-fridge. If you could call a fridge the size of a high-rise, mini. Even from here Sam could feel the ground shake under him from his brother's footsteps.
Keeping a wary eye on Dean, Sam took a few steps back towards the Impala, planning on staying near the only object in the room that didn't make him feel outsized. He watched Dean dig through the freezer before coming up with an ice cube clenched in his first. Green eyes flicked back to Sam for a second before the cube was dropped on the ground, shattering into smaller pieces. Sam clapped his hands over his ears at the volume, not expecting it to be so loud. Dean didn't notice, too busy picking up the remains of the cube from the ground.
Dean came back over to the table. His huge fingers approached Sam slowly again, this time with a bit of ice wrapped in a paper towel in them. Grateful, Sam took the proffered lump from the fingers. It was almost the size of his arm, but he knew Dean was trying.
"T-thanks," he managed to get out. He sat down on the table facing Dean, a few feet away from the Impala and rested his arm against the ice. Blessed numbness took away the pain. Once the pain went down enough, he'd be able to get his jacket off and see the condition of the arm.
After a few moments like that, Sam looked back up at Dean, who still had that panicked look of self-blame coating his face. That, along with the lack of any wisecracks or even a reassuring smile made Sam worry for his brother. If you gave him the chance, Dean would drown himself in regret without needing any help. "Dean," Sam said, hoping his voice was loud enough to carry. "Don't blame yourself. None of this is your fault." He shot up the best smile he could. "I'm fine."
Dean's fretting was disturbed by a peeved look. "You call this fine?" he scoffed, taking up a careful seat in front of him again.
The table shook very slightly when his feet bumped a table leg. Sam nearly dropped the ice, and Dean faltered. It was still shocking to him that such small movements could affect Sam so intensely.
"Whoa. Sorry."
An awkward silence spanned out as each tried not to constantly size the other up. Sam was relieved of Dean's attention when his green eyes flicked over to the Impala. It looked glossy as ever under the warm lamp light. Spurred by an insatiable curiosity, Dean leaned way down, putting his beloved car square and center in his sights. He traced the metal rims with all the tenderness of a lover, fascination temporarily offsetting his panic.
That smudge again. Had to fix that. He patted himself down and pulled his handkerchief out of his inner jacket pocket. It was wrinkled and stained a muddy rust color, even after being washed- a testament to being used for wiping monster blood off the Winchesters' knives for years. But it was soft, making it perfect for polishing up a little smudge.
After dabbing the edge with his tongue, Dean reached down and rubbed the passenger's side window with a single thumb. He pulled away, cracking a small smile when he saw the gleam left behind. He set the cloth down and gingerly picked up the Impala. He couldn't resist. The bags slid around in the backseat as he tilted it around in his hand.
"Unbelievable," Dean breathed, peering into through the open door at the driver's seat he had filled so many times. Microscopic keys jingled as he set a finger on the driver's door and tested his strength, trying to gauge how much pressure it would take to shut the door without shattering the glass.
"I was only gone ten minutes, max!" Dean thought aloud, still eyeballing his Baby. "So what happened, you just blink and end up puny?" he asked Sam dubiously.
Sam winced slightly at Dean's raised voice and peeved glare. No - not raised. He was just talking in an almost normal tone of voice. And it was disconcerting to be glared at by someone big enough to smoosh him without noticing.
The table shook as Dean got settled in his seat, almost knocking the ice away from Sam's arm. Sam grabbed at it, clutching it back to his arm. He couldn't stop from shooting up a glare through Dean's apology, bangs falling in front of his face. He faltered after a moment, unable to keep his eyes on Dean any longer. There was just so much of him. He was practically a wall at the edge of the table, blocking Sam's view of the rest of the room easily. Sam found himself wishing he could go back to looking down at his brother's head, the way things were supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to be smaller than a hand.
When Dean turned his sweeping gaze to the Impala, Sam found himself relaxing unconsciously. Being under such close scrutiny by someone so frickin' huge wasn't easy. Then he tensed again as Dean leaned over, peering closely down at the Impala. Sam twitched back as Dean unknowingly loomed over him, eclipsing the light from above for the younger Winchester. One massive hand planted flat on the table not far away from Sam. From here, Sam could see the fingers were easily two feet thick, the ring on Dean's hand approaching hula-hoop sized. At the very least, it would fit easily around Sam's shoulders.
He wondered briefly exactly how big he was now. He couldn't be more than a few inches in height, if even that, considering how the car wasn't even the size of a hand.
