In the sudden silence that overtook the room, Sam shoved aside any thought of how huge both his family members were. This is your normal now... deal with it. Same as you always do. They're both your family and they both care about you in their own way.

Of course, Dean's way just happens to be a lot more reassuring...

Both of them stared down at him from so high above even as he started. "Dad, it's not Dean's fault any of this happened. I'm the one that's to blame. I was overconfident. I forgot how easy things could go wrong. That's on me."

Dean's expression flattened as he stared down at his miniature brother. "Sam, this is not your fault."

Sam glared up at Dean, unintimidated by the intense expression staring back at him. "Well it's not yours, either! Because let's face it, everything that happens must be Dean's fault, right?" Sam held out his good arm, gesturing at Dean. "I don't blame you for what happened any more than I blame dad for getting me cursed in the first place! Yet you both insist on taking the blame for things you have no control over."

"Sam, please," Dean started.

"No." Sam's voice was full of resolve. "Just because I'm smaller than you doesn't mean I can't watch out for myself. I'm not a child. It's my responsibility." He turned his glare on John. "Not Dean's, and not yours."

Sam softened his face with a smile and turned to his brother. His eyes shone. "Dean, I appreciate you lookin' out for me, man, I really do. But I'm not gonna let you shoulder all the blame for this. If anything, it's both our faults. And now it's over, so can't we just be a family for once?"

The tension in the room broke at that. John quirked an eyebrow at Dean. "Is the little guy always this stubborn?"

A scowl crossed Dean's face. "Yeah, Sam is." Emphasis was put on Sam's name, which Sam was grateful for.

Sam went over to his dad's hand, resting on the table. He put his own small hand on it, not caring about the difference in size for once. "Dad... thanks. For everything you did when I was a kid. But I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle myself. No one understands living at this size better than me. Not you, not Dean. You can't understand what it's like for me."

John's hand lifted up, briefly brushing Sam's hair. "I just wish I could have protected you better. Kept you safe from... this."

Sam made his way back over to Bree. He put a hand on her shoulder and felt her trembling. It was a little better now that the giants weren't having a face-off, but still present. Sam's steady hand on her back started to help calm her down a bit. "Not everything's bad about this size. Trust me, there are worse things in the world than being small. Plus, I have Dean. There's no one I rely on more."

John merely frowned at Sam's reassurance, clearly unconvinced. But, Sam didn't need to convince him. This was his life, not theirs.

Trying to put his father's doubt out of his mind, Sam turned back to Dean. He called up to his brother, "Is... do you think I could check my stuff? The last time I saw it, it all got knocked around, and..." Sam looked down at himself, brushing a hand against his broken arm. His face went red, knowing this went against everything he'd just argued. "I can't really get down there on my own until this heals."

Dean's eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "Of course!" he stuttered, sounding shocked. "I can't believe I forgot..."

Sam and Bree both backed away as Dean knelt nearby, putting himself on their level. He dug in his pocket with Sam watching curiously. Understanding dawned when Sam caught sight of the tiny bag pinched between his brother's fingers. "My satchel..." he said, taking a step forward. Of all the things he owned, it was one of his only keepsakes from Walt. His adopted father. He was very thankful it hadn't been lost or destroyed when he'd been taken.

"I found it on the floor... meant to get it back to you sooner, honestly. Just got caught up in events." Dean rubbed the back of his neck while his small brother walked up to his hand, taking his bag back. Dean smiled at the sight of the bag back where it belonged with Sam. "Your knife and journal are on your bed..." he went on. His hand flipped around so it was palm up once Sam had his bag back in his arms.

"Sam..." the soft voice came from behind. He turned, meeting Bree's eyes. "Can I come with you?" Her eyes skated nervously over John's dark figure, more distant from the table now.

He nodded his understanding. "Of course you can. Dean won't mind." To demonstrate, he stepped on his brother's hand. It twitched slightly under his boot but remained motionless for the most part. Sam smiled at that, knowing how hard Dean worked to make Sam feel comfortable, especially in his hands.

Bree inched over slowly, coming up to Dean's hand. Her eyes flicked from brother to brother before she took that step, standing next to Sam.

Once they were both settled, the hand lifted smoothly into the air, the other hand guarding the edge. Nervously, Bree backed into Sam. "It's okay," he said to her, quiet enough that not even Dean could hear them. "You're alright."

"I - I know. It's just, hard, you know? All those years the only person who ever held me was Beth and she wasn't exactly big and intimidating like your brother. I... I trusted her. Despite everything else." She turned her face up to Sam. "But I trust you, so I'll trust him."

