World of Winchester-Craft (continued)

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

A/N: And we're back :) Thank you all so much for reviewing! Your feedback simply makes my day :) This chapter is based on prompts from Ejdrup and bohumut, who both wanted to see big, barbarian Dean take care of little fairy Sam. In addition, The Silent Wind wanted to see a growing Dean for a moment as a nod to my Deanzilla series, so I've included that as well. Hope you all enjoy :) And as always, please keep those prompts coming!

Chapter Five: Sam's Gone and Caught a Sniffle

The blonde-haired mermaid tackles the blue-haired water nymph with the barely-there bikini. The nymph fights back, throwing her opponent into the ropes, but the mermaid lashes out with her tail and grabs the nymph in a fishy chokehold and holds her down for the count. One-two—OH, the nymph breaks free and whips the mermaid around by her tail, throwing her out of the ring! The bell tolls: end of Round Three. Someone calls for more mud, and a satyr scurries forward, bucket in hand. The mermaid crawls back into the ring, looking PISSED, as the nymph snarls and gestures at her to bring it.

It's pretty easy to say that as far as Dean is concerned, this is the Best Show EVER.

He's been watching TV for hours, hunched over the little set and enthralled by the most awesome wrestling he's ever seen. Sea Serpent vs. Flying Monkey. Minotaur vs. Cave Troll. Even Giantess vs. Goddess! THAT was his favorite…giant everythings everywhere. His furry underoos were a furry tent during that fight. But the current match is enjoyable too. Skimpy, mud-covered swimwear, two sexy women-things, and no-holds-barred wrestling? It's heaven. The bell rings again, signaling Round Four, and Dean grins ear to ear, hoping these ladies can go the distance.

Then a flash of light hits the corner of his right eye and distracts him. Hunter's instinct has him looking around at once—without looking like he's looking, naturally—and he waits. A few seconds later, it comes again: a small, golden light from the floor. Sam's big pillow has been propped up on one side against the wall. Dean creeps over and gently lifts the pillow up.

He finds his fairy brother sitting in a half lotus—impressive for his long legs, even if they are fairy-sized now. Sam's eyes are shut and his face is calm. He looks like a little Buddha, Dean grins, and he's about to say as much when Sam holds his arms out in front of him, palms facing each other. A ball of golden light appears and grows. Sam keeps his eyes shut as he brings the ball into his chest, where it expands and covers him in a flash. The glow dissipates, and Sam slowly opens his eyes and looks down at himself. A frown forms at once.

"DAMMIT!" he whispers, and he looks at his palms and holds them wide. "WHY won't you work?"

"Uh, Sam?"

Sam starts at his brother's voice, and he looks up into Dean's partly amused, partly concerned face. "Dean…hi! I was just…um…"

"Inventing a new way to play Lite Brite?" Dean grins, and Sam scowls. "Dude. Kidding. You're practicing your magic, right?"

Sam rubs the back of his neck. "Not really practicing…I'm…well…" He looks up at Dean, who is rolling his hand in the "go on" gesture. "I'm trying to make myself human again, okay?"

"Wow," Dean says, sounding impressed. He sits down on the floor. "Why?"

Sam is flabbergasted. "Why? Seriously?" Sam flies up to Dean's face. "Because I'm SICK of being a friggin' fairy, that's why! It's humiliating being this small!" Dean opens his mouth. "Shut up," Sam snaps.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You don't have to. I know that look."

"What look?"

"The Countdown to Smartass Remark Look. You give it, and then it's three…two…one…smartass! So shut up. You don't know what this is like."

"No, I don't," Dean admits gently. "But is it really all that bad?"

Still hovering in front of Dean's face, Sam folds his arms. "An hour ago, I really had to pee. And there's no toilet in here, so I knew I had to go outside. But I couldn't open the window, and I couldn't move the door."

"You should've told me! I would've helped!"

"I YELLED for your help, Dean, but you were too busy drooling at the TV! So you know what I had to do? I had to CRAWL under the damn door. Then I found a nice plant to water, and a huge spider nearly ate me! So I had to stop mid-stream and run! And that HURT! So I flew up into the trees and peed in a hole in the bark. And then I turned and my feet got stuck in the stupid sap, and I tugged free, lost my balance, fell into a bird's nest, and got yelled at by three big, angry baby birds! And they could TALK, Dean! And they were mad I wasn't a worm! So THEN I—"

"All right, I get it!" Dean was biting the inside of his cheek during the tirade so he wouldn't laugh, and now that the temptation is over, he gives Sam his most sincere face of apology. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you," Dean says. Sam nods his thanks. "And I'm really sorry you had to go through all that. Least it's over now."

