Dean started to stand up, the slight motion of his hand bracing against the table rocking Sam backward. Dean flinched forward, hand outstretched to break his fall. To his relief, he felt the almost infinitesimal weight plop into the curve of his fingers. Dean's jaw dropped at the sensation. So far, he'd been able to avoid actually holding Sam, and now he had to face it head on as his brother gaped up at him from the cushion his fingertips provided.
"Uhh right." Dean hastily boosted him onto his feet and finished standing up. "I'm just going to pretend that didn't happen."
He flexed his hand, glancing over his shoulder again at Sam as he walked over to the local phone book tucked between the beds. A few minutes later, he was on the phone, ordering a small order of eggrolls, rice, and sesame chicken. He couldn't shake the feeling of holding Sam out of his head. Mostly it was just too weird for words... but more frightening, a part of him was curious enough to give it another try.
Sam stumbled forward slightly as Dean helped him back to his feet, the motion of the fingertips clumsy against his back, but they got the job done. Dean stared down at him with an incredulous expression on his face before he finished standing, looming over Sam.
Sam couldn't move for a few seconds, still in shock over the whole thing. Especially how fast it had all happened. Seeing the huge hand moving to catch him had been nerve wracking, knowing the slightest misjudgment on Dean's part could kill or injure him. His fears had been unfounded though, landing safely on the leathery surface of Dean's fingers. Dean had seemed just as shocked as Sam at his reaction, but Sam knew that Dean couldn't just sit and watch his little brother fall or get hurt. It just wasn't how Dean was made. He always had to try and help, no matter what.
It made Sam wonder what it must be like for Dean. Having your brother smaller than most toys… it must feel just as awkward for Dean as it was for Sam. Just a little safer since he can't get squished as easy.
Pulling himself back together, Sam went back over to the Impala. While Dean was still over by the beds, ordering them food, he dug one of their blankets out of the trunk. He figured working in the Impala wouldn't do any good - it wasn't overly comfortable when he was on the laptop and he'd already spent long enough in there today, plus Dean wasalready convinced Sam wanted to hide from him. So the Impala was off limits.
Spreading the blanket over the ground next to the Impala to cover up the rough surface of the table, he set up all his notes, placing his laptop the center. Once he had his work area set up, he loaded up the internet, searching out anything he could think of that related to 'shrinking' or checking to see if Gina had stepped on any toes in the last few months.
He paused briefly to sneak a quick glance up when the floor started to shake under him again. Once he saw it was just Dean coming back over, he turned his attention back to the monitor, ignoring the giant.
"Aw, you've got yourself a little research picnic set up," Dean cooed. He chuckled at the annoyed glance Sam shot him. "We're having Chinese. Figured you could probably hold a piece of white rice pretty easily, right?"
"Hmm?" Sam asked, distracted. He hasn't honestly been paying attention. "Uh, yeah. Rice sounds fine." A little bland, but beggars can't be choosers. He stared down at his hand, briefly curious how big a grain of rice would be at his new scale.
Dean gripped the back of the closest chair and took great care in pulling out slowly, hardly scraping the legs against the floor. He took a seat, more aware of his movements than ever before.
"Got anything?" he asked, dipping his head at the little laptop.
Sam watched Dean sit down carefully, this time not jarring the table, which Sam was grateful for. Every time such a small action affected him so much, it felt like Dean was rubbing salt in the wound, even if it was unintentional. Continuous reminders of his helplessness.
Focusing back on the laptop, Sam spoke to the air, filling Dean in. "Far as I can tell, Gina's clean. Hasn't done anything that might piss off a witch, there are no gypsies in the area to speak of. 'Course, we might not have all the information there - there's always things people manage to hide." He pushed his hair out of his face, glancing up at Dean - straight up. Dean was leaning over Sam's small work area in order to hear him better. He push down the slight trepidation that came from how easily he was overshadowed by his brother, knowing it wasn't on purpose.
"You know, something's bothering me about this whole case." Sam gestured at the car. "Why go through all this effort? There are easier ways to kill someone, so there must be a reason I was shrunk." He gave Dean a helpless look.
Dean nodded, replaying Gina's story in his mind's eye. There was certainly a connection... but so much was fogged up with unanswered questions.
"You know what else," Dean said, containing his voice to a murmur. "You're not dead. It left the keys in the ignition. It gave Gina a mouse-hole to jump through... those are some pretty big loose ends to leave behind."