Sam smiled. The hand came to a rest at last, flattening against the ground as best it could. He stepped off, offering Bree a hand. Once they were both down Dean stood back up, straightening with a wink in Sam's direction to reassure his smaller brother.

They both climbed into the space under the nightstand. Bree walked in, surprise on her face. "This is all... yours?" she asked, amazement clear in her voice.

"Uh, yeah," Sam came in after her, walking into the darker area. "Every bit of it. Home sweet home."

Spotting his knife over on the bed, he went straight over to it with a grin.Dean must have cleaned it for me, he mused, turning it over in his hand. The last he'd seen of it, he'd bloodied it against the ever-charming Isabelle. I hope it leaves a scar, he thought viciously. After all the time separated from it, it was good to have it back. The weight of his weapon, back in his own hands, was reassuring.

Bree blinked at what he had in his hands. Her voice was full of awe as she spoke, "Sam, that's amazing. Where'd you get it from?"

He sat down on the bed. She came over, taking a quiet seat. "It's... my brother. Dean. He made it himself. Before I got cursed like this." He turned it over a few times. "The only thing I have left of my human life now."

"May I?" she asked reverently.

After only a moment's hesitation, Sam handed it over to her. She rubbed a hand over the silver blade. "In all my years with humans, I've never seen anything close to this. It's so well-made."

Sam gave a proud smile as he took it back. "Dean would be thrilled to hear that." It was a huge compliment, coming from someone who'd have to make all her own things to survive, especially if she couldn't scrounge supplies. He slipped it into his jacket, back where it belonged. Damn it felt good to do that.

She stared out of the nightstand, growing quiet. "What's the matter?" Sam asked, keeping his voice down. He had an inkling she wouldn't want anyone overhearing them. Dean he wasn't concerned about, but John... he had no idea what was going through that man's head.

She took a few moments to pull herself back together. "So, you really used to be that big?"

Sam followed her gaze to the massive pair of boots standing outside the nightstand. They shifted in place, brushing against the ground impatiently as Dean continued talking with John. He was a few feet away from them to give them privacy, but close enough to keep an eye on Sam. He had a feeling that after the last week, letting him out of sight, even down here, would be killing Dean. Especially with their father around. John was still an unknown, at least when it came to Sam.

"Well, not quite Dean's size. I was just a kid when it happened, plus Dean's really big for a human." Sam stared off into the distance.

"And... you're really a human?"

He blinked, considering. "I used to be..." he admitted. "Now... I don't know. Human or not, I don't really fit in anywhere. I have to hide if I'm around other humans with Dean, but when I'm around people like you and me, they're suspicious of me because of what Dean is, even though he'd never hurt anyone, or catch them." He slumped down, sagging onto his bed.

"Sam..." she said softly. "It doesn't matter what you are. You're Sam and that's enough for me." A real smile edged onto her face and she rested a supportive hand on his shoulder. Her eyes flicked to the opening between the books, where they could still make out Dean's massive boots, tapping against the ground. He was facing away from them now, towards John. Voices rumbled overhead as the hunters talked. Sam would be willing to bet Dean had his arms crossed, giving John his most intense glare. "And I'm sure your brother would agree."

Sam clasped her hand with a hesitant grin. It felt strange after all this time to have a hand resting on his shoulder and not a supportive finger. Dean tried so hard to be there for Sam but it was always disconcerting to see a finger half as thick as his body sitting so innocently on his shoulder. So big he could see the individual ridges of the skin without a problem.

They came out from underneath the nightstand to John arguing with Dean (again). "You boys aren't safe here. You need to leave as soon as you can."

From behind the dresser, the other three appeared. Christian had Kara hitched up on his shoulders, still joyful about their reunion. Mikael had a keen set to his face, eyes flashing to the humans in the room. An air of caution surrounded him like a thick fog. They met up with Sam and Bree right outside the nightstand, carefully picking their way across the room. Wary eyes were directed towards both humans. Packs and hastily thrown together supplies filled the men's hands.

Sam tried to tune into the conversation happening above them as Dean gave John an inquisitive stare, refusing to be baited by his father's demeanor this time. "What makes you say that?"

"I've been trailing the demon as much as I can. Never been able to catch it so far, but the signs led me here. It knows where you boys are." He took a seat at the table again, steepling his fingers. "This demon... it's one bad mother. I haven't found a way to take it on yet. But I will."

Spotting movement down on the floor, Dean took a step away from the table. "Why's it after us?" he demanded as he knelt down next to Sam and the others.