"I guess." Sam lands on the bed and, concentrating, poofs up a new pair of underwear. He sees Dean's puzzled face and murmurs, "One of the birds took my boxers as a trophy."

That does it: Dean breaks into hysterics, rolling onto his back as the laughter rocks the entire cottage. Sam glares at him and Dean waves that he's sorry and he's trying to stop, but he can't. The image of a baby bird ripping off his tiny brother's tiny underpants is just too damn hilarious.

"DEE-EEAN!" Sam whines, sounding just like a little boy being picked on.

"All right, all right…I'm stopping…" Dean chuckles a few more times and slowly sits up, brushing the tears from his eyes. "Hoo! Sorry." He clears his throat and puts on his serious face. "You were saying?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam grumps. "I just need to figure out how to make myself human again."

"What have you tried so far?"

Sam shakes his head. "Everything I can think of."

"Really? What about—"

"Dean, I just told you, I tried EVERYTHING I could think of. You really think you can come up with anything I haven't already tried?"

"Sheesh, touchy. You sure you made those underpants the right size?" Dean doesn't wait for an answer, just climbs into bed and kicks off his furry boots. To both of their great relief, his feet don't stink. "Good night, Oscar."

"Oscar?"

"That would be The Grouch, Mr. I Though of Everything and Don't Need Your Help, Stupid Brother."

Sam rolls his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that, Dean."

"Yeah? Then how did you mean it?"

"Now who's touchy?" Sam snits. "You don't know what I'm going through, and that's a fact. You can't possibly understand any of it, so why bother trying?"

Sam sees hurt flash behind those big green eyes—right before they roll in reply. Grumbling to himself, Dean turns over so that he faces the wall. "Dean…" Sam tries, but Dean doesn't say anything. Sam rubs his hand over his face. What the hell just happened? He doesn't know, and frankly, he's too tired and too cranky to really care right now. Flying back down to his pillow lean-to, Sam folds his legs back into the half lotus and shuts his eyes. Just make yourself human, he tells himself and his magic. Everything will be better once you're you again.

Dean wakes up sometime in the mid-morning-ish. Opening his eyes, he lets out a jaw-cracking wide yawn and swings his legs off the bed. Then he trudges over to the door, sleepy brain wondering why there is now a short wall to step over in order to go outside. His hand feels for the doorknob, but it isn't there. It's moved from the right to very low on the left. Dean grasps it and swings the door open, lets out another yawn, and looks out at the new day.

The new, upside down day.

"What the…?" Dean tries shutting the door and opening it again, but the scenery remains wrong. Then he looks back inside the cottage. Everything appears right-side up from his perspective: the bed and meager furnishings are all there with him on the floor. No, ceiling, he realizes when he takes a closer look. The wooden floor is above him, and his bed is perched in the rafters.

"Uh, Sammy? What the hell is this?" Dean gets a groan for a reply, and his concern skyrockets. "Sam? Where are you?"

"Dean…" Sam's weak voice responds from somewhere in front of him. "Don't feel too good."

Dean ventures back inside, looking all around until he spots his brother on the ceiling. Floor. Whatever. Vertically opposite of Dean, okay? Sam's little fairy body is very pale and lying still in the middle of the big pillow.

"Great, how am I supposed to get to you?" Dean wonders. Then he remembers that he's taller than usual, so he reaches up and gently grasps for Sam. But Sam won't move—for some reason, he now weighs a ton, and Dean is in too awkward a position to try and summon up his barbarian strength. He tries for the pillow and finds it just as heavy and seemingly glued in place.

"Deeee…" Sam moans.

"I know, Sammy, I'm trying, but everything's against me right now!"

Sam blinks his eyes open. "What d'you…" He sees his brother upside down and looking up—down—at him. "What the hell?"

"That's what I said. Can you move?"

Sam tries, but nothing happens. Only his face seems unaffected. "No. Why can't I move, Dean?"

"I don't know—why am I on the ceiling?"

