I used actual math for this chapter, people. Appreciate it. (it's at the end).
Dean barely had time to register what was happening before he was falling. He vaguely saw the other car swerving, Sam blinking the headlights, and felt the Impala slow down and then his vision was filled with the front of the car moving very fast and he was falling backwards, nothing below him but air. He yelled as he fell, sounding something like: "aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhggggggghhhh! As he fell the air fell by his ears and the only thought that went through his head was: "I'm going to die tiny!"
What little air that was left in his lungs left with a soft chocking sound as he landed yielding and rough. Dean lay still for a few moments, panting, realizing that he was still alive! He glanced at his surroundings, not recognizing any of it. He heard a familiar rumbling from Sasquatch mountain. That meant he was still in the car. He slowly moved and checked over himself over. Nothing felt broken, just a little sore. To say he was surprised was an understatement.
"DEAN!" Sam's voice thundered, once he had realized that Dean was gone.
"Saaam!" Dean tried to yell, but he was still too winded. It was barely louder than a hoarse whisper. He lay back down on the rough surface of wherever he was, trying to figure out where he had landed. He heard the engine turn off with a jingle of the keys. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain some strength. The knowledge that he was still in the car and that Sam knew he was gone gave him a little relief.
Sam was franticly scanning the car for his big brother. Running his hands slowly over his lap, the dashboard, his collar, the seat, his hair, anywhere Dean could be! He had pulled over to the side of the road once he realized that the small hunter was no longer perched on his ear. He went over what had happened. Dean was DEFINITLY on him before the accident. Truck swerved, he braked, didn't get hurt, but his head got thrown back…so did Dean! He turned to the backseat of the car, expecting, hoping to see Dean safe in the backseat. But what he saw instead was a mess of items and trash that weren't cleaned up from the last few hunts. Sam nearly yelled in frustration before he remembered little ears get hurt by yelling. The thought of the other car was lost in the more important thing that Dean was missing! And if he fell from this height….
He moved to his knees and leaned over to the backseat as far as he could, slowly scanning the seat itself for any sign of the little man.
"Dean? Where are you man? Please let me know you're okay." He whispered and prayed.
With enough strength gained, Dean heard his brother begging softly. He stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled as loud as he could. He didn't bother with words. Through some form of miracle, Sam just heard herd him. Just. But he was heard!
"I hear you Dean." He whispered once the small sound was heard no more. Dean nearly sobbed in relief. Sam heard him! He fell to his knees, looking up at the hole in the ceiling of…wherever he was. His eyes were not wet. They weren't.
"I don't know where you are! You're somewhere in the back of the car. I'm gonna come to the backseat to find you." That would be great, if only Dean knew where he was! He looked around, scanning his makeshift prison. The celling of the area was a rectangle with an oval hole in the middle. It looked strangely familiar. The walls looked like cardboard and the ground was white and rough but thin and-…
He was in a tissue box.
He was saved by a fucking tissue box.
Dean Winchester, mighty hunter, was saved from a fall by a tissue box.
He was jolted from his thoughts when he heard the door open.
Sam scanned the entirety of the backseat, moving his fingers along the crevice of the bench seat. Once he was very sure Dean wasn't there, he managed to climb onto the backseat, never once touching the floorboards, and searching near the door, closed it behind him. Shutting out outside sounds as well as creepy-crawlies who like to eat shrunken brothers. Lying on his stomach, Sam carefully leaned in closer to the floor area behind the driver's seat.
"Dean?" he whispers, heart in his throat.
Dean looks up and yells, hearing Sam's voice much closer and louder than before.
"SAAAAAAM!" he yells back. Sam's heart goes back down to where its supposed to be, but still trying to beat out of his chest.
"I hear you Dean. Can you tell me where you are?" he asked. Scared to find out if Dean was hurt. But he was alive. That was the important part.
"THE TISSUE BOX!" he yells, hand cupped around his mouth. His throat is getting sore from all the yelling he's been doing the past day.
