A balding tourist wearing an "I love New York" T-shirt stepped away from the main tour group to take a photo. His perfect framing of Wall Street was ruined when a blonde man passed right into the middle of it. The tourist grumbled, glaring at the man's retreating back. If he were to look closer at the unfortunate shot, he would have seen a tiny tuft of brown hair sticking up at the base of his shirt. But he deleted it without a second thought, following along with the tour guide.
Dean walked into the financial building, looking very out of place amongst the clean cut business suits running about. The smell of highly polished floors was as potent as a perfume store.
"Archangel sending us on a quest to invest in stock? Yeah, not weird at all." He grumbled.
Across the room, a clerk stopped her work, staring hard at Dean. Her black hair was slicked into a bun, her lipstick a classy crimson. Keeping dean in her sights, she picked up the phone and dialed a phone number dedicated to memory.
Sam watched the woman while peaking behind Dean's collar, something wasn't right. The way her eyes never left Dean... or blinked for that matter, unnerved him.
"Dean... You seeing this?"
"Who, Wednesday over there?" Dean murmured back, reminded somehow of that iconic Adams family stare.
The woman nodded something and hung up the phone. She kept glancing up from her work, clearly distracted.
"Can I help you?"
The next time she looked up, he was right there, leaning his arms on her desk.
"I'm sorry, I thought... You wouldn't happen to be Mr. Jones, would you?,"
It was a 50/50 chance. This could be part of Gabriel's game, or a whole other pot of trouble.
"...yes. A little behind schedule, as you can see, but.."
She perked up in a smile that was almost too wide for her face.
"Starla's been waiting for you. Follow me?"
Dean did, and silently prayed that was a stripper's name, not a stock broker.
Sam grabbed the collar and slid beneath it, both for support, and to avoid being seen. Whether this was Gabriel, Demons, or just bad luck... it seemed smart to keep himself hidden. The uncomfortable sensation of being pressed against his brother's thick, warm skin was enough to make his own skin crawl.
Dean swallowed. He doubted he would ever get used to a tiny body moving against him like that. It just wasn't natural. He slipped his hand inside his jacket as he followed the shapely clerk up a flight of glossy stairs. He tightened a grip on the demon blade, bringing himself a small comfort in precaution.
The second floor was even busier than the first. She unlocked an ordinary looking door and ushered him inside a spacious office. It was furnished sparcely, with a lonely potted plant in the corner.
The lock slid in the door while the woman was facing him- making every hair on the back of his neck stand up.
"I thought it was gonna be hard to catch a Winchester. After all, I'm just an intern. But one does hear things-" she screamed as holy water splashed over her face and neck, steaming through her blouse. In the next instant, Dean had slammed her against the desk, demon blade in hand.
"Please don't tell me you prepared a whole speech." He got ready to plunge the knife, but hesitated as he tried to sense where Sam was on his shoulder.
"Drop her." A new voice said, though none too friendly.
Sam clung awkwardly to the gigantic bulk of his brothers shoulder in a desprate attempt to avoid falling. All the while he listened to the scenario taking place before him... and with the addition of a new voice, he could tell things were just heating up.
Dean was nervous. Sam could feel that much, as a thin layer of sweat began forming on his skin, making it all the more difficult for Sam to hold on. He flailed his hands, trying frantically to get a grip on something...
Dean's heart pounded in his ears. All he could think about how this was all Gabriel doing; luring them here. And it was two on one, technically. A few tense seconds ticked by. He couldn't give them the upper hand, and what was worse, he could feel Sam slipping. If they got their hands on him at this size- NO. Not an option.
Instead of following through, Dean kept the blade on the demonic clerk's neck, turning her around with her back against him. In a quick motion, he slipped his other hand up. Little legs buckled as he scooped Sam back on his shoulder, under his jacket sleeve.
"Or what?" He glared at the new demon. He was a spindly little thing. 5'6" with a receding light brown hairline. But he had an unnerving "i'm in charge" confidence.
The demon smiled,
"We'll just have to see, now won't we?" He took a step forward, nothing but confidence in his stride.
"Go on." he prodded, sounding impatient, "Kill her."
Sam swallowed. Big shit was going down, and this was definitely not the right time.
Dean frowned. Demons on demon backstabbing was not unheard of, but it wasn't routine. Man, what he would give to have Sam in his corner right now. Well... You know.