Sam's about to say something when his teeny tiny nose crinkles up, and he lets out an adorable little sneeze. "Choo!" Gravity shifts, and Dean and all the furniture drop to the floor. Dean braces his arms out so he doesn't squish his brother, and he lands hard on his elbows; his body smothers Sam instead of smooshing him. Dean's the one who is groaning now and he pushes himself away from fairy and floor.

"You all right?" Dean asks.

Sam nods. "Yeah. You?"

"I'll live." Dean leans in close to Sam, who shuts his eyes, and Dean gets a better look at his ailing brother. Sam looks…faded. His wings are a sickly pea soup color instead of their usual, vibrant green. His skin is dull and papery. Even his hair has paled from chocolate to a grayish tan. Dean swallows hard. "God, Sammy, you look…"

"Awful?"

"No…more like you're becoming a ghost. What happened to you?"

"Dunno," Sam admits. "I was up most the night trying to make myself human again. You can see how well that turned out," he says with a frown at his body. "I don't remember falling asleep, to be honest, but I woke up a few minutes ago feeling like crap warmed over. Then I heard you say my name." Sam cracks an eye open. "Think it's the flu?"

"This isn't like any flu I've ever seen," Dean says with concern. He rests the pad of his thumb over Sam's tiny forehead and pulls it back at once. "OW!" There's now a singe mark on his thumb. He shows it to Sam. "This isn't normal."

"Maybe it's fairy flu or something?" Sam suggests tiredly. Then his nose crinkles up again. "Choo!"

Dean feels weird, like he's being stretched. He looks at Sam and finds him rapidly dropping away, but the furniture stays in place this time. Then Dean's head hits the ceiling, and Dean realizes he's growing. "Um, Sam?"

"Even my sneezes sound different here," Sam gripes, not paying attention to his expanding brother.

"Bigger problems here, Sammy!"

Sam finally looks up at Dean and watches his brother's back grow until it spans the ceiling. "Oh that's just great!" Sam frowns. "Six hours of trying to get bigger, and I'm still the same size, and now there you go, growing with ease. That's so unfair!"

Dean is forced onto his knees, and the bed is pushed onto his lap. "Yeah, it's unfair, can you fucking fix me now?"

Sam grumbles but obliges, and with a weak batting of his wings and a poof of sparkles, Dean is back to being 8ish feet tall again. "Thanks," Dean breathes. Sam doesn't say anything, and when Dean looks upon him again, he finds the fairy even more pallid than before. "Aw shit." Dean kneels down as Sam's face scrunches up in apparent pain. "What, is it worse?"

Sam nods. "Yeah…hurts." His body starts to shake, so Dean rests his hand against his side to stabilize him. The fairy soon relaxes, but his head lolls around as his eyes struggle to remain focused.

"It has to be your magic," Dean concludes. He gets a murmured "hrm?" in reply. "Your magic," Dean repeats. "You used it to fix me and you got sicker. Maybe you overdid it last night?"

"How…can a fairy…get sick from using…its own magic?" Sam sputters.

"No idea, but look at the evidence. Remember yesterday, when you were poofing up all that food for me when I was still an ogre? You got so tired that you were out of breath. Maybe the magic is more physical than we realize." An idea hits Dean, and he gets to his feet. "Maybe you just need some more dust?" He goes to his leather pouch and brings back one of the sparkly vials. He pops the stopper out and gives Sam's wings a healthy sprinkling. "There, better?"

Sam's nose crinkles and he sneezes. "Choo!" There's an orange flash, and another fairy Sam pops into existence, right next to the original. The two blink at each other, and then Sam sneezes again. A third Sam pops into existence. "Oh great, must've overdone it," Dean groans. "Hang on, Sammy, I'll get some water and wash it off." Sam answers with more sneezes and more Sams. Dean gets up and races out the door, then around the side of the cottage to where the botanical shower is located. Dean pulls on a large, bell-shaped flower, and water flows through the hollow reeds and out a spout made of pinecones. He grabs another bell-shaped flower and holds it under the spout. Then he hears a familiar voice: The Impala's head is poking around the corner, yellow eyes gleaming in the morning sun.

"Sam's sick, baby. Don't know what yet, but it isn't good." The dragon whines back at him with worry and Dean nods. "I know, I'm scared too. But I'll take good care of him, don't you worry." Dean runs back to the house with his makeshift cup, running his hand along the dragon's side as he passes her, and jogs back up to the door. As soon as he opens it, an avalanche of Sam fairies whooshes out and knocks him down.

