Jensen took a seat on the couch and, in a sudden spurt of inspiration, arranged Sam onto his shoulder so he had his hands free. He unfolded the bundle of papers, revealing the title and episode number on the front page. He flipped through a bit, past the exposition.
"See, everything you're talking about- the sword, the imp, you getting shrunk... That's the episode we're filming right now." Jensen showed him a few pages of dialogue between the boys, not able to see how Sam's face drained of blood as he read a transcript of his horrifying experiences. "But you popping up here like Dorothy into OZ? Not part of the plan."
Sam stared down at the pages in shock. Everything was there. Everything. Even him almost getting eaten by his brother. His grip tightened on the collar of Jensen's shirt to keep him steady. It was a few minutes before he managed to get his thoughts together to respond.
"People... they want to watch this stuff? There's a show about our shitty-ass lives and they enjoy this?" He shook his head in disbelief. "This is as bad as those damn books..."
Jensen started to shrug- he caught himself halfway into the motion, with Sam slumped up against his neck for support. He relaxed his shoulders again, giving Sam a better standing ground. "You're lighter than a pencil, aren't you?" he muttered, trying not to smirk.
"I mean we're not topping the charts, but we get a solid enough viewership to keep getting renewed," Jensen went on, moving past the shoulder incident smoothly. "People going through a rough patch find you guys inspiring. Even me."
Sam kept a hand against Jensen's neck, hoping to keep his balance if Jensen moved unexpectedly again. "Heh," he gave a self-deprecating laugh. Inspiring... me and Dean... who would have thought... "I guess whatever works..."
He leaned over the edge of the shoulder, peering down. "Is there anything in there about what happened with the sword, or any clues about what the imp's up to?" Or any clues about where Dean is... He kept that last part to himself, not wanting to appear needy. It just felt weird to hear Dean's voice coming out of the man he was with and know that it wasn't Dean.
Jensen flipped through the script, the papers rifling against each other as he sped-read through each scene.
"Dean hands over the Samulet for the sword... They set up a trap in the motel room..." Jensen turned over another pages, green eyes scanning it for anything involving the imp. It was so strange to think that perhaps an entire timeline had been interrupted on their end. He avoided thinking about it too hard.
"I mean, it says she shrinks Dean for a few minutes before they- er, uh you guys- manage to trap her, but after that... That's pretty much it. Just the typical pow-wow in the Impala and some short jokes."
Sam frowned to himself with his arms crossed over his chest. Aside from how weird it was hearing about himself and what he would have done, it really did sound like the end of a normal case. "So we set up a trap for her and it worked…" he mused. Good to know they were on the right track. "If Dean managed to trade for the sword, maybe he still has it wherever he is." His mind stumbled briefly over the thought of Dean giving up his amulet for it. It was hard to believe that was even a possibility. "We need to find a way to stop her before she strikes again."
Half an hour had passed, and Dean was beginning to get desperate. There was no sign of Sam, high or low. There was no hard proof Sam was even in this TV-town with him... Which could only mean he was in close quarters with the imp.
Outside the stage, he glimpsed the Impala sitting in the gleam of a cloudy day- full sized and glossy as ever. "Oh sweetheart, am I glad to see you," Dean purred under his breath.
The first sprig of hope dared to well up as he ran for its door. Maybe Sam was stowed somewhere inside. So far, the Impala had been affected along with Sam in the shrinking curse. Maybe she was changing tactics.
As he rounded a catering tent (and boy, oh boy, was he coming back for one of those philly cheesesteak subs later), Dean stopped short with a crestfallen expression. The Impala was only one in a long line of chevy Impalas, all in different conditions. Sick to his stomach at the surreal sight, Dean shook his head and cast his gaze elsewhere on the lot.
"That's just wrong," he muttered.
A studio head came out of the catering tent, talking on the phone. "Yeah, we'll cram the Sam photoshoot in later this afternoon. I don't care if the guy's booked, Reg! Make it happen!" He snapped his phone shut and started for a door that read "cast and crew only." The man was too tunnel-visioned on where he was headed to notice he was shadowed.
Following his gut instinct, Dean followed inside. With each step forward in the maze of backstage, he felt a thrum inside. He had to be getting closer. That guy mentioned Sam's name, and if he was playing himself in a TV show... Maybe Sam was too.