Sam could hear words, but he couldn't make them out, nor pinpoint where they were coming from.
"I-I can't tell what you're saying man." Dean's shoulders slump at Sam's whispered confessions.
"I'm looking for you. I'm gonna find you." He says firmly.
"Give me a yell if I get close to you." How would Dean know if he's close? He can't see out of the box! Sam starts his search, very slowly. He moves his hand to the door and starts moving it up and down the thin carpeting. Gently shifting receipts, empty bullet shells, candy wrappers, a dirty rag, and an emergency blanket. Now that they no longer lived out of the Impala, Dean was less likely these days to clean her out every few days like he used to. He still cleaned her, but it was. Sam searched, listening for any small peep from his brother.
Dean rubbed his hands up and down his arms. The cold was creeping up on him once the adrenaline of falling wore off. He wondered how long it would take before he got hypothermia or a heart attack.
Finally, after what felt like hours (but was actually several tense minutes) Sam's big hand had brushed the side of the tissue box. Dean yelled as loud as he could, trying to alert his brother that he had found him. Sam froze at the small cry. He picked up the tissue box from the side, expecting to find Dean behind it. Dean fell over when his two-ply prison suddenly shifted.
"IN THE BOX!" he screamed. Sam caught the last word now that Dean was closer to him. Trying to keep it level, Sam lifted the box to his eyes, peeking inside.
"Dean?" he muttered looking at the nearly depleted supply of tissues. Dean nearly cried when he saw Sam's big face looking in.
"HERE SAM! HERE!" he yelled, moving as fast as he could to the center, arms waving. A moment later, Sam's big hazel eyes locked on him and he fell to his knees with relief. Not caring how he looked, he raised his arms upward in a silent plea to be picked up. Sam's wet eyes moved away only when his other hand reached into the box to gently wrap around Dean, lifting him up and out of the box into warm, safe hands.
He was quickly brought close to the Rushmore sized face to be checked over. He found himself scant inches from big, wet hazel eyes that made sure that he was okay. They were nearly crossed because if how close he was. Dean dropped to his knees and curled up at the base of the big fingers, desperate for the stability, heat, and safety Sam readily provided.
"Dean." Sam murmured, blinking away tears of relief that Dean was safe and unhurt. He cupped his fingers over the shrunken hunter, sheltering him and moved his hand to his cheek in an odd hug. Sam could feel his big little brother grab what he could of a finger and hold it close. He felt minute and silent sobs shudder against his skin.
"Not gonna happen again Dean, I promise. It's my turn to take care of you. I swear I'll do better, I'm sorry Dean." He whispered comforts under his breath to the little man in his hand. He wasn't even sure if dean could hear him this close, but he continued anyway. He knew Dean hated flying. So just how bad was falling for him? He was pretty sure that terrifying didn't cover it. Plus the stress of being lost in your own car! Usually dean hated to show his feelings, but he had every reason and excuse to. The poor guy was less than three inches tall!
Once the crying had slowed down and stopped, Sam slowly pulled his hand away from his face and reluctantly opened up his hand. Dean was sitting with his back leaning against the base of his ring finger, wiping his arm across his face to hide the tiny, reluctant tears that he would never admit to have shed. No word were shared. None needed to be said.
After a minute or so of controlling his breathing and small hiccups he raised his head to the big face transfixed on him.
"Let's go home." Sam said. Dean nodded silently.
Sam gently closed his fist again, tucking it against his chest, and spent the rest of the car ride with Dean safely in his hand. He failed Dean before, it was not going to happen again.
For one thing, Dean was thankful that Sam didn't make him move to a pocket or back to the ear. He didn't think he could handle that. While the hand-cave was dark and warm, it wasn't stuffy. Air came through a few small cracks between the tips on fingers. He pressed his hand against the base of the finger and felt a vein with a strong pulse circulating blood. This was safety. They wouldn't talk about him crying. In that short breakdown he had let out the bottled up fear of being tiny. He actually felt much better for letting it out. He fell into a light doze as the loud but ever familiar engine cooed a lullaby of safety.