Son of a BITCH! Dean yells in his mind, scared that if he opens his mouth, he'll swallow one of the little guys. Carefully, he sits up and brushes the fairies off of him as he takes a look inside. The cottage is covered in Sams, and somewhere among them, muffled sneezes keep firing off in succession.

So not good. Gotta get to him. NOW. Dean stands up and whistles for his baby. She comes around the front and looks down at him. "Need your help, sweetheart. Think you could blow down the chimney and clear me some room in there?" She chirrups in confusion as she beholds all the Sams around her. "They're not really him," Dean explains. "OUR Sammy is somewhere inside, and he's gonna suffocate if we don't get him out of there!" She seems to think it over before she chirps a question. Dean shakes his head. "No, he's weighed down by some magic—he won't get swept away with the others, I promise, okay?"

The Impala nods her great head and lifts her snout to the chimney. She breathes in and blows out a single puff of air. Sam fairies shoot out the door and windows, and every last one of them bitchfaces Dean and the dragon. "Thanks babe!" Dean calls as he runs inside. There are still oodles of Sams around, but at least the floor is clear. Dean spies Sam on his pillow, looking absolutely miserable as he sneezes again. A new fairy Sam appears, and original Sam shudders from the exertion. Dean runs over and slides in next to the pillow.

"Here, this should help." Dean slowly pours the water over Sam, gently wiping the excess fairy dust off of him. Sam leans into the cool embrace as his face relaxes out of its pained expression.

"This better work," Sam says—or rather, A Sam says. One of the copies flies over to Dean, little arms crossed. "It's your fault I got this sick in the first place."

"I thought I was helping," Dean protests.

"You call that helping?" another fairy Sam asks. "Hell, you call that THINKING?"

"I helped you when you were an ogre!" pipes up a third. "And you repay me by nearly killing me?"

"You should finish the job," sniffs a fourth. "I'm a freak and a fuck-up. I let out Lucifer. I'm addicted to demon blood. There's nothing good about me. Just take me out of my misery already."

"No, you should kill yourself for not standing by me," snarls yet another one. "I thought you had my back? I thought you loved me!"

Fairies fly in from all directions, surrounding Dean with their disdain and dourness.

"What's WRONG with you, Dean?"

"I'm not good enough for you, Dean."

"I'm SO much BETTER than you, Dean, but you're too stupid to see it!"

"And you bitch at ME that I don't care about you, when it's crystal clear you can't stand me anymore!"

"Why won't you help me, Dean?"

"Why won't you fuck off already, Dean?"

"Dean?"

"DEAN!"

Dean is nearly driven to tears by everything he's hearing, but he keeps his focus on the real Sam. "Sammy, come on," he tries. "Tell me how to help you."

"You've done enough!" the other fairies decry as one. Sam's nose crinkles again, and he hacks out half a sneeze—more a burst of noise than anything. A pair of wings materializes, flap once, then falls and dissolves back into Sam. Dean snaps his fingers.

"That's it!" Cupping his hand around Sam's side again, Dean leans in. "Sam, listen to me. You have to pull yourself together."

The multitude rolls their eyes. "That's stupid," several of them say.

"No it isn't! Look," Dean gestures to the copies, "every one of these guys is a little part of you, Sam. Just call them back in. Put yourself together—literally!"

Sam moans into Dean's palm. "…too hard," he mumbles.

"I know, Sammy, but you have to try, or you won't have a chance at getting better." Sam groans, and Dean rubs his thumb through the graying hair. "Come on, little brother, you can DO this. I know it!" Sam blinks his eyes open, and Dean smiles down at him. "I believe in you," Dean swears. "You've got this. Just give it a chance!"

Sam nods and holds his breath. His wings shake against the pillow as he concentrates, and the fairy copies start to pop like bubbles, disappearing where they float. Dean grins. "Yes, it's working! Keep going!" Sam breathes hard and keeps his mind focused until they're all gone. "Any left outside baby?" Dean calls to the Impala, and she chirrups back a no. Dean smiles down at Sam again, who is panting from the exertion.

"Great job, Sam." Dean wipes the sweat from the tiny brow, and Sam manages a very weak smile.

"Thanks, Dean," he whispers. Dean starts to get up, but Sam holds onto his pinky finger so that he stays.

"I'm just going to get you more water," Dean tells him. "You're still really hot, so I thought a bath might help. That sound okay?"

Sam nods. "You just…want to see me…all nude and sudsy," he jokes. Dean laughs.