Amidst a crowd of unfamiliar faces, Dean's eyes locked onto a head of shaggy brown hair. Ignoring the mutters of surprise and lingering looks at his face, Dean approached the line of seats. At last, the man turned, and Dean's hopes were confirmed.
"Damn, it's good to see you, Sammy." Dean threw his arms around his brother, squeezing him tightly. Once again, he was on the shorter end between them. But after the horrifying twelve hours with a shrunken brother, Dean wasn't complaining. He pulled away to look him over once more, finding Sam sturdy and full-size once again. Beaming, he clapping his hands on his shoulders.
"Couldn't keep you down for long, huh?" Dean remarked on his newfound height. "Any sign of that imp bitch? I swear, this place is giving me the creeps."
'Sam' was getting set up for filming when he was suddenly swept up into a bear hug.
They were filming one of the scenes where he was sitting in Dean's pocket, so Jensen had been planning on going over a few lines on his own. Most of the time on set they spent together, even when it was only one or the other filming, for support if nothing else. But the scene was short, sweet and to the point, so he'd been able to talk Jensen into taking it easy for once. God knows the man deserved it. No one was more dedicated to his fellow actors.
So the last thing he'd expected was Jensen practically tackling him on the set not twenty minutes before they were supposed to start shooting.
It took a few seconds got it to sink into his brain that Jensen was calling him 'Sammy.'
As he pulled out of the hug he saw the dark circles under Jensen's eyes. So the makeup artist hadn't tracked him down yet. Not that 'Sam' could blame him for seeming harried.
This entire storyline they were doing was affecting him to. Just last night he'd woken up from disturbing nightmares - being trapped in a tiny car, almost getting stepped on, even the scene where Sam almost gets eaten... he'd never had problems like that before while filming. Lord knew they had enough creepy ass stories going on, why was this one so disturbing?
So he humored Jensen as they pulled out of the hug, figuring he wanted to go over some lines before filming. It was a good way to calm the nerves and get in character. He cast his mind over the script he'd read.
"Uh, yeah. Her magic must have worn off or something. Where you been, anyway?"
"Looking for you," Dean said like it was obvious. He couldn't seem to keep a smile off his face. Even though they were stuck in this crappy alternate world, at least he had his brother back. Sammy was safe.
"I gotta say man, you really had me worried. I mean the thought of you, the size of a cracker, wandering around this TV town..." Dean shook his head, giving the idle crew nearby a not-so-subtle look of distrust, knowing any one of them could have easily stepped on a shrunken Sam without being any the wiser.
'Sam' frowned as Jensen went on. Did they change the script on me? He hadn't heard anything about planned changes... supposedly filming would be ending in another day for this episode.
He clapped Jensen on the shoulder. "You feeling alright, man? Sounds like you could use some coffee..."
Dean blinked and arched a stern eyebrow at the hand on his shoulder. Looking back up at his face, his green eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Am I missing something here? You were three fucking inches tall!" Dean exclaimed, struggling to keep his voice down. Several producers turned their heads in their direction. "We've got a few things on the to-do list besides coffee, Sam."
"Five minutes, Jared." A man wearing a pair of thick headphones around his neck patted the taller man on the back.
Dean watched the guy go. He had to hand it to Sam, he was keeping his cool far better than he was. It was a bit unnerving, actually.
"They got you pegged for some hotshot too. Get this, they think I'm some guy named Jensen." Dean scoffed a derisive chuckle. "What kind of preppy-ass name is Jensen? "
Jared frowned. "It's your name, remember?"
He took Jensen by the arm, leading him away from the set. "Look, you can't let this episode get to you. I know how you feel, trust me. Been having nightmares every night about what Sam gets put through. I mean, almost getting eaten? Seriously, who thinks of these things? You should take a break, put your feet up in your trailer for a few hours. I'll film my parts on my own, alright? Sound good?"
Dean dug his heels in, breaking free from his grip. His green eyes darted all over his face, searching desperately for recognition in those familiar Hazel eyes. Everything about him was so utterly Sam. And yet, it wasn't.
"Oh crap, you're a part of this, aren't you?" Dean shook his head, mind made up. "You're not my brother. Fuck"
He drug a hand over his face, weary of the fruitless search. As he raised his head, he found that Jared had brought him out side set, near a couple of huge-ass trailers. A sign on the door of the closest one read "J. ACKLES." Dean raised his eyebrows, jerking a thumb towards the trailer.