Dean tried to figure out how killing her could possibly help this dickwad. He came up short, and soon after plunged the serrated blade into the clerk's jugular. Her face lit up with the glow of hellfire, then went dark. He let her drop to the floor,
crimson pooling at his feet. One down, one to go.
"You're next." He pointed the bloody knife out, assuming a defensive stance as they circled each other.
'Just hang on,Sammy.' He thought towards his shoulder.
"Oh fuck," whispered Sam to himself. What he would give to be useful! He could exorcise a Demon of the top of his head, draw devils traps in his sleep, but here he was, stuck being hindrance rather than an asset. The only thing he was good at, was being overlooked.
Sam's eyes lit up. Maybe he could be useful after all... As Dean took a step forward, a risky plan began to form in his mind...
"Hm," the demon pretended to think, like this was no more concerning than a business deal. "Surprised they let you walk around with sharp objects these days. I mean, haven't you done enough?"
"Shut up."
"And where's dear old Sam? Joined at the hip, aren't you?"
"Sam's busy. Sorry to disappoint, it's jus you and me." Dean sassed back. The demon stops its casual stroll and smiles cheerfully.
"I would have liked to have the set, I won't lie... But I'm an opportunist. When Michael's vessel strolls into my office, what's a guy to do?" His back was to him at that point. Dean saw his chance and lunged forward to jump him from behind. It wasn't enough. With a flick of the wrist, the demon hurls him backwards through the air. Dean's back hit the opposite wall with a sickening smack. The knife clattered to the ground. The demon turned around to finish his thought: "...Sell him off to the highest bidder."
As his brother approached the demon Sam saw his chance. He crouched, building up what power he could muster in his legs. He couldnt have chosen a better time to jump. The moment his legs pushed off, Dean flew back, pinned by the demons power. Plummeting towards the demons coat, Sam stretched out his arms, praying he'd make it. His opened hands grasped the material and he was able to slow, and eventually stop the descent. The demon was thankfully to focused on his brother to notice.
Sam winced at the searing pain caused by fabric burn he received from sliding down the sharply dressed demon's coat. He'd landed on the mid back of the demon, clinging for his life on a fold of fabric. With all the strength he could muster he began climbing up the fold, carefully and as gingerly as possible, not wanting the demon to sense his presence.
Dean struggled, but in an odd way- he was just trying to turn his head to see his shoulder. He may have been pinned telekinetically, but he wasn't numb. He could feel that Sam wasn't there.
He eyes darted across the floor now, panicked as he watched the demon's steps. Sam must have fallen off from the force. But where- the business man turned around, bending down and picking up the the demon blade.
Dean stopped struggling, jaw going slack when he saw his little brother scaling the bad guy. He wasn't sure what exactly he planned to do at all of 6 inches. It made a new worry line appear on Dean's forehead, but he had to admit... The kid had balls.
"So, what is this like a bachelor auction? Send me off to meet and greet with dusty old demon babes?" Dean drawled, stalling away.
"You expect me to tell you all of my plans like some poorly thought out villain's rant?" Snorted the demon, "Do you think I'm an idiot?"
Sam shivered as the demon spoke. It rumbled in his chest. God this was weird... he was scaling a freakin demon! Once the miniature hunter made it to the back of the demon's collar, he was awkwardly able to sit in it, letting him use his hands freely.
Sam felt his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. He would have to do this fast... and if he screwed up... well that would be the end. Biting in his hand, an action that his instincts abhorred, Sam drew his own blood. He squeezed his hand, forcing more blood from his open wound. With a swift motion, he drew a circle on the demon's neck. He felt the creature stiffen with his touch. Not missing a beat Sam filled the bloody circle with a pentagram.
At the same time, he could feel the demon's muscles shift beneath him, as it raised its arm towards him,
"What the..."
Sam filled in the sigils, working his throbbing hand faster than ever before. He felt the demon's hand wrap around him just as he finished the bloody demon's trap. He pulled away, using the demon's surprise and confusion to his advantage. He's just immobilized a giant demon!
As the demon became cemented in place, Dean dropped to the floor, barely throwing out his hands in time to save his face. He got to his feet, enjoying the shock on the bastard's face.
"That's more like it."