Dean frowned, wearing a model's rugged pout as he contemplated the facts. "Maybe we should give Gina a ring. See if she left anything out."
"Yeah, she might have left out details since she didn't think anyone believed her already... who knows, there could have been crazier stuff." Sam glanced over at the car, contemplating whether he should get up and get his phone. "You want to give her a call?" He was having trouble wrapping his mind around talking to anyone but Dean while he was travel-sized.
Dean gave him a distracted nod, already pulling out his phone and Gina's business card he had lifted from the evidence bag. He punched in her number and stood up as it started to ring. He motioned vaguely for Sam to keep at it while he turned his back on his shrunken brother and strode over to the other side of the room. He needed to be able to talk at a normal volume to actually have a conversation with this woman.
"Hey, Gina. Tom Wyatt here, we spoke at the station. I have a few more follow up questions for you..."
She didn't have much to add. But when Dean suggested she might be the victim of a new type of roofie, Gina confessed that the reason she knew it was Kim Kardashian's closet was because the bimbo herself had been stomping around her closet, dropping things and tossing shoes around while picking out an outfit. Dean shifted uncomfortably as he listened, reminiscent of how he himself had nearly been the stomper in Sam's situation.
When he heard her disgruntled husband in the background demanding what she was doing on the phone with another man at this late hour, Dean took his cue to hang up.
"She was definitely shrunk," Dean announced wearily. He left the phone on the nightstand as he ambled back over to Sam. "Mentioned stomping and giants." He made a disgruntled face, as if the words left an actual bitterness in his mouth. "I feel weird even saying that."
Before he could get lost in the new Holy Shit My Brother is the Size of a Toy stare again, there was a knock on the motel door. Dean happily pulled out his wallet, infinitely grateful that it, too, hadn't been shrunk along with the rest of his worldly belongings. He barely opened the door wide enough to take the big paper bag, and after that pressed enough cash into the Asian man's hands to cover both the bill and the tip. There was a momentary exchange of "thanks" before the door was shut in his face and locked up tight.
Sam came out from behind the Impala. He'd ducked behind the moment he'd heard the door start to open. He didn't want any unknown giants thrown into the mix. Especially since it was hard enough to stay calm when it was just Dean he had to worry about, and at least he knew he could trust Dean.
Dean peered into the bag and grinned. "Fortune cookies." It had been an occasional game between him and Sam to see who could come up with the dirtiest twist on thee fortune. Out of instinct, Dean raised his devious look to share with his brother... only to realize that Sam's face was too tiny to even be viewed clearly from across the room.
Setting the bag of fresh food on the foot of the second bed, Dean took up his position at the table's edge.
"Brainfood break," he announced. Not that Sam was complaining. Everything about this abrupt case was the very definition of frustrating. Dean stood there awkwardly for a moment, visibly wrestling with himself.
"You uh... you wanna eat over here?" he offered. Truthfully, he wanted to eat on the bed like he always did. Maybe watch some mindless TV show...
"Or I could uh... y'know." Dean lowered a hand palm up onto the table.
Sam stared at the hand Dean had dropped onto the table for him. In one part of his mind, he knew what Dean was going for, and it wasn't an unreasonable offer. After all, he could hardly get around the room on his own, and he didn't particularly want to eat alone at the table. He'd feel more comfortable being closer to Dean, which surprised him. But the last time Dean had picked him up, he'd been protected by the Impala, which at least had the honor of almost being the size of Dean's hand. Whereas Sam, on the other hand, was smaller than Dean's pinkie, and far more fragile than the car. And when Dean had caught him falling, he'd only been on the fingertips for a few seconds before standing back up.
All this passed through his mind in a matter of seconds. "Uh... sure," Sam said, slowly working his mind past the size. It was still Dean. He stepped up to the immense hand and climbed hesitantly on. His boots sank slightly into the same leathery skin that had broken his fall not too long ago. The crevices on Dean's palm upset his balance a bit, making him stumble slightly before catching himself. Sam was surprised at the heat his brother radiated - he wasn't freezing by any means, but ever since shrinking he'd noticed the world was colder than he was used to. It was almost nice, feeling warm again. It made him miss his normal size even more.
Sam made his way to the center of the palm, hyper aware of how small he was in comparison to Dean. The skin under him formed a broad platform, large enough he didn't feel like he was going to fall right of the second his brother stood up, hopefully. He tried to push away the instincts telling him to get as far from Dean as possible and concentrated on waving up that he was ready.
