An hour into waiting for Dean to come back, Sam wasn't worried.

It wasn't the first time he'd been alone in a room for an extended period of time. Dean went out on his own on occasion, mostly when Sam argued against going. One of the main things he liked to stay behind for was when Dean went to a restaurant. Sam had gone to one diner since being this size, and he'd spent almost the whole time jumping at every noise. People were everywhere, and the waitress had been around constantly, trying to flirt with Dean. Sam hated to be around anyone other than Dean when he was this size, since he honestly had no real way to defend himself. Dean was his only protection in that kind of situation and even Dean sometimes didn't realize all the dangers there were for Sam.

He'd spent most of the time so far that night researching. He went back all the way to before the complex had been built, trying to find if there had been any violent deaths before the building had been a spark in some architects eye. No luck on that front. And so far he hadn't found any monsters that were invisible and killed in the same way as whatever this freak was. There were quite a few that were life sucking, but add "invisible" to that and the list went down to zero.

Giving up for a while, Sam sat back and watched the TV for a bit. He flicked between stations until settling on some mindless sitcom. It filled the room with constant background noise while he flopped down on the pillow. He could always go to sleep under the nightstand… but there was something holding him back.

He just had this feeling that Dean needed him… that he couldn't let his brother down.

Because of this, Sam ended up back on the computer after less than fifteen minutes, going over the same information all over again. He needed to make sure to get this right for Dean, considering the human hunter was out there right now, maybe risking his life without Sam there to back him up.

Maybe that's how he wants it… he doesn't have to watch after me right now, or be extra careful with his movements as long as I'm here without him… I'm holding him back...

No matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn't push those thoughts away. Dean had been in a hurry to leave him there, maybe he didn't want Sam around at all…

Sitting down on the laptop, Sam let his head drop to his chest. It was depressing to think, but he just couldn't get rid of it. Every day he was with his brother at this size Sam couldn't stop from thinking he was just a burden.

Closing out of his searches, Sam opened up the last line of inquiry he'd been following on his curse the day before. The problem was, nothing he could find in his ever widening search linked curses to souls. From what he could find, the witch shouldn't have been able to curse him or any of the other children in the first place. Any type of magic that was associated with souls in the lore belonged to demons or their kin. Even though witches borrowed their powers from demons, they never actually had the ability to manipulate souls themselves.

So how had she done it?

And even more disturbing, if it was linked to his soul itself, would the curse stay tied to him even in death?

Sam couldn't help but worry that he would spend the rest of time with this hanging over him - to always be afraid of humans, even though he'd once been one. To forever be apart, even from his brother. He'd never be able to do simple things, like sit in a restaurant or go to a movie. Sam sighed. Maybe he'd be better off finding people like him to live with. Stop being a burden on Dean once and for all.

Dean would never hear any of this. Sam knew that no matter what, his brother would say that it didn't matter how small Sam was. He would always be family, and nothing else mattered.

But did Dean even believe it?

It was another two hours before Sam realized how much time had passed. His research online had turned up no new leads on either his curse or the death of Marie. He sat back from the computer with a sigh, rubbing his neck. He glanced over at the alarm clock, staring blankly at the bright red numbers that stood half his height. It was a few minutes before the time sunk into his brain.

03:05 a.m.

Frowning, Sam stared at the phone left alone on the nightstand. It wasn't like Dean to leave Sam alone in the room for so long. Trying to push down the lump of fear growing in his stomach, Sam jumped over to the nightstand, glad it was pushed close enough for the bed for him to reach.

Dean's in trouble.

The thought wouldn't go away.

He pulled out the slip of paper he had folded up in his jacket, flattening it out. In Dean's large, blocky handwriting was his phone number. He tried to stomp it flat with his boots but only partially succeeded, the thick paper curling up at the edges.

Giving up on that, Sam leaned over the phone, pressing down hard with his palm. The screen lit up, brightly illuminating the area Sam was standing in. It took him a minute to put the entire phone number in. The keys weren't exactly easy to manipulate when they were bigger than his hand.

Finally the number was in and he hit SEND.

Dean groaned as the world slowly came back into focus.

He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to concentrate on where he was. His face was drenched in sweat from the heat he was sitting in. It beaded on his eyelashes, making it hard to see.