He walked with a new spring in his step, plucking the knife out of the stunned demon's hand as he continued around. And there was Sam, teetering in the collar. Dean offers him his free hand, unable to hide the small, impressed smile that pulled up the corners of his lips.
The demon's eyes went wide. "Is this some sort of joke?"
Sam ignores the demon, too busy beaming up at Dean.
"Still don't think I could have went on that hunt?" Laughs Sam, too proud of himself to contain his ecstasy. Though, his mood is slightly dampened by rational thought,
"What are we gunna do with him?" Asks Sam, his eye flickering from the knife to the demon, "Should we gank him? or exorcise it?"
The demon broke out in a pale sweat. His eyes darted to the body on the floor, regretting his decision to disregard her life- not out of guilt, but out of selfish self-preservation.
Dean held his brother close, all too aware of the way that nasty was staring at Sam. The older Winchester eyed up the spindley broker, debating on how best to handle it. He sheathed the knife. If the host life could be spared, the better.
"Give 'im, well... Hell." He shared a look with Sam. "Would you do the honors?"
Sam didn't hesitate to start the exorcism. The words flowed from him with ease, never once pausing to listen to the pleading demon. With the final word, a heavy cloud of black smoke spilled from the demon's lips, as it was expelled from the body. Sams smile was so large, it seemed to dash away the fact he was 6 inches tall.
The empty body dropped to the floor. The two brothers stood for a moment, letting the stillness sink in. It was odd that no one had heard the fight outside the broker's office. Sam remembered hearing something about these places illegally having soundproofed walls, so that stock market tips couldn't be overheard. Tucking the dirty knife back into its sheath in his inner pocket, Dean let slip an exuberant smile.
"Dude, you full on ninja-ed that sucker!" Dean couldn't be prouder of his little brother. Six inches tall and still poppin' demons. It was perhaps the most bizarre of bonding moments.
Sam's smile could put the Cheshire cat to shame. He was a little red in the face from the praise, but he could care less. Getting over this size difference was a big step, being able to save his big brother made that step even bigger. All in all, it was a titanic step for a being so... well, tiny.
His brother raised him closer to his face, and Sam noticed the pride that was magnified in his brothers wide eyes. Sam was on cloud nine. His embarrassment, insecurities and anger towards his predicament seemed to dissipate, and with new found confidence, he leaned onto his brothers nose, meeting his eyes.
Sam snorted seeing how Dean went cross eyed in order to keep his eyes on him.
"That was..." Sam paused, looking for the right word, "awesome."
"Uh, yeah. And this is weird." Dean's eyebrows were just about as high as they could go. His huge hand shadowed Sam as he gingerly grasped his sides and held him a bit further from him.
"Jus because you popped that SOB doesn't mean you get to use my face isn't a merry-go-round." He snorted, giving Sam an odd look, somewhere between endeared and weirded out.
"Wha... What's... Where am I?" The exorcised man was stirring on the floor. He was very sore and very confused as to how he ended up on the floor.
No time for a snappy comeback, Sam pointed to Dean's pocket. Understanding the gesture, Dean slid Sam inside. The situation was confusing enough without having to account for a miniature human.
Dean came over to the man's side, sliding hands under his back to help him sit up.
"Easy, you took a pretty bad spill there. How do you feel?"
"I-I fine. I just.. I don't know how I got here. The last thing I remember is making dinner for Lana and then we... Oh my gosh." The man turned white when he noticed the fresh, bloodied body lying on the floor next to him. "Did... Did I?" He looked at Dean, and though he didn't accuse him aloud, he was wondering pretty obviously.
"Gang hit." Dean explained. He pulled out a fake ID and flashed it at the man- too brief a glimpse for the dazed guy to notice it was a National Heath Inspector Identifcation. "I'm a PI with the police department. Been tailing the guy for weeks, you're lucky we got here when we did."
"We..?" The man gave him a perplexed look. Dean blinked, processing the mistake.
"Uh, yeah. My partner is taking the perp in now."
This seemed to be good enough for the broker, and he let Dean help him stand on increasingly steady feet. They made their way outside, hastily. Dean spurred by the necessity to put as much of a distance between himself and that body just waiting to be discovered.
"Allright buddy. Head home, talk to your wife-"
"Wait, you don't need me to come into give a statement?"