"No, you just like my big, strong hands running all over you."

"You…wish." Sam releases Dean's finger from his barely-there grasp.

"Be right back," Dean promises, and he's out the door again. He goes back to the shower area and takes in some air, leaning his forehead against the cool stone wall.

That was too damn close. Nearly lost him. And Sam nearly lost it… He tugs on the flower again and makes quick work of washing his face, pits, and feet using the provided soap. It smells like old lady soap, but Dean will take what he can get right now. He tries to clear his mind, but all the accusations and admissions from the Sam clones repeat in his memory anyway, and Dean doesn't know what to think. Is that how his brother really feels about him? About himself? Or were the copies just that—copies, each one a little worse than the last, with crappy attitudes matching crappy facsimiles?

Doesn't matter right now, Dean tells himself. Sam is sick and you need to take care of him. Doesn't matter what he said or what he does or does not really think about you.

Except it does matter to Dean. Greatly. But he buries his feelings deep down, just like always, and gets back to the Saving Sam business. After drying off, he grabs a small, hollow log lying nearby and stuffs the sides with thick leaves until they're packed tight. Then he holds the makeshift bath under the water and adds a little sprinkling of what he hopes is Fantasia's version of Mr. Bubble. To his great relief, it is—even smells like it. Dean makes sure the water is just a smidge on the too hot side instead of too cold, exactly the way Sam likes it. Only then does he carefully run it back to the cottage and sets it down next to Sam.

"Think you can climb in yourself?" Dean asks softly. Sam tries to move his arm, but his hand flops right back down. "It's okay, Sammy, I gotcha." Dean helps Sam out of his small clothes, noting Sam's embarrassment and making sure he doesn't look at Sam's Area as the teeny underpants come off. "Here we go." Dean slides his hand underneath Sam's tiny form and lifts him into the tub. He's still very, weirdly heavy, but Dean can manage him now that he's right next to him. Sam settles down into the welcome waters with a soft, relieved moan.

"Just let me know when you're ready to get out," Dean tells him, and he sits down on the bed and turns on the TV, keeping the volume very low so he doesn't bother Sam. He channel surfs until he finds a news program for his brother. Dean loves that the anchor resembles the creature from the blue lagoon, but he keeps the snark to himself, wanting Sam to rest completely. So Dean settles back into his pillow and tries to pay attention to the morning's air traffic report. Apparently there's a Pegasus pile up on the Odlefelt Expressway…

As the day goes on, Sam only seems to get worse despite Dean's constant care. Sam still sneezes on occasion, each one draining him of more strength and color. Dean has tried everything to get him to stop sneezing. He's washed all the dust off the floor and furnishings, turned Sam's pillowcase inside out, and even wiped the little fairy face with water at regular intervals, but nothing has worked. At least they've slowed down, but Dean fears it's because Sam is getting worse, not because Dean eliminated any possible allergy triggers.

At the moment, Dean is sitting on his bed, his legs spread out in front of him. The pillow rests in his lap, and Sam still lies in the middle, heavy and miserable. Dean has just used the magic plate to create a bowl of maple and brown sugar oatmeal for Sam, and now Dean brings the huge spoon toward the tiny mouth. Sam keeps his lips shut and moves his head to one side, every bit like an infant who doesn't want his yucky medicine.

"C'mon, Sam, you have to eat," Dean coaxes. "And you love this stuff! Please just take a little bite?" Dean tries again, but the fairy pushes the huge spoon away.

"Stop rubbing it in my face!" Sam spits.

"Huh? I didn't even touch you with the oatmeal."

"Not the oatmeal, YOU. You and your bigness, Dean! Stop reminding me how small I am!"

Dean drops the spoon back into the bowl. "Sorry," he says. Sam sighs.

"No, I'm sorry. You're just trying to help. And I'm being an asshole."

"You're allowed," Dean placates. "You feel like crap. I get it." Dean pats him on the head and puts the oatmeal back on the plate. "Could I get this in a fairy-sized bowl?" The oatmeal disappears and reappears as a teensy version of itself. Dean picks it up between his thumb and index finger and places it next to Sam. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks." Sam tries to pull the bowl onto his stomach, but he's so weak that he can barely move his fingers at this point. Dean sets the bowl on Sam's stomach and helps Sam sit up enough to eat.

"Take your time, Sammy," he soothes. "Not like we have to be anywhere anytime soon."