He watched as Dean gently caressed the Impala with his hand, tracing around the tires with a laser precision. The panic on his face melted away, replaced by a curious fascination. Something in Sam relaxed with Dean finally out of his panicked funk. The hand next to Sam lifted away, going to Dean's jacket and pulling out a handkerchief the same size as the car, gently rubbing off smudges on the windows from when he'd grabbed the Impala earlier. When he was finished and the Impala's paint job gave off a perfect reflection, the first smile he'd gotten since Sam and the Impala had shrunk appeared on his face, content for the moment.
Sam kept quiet the whole time, fascinated by the sight of an 18-foot car being treated like a beloved toy.
It just wasn't natural.
Seconds later, he ducked as the Impala soared over his head, scooped up by enormous, careful hands. Ok - that was weird. Dean tilted it every which way, staring into the windows curiously with a big green eye. Sam just hoped the bag with his laptop in it didn't get too banged up from all the movement, or that the papers and notes he had on the case wouldn't tumble out the door. Last he'd seen them, they'd gone flying when he'd grabbed the wheel earlier. They were going to need those notes. He had a sinking suspicion that what had happened to him might be tied to what they'd been investigating.
He remembered Gina mentioning escaping through a mousehole... if the same thing had happened to her, she might literally have meant an actual mousehole.
Still in his own world, Dean was still pouring over every minute detail of his baby. "Unbelievable," Dean muttered to himself, voice awed. A huge finger brushed against the open door, carefully closing it up. "I was only gone ten minutes, max!" he said thoughtfully, eyes for nothing but the Impala.
Dean turned from the car, still cradling it gently in his hands. Sam wouldn't have been surprised to learn Dean was using it for moral support. "So what happened, you just blink and end up puny?"
Sam couldn't help a slight jump when the huge eyes locked on him again. "I... dunno. It was weird." He frowned in concentration, staring at the intricate wood grain beneath him. Details he couldn't have made out twenty minutes ago jumped out at him in stark clarity. "One minute, I was sitting there, minding my own business asleep. Then... I heard this... weird... laughter. It was like it was in my head or something. Not even making any real sound. It stopped after a few moments and I almost made it back to sleep. But then... there was this..." he faltered for a second, remembering what he'd woken up to. "Earthquake... that woke me up." He clutched the ice pack tighter against his arm. "Saw boots the size of a house coming right at me and the Impala, heard my phone start going off, and dove for the wheel. The rest you know."
Sam turned his gaze back up to Dean, shifting his makeshift ice pack. It was starting to melt through the paper towel on him. "If you hadn't left the keys in the ignition, I don't even know what I would have done. There's no way I could have hotwired the car fast enough to get out of the way."
Me, Dean realized, I was the earthquake. The fact was chilling to say the least. Whatever force was at work here clearly had no qualms about putting Sam into danger.
Dean barely breathed as Sam continued to recount his side of the story. He had to stay quiet to even hear the guy clearly. Their perspectives were so vastly different... the way Sam was describing things was downright alien. Looking down at his toy-sized brother, Dean couldn't begin to imagine what he looked like to him.
"Back up. You said you heard laughter?" Dean said, wheels turning in his head. He gingerly- if a bit reluctantly- set the tiny Impala back onto the tabletop. "Like that Gina chick back at the police station. Said she was hearing some invisible laughter when she was... wandering through Kim's closet."
Dean shook his head, still not entirely certain about the credibility of that last detail. Still, the detail of an invisible laugh and seemingly impossible outcome... It was a connection he couldn't ignore. Dean tilted his head at Sam, eyeing him up head to toe for the umpteenth time. There was no getting used to this.
"Can you hear any laughing right now?" he asked.
Sam frowned as the Impala was placed away from him on the table, slightly disconcerted by how easily and unknowingly Dean had separated him from his only shelter. Even though he knew Dean hadn't meant anything by it, it was a little frightening to be trapped in such an expansive landscape with nothing familiar nearby.
He brought himself back to Dean's words as his brother talked, concentrating. "No, I haven't heard it since I woke up in the car. Not even a peep." He ignored the way Dean was staring down at him. He'd forgotten how intimidating Dean could be by accident. Sam reminded himself that it just meant Dean was completely focused on the problem. On Sam. "With any luck, maybe this will just wear off like it did for Gina. She said she was only gone for about three hours."
Thinking about being stuck like this for three hours suddenly hit him like a brick. He'd been small for barely ten minutes and it already felt like slow torture. Plus he couldn't stop himself from shooting surreptitious glances at Dean every few seconds, well aware of the threat his brother could unknowingly pose.