"Later. We'll call you, okay?"
"Oh..kay.."
With a very non-detective like smile and a slap on the back, the blonde man turned and left, blending into the crowd.
~~~
"Okay... What the HELL was that, huh? I thought this was some stupid shrunken scavenger hunt. Is it just me, or did that whole thing smell like a setup?"
Dean's mind was racing anew. A few people gave him odd looks as he spoke directly and urgently to apparantly no one.
"I don't know. I mean, considering his constant tabs on us, a coincidence like that... well it doesn't seem likely." Shouted Sam, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. The sliver of trust he's felt for Gabriel was smothered with doubt. "What time is it?"
"Little past noon." Dean paused at a crosswalk before deciding it wasn't worth the wait, and crossed diagonally betweeen rows of taxicabs at a standstill. He tried to pace himself this time, remembering how rough a light jog had been for his pocket passenger earlier.
The next place he entered wasn't on the map. Not Gabriel's map, anyway. But New York pizza was definitely on his to-do list for the day. He knew they were in a hurry, but he couldn't work on an empty stomach.
Sam could feel the blood drain from his face, and he was for once glad that he was riding in the pocket so Dean couldn't see how disturbed he was. Sam knew where they were before he saw anything. It was the smell that greeted him, filling his nose. Something about his size made the smells so much stronger... and so much more crisp. His stomach rumbled. He's never graved so much junk food until he had shrunk, and he began wondering if it was due to the magnified smells and tastes, or if Gabriel's eating habits were contagious.
Dean glanced down at his pocket. Sam was being unusally cooperative about this. He'd honestly expected that little head to poke out and glare at him, tell him that he couldn't think about food at a time like this. But nothing. Not a peep.
"Let's hope you don't start getting picky now." He muttered, stepping up to place the order.
Things were looking up by the time Dean had two slices of classic cheese pizza in his hand- one with a few olives added. He chose a tiny little table in the back of the joint and set down the food. He pulled Sammy right out, setting him on the table top behind a convenient stand-up menu.
"Ta-da," He brandished a hand over the slices, waiting for the gleeful response that should be everyone's reaction to pizza. "Come on- we've earned this." And with that, he picked up the first one and took the first bite. It was absolutely amazing.
Sam couldn't help but gape at his brothers gigantic maw, as he stuffed it full of pizza. Sam swore that Dean took bites bigger than he was... Brother or not, Sam couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the thought. Not wanting to get caught staring, Sam walked over to the other slice. The smell wafted over to him... it was intoxicating. It was so unlike him to eat unhealthy, let alone be tempted by the aroma of a greasy cheese covered snack. Yet, here he was sitting on a plate, practically digging handfuls of cheese and sauce off the plate, and shoveling it into his mouth.
"You know," started Sam, his mouth still half full, "We really should be getting a move on..."
God this pizza was so good...
"Ten minutes. Just give me ten minutes, Sammy." Dean said back in between bites. He never complained but he was used to eating a bit more than a little pastry for breakfast. As he took a drink of water, he scanned the sparcely occupied restaurant to make sure eyes were safely averted frm the potential discovery of his brother. He inhaled the first piece and was itching to take the second, but he waited until Sam was done.
"Man, you must've been starved." He observes quietly. It was pretty cute, watching his six inch brother takeon a piece of pizza longer than him. But it made him feel alittle more bad for him, too; he guessed that girly Danish hadn't cut it him, either.
Sam shrugged, and continued eating, his hands dripping with the greasy sauce,
"Things taste better," Sam swallowed another bite, "like this."
Upon attempting to wipe the grease from his lips, he only ended up spreading the sauce on his face.
He looked up at his brother, who sported an amused smile. Sam could feel his face growing red hot.
Caught. Dean can't pretend he wasn't staring, but he makes himself useful by tearing off a strip of paper nain and passing it into Sam's teeny hands.
"Things taste better... Like, what, being tiny?" He asked, bewildered but not patronizing.
Sam gave Dean an embarrassed smile as he accepted the napkin. Nodding, Sam wiped his face clean, as well as his hands.
"The tastes... the smells," said Sam, as he leaned back, feeling the itis begin to take hold, "Everythings bigger... kinda, magnified." Sam eyed the pizza, but thought better of it and returned his stare to Dean,
"Imagine tasting every ingredient. As much individually as as a whole."