Sam takes a slow bite, and Dean slips off the bed to clean up the mess all around them. One of Sam's sneezes brought the TV to life, and Dean pretty much destroyed the one-room cottage before he was able to stab the little bastard with his sword. Now Dean sweeps up the glass and splintered wood, pushing everything outside. He looks around, confirms he's alone, and lifts up a corner of the cottage like it's made of papier-mâché. He sweeps the mess underneath and then eases the house back down. Dusting off his hands, Dean goes back to Sam. The tiny bowl is half-empty, and Sam is reclining once more.

"Done?" Dean asks, and Sam nods. Dean takes the little bowl back to the plate, and the bowl disappears. Dean packs the plate back in his leather pouch.

"Did you eat?" Sam asks. Dean shakes his head.

"Not hungry."

"What about your metabolism? What if you get sick again?"

Dean shrugs. "Then I'll eat," he says simply. Sam gives him the Nostrils of Concern, but Dean fluffs Sam's pillow and pretends he doesn't see it.

"Dean, about earlier…what I…well, what the other Me-s said."

"It's fine, Sam."

"No, it isn't."

Dean fixes his brother with a kind look. "It's FINE. Honestly. Don't worry yourself sick about it, okay? You're sick enough already."

Sam sneezes in reply, and they both brace for oncoming weirdness. Nothing happens. "Maybe you're getting better?" Dean hopes. Then they hear a tapping at the door. They exchange looks before Dean creeps over for a look. There is no peep hole, so Dean grabs his sword, counts to three, and throws the door open. No one is there. But then he hears a tiny peep and looks down…and gasps.

"What, WHAT?" Sam cries, hating that he can't just get up and go look for himself. Dean picks something up and carries it back to Sam.

"You'd better be able to fix this…" Dean dumps the little handful onto the bed. It's the Impala, only Sam-sized and sporting wings. She looks confused but okay, and she chirrups at the boys in turn.

"Aww," Sam's muddled head can't help but remark.

"No! There's no 'aww' about this!" Dean scolds. "Soon as you're better, you're fixing her. I am NOT gonna be caught with some Barbie-sized version of my car!"

The Impala licks him once and nuzzles his knuckle, and Dean's angry face grows soft. "Aww," he smiles. Sam laughs, but soon succumbs to coughing. The little dragon makes her way up the pillow and wraps herself around Sam, neck by his head and tail by his toes. She purrs against him, and Sam pets her. "She's so soft!" he marvels.

"I know. She's like that when she's big, too."

Sam pets her a few more times until his remaining strength wanes and his arm falls slack. The Impala licks his face and snuggles in closer. Dean gets his wooden cell phone out and takes a picture. It asks him where he wants to send it and brings up his contacts. To Dean's great surprise, it's the same list of contacts as on his regular phone.

"No way!" Dean highlights Bobby's number and the picture sends. "Please let this work…"

"What work?" Sam murmurs.

"My phone. It has all my contacts from home! Maybe we can get Bobby or Cas on the line!" Sam's face fills with hope. "I just send Bobby a picture," Dean informs him. "Now we just have to wait and see if it—"

The phone vibrates with its woodpecker taps, and Dean looks at the screen. His face falls at the display: Message refused by server. Dean sighs and slumps onto the side of the bed. "So much for that. Guess we're really on our own here, Sammy." He peers at his brother and finds the fairy lying still. TOO still. "Sam?" Dean rustles the little body, but Sam doesn't stir.

"Shit." Dean gets up and puts an ear to Sam's chest. He hears breathing and beating—good signs. But Sam's color is visibly paling now. The Impala chirps with worry and nudges Sam to move. He doesn't. "We need help," Dean decides. He picks up the little dragon and puts her in his leather pouch. Then he goes back to Sam, lifts the heavy weight, and carries him to the pouch as well. The Impala chirps at Dean to put him on top of her.

"You sure? He's really heavy now." She nods, and Dean carefully sets Sam down on the little dragon's back. She bears him with ease, just the same as if she was normal and Dean was on her back.

"Hang on tight," he tells them both before he shuts the pouch. Then Dean slings the strap over his head and bolts out the door. He veers to the right and bounds into the thick forest, jumping over some obstacles and plowing right through others in his haste. His eyes never leave the ground, searching for a very specific something. But the ground is muddy and overgrown with moss and ferns. Dean has to slow his pace considerably so he can bend over and take a closer look. Finally, about two miles in, he finds it: a ring of white, speckled mushrooms.