Dean swallowed, lost for words. It didn't feel like his brother. It felt like a mere shade, a replica of the young man he knew so well. But there was no denying the gravity of holding Sam's entire body... His entire life in a single hand. Despite the fact that Sam weighed practically nothing to him, he felt like he'd been handed an oversized dumb-bell.
"Alright, sit tight," he mumbled. His free hand came over and curved in a precise 'c' shape, a curved wall just beyond Sam's back to protect him from the swaying motion of walking. Dean's eyes were locked on Sam the whole time he walked over to the bed. One twitch could send Sam plummeting to his death.
To both of their reliefs, he made it to the bed without incident. Dean pulled a pillow up next to him and lowered his hand onto that, giving Sam a little cushioned platform to sit on. He watched his little brother stand up and wobble his way along the lifeline on Dean's hand.
"You're so small," Dean breathed, eyebrows knit again like he just couldn't wrap his mind around this. He shook himself out of his redundant stupor when Sam turned to face him, not wanting to bug the little guy more than he was already having to put up with. He set to pulling out the containers of food, finding the white rice first and pulling out a pinch for Sam's perusal.
"How's this?" he offered. "I can probably put some soy sauce in a bottle cap for you, too, come to think of it."
"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks." Sam said, still distracted by his ride over to the bed. If anyone had told him that morning that he'd be small enough to be carried around in the palm of his brother's hand, he would've laughed in their face.
But here he was. Less than three inches tall, as far as he could tell. His heart had been in his throat the moment Dean's second hand had walled him in. It was just there to keep him from falling off the hand, but the way it surrounded him, the way he couldn't see over the top even if he standing to know where they were going... It was overwhelming. Dean surrounded him on all sides without even trying. And looking up at his brother, staring down at him from so high up in the air just ground it all in.
Sam was used to being the tallest person in the room... As soon as he'd passed Dean in height, he'd never let his brother forget it. Dean always made jokes about his height, calling him 'Sasquatch' and 'gigantor,' but Sam knew a part of Dean missed the days Sam always looked up to him.
Well, Sam was certainly looking up at Dean now.
Pulling himself away from the past, Sam glanced to see where his big brother was. "Could you get me something to drink, too?!" Sam shouted, knowing Dean wouldn't be able to hear him well from where he was. Dean nodded distractedly while he grabbed himself some containers of food.
Sam sat down next to the small mound of rice Dean had placed near him, grabbing one of the top grains. The pillow made it feel like he was constantly off balance while walking, but as soon as he sat down with his legs crossed, he realized it was one of the most comfortable surfaces he'd ever sat on.
Once Sam was settled, he weighed the rice in his hand, surprised. It was almost the same shape and size as a hotdog. Too bad they don't make buns this size, he thought to himself wryly, momentarily entertained by the thought of ant-sized hot dog buns. Ant picnics… Sam caught himself lost in thought as Dean ambled back over, dropping a bottlecap of soy sauce by his side. Sam wasted no time digging in. They hadn't eaten much that day, and he was starved.
What seemed like a simple enough request for a drink led Dean on a ten-minute goose chase around the room. He kept wanting to rummage in his duffle bag for a beer cap, maybe something from the first aid kit that could help. But they were currently the size of a microchip and frustratingly inaccessible. He looked around, taking inventory of what he had: two boxes of Chinese food, four pairs of chopsticks, a bottle of water, a silver switch blade, the demon knife, the EMF meter, and two fifties in his wallet. He scratched his chin, eyeballing Sam again to get an estimate of his height. Couldn't be more than a couple inches, judging by the bratwurst-sized rice he bore in his hands.
His green eyes lingered on the sight of Sam munching away eagerly on the soy-sauce soaked rice bits. Something about it reminded him of the old days when his little brother used gobble up the canned spaghetti-O's he'd cook when Dad had been out for the night... or several. Though Sam seemed too preoccupied to notice the giant eyes on him for once, Dean felt himself verging into weird territory, and opted to flip on the TV. A typical family-centered sitcom filled up the screen, with the laugh track blaring through the speakers. Dean dropped the remote next to Sam.
"See if there's any good flicks on," he said dismissively, standing up with the water bottle in hand.