Sam leaned back farther, now on his elbows. His eyes fighting to keep open. It seemed as if the itis was magnified at this size too.
A considering pout just Dean's bottom lip out a bit. He tried to imagine apple pie more vividly than it could possibly be. Hard to fathom anything tasting even better than something that already tasted like like heaven on earth. Scratch that- better than heaven.
"Guess that's not a bad consolation prize if we lose the game." He finally hummed in reply. He jabbed a big finger at the other piece of pizza. "You gunna eat that?"
When Sam shook his head, Dean picked it up, folding it in half with one hand. The other hand instinctually started to reach for Sam, intending to stroke his back.
Luckily, Dean caught himself and pretending to just be resting his hand on the table near Sam. Gosh, if Bobby saw him now, he'd be going on about what a softie he was becoming... Ugh.
Sam snorted upon hearing Dean's carefree attitude towards losing Gabriel's game. Either Dean was going to be in well over his head, or he was just more well adjusted than Sam. Both thoughts made him cringe equally. Sam tried to think possitively, as he assured himself that he'd figure out the moral to the story before it was too late.
Honestly, he'd felt a few possible ideas bubbling, but nothing that seemed solid. He tried to dwell on it, but the itis seemed to lay on him. His eye lids fell, and shot open a few times. Rather than falling asleep on the greasy table Sam lazily stood up and shuffled towards Dean's hand. He'd been meaning to ask Dean to put him in the pocket, but as he leaned on the soft, warm hand, words seemed to be to much of an effort.
As he stared up at the lights which gradually became fuzzy, he wondered if the itis was really enforced by his size, or because Gabriel was messing with them. Dean seemed to be fine... maybe.. his thoughts trailed of into oblivion as his eyes shut.
Dean watched him curiously, but said nothing as his little brother cozied up against his left hand. Dean swallowed his last bite and wiped his greasy hand on his pants.
"Sam?" He asked quietly. He pushed the plate away and slid both hand and brother closer to the edge. No response. Sam didn't even flinch.
His big green eyes scrutinized him, unsure of whether to be concerned or not. He normally didn't just pass out like this... Then again, he wasn't supposed to be smaller than a Barbie doll either. Dean pursed his lips, looking at Sam's sleeping body. He tilted his hand a bit so Sam fell into the shadow of his fingers, then gingerly picked him up. Sam's long hair completely fell across his face as he was lifted up. Dean scoffed.
"You're lucky I don't take a pair of shears to ya while you're out, shortie."
He slid Sam into his lower jacket pocket this time, keeping the hand coiled carefully around him. After consulting the map one more time, he stood up and started the long walk to Citi Field.
"Demons on Wall Street.. What's next? Angels in the Outfield?"
Dean's stride swung Sam back and forth peacefully, with no jarring movements. As Sam drifted further and further into a deep sleep. Unaware of his actions, Sam wrapped his arms around Deans thumb, awkwardly cuddling it. Had he been even the slightest bit more conscious, he would have stopped himself in his tracks, but Sam was out cold.
"Hey kiddo,"
Sam knew he was dreaming. For starters, he was normal size. Secondly, Gabriel sat across from him, with a wry smile on his face that seemed to tell Sam he had just started having fun.
Sam felt an anger bubble inside him, as he recalled the close call they had had with the demons,
"What the Hell Gabriel!?" spat Sam, glad that in his dream, he was able to yell down at the angel instead of upwards.
"What is it with you guys and shouting?" Gabriel scoffed. He remains seated, for now letting Sam have his moment to be tall. "Okay," he admitted. "So I threw you a curveball. But tell me it didn't feel good... Proving your big brother wrong for once, huh?"
There was a flicker of personal experience in his eyes.
Sam knew the angel had a point, but still, so much could have went wrong! As if reading his thoughts, the angel smirked.
" Dont worry your pretty little head, moosey. I was watching."
The thought didnt seem to offer any comfort. The angel pulled a sucker out of thin air and popped it into his mouth.
"I suggest you step up to the plate." said Gabriel, eyeing Sam. "You still haven't figured out my little game." Gabriel laughed at his own pun. Sam just glared down at him.
"You have to start making the connections, Sammy," The angel paused to smile, "Cause things are only going to get more fun for me the longer it takes."
