AN- Firstly I want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited. It means the world to me to see people interested in my stories. So i will be planning on updating this story every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday/Sunday I haven't decided on that last one yet. This week I do have finals though, so I'm just going to do a double weekend update. So here it goes, and if you want to see anything happen in this story just review or PM me, I'm really open to suggestions.

Sam had three hours at most. When he had got the room, he had payed for three days, and it was nearing noon on that final third day. He couldn't leave the motel. He couldn't drive, he didn't have any cash on him for bus fare, and he was pretty sure nobody in their right mind would accept a credit card from a seven year old.

Seven. Tha's how old he figured he had probably been turned. That first night he had tried to figure everything out, he had measured himself and had found out he stood at a measly 3'11''.

That wasn't the worst part, the worst was that he was so damn cute. The monster who had cursed him had done a very convincing job, his face featured wide eyes, pink lips, and just the slightest rosy cheeks. His hair fell in long dark waves down his back. He looked casually like he had when he had been that age, but in an exaggeratedly feminine way.

Once he had figured out that he wanted to avoid mirrors for the rest of the time he was under the spell, and figured out stilts would probably prove to be helpful, he turned towards the matter of clothing.

His pants were far to big, but he had a few pairs of boxers that were a few years old fit okay as shorts after he had rolled them a few times.

He had an old sweatshirt from Stanford, he hadn't worn it in forever. It had always felt awkward in it around Dean, and a few years ago it has shrunk at a laundromat, but he could never seem to part with it.

Jess had gotten it for him as an anniversary present, they had only been together three months and it had been one of the greatest gifts he had ever received. She had paid the extra money to get his first name embroidered into the sleeve. He liked how it felt on him, but he had worn it for three days straight so it sort of stunk.

Three days. That was his problem, he had only hours to figure out a way to get out of the motel and find somewhere to go.

Some helicopter parent would call the cops if they saw him walking around the town by himself, and it wasn't like he could carry all of his weapons in one trip to the car. Somebody would question him. He had only one option, call Dean.

He had been avoiding that possibility. Not only was Dean angry at him, but the teasing was what scared Sam more.

When Sam was 16 he accidentally spilled orange juice on Dean's leather jacket. Dean purposefully left him behind at the motel, handcuffed to the table and didn't come back for him for 10 hours.

Sam was more scared for his life to tell his older brother he had turned into a child than he had been as a 16 year old boy chained to a table in a sketchy motel that three people had been shot in.

2 hours and 48 minutes until check out. He was doomed. He grabbed his cell phone, his hand hovered over Deans contact.

It was his only option, he had to do it. It was embarrassing, but he had to.

He pressed down, the phone began to ring.

He didn't know whether he should be hoping Dean would pick up or not.

After the third ring he heard Dean's gruff voice. "Sammy. Finally decided to call. Ready to tell me I was right?"

"I'm not calling for that Dean." He said, trying to lower his voice as much as possible.

"Dude, what's wrong with your voice, you sound like a muppet."

"I'm kind of in a predicament here. Dean where are you, because I need you to pick me up."

"What, can't drive yourself? I'm in Maine though, right near my little brother I knew you couldn't even last a month without me."

Little. He was a whole lot littler than Dean thought. "Dean I'm at the Wesson Motel, please tell me your near there."

"Well according to Google Maps I am 15 minutes away."

"I'm in room 110. I need your help. Now."

"Okay, I'm coming. You want to tell me what's wrong."

Oh yes, I turned into a little girl and now I need you to come get me because I'm a kid who's to short to drive, and I have three shotguns in here which I'm to little to shoot.

"No."

"Whatever ma, I'm like twelve minutes away so I'll see you then." The older of the two hung up the phone.

Those twelve minutes passed fast. The trickled form twelve to eight, down to five, to four, to three, two, one.

After that last minute Sam thought maybe he wasn't coming, until he heard a knock on the door followed by a hissed, "Sam."

He opened the door, "Hi Dean." His tiny voice squeaked out.

Deans lips spread into a smirk, Sam could already see all the teasing jokes forming in Dean's mind.

"Well aren't you just the cutest 'wittle' thing Sammy."