After a few minutes sitting there, he finally figured out his surroundings. He was sitting in Marie's apartment. His hands were tied tightly in front of him, and a second rope was wrapped around his arms, securing Dean to a column in the kitchen.

He started to struggle, checking to see how tight the restraints were. He could feel his weapons in his jacket. All he had to do was reach them and he'd be able to cut himself free… The knife he remembered slipping up his sleeve earlier that day was gone, its absence leaving Dean trapped and vulnerable.

Struggling there for a few minutes, he froze when he heard a small guitar riff cut through the room. He'd recognize that ringtone anywhere… his phone must be nearby. Sam was the only one likely to call... was he alright? Had something happened? What if somebody'd found him in the room, all alone and defenseless?

Trying to ignore the fear that clenched at him, Dean tried to shift his jacket, hoping to get the phone to fall out of a pocket. But no luck. The ropes around his arms that secured him to the pole were too tight for him to be able to reach the phone the way he was trapped.

While the phone was still going off, Dean realized he could hear footsteps approaching. He directed a glare at the doorway in front of him, spotting a shadow moving beyond the entry. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a booted foot stepped through, into the room.

Dean stopped struggling in shock. After getting hit in the head, he'd thought he'd imagined it. But no. There was definitely another Dean Winchester standing there in front of him. Same green-eyed glare, same short hair, same snarky smile… every detail perfect. Even the clothes. It was like looking into a mirror.

Dean's eyes shot to his own body, remembering how the shapeshifter in St. Louis had stolen his clothing while impersonating him. But he was still fully clothed, right down to the matching pair of boots to what the man in front of him was wearing.

"What the hell are you?" Dean growled out. He realized in the back of his mind that the phone had stopped ringing.

The creature met him, familiar green-eyed glare to the matching green-eyed glare. Crouching down next to Dean it leaned in close. "Wouldn't you like to know," he said with a dark chuckle. "I know what you are. Hunter. Killer."

Dean arched his eyes. "And you might be a handsome devil, but it takes a little more than some rope to stop me, shapeshifter."

The Dean-alike stood back up, smirking down at Dean. "Oh, that's what you think I am? That's so funny, I forgot to laugh."

Dean frowned. The last time he'd encountered a shapeshifter, it had been able to use some type of mental link so it could perfectly mimic his mannerisms and had even gained access to his memory. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't talking anything like Dean. Its voice was off, its movements were rough, unformed. Which was a good sign, especially if it couldn't read his mind. Sam was in the motel room, completely unprotected. And this thing had his face.

Dean-alike walked over to him, bending down. It started to go through his pockets, forcefully pushing his bound arms out of the way. Dean hissed in pain when they were twisted the wrong way. "Get away from me, you evil son of a bitch!" Dean growled angrily.

The creature wearing his face ignored his shots expressionlessly. A pile built up next to the two of them, guns, silver knife... it only took out his weapons. The salt and sawed-off shells were left in the pockets, the creature snorting with disgust when it found them. It discarded his flashlight with a shrug, tossing it aside.

It grinned when it pulled out his phone, car keys and motel key. With the address of the motel on it. Dean tensed.

"Well, I have to say this must be my lucky night. Not only did I catch a hunter, but you must have an arsenal hidden where you're staying. I've tussled with a few other hunters in my time, but was never lucky enough to link to one like this." He smirked at Dean with an all too familiar smile. "And since I'm you... No one will even question me going into your room." He winked at Dean. "I'll be back in a bit. Don't go anywhere."

Dean started to struggle with greater ferocity. He couldn't let this thing go back to the motel with his face… all he could see was Sam, so small and unprotected, left on his own. By Dean.

The creature leaned down, pressing a hand to Dean's chest. He hissed when it touched him. It was like all the life was sapping from him, weakening him… the longer the hand was against him, the worse it got. He slumped down. His chin hit his chest and Dean slipped away into unconsciousness once more.

The creature stared down at his work and smiled.

Sam was sitting next to the phone not long after the call failed to connect with Dean. He was leaning against the alarm clock with his arms wrapped around his knees, his head buried in them. The worry he felt for his brother was almost overpowering. Dean would never leave a phone call from Sam hanging, not as paranoid as he was with his miniature brother. Something bad must have happened to him… he might be hurt, unconscious… Sam couldn't bring himself to even think the word dead in his mind. There was no way for Sam to check, or find out, or even search for Dean like this…

He was useless.