With a jolt, Sam woke.
Dean's hand clenches in surprise along with a gruff voice above. Sam is pulled out to face a grey sky dominated by his brother's visage. They were actually inside a phone booth right outside Citi Stadium.
"Aw, you've got pocket hair." He cooed in greeting. Another huge hand crowds his vision as Dean tries to mash down the poofy flyaways of Sam's shaggy hair.
Dean knows he may be setting himself up for an ugly helping of revenge when he's- NO, if... IF he ends up shrunken down tomorrow. But that wicked grin won't leave his face.
Sam swats at the oncoming digits.
"It's probably on end cause of your rank pocket," groaned Sam, as he shakily stood on Dean's palm, stretching his limbs, "How long was I out anyways?"
"Two hours. You missed a good Mets game." He looked at him like he still could believe he stayed asleep during all that noise. Dean shook his head, the optimism fading from his face as he considered the time left.
"I gotcha something though," he produced a tiny red jersey and held it out between a finger and thumb. "Lifted it off a toy in the gift shop." He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. It was going to rain. Just awesome...
Sam visibly paled from the mention of how much time they had left. Though, he forced his lips into a smile after seeing the jersey. That was just like Dean to do something like that.
"Thanks Dean..." Sam paused an looked up at his big brother. The look of hopelessness that covered his face was devastating, "I mean.. for everything."
The puppy-dog eyes make a full and potent appearance. It takes Dean a bit off-guard, and both appeals to the part of him that feels under appreciated... As well as fill him with dread. Sam had no more idea about the endgame of this fiasco than he did. His own brother might as well be shrinking him himself, a grim part of Dean prompted.
Dean swallowed and gave a gruff nod.
A rude rap on the glass startled them both- "Mister, get a move on! Some of us actually have phone calls to make!"
"Chill your tits!" Dean barked back over his shoulder. He turned back to his little brother in his hands.
"Shoulder or pocket?"
Without saying a word, Sam points to the shoulder. As Dean lifts him up, Sam teeters in his standing position... Dean's hands seem a bit shaky. Stepping of the palm, Sam takes a seat on Dean's shoulder, while his brother fixes his collar.
"We'll figure this out..." Whispers Sam , almost as much to himself as Dean.
Dean hears him, but he doesn't respond. He knows false encouragement when he hears it.
He folded the collar over Sam's legs, and waits for a tap on the neck- Sam letting him know that he's concealed the rest of himself.
The subway trip was not as long as the first one, but it sure felt like it. Dean sat there, staring at his boots with the full force of his pent-up frustration. His feet hurt from walking all over the damn city. And for what? He couldn't help Sam. In fact, he felt like he was going to crush him if he grabbed him too hard. He hated this. And he hated what was to come. Hated being so easily manipulated by a more powerful being. He rested his head against the glass window and scrunched his eyes shut.
"Cas.. If you're around, we could really use a pair of wings over here..." He peeked open his eyes. No response.
Sam could see his brothers turmoil. In fact, he was drowning in the sullen air that his brother gave off.
"Maybe Gabiel's keeping him away..." Sam mumbled, trying to comfort his brother. Time was slipping by so fast. Sam felt the pit of his gut grow heavy. This was on him. He had to do it. He could figure this out!
His eyes wandered, catching a glimpse of the large digital clock above one of the doors on the subway. It was already 4pm.
Dean heated up a bit, not having intended for anyone else to hear. But of course Sam would. He could probably hear himbreathing, for cripes sake. His shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug.
"Makes sense."
The subway screeched to a halt. Dean's heart leapt to his throat whenever he felt tiny fingers or elbow bump his neck as he climbed he stairs back to open air. The sun was beginning its descent, making the glassy skyscrapers reflect a rosy hue. "Get a load of this." He breathed. He stools towards the back of other tourist taking pictures, leaning way, way back to see the too of the Empire State Building. It was immense and almost impossibly tall in person.
"Looks better on the postcards." Dean decides almost immediately.
More refreshing than overbearing, the chill of the open air embraced Sams tiny figure. Sam breathed out. It was immense. More so than the general population around him. This wasnt just giant... it was colossal... God-like, It was incredible. Sam stared, eyeswide with awe, at the impossibly large building.
"Whoa.."
