Dean dreamed.

He dreamed that he was in a parade. A rock music parade. Everyone in the crowd was jumping, screaming, and dancing as Back In Black blared from the float that Dean was standing on as it rolled down the street. Waving at the people as they reached out to him

It was a good dream as dreams went.

Slowly, it changed. He was nine again and Sam was five and their worlds revolved around each other. They were in a large bed and Dean threw an arm around his little brother and pulled him close under the blanket. Here in this warm bed in a cheesy and cheap motel, they were safe.

He gently nuzzled the back of his brother's head, smelling the scent that was purely Sam. He fell into a deeper sleep, relaxing even more now that he could feel his little brother next to him.

Dean was always a cuddler. When they were kids Sam knew that Dean found as much comfort as he did when they slept in the same bed. But when Sam got older it was stopped under the pretense of "being girly". He enjoyed falling asleep with whatever woman he bedded the night before, (most of Dean's one-night stands were perfectly happy to talk about the great time they had. And if they happened to give out blackmail material…well, that couldn't be helped.) It was no different now. There was a warm extremity near him and Deans sleeping brain registered it as a body so the natural instinct was to cuddle. Sam wasn't worried.

Sam was mostly through the movie when he felt Dean stirring. He debated internally about moving his hand away from Dean before he woke up but it was too late as the small man opened his eyes and saw what he was snuggling. He blinked and moved back a bit, trying to understand what exactly was in front of him. He pulled his arm back and a confused frown grew on his face. What was this thing and why did it smell like Sammy?

A few moments later he recalled what had happened and he looked up. Squinting at the light as Sam's big face moved into the nearby airspace. His eyes followed his arm, down to the hand he realized he was cuddling.

Dean was stuck between two opposing forces. The first one said: "you were cuddling. WITH YOUR BROTHER'S FINGER! GET AWAY AND TRY TO REGAIN ANY SENSE ON MANHOOD YOU HAVE!"

The other one was a softer soothing tone. "It's warm. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're small and he's taking care of you."

Surprisingly enough Dean went with the smaller voice. He did move himself away from the enormous appendage and stretched. (But now his front was cold)

Sam moved his hand off the heating pad and shifted closer to the small hunter.

"Hey."

"Hey." Dean grunted.

"I have an idea on how you can save your voice."

"Yeah?" Dean managed to shift into a sitting position.

Sam got up from his seat without another word and went to another area of the room, working with something, but with his back to the table the mini hunter couldn't see what he was doing.

There was a bowl of something on the table. From his vantage point Dean couldn't tell what it was. He hoped it was soup. Soup sounded really good. Especially since his throat was still hurting.

Sam gently placed a large cone of paper in front of Dean. The smaller end a careful inch or two away from his head.

"A megaphone." Dean chuckled. Sam's face split into a smile.

"It works! I can hear you better."

"Good, I don't know how much more I could have yelled." Dean grimaced slightly and rubbed his throat. Sam loomed as he leaned closer for a better look. Dean tried and failed to cover a small cough. Big puppy eyes the size of small backyard pools were filled with concern.

"You feeling alright?" Sam flexed a hand to his brother in an aborted effort to feel his forehead, but then realized that he was too small to feel a rise in temperature from him.

"I've felt better, I've felt worse." He shrugged, turning his head and most of his body to the bowl. Sam followed his gaze. Oh yeah. The soup.

"it cooled down a lot. I'll go heat it up. You wanna come with me?" slowly, Dean turned his gave up and nodded solemnly.

Before Dean could struggle out of his nest/couch, Sam carefully scooped both the hankie and his brother up using two hands to carefully arrange him into one.

Dean was covered up to his chest by two or three layers as his brother cradled him to his mile-wide chest. He felt like a swaddled baby. He wanted to reprimand his little brother, but couldn't quite force it out. He hadn't wanted to get up but at the same time he didn't want to be alone.

Being carried around wasn't so bad.

But god help him if the Sasquatch tried to spoon feed him.

Sam picked up the makeshift megaphone between two fingers while the rest of his hand carried the bowl back to the kitchen.

Sam poured the contents of the bowl back into the pot along with the rest of the soup and turned up the flame. Stirring it a few times and giving a quick glance at little man bundled up in his palm. Dean was watching the pot and didn't catch his glance. Dean was starting to get sick. Sam couldn't give him any medicine at the rick of a lethal overdose! Maybe a drop or two of Nyquil in half a cup of water? Would that be diluted enough? The flame was high and the soup re-heated quickly. Single-handedly, he ladled a bowlful. It took him a moment to realize that he felt something on his hand.