"Don't know yet. But I think it has something with that witch. I've found traces of her in three different places the demon's been." John exhaled, sitting back. "One of these days I'm gonna find it, and kill it."

Sam sucked in a breath. "But... it's a demon. You can't kill a demon," he called up from his place on the floor. The others stiffened at his words, knowing he was calling attention to them all.

John leaned down so he could see them better. "There are ways. As soon as I find one, that's the first thing I'll do." John shared a glance with Sam, empathy showing in his eyes this time. "That bastard's gonna die for what it's done."

Dean held his hand out to the small people standing down on the ground. "Time for us to get out of here, anyway." He stood with them in his hand. "It's not safe for anyone anymore."


Sam reclined in Dean's hand, cupped against the massive chest. He was watching the scenery pass by the Impala as time ticked by slowly. They were heading back to the motel he'd grown up in. He'd spent years there, living off whatever his family could find. Scraps, for the most part. Years of his life in one place while Dean moved from motel to motel, wherever the case brought him.

Coming back here was difficult for him. Losing his adopted parents had hit him hard. The blame for their deaths continued to hang over his head to this day. Having Bree so near was making it worse, in a way. Her entire family was gone and she'd need to face that head-on. Sam needed to push aside his own trepidation. For Bree. She deserved that much.

He doubted his family would have been able to recognize him anymore. He was a far cry from the Sam that had embarked with his brother all those months ago, shuddering on Dean's shoulder. He'd been afraid of everything back then. He was still afraid, but that dread had come from his recent experiences. Being crushed in a hand would do that to you.

Aside from that lingering anxiety, he realized he was adjusted to this life. Dean would always be there for him, come what may. Sam had a place. And that's all that mattered.

Spotting the time on the clock, Sam pushed himself up in Dean's hand. They had to be nearly there... he tried to see out the driver's side window, desperately curious. The last time he'd been here in the car he hadn't seen anything. He'd spent the entire trip fast asleep on Dean's shoulder. He smiled at that memory. Dean had certainly taken work to get used to, but it wasn't his fault. Sam was the one that was different...

Sam wakes as the Impala comes to a stop outside of a new motel. He mumbles to himself, sitting up on the weird surface he was resting on. Wait... It isn't just any surface he's sitting on, it's a shoulder. A human's shoulder.

He freezes for a few seconds of fear before he remembers everything that happened... losing his family... agreeing - no,

asking- to go with Dean to get the bastard that had killed them.

He is sleeping on his brother's shoulder.

With this realization, Sam glances above his head. He can see the profile of Dean's face staring out of the car as he turns the Impala off. From where he is sitting, Sam can only make out the corner of his brother's eye, and the underside of his jaw. Sam sighs briefly at the reminder of his situation.

For years, he's been used to living this way, smaller than a mouse, with a family that cared for him. Living like that, he's only been occasionally reminded of what he's lost. His daily supply runs into the motel they lived in had been the only reminders back then. But here he is, forced to confront everything he'd lost. His own brother serving as a constant reminder of his curse.

Sam is shaken from his thoughts when Dean suddenly opens up the car door and stands to his full height without warning. Sam clutches the collar of Dean's shirt to avoid falling. He really isn't going to get used to his brother's immense height. It was like trying to sit on Godzilla's shoulder. "Dean, wait!" he shouts up, surprised.

At least this Godzilla would listen to him.

Dean tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam. "Sorry 'bout that, Sammy. Forgot you were there."

Sam's breath hitches with fear at the accidental reminder of his insignificance. A huge hand reaches up, stopping right next to the shoulder. Sam stares at it for a few moments before Dean tries to get another look at him. "You're not planning on sitting there while I check into the motel, are you?" Dean asks jokingly. His deep voice rumbles kindly around Sam, reminding him that he's safe.

"No, no of course not!" Sam manages. That would mean other humans seeing him. Tremulously, he steps onto the huge palm, feeling the muscles twitch under his weight. It is going to be hard to adjust to sitting in a hand bigger than his entire body. As he sits there, he brushes a hand over Dean's silver ring, wondering at the size. He can remember rings fitting in the palm of his hand, but this one is huge and thick, reflecting his image back at him. He imagines it must be wide enough for him to use as a belt now. And it fits around Dean's finger.

The fingers shift around Sam as Dean brings the hand in front of his face. Sam freezes as soon as the big green eyes fall on him, not prepared for such an intense stare. "You mind hanging out in the pocket while I check in?" Dean asks.