A taxi behind them laid on the horn, along with another two shortly after. Dean turned, and ended up having to jump back out of the way as a moped career es out of control, the rider just barely able to crash it to a halt into a lamp post. He picked himself off the ground, smelling the smoke. The rider collapsed nearby. "
Hey! You okay?" Dean hollered.
She nodded shakily. "Stupid brakes.."
"You need a better mechanic." He advised.
She laughed bitterly and stood up, going over to call a tow comany while others offered additional assitence.
"City that never sleeps, huh, Sammy?" Dean grumbled. He glanced to his shoulder and glimpsed the red jersey. "I swear if I ever get my hands on Gabriel, I'm gonna turn him into dartboard." He stood up and brushed hismelf off, not realizing his shoulder was vacant.
Sam hadn't been paying attention until Dean had began rapidly moving. Thrown from his spot Sam fell from a sickening height. With out stretched arms he was just able to catch the corner of Dean jacket as he free fell. As Dean continued to move around, Sam found his grip slipping, and the more he held tight, the more slippery his hands became. He strained with all he could to keep attached, but one more swift movement from Dean jarred him loose.
He felt hollow as he fell. A shell of himself. He was so detached form the situation he had no time to scream, or even feel for that matter. His only thought was how he was going to die, splattered on the pavement, at a pathetic 6 inches tall.
The splatter. however, never came. Instead, he landed roughly against a soft spongy surface. His heart was pounding against his chest with such force he imagined it would beat its way out of him at any given moment.
Looking skyward, Sam's vision was filled by a familiar face.
"I came as soon as I could," said Castiel plainly, "but my brother..."
Half a block away, a tiny red slip of cloth fluttered in front of Dean's gaze. He snatched at it with a fierce frown, recognizing the little jersey he'd given to Sam.
"Sam?" He stopped in his tracks and looked at his shoulder. "Sammy-" he clawed at his collar, his heart plummeting as he found it bare. Sam wasn't there. Which meant... He could be anywhere. He'd be dead in an instant. Nonono This could not be happening. Throwing his hands up to his head, Dean swore loudly enough to turn heads and pivoted in place on the crowded sidewalk- coming nose to nose with Castiel.
He blinked, then stepped back. "Sam, he's-"
"I know." The angel intoned, holding up the tiny man between them. Dean slumped with relief and crushing guilt upon seeing Sam was alright.
"We need to talk." Castiel looked over his shoulder like he was being followed. "But not here." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, but nothing happened. "Gabriel must not want you to leave the city." Castiel muttered. Dean looked around.
"This way." He led the way towards a discreet alleyway. It smelled like garbage and urine, but they could talk openly.
`"Dean," started Castiel, his gruff voice filled with urgency. "We have to ge-"
"Now now, Castiel." tsked the familiar voice of the trickster, who appeared beside Dean,
"No ones leaving. Not until We've finished our little game."
"Gabriel," growled Cas, as his unblinking eyes burned bright with purposeful authority. "They're needed elsewhere."
The trickster raised an eyebrow, smiling wryly,
"Are you questioning me, brother?" he said, in mock shock. After a moments pause, his eyes lit up, and a playful smile smeared itself across his face.
"It sounds like you want to join the fun." With a snap of his fingers, a bright light engulf Castiel,
"You're not taking these boys anywhere," laughed Gabriel, "And you're not going anywhere either. You're on house arrest Cas."
Castiel's cold blue eyes remained unfazed, but Sam could feel his muscles tense.
"Let the games begin!"
With that final, exaggerated shout, the angel disappeared, but this time, with a flashy array of smoke and sparkling lights.
Dean coughed, fanning the excess smoke away with his hand. "Isn't he worried you're going to reveal his secret identity to the god-squad?"
"I'm no rat." Castiel replied, almost defensively. "I heard your prayer, Dean. But just barely. Gabriel's kept you almost entirely off the grid."
Dean bobbed his head in a nod. "We figured as much."
Castiel brought Sam up, square and center in front of his face. "Why has he done this to you?" His piercing blue eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him.
Sam backed up on the angels palm. God, even now Cas still had no regard for personal space.
"He said it was to teach us a lesson." answered Sam, as he shot a glance at Dean, that pleaded to help him out.