Sam gave a small jump when the TV remote dropped next to him, to preoccupied with his food to notice what Dean was up too. He peered up at Dean as his brother turned away from the bed, still searching for a way for Sam to drink. Guilt pinged at Sam as he realized Dean's food was going to get cold before he got to eat, because of Sam. He wanted to tell Dean to just forget it, maybe he could just use the cap the soy sauce was in, but suddenly Dean was nowhere in sight.
Sam's heart jumped in his throat when he realized he was alone in the room. As long as he was this size, he was vulnerable. If anyone broke in while Dean was out of sight, or heaven forbid, a spider or bug attacked Sam, he'd have a hard time protecting himself.
Wanting to distract himself from his size, Sam dropped the rice for a minute, wobbling over the pillowtop to the remote control Dean had left there for him. It was easily as long as the Impala. Climbing onto it, he walked over to the channel button. Testing the rubbery surface, a circle larger than his boot, he found he could change the channels by stomping on it. At least he was still big enough for that.
He spent a few peaceful minutes flipping through the channels before landing on the news. With the strangeness going on in town, they could always get lucky and find more information this way. It was unlikely, but possible.
Dean remained in the bathroom for several minutes, fiddling with the waterbottle and his pocket knife. After a final "son of a bitch!" heralding a nicked finger, he remerged with a triumphant expression and a tiny clear thing between a finger and thumb.
"We're fresh out of teeny crystal goblets." Dean snarked, leaning down to offer the water to him in what turned out to be a meticulously cut piece of plastic. He touched the very bottom of the water bottom to the edge of Sam's plastic piece in a gentle toast, then took a small swig, careful to avoid the jagged hole in the top.
Sam heard an angry "son of a bitch! " from the bathroom, quickly followed by Dean's exit. His brother had a triumphant smile on his face, holding something pinched between his fingers. Once he drew close to Sam, Sam was able to make out a tiny, homemade cup delicately held between two huge fingers.
Sam grinned at Dean's ingenuity and his tiny snark. It always amazed Sam what his brother could come up with when left to his own devices. He gratefully accepted it from Dean's fingers with a huge smile, tapping it against the water bottle and toasting the air with Dean. He was getting far more comfortable with Dean, especially with how solicitous Dean was being about his size.
Once they were both done drinking, Sam turned his face up to Dean, a sudden need to let Dean know how much he appreciated it all filling him. "Dean..." he said, serious. "Thanks. For everything."
Dean dipped his chin in acknowledgement, taking a seat next to the pillow.
"If our roles were reversed, you'd do the same for me," Dean reasoned. He grabbed the bag of Chinese food and plunged a hand noisily into its contents, fishing out the bag of egg rolls. "Least you better."
Allowing the stress of the matter to ease for the moment, Dean stretched his legs out and crossed his feet at the ankle. He didn't bother taking off his shoes; having a shrunken brother by his side was a constant reminder of their unidentified assailant. He couldn't relax completely knowing their mystery monster was alive and well.
He tore into the first eggroll he got his hands on, finishing it in three big bites. Another swallow of water.
"Would you look at the rack on her? " A lustful smile crossed his face, distracted by the low-cut blouse the news anchor donned.
Sam grabbed for the cap of soy sauce when Dean sat down, barely stopping it from spilling all over the pillow. He honestly should've seen that coming. He already knew how Dean's smallest movements could disrupt so much down at this size. Weird to think about, considering Sam was usually bigger than Dean. Right now he couldn't imagine seeing someone bigger than his brother. Dean was already the size of a mountain.
He turned his attention back to the remains of his rice as Dean dug through the house-sized bag of food he'd ordered. Sam's appetite was severely diminished when Dean started eating. Dean's messy way of eating bothered Sam enough when they were the same size. With him less than bite-sized, it was downright terrifying. He watched as Dean tore into an eggroll, his throat flexing as he swallowed it down, barely chewing. Sam shuddered, staring down at the pillow to avoid looking at his brother, though he could still hear Dean as he drank enough water to fill a pool.
Dean's voice drew him out of his thoughts, pulling him back to the news report. Pushing away his brother's side effects and commentary, Sam focused on the local news. Nothing out of the ordinary in the last few days... Sam frowned. "Whatever this is, it's flying under the radar. Aside from Gina and me, we haven't heard anything else happening in the area." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, stifling a huge yawn. "What the hell is going on in this town…?"