Even though his arms started to complain towards the end of the drive, Sam didn't dare move it. Some deep rooted parental instinct had flared up when Dean first shrunk, and now it had Sam in complete overprotective mode. He could count on one hand the few times he felt like this. He vaguely wondered if dean felt like this all the time around him. Once he drove back to the base, he took the bags out of the trunk and opened the door single handedly. A little tricky, but Dean was NOT coming out of his hand until they were both inside.
Once actually inside and safe, Sam slowly pulled his hand away from his chest and peeled back his fingers. He let his hand rest on the table, giving Dean the choice to get off if he wanted to. With the other hand he fished out a heating pad from the bag. He placed it on the table once he realized he couldn't get it out of the packaging one-handed. He glanced at the small man on his palm. So far Dean had made no move to get off. He was staring off somewhere into the middle distance with a blank look on his small face. Sam's hand was relaxed and his fingers naturally cupped over Dean's head like an overhang as he leaned back against the wall of fingers behind himself.
Sam's forehead creased in a slight frown.
"Dean?" he whispered. Dean blinked but didn't reply. He slowly flexed his hand on the table. Making it flat. As his cave disappeared the older Winchester blinked several times, coming back to reality. He looked down at the hand below him confused. Then he looked up. He blinked consecutively, like waking up.
He made eye contact (well, as best as he could) with Sam and then looked back at himself.
"Made it back in one piece." Dean declares. Sam squints at his big-little brother.
"You sure about that? No breaks, or sprains or anything?"
"Yeah." For a moment Dean balances on his butt and he waves all appendages in the air like a kid. Nothing broken.
"Just a few bumps and bruises. Might've lightly bruised some bones. But that's about it."
"Your size must have prevented any injuries." Sam theorized. He stopped talking as soon as he caught sight of a tiny uncomfortable face. Clearly Dean did not want to talk about this.
"You wanna get off so I can open the heating pad?" he inquired gently. Dean slowly tensed and shook his head in a silent no. He really didn't want to leave Sam's hand. At least, not yet.
"Alright." Sam leaned back in his chair. Dean's small shoulders slowly relaxed.
"I'm not watching Doctor Sexy, but do you wanna catch the next episode of Game of thrones?"
Dean nodded. At least the computer was easily used with one hand. The brothers watched the next two episodes in comfortable silence. Occasionally commenting on one thing or another. (Swords, fighting, several naked women, the awesomeness of Tyrion.) ((Dean was a little surprised when Sam made no jibe at comparing his height to the dwarf's.))
But at the beginning of the third episode, Sam realized a pressing need.
"Dude, I gotta go. Do you wanna come with? Or stay here? I can set you up with a heating pad." Dean thought for a moment and nodded, slowly making his way off of the warm hand. Once Dean got off, Sam flexed his hands and opened the heating pad. Finding a socket was easy enough, he just unplugged one of the lamps on the table. He set it to medium and even waited a few minutes for it to heat up before going to take care of business. He put back on the doctor sexy episode that Dean was watching before.
The heating pad wasn't so bad. Dean made himself comfortable between two heated coils on the dark blue pad. The foam under his feet made for a nice seat, though he wished he had something to lean on. The heat was nice, but it wasn't the comforting warmth that Sam naturally emitted. Not like Sam could hold him all the time. As nice as that would be it was bordering on weird. Not to mention his mother henning. But it's not like he could actually take care of himself! Speaking of which, his throat was feeling sore. All the yelling he's been doing the past day was not good. It would be bad enough if he was tiny with no voice. Maybe he could ask Sam to heat up a spoonful of soup for him. Speaking of food…he glanced at his watch to see it was already midafternoon. He'd been tiny for 24 hours at least! Only 48-ish to go.