Dean was rubbing his thumb and looking up, trying to get his attention. Sam raised the hand holding his brother to his face.

"Hm?"

"Can you get me a piece of tin foil?"

Sam's brows moved downwards in confusion.

"Sure."

Because homes have things like rolls of tin foil and other stuff like that. Sam tore off a small corner off the sheet and passed it to dean. He made the piece as small as he could but it was still only half of his size. Dean didn't mind. Sam watched him tear off a smaller piece (with some effort) and fiddle with it as he took the bowl to the he sat down Dean raised his head and motioned for Sam to come closer. Sam brought his hand to his face. Dean held up what looked like a wand or a makeshift shiv.

"Pinch this, will ya?" Dean placed the tiny tin foil rod on the thumb Sam offered and he pressed down, flattering it. He didn't even feel the small sliver. Dean took it back and flexed it a bit. He held it up to the bigger face for inspection.

"is that a-"

Yes. Yes, it was a tiny spoon. That must have been the smallest spoon in existence. And it was the perfect size for Dean to eat soup.

Dean watched Sam's eyes light up at the itty-bitty spoon. He knew they would.

He was slowly lowered to the table. His blanket along with him were tilted off the hand on to the grey table. The paper megaphone was placed not far from the little man, angled so that it wasn't directly between him and his brother. Sam picked up the bottle cap used from breakfast and washed it out. Using a clean spoon, he managed to scoop out a shred of chicken, part of a noodle and a small piece of carrot into the cap.

Said cap was placed in front of Dean, who made his way out of the small hill of cloth to the meal. Both brothers dug into their respective bowls. Dean had a little trouble finding a comfortable position to eat in, but after a bit of trial and error, he ended up with the cap at his right side, only needing to lower his arm to get more soup. Because Dean was so small, the soup beaded up on his spoon. It was weird to watch but Dean was hungry and slurped it off his home made utensil.

The back of the spoon had been turned into a small spear. Sam watched as Dean used the sharp end to bring the little piece of chicken closer and using the tips of his other hand, managed to rip off a small piece on to the single prong of the utensil. The noodle was picked up and eaten with hands.

Things tasted differently from a small perspective. Not bad. Just, a little different. While the pie had been intense and amazing, there was a slight aftertaste in his throat. Previously, Dean thought it to be that one of the spices had gone bad, but when the same thing happened with the chip and soup he realized that it was preservatives he was tasting! The eggs that Sam made didn't have it, but the soup (while still tasty) coated his throat with a thin layer of residue. Coughing managed to get rid of the nasty stuff though. No more artificial stuff while tiny! Sam wasn't the best of cooks at times but he'd understand.

Sam noticed how Dean tried to cover a cough, twice. Which was more than a little concerning.

Dean had eaten his fill of soup by the time Sam finished his bowl. Sam frowned down at the little man, who was wiping his nose with the cuff of his sleeve.

Sam pulled a clean tissue from his pocket and ripped off a shred.

He passed it to his big-little bother who snatched it from the bigger fingers to wipe his dripping nose.

It felt slightly scratchy and rough, but it was better than a sleeve.

"No dessert?" Dean croaked, surprised at how fast his voice degraded.

"Pie is not happening." Sam confirmed.

"But…" he got up and opened the ancient fridge, pulling out a large, round fruit.

"A little vitamin C might help with whatever you're dealing with." Quick knife work turned the round fruit into eight segments. Juicy and ready for consuming. But how was Dean supposed to eat some? The pieces were much larger than he was.

A small, slightly squashed, piece was passed to the smaller Winchester. Who took it with two hands and a confused tilt of the head.

Dean separated small juice filled segments the size of plums and apples from the piece he got. He's never looked at an orange this closely to realize that's what the fruit was made out of. Come to think of it he can't remember the last time he ate one of these! Not too long later, Dean learns that he can break the thin skin of the small segment with his teeth, suck out the juice and then chew on the empty skin. But it was better to eat it the way Sam did, he realized. Right off the peel. But that only worked when you were bigger than the orange.

Dean only manages a dozen or so pieces before he decides he's done with fruit. He's about to wipe his hands on his pants before he realizes that they are way too wet and sticky for him to do that without making a mess (and making him smell citrus-ey fresh) Sam sees his brother struggling to find something to wipe his hands on. He gets up from the table, washes his own hands and wets the corner of a napkin.