"Uuhh…" Sam says nervously. "Sure, I guess." His eyes snap down to the pocket, resting innocently against Dean's chest. It was unreal to actually consider going in there. Humans were dangerous to people like him, yet here Sam was, perfectly safe... even welcomed.

The hand lowers down, coming to a rest right next to the pocket. Sam gives a slight jump when Dean's other hand rises up, but all it does is pinch open the pocket so he can jump right in. Which he does without delay, coming to a stop at the bottom.

His head jerks up the second he lands. The pocket is almost the same height as him. If he stands he'd just barely be able to peek out.

While he gets settled, the light from above disappears. Sam glances up to see the flap of the pocket as it drops down, blocking the outside world from sight. Something huge brushes against him from the outside, making Sam jolt away in surprise until he realizes it's just Dean's hand. You're safe... it's just Dean. He's not gonna hurt you… he'd never hurt you...

"You alright in there, Sammy?" comes Dean's deep voice, even more intense from how close Sam was sitting to his vocal cords.

Sam takes a second to calm himself before answering Dean. "Y-yeah, I'm good!" he calls up. He presses his hand against the outside of the pocket and touches Dean's hand to reassure himself. And to reassure Dean.

"Well then, sit tight, kiddo. Try not to move around too much. I don't want anyone picking up on you in here. We need to keep you off the radar."

"Got it." Sam pulls his legs against his chest to make himself as small as possible. Without warning, Dean's ambling stride starts up. The swaying steps swing the pocket gently, rocking the small Winchester like a hammock. Sam isn't bothered when it bumps into the broad chest behind him. It's reassuring to be with Dean now. Reassuring to be with his family.

Sam slowly relaxes. He's safe and that's all that matters. This is where he's meant to be.

This is home.

It had taken time and work but Sam was at peace with his life.

Noticing the exertion down on his hand as Sam tried to sit up, Dean lifted it up higher. "You okay, there, Sammy?" They were the first words he'd said to Sam since leaving the motel. Both had sat in silence, mindful of the duffel bag situated next to Dean. Bree and the others had decided it was for the best to sit tight in there. The less chances for other humans to see them, the better. And it would be dangerous for them to be on the seat at their size. All it would take would be Dean hitting the brakes once to send them flying, and even if his reflexes were fast enough to catch them he couldn't catch them all.

Sam struggled to sit up in the hand. Dean adjusted his hand so Sam was propped up against the fingers. "I was hoping to see... what it all looks like. You know... the town I lived in all those years."

Dean gave him a small smile. "All you ever gotta do is ask." He shifted until the hand was cupped against his chest. Sam relaxed, watching the scenery pass by.

All those years in the motel, he'd had no memory of what the rest of the town was like. When John had rolled in with Dean and Sam in the Impala, Sam's nose was buried in a book. Haven, Kansas... a name for his home in another life. Where he'd found a haven from the dangers of the world for years before his brother came back into his life and changed it forever. And the name of the motel itself was ingrained in his mind... Trails West Motel... an old fashioned name for an old fashioned life. But he'd had a loving home there for years.

It hadn't mattered to them what he was, or where he was from. All that mattered to Walt and Mallory was he was alone and abandoned. A boy who'd lost everything. His entire family, his world...

Everything.

And now he had it all back, but had lost his adopted family instead.

Sam pulled himself out of the past as he saw the motel appear in the windshield. He straightened as he tried to catch every detail. Feeling his movement down below, Dean's fingers adjusted to his new position.

At long last the Impala parked in the lot at Trails West. Dean checked into the motel, requesting a specific pair of rooms for himself and John. A very specific room for Dean, one they both remembered well from the time after they'd saved little Sean. He paid up front with one of his fake credit cards, getting the room for him and Sam for at least a week. Sam would need time to recover, that was for sure.

Sam waited in the Impala, fretting as their father's truck parked alongside the car. He shivered at the sight of the immense vehicle. Was everything their father had oversized? That truck could eat the Impala for lunch, and the Impala was big enough.

John stood outside the two cars, keeping a watch so no one got near the little refugees until Dean came back. Dean handed off the key for John's room before he gathered Sam and the duffel bag up out of the car. The hand with Sam sitting in it was blocked from sight in Dean's jacket as they went into the room. Even now, he wouldn't put Sam down, not risking even a pocket with that injured arm.

Once in the room Sam took a deep breath as the hand holding him moved back into the light. Dean and John were intently staring around the room, as though they thought they could spot the people living there so easily. Sam hid a laugh at the sight. His father and brother were good, but he doubted they could see Sam's people so easy. Not to mention the arrival of two enormous, intense men would send anyone in their right mind running for cover.