Dean Put a hand on Castiel's wrist, prompting him to lower the hand a bit.
"We've got squat on the lesson crap. He's gonna do the same to me if we don't crack this in less than four hours."
Castiel's eyes widened, nostrils flaring at this revelation. He looked skyward, as he often did when searching for answers, a stern look on his face.
"I don't understand what Gabriel could possibly gain from having the two of you shrunken in stature... What exactly did he say to you?"
Dean racked his brain from all the times the trickster had popped up. Finally he shrugged wearily and shook his head. "Nothing. He's giving us nada, and He keeps sayin' it like it should be obvious."
"He thinks he's helping..." mumbled Sam. Castiel nodded sullenly, as if he knew Gabriel's tendencies all too well.
"It's best to go along with it for now." mumbled Cas,
Sam looked up at the angel, upset he had no other information.
Dean drug a weary hand over his face.
"Go along with it?" Dean repeated. "We've been going at it all day! You ask me this is just some fucked up way of getting us to say yes to letting Lucifer and Michael hi-jack the wheel."
"It's...possible." Castiel admitted. He was undaunted in the face of Dean's raised voice.
Sam groaned. Now was not the time to be bickering. They needed to figure things out pronto and then this whole ordeal would be done with. It wasn't only the fact that Dean wouldnt have to go through with it, but the fact they were wasting time. Lots of time. The longer it would take for them to figure out the lesson, the longer they would have to deal with this. Sam sighed. He needed time to think, but the constant go-go-go agenda that Gabriel had them following seemed to make it impossible.
"Are you two done?"
The two colossal beings turned their attention to Sam, and he stood in the palm of Castiel's hand.
"The quicker we get through this, the quicker we get back to everything else." Sam ran a hand through his hair. He was frustrated. He just wanted to get this over with.
Dean pulled out the wrinkled map from his pocket. Castiel leaned over his shoulder, trying to make sense of it for himself.
"We've hit these..." Dean smoothed a fingertip across the landmarks they had already been to. There were two left. He tapped the one that was closer by a long shot. "If we're gonna finish the list, this one's our best bet."
"Lady Liberty," Castiel read. "Are we meeting a diplomat?"
"No, it's a statue." Dean said with a note of amusement at the angel's naivety. He gave him an expectant look. "You know... The Statue of Liberty?"
Castiel gave him a blank look.
"Nevermind, you'll see." Dean put the map away and glanced down at Sam before turning towards the mouth of the dingy alley.
"Will we be..walking there?"
"Heh, relax. It'll do you some good. But yeah, my baby's in the corner today. She's good about it but- sheesh, Cas, you gotta hide him!"
He stopped short. Cas looked down at Sam. "Oh. Right.."
Sam couldnt help feel a twang of fear from hearing head be seperated from Dean. While he hated the needy feeling, he felt much safer with his brother than with the naive angel who possessed no regards for personal space.
Though, as he was dropped into the pocket, many of his qualms were put to rest. Castiel's steps were graceful and caused minimal movement, but more so, the pocket smelled clean, and Sam allowed himself to smile.
"You should take cleaning lessons from Cas," Shouted Sam, "His pockets dont smell rancid."
"Sorry, can't hear ya." Dean shot him down immediately, not wanting to go into his clothing hygiene for the umpeenth time that day.
The walk alone took over an hour and a half, during which Castiel made it a point to remark on how tedious and inefficient it was to walk on foot, period. He balanced it with admiration for the many souls walking around them. Dean was eager for a subject change, cause it was just reminding him how tired he was. When they got to the ferry dock, they had to hurry to catch the very last boat of the day. Dean turned over the pamphlet in his hand. It closed at 6? It was 5:45 now!
The sea breeze rushed past with a salty spray. It felt good.
Sam could smell the sea breeze as it rushed past the pocket. Sticking his head out, he took in his surroundings. He felt his stomach drop as he realized how late it was getting. The bright colors that decorated the sky gave him an uneasy feeling in his gut. Focus. He needed to figure out what this lesson was.
Thinking back to all he had done, he tried to formulate some sort of consistency. Maybe it was over coming big obstacles? No.. that seemed to literal. Something about trust? Or reliance? That seemed to make sense. He wished Gabriel's clues gave more to him...
At least now he had a postulation formed, but with time running out, would he be able to elaborate in time?