Pushing away his melted napkin of ice, Sam carefully took off his jacket, placing it down next to him on the rough table. He was pretty sure the table would be smooth if he was still normal sized, another weird thought. He rolled up his sleeve gingerly, revealing the spectacular bruising pattern on his upper arm. But luckily, there was no other damage that he could find. No break, sprain or dislocation. It would be sore for a bit, but that was all. He was lucky that was all that had happened, all things considered. He rubbed the arm once it was free of the sleeve, glad it was feeling a little better now.
Dean nodded in agreement. "Still doesn't explain what did this to you," he pointed out in a low voice. He shook his head, hating that no matter how hard he racked his brain through dozens of years of hunting, he couldn't think of a single thing that shrunk people for kicks.
"You're not dead, so the Trickster is probably out of the question," Dean mumbled dubiously, pursing his lips in thought. "I dunno, Sammy. Maybe somebody got sick of you being a ginormatron." A smirk flickered over Dean's face, but it was fleeting.
He saw the damage he had done to Sam's arm and again felt entirely monstrous. He opened his mouth to apologize, then shut it again. Sam already knew.
Nodding thoughtfully as he pulled his sleeve back down, Sam was well aware of the guilt still on Dean's face. He ignored the small attempt at humor, though he was secretly glad to see Dean loosening up slightly. He was a much better hunter when he was focused on the problem, and with Sam in this condition, he'd need Dean at the top of his game.
Pulling himself to a stand, Sam grabbed his jacket with his good arm, trudging towards the far-away car. He needed to check his notes again, and maybe see if a micro laptop could catch a Wi-Fi signal. He focused on the problem as a distraction while he walked. What could possibly shrink a person? he thought to himself while he walked.
Thinking out loud, he spoke to the air. "Well, curses have been known to do some strange things to people." He shifted his jacket so it was draped over his shoulder. "Spirits are probably out of the question, we've never known them to do anything like this, and the way it jumped from Gina to me just doesn't track with their usual MO. Witches... that's a possibility. We should see if anyone has it out for Gina... any enemies, past lovers, the usual. Maybe they recognized hunters and switched targets. Or maybe she was a lure, just to draw us in..." He shook his head. "Shrinking, of all things," he gave a small laugh.
He could almost feel Dean's eyes taking his progress as he hiked across the table in front of the massive arms that were not far from him. He wished the car was closer to where he'd been sitting. Dean had put it down to the side, presumably just setting it where he wouldn't accidentally bump against it with a careless move. But it left the Impala a good hike away from Sam as a result.
It was like watching one of his tiny toy soldiers as a kid spring to life and start walking around. So friggin' weird.
As entertaining as it was to watch his itty-bitty brother in motion, Dean could see it was more than a leisurely stroll to the car. With Sam obviously already sore, there was no reason to further his suffering. Dean unfolded his arms to pick up the Impala and set it down just a few inches in front of Sam.
Little Sam came to an abrupt halt as Dean's immense hand dropped down, leaving the Impala in its wake. Dean expected a look of relief or gratitude, but instead he got more uneasiness and fear shot up at him. He couldn't help the silent What? that slipped across his face... before he realized that to Sam, he had literally just moved an 18 foot car with a single hand. How was it that Sam was the one who shrunk, and yet here he was, feeling like the giant freak?
"Poke around for a hex bag. I can't even fit my pinkie in there right now," Dean told him with an uneasy chuckle.
Sam gave a start when the huge arm lying near him on the table started moving. But instead of scooping him up like he'd been afraid of, it swept the Impala up, dropping it on the table less than six feet from where Sam was. He froze when the car touched down, still shocked to see the Impala so easily moved. He couldn't help a quick glance up at Dean, unable to prevent a sliver of intimidation passing over his face.
Dean gave Sam a brief look of surprise back, as though he'd expected Sam to take the car being moved so easily in stride like him. Then uneasiness, as if Dean had realized what he'd done. Shaking his head to clear out all these distractions, Sam pulled open the rear door. He needed to focus. Digging through the mess in the backseat, Sam found his laptop, thankfully still in one piece. Everything else was in good shape, just tossed around.
Slipping back out of the car, he stuck the laptop on the roof of the car, turning it on to start loading. Good thing I charged it up last night, he thought uneasily. While he was stuck this size, the only way he could charge it would be with the Impala, and the car's gas and battery wouldn't last forever. All the more reason to figure this case out fast.