Even just the loud thumping from the two hunters' boots would be nerve-wracking. Sam flinched at the thought of how Krissy and her family would be reacting this second. This room was almost never used by the motel, so two humans staying, two huge, intimidating humans staying there, would be an eye-opener.

While Dean walked into the room, Sam surveyed it all from his perch on Dean's hand, taking note of where he remembered the entrances to Krissy's were. Nothing seemed to have changed in the time he'd been gone.

"Dean!" he called up, calling Dean and John's attention down on himself.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean held him to eye level while they spoke.

"I should... I should go make sure it's safe. Before we let the others leave. I don't want anything else happening to them now that they're finally safe."

Dean's eyes softened at that. "Good idea. But you take care of yourself, you hear me? Remember, you're not up to speed yet, either." He knelt down, lowering the hand to the floor to let Sam off.

Sam stepped back as Dean straightened, glancing at his father and brother from his true height. It was a strange sensation. He spent most of his time on Dean's shoulder, or standing on a table that was at least at waist height. It made him feel like their equal, no matter his size. But now he saw them as they truly were to anyone his size. Huge, foreboding, intimidating... the two most important people in his life were so big they could easily overlook Sam.

Dean leaned over the bed, peering into the duffel. Sam could hear him explaining the situation to them, giving them a choice of waiting in the bag or somewhere else, like on the table or bed. Turning his back on the two intense hunters, Sam walked behind the nightstand as he heard Mikael's answer to Dean. They would stay in the bag until Sam gave the motel the all-clear.

A loud creaking overhead signaled Dean taking a seat on the bed next to the duffel bag. John followed suit on the second bed. Sam paused for a moment as he remembered the last time the three of them had been in this motel together. John leaving him and Dean alone in the room... the witch breaking in. Shrinking Sam.

Losing his family.

A deep breath calmed his nerves before he turned to the wall. It was time. He needed to stop wallowing in memories of what was.

He set off down the pathway. It was a roundabout way to reach Krissy's but it would get him there eventually. This was technically her escape path, much like the one he'd used to get away from Dean all that time ago. It would be easy to replace if needed. The true path to her house was right next to the dresser. Sam had never given away its existence to Dean yet and he wasn't planning on it unless the family living there wanted to let Dean know. It wasn't his place, and it never would be.

Less than five fast-paced minutes later, he stood outside her door.

His heart pounded in anticipation. So long ago he'd left here... thinking to never return. Turning his back on thirteen years of his life. Leaving his childhood friend behind, afraid of him.

One of the hardest days of his life.

His hand raised up, ready to knock. He paused, staring at the wood blocking the entrance. It was thicker than he remembered, harder to knock down. So he wasn't the only one that had changed that day...

He knocked twice, then waited with his hands tucked behind his back. He didn't have long to wait. Within a minute there was a familiar voice from inside. "Coming!"

Sam smiled. Krissy...

The wood was pushed out of the way quickly. "Sorry for the wait! We weren't expecting..." her voice trailed off. "Company..." she finished weakly. "Sam."

He gave her a weak smile in return. He wondered if she had put his arrival together with the humans above yet. If she hadn't, she soon would. "Hi Krissy."

"You... you've been gone so long... we thought you were..." she grew quiet, bright eyes landing on his arm. She stared. "Sam, your arm..."

"What, this?" He put on a confident grin, shrugging it off. "This is nothing."

Some noise came from behind Krissy. Sam heard a kid running through the house and someone chasing them. "Is that Sean?" he asked, hopeful. He'd worried for the boy, being forced to live through the same nightmare as Sam. It would be good to see him, alive and well, hopefully adjusting to his new size.

Krissy paused. "It is..." she met him in the eyes. "Sam, there's something you need to know."

He tilted his head curiously. "What?"

A shadow walked up behind Krissy. A voice asked who had come to visit.

Sam froze in shock. His heart stopped.

Without a word, Krissy stepped out of the way. Sam and the man behind Krissy stood there in a silent staring contest, the moment stretching an uncomfortable amount of time.

Sam tried to talk, but found his mouth was dry.

He felt himself choke up, but managed to get one word out. Just one. Suddenly the most important word in the world to him.

"Walt."


A/N

They never found a body.

So, Sam officially grew up in Haven, Kansas. His motel was the Trails West Motel.

This chapter may or may not be why I got yelled at by my editor.

More to come July 24th