Sam lumbered back into the room minutes later, with a glass of water for himself, and a cap for Dean. He placed the cap at the end of the heating pad on the table. Dean glanced into the cap.
"No beer?" he asked pitifully. Sam shook his head, swallowing.
"You could get alcohol poisoning too easily at this size." Dean grumbled but drank some of the water. He didn't realize how thirsty he was. The chip had been salty, and a while ago. A rustling behind him was Sam folding his handkerchief/blanket on the heating pad.
"Thought you might like a couch." He said arranging and folding it so that it somewhat resembled a big chair. Dean climbed on. It was nice. Especially since he could literally fold himself into the couch.
"Good?" Sam asked a smile on his face. Dean separated himself from the blanket and stood up. Motioning for Sam to come closer. He leaned forward. Dean motioned again, a little more exaggerated with his motion. Sam moved his chair back and lay his chin on his folded hands. To Dean, Sam's head looked like a small building. He was getting more used to it, but it was still weird. Sam's face was about half a foot away from his big-little brother on the table. He paused the show to hear the little man better.
"What's up?" Sam breathed. Not even whispering.
"The yelling is hurting my throat. If I keep it up I may not have a voice tomorrow!"
Dean told him a voice only a little louder than normal. Sam frowned at that.
"You can't have any meds, what about soup?" he mumbled, barely moving his lips. Dean nodded eagerly. Of course, when did Dean ever turn down food? He never missed a meal if he could help it. Aaannnnnnd he missed lunch. Because Sam forgot about lunch. Yup. Because the little man's pride wasn't going to let him ask for a meal. Sam let out a soft sigh from his nose that turned into a warm, stale breeze for Dean.
"We have soup. I can make a can. You want to come with me or say here?" he muttered.
"Stay here." Dean replied. He was comfy and didn't want to go anywhere.
"What soup do you want?"
"Chicken noodle?" He asked hopefully. The gargantuan head nodded, looking like a building falling over. Sam sat up, his head moving back and up and up. Rather than watch, Dean made his way back to his couch. Wrapping one layer of the handkerchief around himself and waited patiently for Sam to put his show back on.
It was downright adorable seeing Dean snuggled up in his blanket, only his little head showing. He resisted all urges to make cooing sounds. He was a man damnit.
With the soup heating on the stove, Sam researched more on smaller mammals. In addition to having faster metabolisms, many of them sleep with catnaps rather than sleeping through the night or day.
The pygmy shrew is an interesting mammal to lean about. Also really tiny.
After struggling to find something small enough for dean use as a spoon, he brings a bowl of soup with him. To the main room. Intending to use a bottle cap for dean and just let him drink it. But when he came back fifteen minutes later, Dean was fast asleep on the heating pad. A soft, fond smile made its home on Sam's face and he moved closer to inspect the tiny sleeping man. He placed his hand on the pad to make sure it was still working. It was. His hand lay close to Dean. Surprisingly, and while still asleep Dean slung an arm over the nearest finger, moving closer to it.
Sam's eyebrows went skyward as Dean snuggled with his little finger. Moving as close the giant digit as physically possible. He tucks himself as far under as he could. Sam thought he saw Dean stick a foot underneath the finger. How out of it must Dean be to curl up with the nearest warm thing? Slowly, Sam sits down and places his arm on the table, getting comfortable. After all that happened, he wasn't going to wake Dean up. At least he had soup and his laptop. Sam found the first Indiana Jones online, moved the computer further from Dean, tuned the volume low and got comfy.
A.N. alright. Math time.
Dean was 1 and ¼ th inches tall. Compared to his real height of 73 inches that makes him (about) 52 times smaller than his average height. From where he slipped off of Sam to his landing spot was about four feet. (48 inches) that would make a comparative fall of a regular sized Dean falling 208 feet (about the size of a 21 story building) he would not have survived a fall of that height if he were his regular size.