Dean needed him and he couldn't even get out of the damn room.

A little while later, he heard huge footsteps outside the door to the motel room. Sam relaxed, recognizing Dean's familiar, towering silhouette standing outside. Now he could find out why Dean hadn't answered. A key jingled in the lock as the door opened, right when Sam realized there had never been any knocks…

Sam dove off the nightstand, accidentally tripping over the phone with a foot during his panic. The cell phone clattered to the ground with a loud thump at the same time as Sam slid down the alarm clock cord, getting out of sight as fast as he could.

Sam could clearly remember the day Dean came up with the knocking system...

"If I don't knock on the door twice, no matter what, even if I'm alone, DO NOT come out from hiding. Not until I give you the signal. You need to stay safe, and if something happens to me, I could be just as dangerous to you as any monster." In the memory, Dean lifts up a hand, holding it next to Sam for comparison. It stretches out almost twice Sam's length. Each of the fingers is thick and strong, all more powerful than the smaller hunter. "I don't ever want to hurt you with these, and if I get possessed by a demon, the first thing they'll do is go for you." The hand wraps around Sam unexpectedly, pinning his arms to his sides with unrelenting strength. There is no time for Sam to react to the hunter's quick movements.

Sam has only been with his older brother for a day at this point, and he stares up at Dean from the clenched fist with fear in his eyes. The only thing that keeps him from freaking out from the way he's trapped is the pain in Dean's eyes… the worry, the self-loathing for what he's doing. Dean clearly wants nothing more than to keep Sam safe, even as he closes his huge hand firmly around his little brother's fragile body.

So even though Sam desperately wants to thrash and struggle, to try and escape, he stills himself in Dean's overpowering grasp. As Sam is helplessly lifted up off the table, he gives his trust to Dean, hoping it isn't misplaced. He can clearly remember how it had felt when Dean had no idea who he was, capturing him with ease in the same immense hand clenched around his body now.

The hand stops a few inches in front of Dean's face, fingers opening up around Sam. He scrambles to a stand in the palm, small chest heaving from the unexpected scare. He can't help but eye his brother's fingers suspiciously from where he stands, still within their clutches. It is an unwanted reminder of how powerless he is next to his brother.

Dean's eyes stared at him with a kind expression. "Sam, the last thing I want is for you to EVER be afraid of me. But it's more important that you understand that anything can happen, and if anything ever happens to you because of me, I'll never forgive myself."

Sam frowns, but nods his understanding.

Dean's other hand lifts up, gently rubbing Sam's back to try and reassure him after the scare. Sam can't stop a shiver, standing there helpless between those huge hands that can so easily trap or crush him. Which, after Dean's demonstration he understands better than ever. Dean's face falls when he sees this. He nods sadly at Sam as he lowers his hand back to his side, understanding and accepting his reaction.

But it still hurts him to see his brother afraid.

...Sam slammed into the ground with more force than he'd meant to, hitting the ground running. The last time he'd been trapped behind a nightstand hadn't gone well, and he had no intention of repeating that experience.

Ducking under the bed, Sam watched as the huge boots stomped into the room. A frown crossed his face as he watched. Something felt… off about the whole deal. He had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that just wouldn't leave while he ran and hid.

Crouching down next to the leg of the bed, Sam watched as the boots went towards the table. He heard a huge thump as Dean dropped something down far over Sam's head. The boots swept across the floor, clearing the distance to the nightstand in seconds.

Sam couldn't help a shiver when he watched this. Dean hadn't once checked for Sam, called his name... nothing. The boots were moving far faster than Sam was used to. Far faster than he could ever hope to escape from. Dean could easily step on Sam if he left the safety of the bed and not even realize it until it was too late.

Sam swallowed.

Something was wrong.

Sam crept to the edge of the bed, peering up at the giant hunter. Dean was going through one of the bags he'd left in the room, tossing all the clothing out carelessly onto the floor. He didn't even seem concerned that items were flying in the room that could potentially hurt his little brother. A pair of socks hit the ground a few inches from Sam, making him jump in surprise as they rolled under the bed. He recovered in time to see a victorious smile cross Dean's face as he retrieved an item from the bag.

He had his hand wrapped around a handgun.