Leaving it there for the moment, he went back into the car. Starting in the front, he dug through every crevice and nook you might be able to hide a hexbag in, pausing briefly to put his notes back in order on the passenger seat. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the shadow of his brother moving around outside the windows, probably trying to see what Sam was doing in his car. Giving up on the back seats, he pulled out of the car with a huff. Where else... he thought.
For the next ten minutes, he searched the engine, the trunk and even peeked under the car with a flashlight, but no luck. Giving up, he slouched down against the trunk. "I don't think it's a hexbag," he called up to Dean. "Unless they got it inside one of the seats, or shoved it so far up the muffler it'll never see the light of day. But, the car runs fine, so I don't think it would be anywhere I can't reach." He grabbed the laptop off the roof, sitting on the trunk so he could talk to Dean at the same time. "Hey! I've got internet!"
Smurf-sized Wi-Fi? Dean scoffed dubiously. This he had to see for himself. Trying to be subtle, he took a risk and leaned way down close over the Impala, his chin hovering mere centimeters over the metal hood. As quiet as he thought he was, his breathing and even body heat was still tangible to the smaller man. Dean squinted at the glow of the laptop screen, just barely able to make out the green speck on the miniature screen that meant that Wi-Fi was connected.
"I'll be damned," he muttered. From this close he could see Sam stiffen, as if he's been cornered by a monstrous wendigo in the woods. He sighed, accidentally ruffling Sam's hair into a fluffy mess as he pulled away, sitting back again.
"You don't have to give me the Godzilla treatment. I'm trying to save your bacon here, Sammy." He felt a little bad for pointing out Sam's obvious trepidation. He knew that, put in Sam's shoes, he'd be just as freaked. But it wasn't exactly an ego boost to continually terrify your little brother just by breathing.
He didn't linger on the subject, moving onto what he could actually do, which right now essentially dwindled to pure research. Actually...
"Crap," Dean groaned. He stole a glance through the back window of the Impala. Sure enough, his duffle bag was sitting on the backseat. It would be generous to call it bite-sized. "Looks like you're on your own with researching this creep." He stared down at the car in frustration. "Don't worry, baby, we'll have you fixed real soon. Be patient for me." He soothed the car, stroking her hood lovingly.
"Dean..." Sam sighed. It wasn't fair to Dean he was skittish. Honestly, aside from almost stepping on the car and sending Sam flying into the door, Dean was doing much better than he was.
'Course it's not like he's smaller than a finger... Sam pushed those thoughts away.
He didn't mean to keep jumping whenever Dean looked at him, he really didn't. But sitting there on the car while Dean leaned close behind him... or the way he'd had to grab the slip of paper that had Gina's information on it to keep Dean from accidentally inhaling it when he breathed in...
It was a lot to take in.
Especially since hovering right behind him had been a mouth so big he could easily just walk right in.
Not a comforting thought by a long shot.
Pausing his work on the laptop, Sam turned. For a moment, he watched the thick fingers next to him gently caress the car. Sam brushed his mussed up hair from his eyes as Dean sat back, leaving one hand draped on the table near his precious Impala.
Gathering his resolve, Sam got up from the car and stalked over to the immense hand. Dean hadn't noticed him moving, staring vaguely into space far above Sam's head. With every ounce of the famous Winchester stubbornness in his small body, Sam kicked the finger closest to him, dodging out of the way when it twitched in surprise.
With Dean's attention focused on him, Sam stood straight, gathering every millimeter of height he had left in his formerly 6'4 body. "Dean, I'm not scared of you." He pushed stubbornly through the doubt he knew was there. "It's just a lot to take in, you know? But you're still my brother, and I'd trust you with my life any day."
Sam leaned on the hand fearlessly, knowing actions got through to Dean far more effectively than words any day. And he knew he'd be safe like this with Dean, no matter how small he was. He smiled. "Now why don't you make yourself useful and get us some food, Godzilla?"
Dean practically flinched when Sam kicked his finger. Eyebrows hiked up high, he swiveled his gaze downwards. His breath caught in his throat. Next to his relaxed hand, he realized that he could fit four or five of Sam in his palm alone. Sam had been scrawny as a kid, but this... this felt so wrong.
Though distracted by the fact that Sam's shoulders barely exceeded the width of the joint of his finger, Dean had to admit his show of support did not go unappreciated. He scoffed quietly, a small smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth. With the very tip of his pinkie finger, Dean ruffled Sam's bangs sloppily in front of his eyes as he pulled away.
"Let me just call my buddy King Kong, see what I can wrangle up."