"Yeah but with shrinking in the equation, you gotta wonder how many missing persons cases could be related. Could be any number of 'em, just too small to see." Dean rubbed his own eyes with the balls of his palms and made a weary sounding scoff. "Still can't believe we're talking about shrinking..."
He got up and cleaned up the dinner mess. There wasn't much; it felt a little strange cleaning up take out for one. Usually there was twice this many boxes, all empty. As it was, Sam hadn't even been able to help make a dent in the food. For the first time in a while, Dean found himself packing away leftovers. He made sure to save Sam's makeshift plastic cup, setting it on the nightstand next to an Ad for a local orchard.
Dean stood over the pillow, able to recognize Sam's droopy posture even from the height between them.
"What do you say? Wanna try to sleep it off?" Dean said, playing up on their one hope that this was a temporary condition. After all, it wore off for Gina, why not Sam? Would it be a crime for luck to be on their side for once?
Sam sighed as Dean cleaned up the food. "Yeah," he agreed, too tired to care. It had already been a long day before he'd been shrunk. He stared up at Dean's looming form, unable to completely push down a slight thrill of fear to be talking to someone so massive staring intently down at him. He pushed off the billowy surface of the pillow, coming to a wobbly stand. He stared at the room around him, taking in the two massive beds. He couldn't imagine sleeping in one while he was this size… he couldn't even use the blankets at all without the risk of getting lost. "I guess... I'll just, uh, sleep in the Impala."
Dean wordlessly knelt down and laid his hand out on the pillow. His other hand hovered close behind, ready to cup a protective barrier and seal up the place where Sam stepped aboard. He carried Sam over to the nightstand instead, bringing the Impala over next.
"Just in case something else goes to hell, you're within arm's reach," Dean explained, not looking up as he pulled off his shoes and jacket. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wishing idly that his toothpick wasn't the size of a splinter right now.
Regardless, he slid the demon knife under his pillow and laid down, turning to watch Sam settled into the miniature car.
Sam took a cautious step back as the Impala was gently lowered a few feet away on the nightstand, still adjusting to the sight of the car lifted so easily. He was surprised he hadn't thought about how far away from Dean he'd be on the table. "Makes sense," he agreed, briefly glancing over his shoulder at Dean. Still weird to think about being literally in arm's reach from Dean's perspective, considering how far away the bed looked from here now.
He wondered again how weird this all was for Dean. Sure, Sam was the teeny one, but he still had all his stuff, his clothing, weapons, laptop, a place to stay... But Dean only had whatever had been on his person when he went to check into the motel. The Impala was his home - everything Dean had ever cared about was in the car, which at the moment he was too big to even be able to open the doors to. Pretty much everything important to him fit in the palm of his hand until they managed to reverse whatever the hell had shrank Sam and the Impala.
Sam sighed. Stubbornly, he pushed away those thoughts, deciding they could wait till morning. With any luck this would all be over then. Climbing into the car, he grabbed the blanket from earlier and his bag of clothes. He got settled in the front seat, using the clothes as a makeshift pillow.
Spotting Dean still staring at him from his place on the bed, Sam glared. "You mind?" he snipped, growing tired of giant eyes constantly on him. He could understand Dean's curiosity, but the feeling of huge eyes on him constantly was making him feel paranoid. Like he was being watched, even when Dean was turned away, if that made any sense.
Sam rolled over in the seat so he couldn't see his brother, trying to find a position his arm didn't hurt so much to sleep in.
"Take it easy, princess," Dean muttered, truthfully embarrassed at having been caught ogling once again.
He rolled away, flicking off the TV and bathing the room in darkness. All these unanswered questions made him feel exposed, vulnerable to attack from God knows what. For all he knew, he could be waking up the tiny one. Or Sam could shrink more. Or-
Or maybe he'll grow back to normal size overnight, and you can put all this behind you by lunch time tomorrow, a faint voice piped up in the back of his mind. Dean nearly scoffed out loud at his own thought.
Yeah, and when are we ever that lucky?
He tossed and turned for hours before finding sleep. Every time he even glimpsed the sheen of the tiny car on the nightstand, it made his insides clench. He replayed the night in his head, guilt bobbing up to the surface at the memory of the car skidding out from under his shoe. But at last, his body allowed him a meager five hours of rest, secure in the knowledge that at least for tonight, Sam was safe.
Little did he know that no matter what lengths he took to protect his brother, it wouldn't be enough.