Several tense minutes passed with similar results. Dean pulled out all the weapons he'd stashed in the room before leaving earlier, and for some reason he acted surprised with each one he found. It wasn't until the huge hunter crossed the room walking towards the bathroom that Sam realized what was bothering him so much.

Dean's walk.

Normally, Dean had a casual, bow-legged walk. For Sam, the familiarity of that walk reassured him even when Dean's footsteps shook the floor under him. Since coming back to the room, his gait had changed. He took longer, smoother steps that Sam had never seen from his brother.

Sam blinked in realization.

It might be Dean in front of him... but Dean wasn't Dean... not right now.

Sam combed his memory for anything that could have taken Dean's form, or stolen his body. Demonic possession was the obvious choice... they'd encountered a demon on Sam's first hunt, and expertly dispatched it as a team. Dean had played the bait, tussling with the demon as Sam performed the exorcism. But his exorcisms were in his satchel, which right now was tucked under the nightstand with the rest of his stuff. Sam was glad that whatever Dean was right now, he hadn't found anything that might let him know Sam was hiding in the room. It hadn't paid any mind to the area under the nightstand with the huge books blocking all Sam's stuff from view.

Another possibility was a shapeshifter. Sam had listened to Dean's recounting of his last encounter with a shapeshifter that had managed to take his form, off in St. Louis a few months back. According to Dean, he'd had to call the police on himself to stop it from killing an innocent woman while wearing his face. Leaving Dean Winchester presumed dead and buried when he killed it.

In this case, Sam doubted it was a shapeshifter. One thing Dean had mentioned was a mental link, giving the creature access to his thoughts and memories. If that was happening, the thing wearing his brother's face should have found Sam with little trouble... Sam had a difficult time hiding from Dean with his brother's senses enhanced by years of hunting on his own. Dean always seemed to know where Sam was, no matter the circumstances. Not to mention, it should have known about the knocking on the door in the first place. Sam wouldn't have had any idea he was in trouble until it was too late.

Grabbing on to the most likely scenario, Sam dug in his memories for what he could do to find out if his brother was possessed. Since he didn't remember the exorcism off the top of his head yet (after today, he was going to have to work on memorizing that, pronto), and no access to holy water, he chose the next best thing.

Watching the massive boots thud out of the bathroom in his direction again, Sam gulped, knowing how easily he could end up crushed beneath them if this went south. That was one of his greatest fears.

As carefully as possible, he crept to the edge of the bed, trying to stay in the protective shadows underneath. If it had been terrifying to be held in Dean's clutches, a monster with Dean's face would be a million times worse. Dean he would trust his life to, any day. He peered up at the thing wearing his brother's face and focused.

With a muttered hiss, Sam said "Christo!" as soft as he could. As long as the word was uttered in the demon's presence, it shouldn't matter how loud it was spoken.

There was no reaction.

Sam blinked in surprise. That should have worked... no demon could stand the name of God spoken in their presence. Which meant this wasn't a demon... and it was most likely not a shapeshifter... what the hell was standing there in his brother's boots?

It couldn't be Dean... not the way he was acting... right?

A boot slammed into the ground bare inches away from Sam, making him stumble back fearfully. The sheer power it hit the ground with made Sam shake nervously. Being around Dean so much had made him forget how terrifying it was too be near other humans, humans that could kill him by accident or catch him. Scrambling away from the boot he froze, staring up to see if the thing wearing Dean's face had noticed the movement by his feet.

There was no follow up, so he let himself relax a little. From the sounds above him, it was putting things into the duffel bag Dean took with him everywhere.

Seconds later, the massive hunter bent down, peering under the bed. Sam cowered against one of the legs, shoulders shaking fearfully. Hot breath wafted past Sam's hiding spot. A huge arm reached past him, pushing the socks out of the way so it could see everything. Sam peeked out from behind his hiding place barely breathing. His breath hitched in surprise at what he saw.

Dean was... it was like he was looking into a mirror image of his brother. His hair swept the wrong direction, his smirk was on the opposite side. Everything about Dean screamed WRONG inside Sam's head like an alarm. All the details he saw on a daily basis were slightly different, slightly wrong.

Not finding what he wanted, Dean gave a huge sigh. The hand planted next to Sam's hiding place shoved heavily against the ground, the hunter standing back up to his full, imposing height.