"Yahtzee." Dean kneels down and sets his leather pouch on the ground. He peers inside. "You two still okay?" he whispers. The Impala peeps an affirmative, but she nudges Sam with her snout to show that he is still out of it. "Hold on, Sammy," Dean tells him, hoping he can hear his voice. "Help is on the way."

Dean takes the shiniest gem out of the pouch and places it in the center of the ring. Here's hoping Fantasia fairies are like Earth ones… Dean clears his throat and places his hand over his heart. "I humbly beseech the help of the Faire Folk," he recites. "I am too weak and too ordinary to help my brother. Please, accept my gift and treat with me." With that, Dean bows forward, still on his knees, until his chin dips into the mud. It isn't long before a sparkling light shines out in front of him. A female fairy, platinum blond with shimmering amber wings, has appeared in the ring and is beholding the gem.

"Shiny," she compliments, looking it over for flaws. "I like it!" She looks upon the furry, sweaty mass before her and adopts a wry smile. "A barbarian needs a fairy's help? I never thought I'd see the day."

"Please, help my brother." Dean gently lifts Sam from the bag and lies him down next to the ring.

"Your brother is a fairy? How?"

"We're travelers," Dean explains patiently.

"Well that makes more sense. Still, sucks to be your brother."

"Why, because he's a fairy?"

She laughs hard at that. "No, because he's related to a disgusting barbarian!"

The Impala flies out at that remark and growls at the fairy. "Aww, aren't you the cutest thing!" She flutters forward and pets the dragon. The Impala resists at first, but the fairy must have a literally magic touch, because soon the little dragon lands and rolls over onto her back so the fairy can give her soft underbelly a rub. "You're so sweet!" the fairy praises, and the dragon purrs.

"Please," Dean interrupts, and the fairy gives him a look of irritation. Dean ignores it. "My brother is very sick. He needs your help." The fairy glances at Sam while she continues to rub the tiny dragon. "Will you help him" Dean begs, careful not to say 'CAN you help.' He learned that lesson the hard way back home.

The fairy looks pensive, but she nods at length. "Yes, I will help."

Dean bows. "Thank you."

"But only if you give me your mini-dragon."

Both Dean and the Impala make a "whuh?" sound. "I like her," the fairy continues. "And no other fairy has a pet mini-dragon. I'll be the envy of the court!"

Dean looks and feels heartbroken. The Impala flies up to his face, gives his cheek a lick with her silken tongue, and sings at him to let her go.

"But…I can't live without you!" Dean whispers. "You and me, we're a pair! How am I supposed to go on without my best girl?"

She chirrups a reminder about Sam, and Dean looks down at his suffering brother. He heaves a sigh. "All right," he says, eyes watering as he shuts them. "You may take her with you."

To his surprise, he hears little hiccups. Dean opens his eyes to the fairy crying. "You understand her!" she exclaims, voice catching in her throat. "Truly you two share a bond. I won't…I CAN'T separate you. She may stay under your care."

The Impala springs forward and covers the fairy in kisses, and Dean leans in and kisses her gently on top of her head. "Mmm, soft lips," she purrs. "You really are different from other barbarians, traveler." Dean gives her his sexiest smile, and her entire body turns a shade of pink. "A very enticing kind of different," she winks. Then she flies over to the stricken fairy. "Now let's see to your brother."

She studies him in silence, and Dean resists the urge to lean in closer, not wanting to piss her off now that she's on their side. The fairy cups Sam's chin and his bleary eyes open to her bright ones. She gives him a knowing nod.

"Trying to change who you are," she says matter-of-factly. "Silly boy, no magic in any world is powerful enough to do that! No wonder you caught the sniffles."

"The sniffles?" Dean repeats, doubtful. "I think whatever he's got is a lot worse than a cold."

"Oh no, the fairy sniffles are much worse than the human ones." She kneels down and soothes her fingers through Sam's hair. "We're creatures of magic, but we're still prone to the same physical discomforts as other life forms. If we use our magic too much at any one time, we grow weak—the same as if you would run too far and get tired and sore. When you're weak, you get sick, same as us." She rests her hand against Sam's cheek now in comfort. "The problem with fairy sniffles is that it keeps triggering our magic reflexes, so the fairy gets weaker and weaker."