"Thanks." He washes his hands and face, cleaning the remnants of the fruit of himself. Although, he did feel a bit better, come to think of it. Maybe vitamin C did work.

"I want to keep cleaning the tables. Wanna go back to your show?" Dean nods and steps on the offered palm. Its nice to feel heat again. He lets out a soft sigh of contentment. Even though he's not that tired, the full belly, comfort, and heat that Sam emanates, made him feel utterly satisfied. Sam picks up the paper megaphone and hankie with his other hand and exits the kitchen. This time, Dean watches the scenery as it passes.

He gets deposited on the heating pad. Sam makes sure he has a cap of water and sets up his show and that's how it is for the next few hours. The heat of the pad feels nice, but its…artificial. Not natural. But he hunkers down and re-arranges his handkerchief into something like a bed. Can't get what you want all the time.

Occasionally Dean gets up to get a drink or Sam checks up on him but the time just drains away along with the first disk of the set. Time flies when you're watching a hot medical professional.

Sam finds him a few hours later snoring at the dvd menu. With a small smile, he oh so gently uses two fingers to sweep Dean into his other hand. Dean wakes up in his palm.

"Go back to sleep. I'm just bringing you to bed."

"b'throom" gets mumbled out. Sam can't exactly hear what his brother's saying, but he understands well enough.

"No problem." Dean may or may not have drifted back to sleep while Sam walked both of them to the bathroom. But he did take longer than usual to make his way off of Sam's hand to the counter.

Instead of using the sink like before, he used the cap that was left on the countertop. (It was easier ) After the bathroom, Dean was dropped off at the further side of the night table as Sam opens the heating pad. Unfolding the shirt and folding it twice so that Dean can feel the heat from the pad. The little hunter sleepily makes his way to the heating pad and throws himself down on the shirt-covered foam. He shucks off his socks, shoes and top shirt while Sam arranges the hankie to something resembling a bed. Dean staggered to the bed his brother made and snuggles in gratefully.

Sam places his cell phone not far from the little man. Telling Dean to use it to wake him up if he needs anything. His little voice wouldn't be heard by a sleeping Sam even if he used the megaphone. They both knew that.

Sam wants to coo at little Dean wrapping himself up for sleep but manages to stop himself when he remembers what had happened earlier that day. He rips off a corner of a tissue and places it close to his brother. A few seconds later it gets dragged closer and the smallest sneeze ever gets squeaked.

Less than 48 hours to go, he thinks as he changes into his PJs.

Thank goodness he thinks as he slides under his sheets. One more time he asks Dean if everything is alright. And once again Dean assures him that he is.

Even though he wants to be sleeping on Sam again. He understands how CREEPY and WRONG it sounds. But he was so comfortable last night. Not that he isn't comfortable now. On the contrary, this was better than magic fingers! A heated bed! There was one or two motels in the past that had heated beds. A few more had water beds. Those were fun nights. He remembered the first time he tried a magic fingers. He was, what, eight? The vibrations were fun. Not nearly as fun as they got later on in life, but it was better than a supermarket ride

Another sneeze racked his body and he blew into the tarp-sized tissue. Being sick was bad enough at full size, but this? This was a good thousand times worse. Not like he could down some meds and walk it off like he had hundreds of times. No. this time he had a home. Not a questionably clean motel room to live in. But for better or for worse, he had a mountain of a little brother to look after him. More literal than ever before. Maybe it wasn't so bad to have someone carry him everywhere and waiting on his every need. Even if he didn't get any time alone or even personal space! Well, that was his fault mostly. Well, Sam DID give him plenty of time alone to watch his show. That was appreciated. He rolled over to the big bed and found Sam reading. Big nerd.

"Hey Sam?" Dean croaked. Sam put a finger in between the pages and closed the book around it. He leaned closer to the nightstand.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For….this. For everything." A small, fond smile grew on the younger Winchester's face.

"No problem, man." After a moment of hesitation, a hand reaches out with a finger extended and very slowly gave the little back a gentle rub. Barely moving the fingertip over his backside. It felt great. Another yawn made its way out of his throat and Dean rolled over. The finger backed away. Both brothers got comfortable in their beds.

Yeah, this shrinking thing might be pretty sucky situation. But it wasn't all bad.