After his close call Sam slipped back under the bed, going to the darkest area. He hid behind one of the legs next to the wall, keeping an ear out. There was still nothing from Dean letting him know his brother was still in there. He hid his head in his arms, trying to block out the world shaking around him. Tried to ignore the imposter's earthquake.

After what felt like forever, but was most likely around a half hour, the thing wearing a reflection of his brother's face left the room, letting the door close with a snick. The familiar rumble of the Impala started up, sounding angry that she was being driven by an imitation of her beloved driver.

Sam slipped out from under the bed, going to the nightstand with his stuff. He didn't waste any time grabbing his satchel again, reassured by its weight against his side. Now that he had his journal, he felt a bit better. He'd have to go over it, see if there were any other freaks that fit the bill he might had forgotten. Otherwise, the only other option was his brother was lost to him... and Sam could never let himself believe that.

Twenty minutes later, Sam was no closer to an answer. Nothing he'd studied yet sounded anything close to what he'd seen that he hadn't already thought of.

Not to mention, there was no way for him to get to the apartment complex to help Dean. It was the last place he knew for sure his brother had gone. He needed to help Dean, and here he was, with no way to travel. He couldn't even hitchhike his way there.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Now what? He thought to himself, dejected. He had no way to help his brother from there. Dean would have to get himself out of this jam alone.

Wait a minute... Sam's eyes fell on the human hunter's cell phone, still abandoned on the floor from when Sam had tripped over it earlier on. It was lying there, wide open with the buttons exposed. Lucky.

Sudden hope filled him. He might not be able to help his brother, but other hunters could! Sam could remember Dean talking about a few other hunters on occasion when he was recounting his old hunts. A few of their father's friends, a few hunters Sam could remember meeting when he was growing up. One face rose to the front.

Bobby.

One of the most steadfast, dependable people Dean and Sam had been around growing up. When John was out on longer hunts, the older hunter would watch the boys. In fact, some of those memories were some of the most precious he'd had growing up. Bobby had often come across as more of a father than his own dad. If anyone would help it would be him.

Sam ran over to the phone, determined to do this to help his brother. There was no other option. His stomach twisted at the thought of talking to another hunter. He'd had a hard enough time getting up the courage to tell Dean to call their dad... and he hadn't talked to him at all that time. This time...

Reaching the phone, Sam skidded to a stop. He kicked the power button, knowing there was no time to spare if Dean was in trouble. He paged through Dean's list of contacts. There were a few hunters Dean had mentioned... a few girls' names... figures... some names Sam didn't recognize. Reaching Bobby's number at last (under Singer, Bobby), he hit SEND with forceful determination.

Ring...Ring...

There was a click on the other line. "Hello?" came a familiar, gruff voice. Sam couldn't help but smile at the voice and the memories it brought to mind - some of the happiest times of his life had been at Bobby's.

"Dean? You there?" the voice continued talking to the silence.

Sam froze.

Fear jumped in him again. What if Bobby didn't believe him? Hung up when he found it wasn't Dean on the line? A million scenarios ran through his mind. Then of course there was the problem of Bobby believing him and coming... leaving Sam at the mercy of yet another hunter when he arrived. Just because he'd been a friend when Sam was a kid didn't mean he wasn't dangerous now... there was no way to know how he'd react to Sam, and without Dean around, he was defenseless.

Damn he hated being this vulnerable. Hated the way he relied on Dean with anything relating to his old life as a human.

"Dean, if this is one of them prank phone calls again, I outta wallop you upside the head..."

Sam couldn't stop a snort of laughter at that. That certainly sounded like his brother.

"...Dean, is everythin' alright? You're worrying me, boy."

A few moments of silence passed while Sam and the phone continued their silent staring contest. He just couldn't get past the size problem. Couldn't bring himself to willingly ask a hunter to come help him out... Shit, Sam. Dean's in trouble! You need to get him help! But before he could work up the courage for the words to roll off his tongue...

"...Balls!" A click signaled the other line hanging up.

Sam jumped at the angry tone coming over the line. His shoulders slumped the moment the call ended. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Dean...

A/N

What's this? Sammy's calling in backup? But Bobby doesn't even know you're alive Sam, or that you're 4 inches tall! What are you thinking? What will come of this?!