"How do we stop it?" Dean asks.

"Simple: we get him the healing potion and he gets some rest. That's why he's so heavy right now, by the way—his fairy body is keeping him still so his wings can barely move. That way when he sneezes, he doesn't use as much magic as he would if his wings would beat with him."

Dean nods, oddly fascinated by all of this. "Please let me you have the healing potion…?"

"Not on me, no, but our mage can prepare some. She lives nearby." The female fairy looks up at Dean. "And it won't be cheap."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Course not." He empties the contents of his pouch on the ground next to the ring. "Take anything you want. Just please help Sam!"

The fairy looks over the pile and sifts through a few pieces, unimpressed with the gold coins and gemstones. Then she spots something else and gasps. "ANYthing?" she poses to Dean.

"Yes, anything, just pick something!"

She lifts the strange rock the Impala coughed up back in Candyland, smiling at the barbarian in triumph. When Dean doesn't react, she frowns. "You don't care that I'm taking your fire stone?"

"Nnnnn-o… Why?"

She's taken aback. "WHY? Are you serious?"

"Look, my brother is getting sicker by the second. Take the damn rock and heal him already!"

"This isn't just a rock, you idiot, it's a fire stone! Do you know how rare they are? How valuable?"

"Do you see how little I care? Sam is more important than anything!"

She flutters up and looks him in the eye, marveling at the determination and love she sees within. "You truly do care about him?"

"More than life itself," Dean says in absolute truth.

"That's good, since a fire stone IS life itself. A dragon only produces one in its entire lifetime, and most of them are stolen almost immediately by dwarves or rogues so they can sell them on the plaid market."

"Don't you mean the black market?"

"Huh? Black market? That doesn't make any sense." She waves the barbarian's ridiculous comment out of the air. "Fire stones aren't only extremely rare, but priceless as well. Inside is the essence of creation! With this stone you can cure any disease, bring a loved one back from the dead, even create new life!"

"So I could use it to cure Sam!" Dean exclaims, reaching for it, but the fairy holds it out of reach.

"You can only use it once. Then it becomes nothing more than a pretty paperweight."

"So let me use it!"

"But then it will lose its value."

"Okay, YOU use it!"

She smirks with mischief. "I don't want to."

Dean glares at her, but she only smiles back. "Let me keep it, and I will get you the healing potion for your brother."

"Or I could just take it from you and flick you away…"

She shrugs. "Go ahead. I assume you already know the incantation to get the stone to work…" Dean's face falls, and she grins. "No? Aww, too bad."

"Fine," Dean snarls. "Take it."

"No…" Sam's weak voice reaches up between them, and Dean looks down at him. "What if you get sick, Dean? What if you die?"

Dean shakes his head. "I might get sick and I might die—who knows. But if you don't get help right now, you'll definitely die. And I won't let that happen."

"But Dean…what about…you?" Sam asks.

Dean smiles down at him. "What ABOUT me, Sammy?" He nods to the fairy. "Take it. Go. And please, HURRY."

She smiles and flies off. About ten minutes later, she's back, carrying a potion bottle with her. She lands next to Sam and helps him sit up.

"Drink this," she tells him. "It'll help."

Sam drinks it down, and instantly, his color fades back in to full strength. "GOD that's better," he exclaims—and promptly drops into a deep sleep.

"Let him rest now," she instructs Dean. "And tell him to stop trying to become human."

Dean blinks. "How did you know he was trying to do that?"

"I could sense the spell work on him. It's just going to wear him out again. He's a fairy in this world, and nothing can change that." She gives his face a little pat. "And honestly, why would you want to?" she asks his sleeping face.

Dean takes her tiny hand and kisses it. "Thank you, milady."

"You're welcome, Soft Lips." She flies up and kisses him on his bottom lip before she flutters away.

The Impala, still tiny, climbs underneath Sam and lifts him into the air. When she's at eyelevel with Dean, she chirrups a suggestion, and he grins.

"Good idea, babe. I'm starving too." He adjusts how Sam is lying on her, and she growls at Dean. "Hey, I get to be protective too! He's my brother!" She chirps in defiance and flies on ahead of Dean. He just smiles again and follows her through the woods to find a decent picnic spot.

A/N Additional: Aww :) Next chapter will introduce the boys to some enemies…possibly underwater to address a prompt from Nyx Wings. Guess we'll see where my muses take me! Keep the prompts coming!