"That mine?"
"Uhh... yeah." Jared frowned. His eyes darted back to the set. Everyone was still involved in setup and his absence was so far unnoticed. A few more minutes helping Jensen out shouldn't be noticed.
He pushed open the trailer door. With any luck all Jensen needed was a little coffee. Jared frowned when he saw Jensen's coffee cup on its side on the floor, abandoned.
Dean spotted it, too. He gave the rest of the trailer of brief glance, coming over to crouch down by the abandoned coffee cup. He touched the side- still warm.
"Someone was in a hurry," he muttered. Of course, it could have been a simple accident. Or maybe someone saw something that scared them out of their skin. Something like a shrunken Sam Winchester, maybe.
Dean stood up and gave Jared an urgent frown. "Who else has access here?"
"You… me… a few PA's." Jared frowned as he trailed Jensen into the trailer. The other man's desperate search of the floor gave him a sinking suspicion. It was like Jensen thought he'd find something hiding from them down there. He grabbed Jensen by the arms. "Talk to me. What's going on here?"
Dean grit his teeth, facing Jared head-on. Only the slightest difference of gleam in this man's eyes cemented in him that this couldn't be his brother. No puppy eyes, Dean noted ironically. How was he supposed to explain this when he didn't fully believe it himself?
"This whole thing is a TV show, right? About Sam and Dean Winchester, hunting, the whole nine yards? Well, I'm the real deal. Dean Winchester, in the flesh." He motioned down at himself, once again wrestling free of Jared's grip. What was it with this guy and touching? It was like this Jared was physically incapable of keeping his hands to himself.
Jared couldn't help squinting at Jensen… Dean… whoever. He let out a laugh. "I think you've been working too hard here. You might want to take a day, get your head in the game. I mean, that's just too crazy. Dean Winchester, real?" He flopped down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.
Dean forced a laugh of his own, sounding more annoyed than amused. "Yeah, crazy," he dead-panned.
Load of help this guy is.
Seeing that trying to convince Jared was only a waste of time, he refocused onto his quest of finding Sam. Dean stalked around the couch, getting down on his hands and knees on the carpet. He pressed his face to the floor.
"Uh... Jay, What are you doing?" Jared's voice sounded more apprehensive than ever.
Ignoring the incorrect name, Dean peered under the shadowy crevice for any tiny bodies. "You guys ever have a roach problem in here?"
"Um... No?"
"Can't be too sure," Dean replied distractedly, moving with careful steps to peer behind the entertainment center under the TV. "I hear trailers like these are Hotel California for roaches." Dean swept a hand under the shelf. If Sam was hiding in here, he certainly had outdone himself.
Jared stood, watching Jensen crawl around on the floor. He had to get back the set, but Jensen was pretty much having a mental breakdown.
He needed help.
Jared made his way over to the door. "Just... hang on. I'll... be right back."
Before he could even touch the handle, the trailer door swung open and Jensen nearly collided with Jared.
"Slacking off in my trailer again?" Jensen asked cooly, casually sliding his left hand down into his jeans pocket.
Jared just gaped at him, stammering a few incoherent syllables as he glanced over his shoulder at Dean, still groping under furniture. Despite his six foot four stature, he was too shell-shocked to offer any resistance as Jensen pushed his way past.
"Hey listen," Jensen announced, feigning exhaustion. "I'm gonna need-"
He stopped in his tracks next to Jared, staring at the man across the room. The door squeaked shut, sealing them all into stunned silence.
Dean raised his head slowly, keeping an eye on the pair across the room like they were escaped mental patients. It was incredibly surreal, staring at a mirror image of himself. He felt like had dosed up with the dream root all over again. The man was identical to him, head to toe. The only differences was that he was wearing a green jacket and had coffee stained splattered all over his stone washed jeans.
"Let me guess- Jensen?" Dean ambled closer. Somehow, despite everything, he managed to smirk. "You are a handsome devil, I'll give you that."
Jensen raised his eyebrows, scoffing quietly in breathless disbelief. Breaking out of his daze, Jared fumbled to pull out his cell phone, snapping a picture of the surreal moment. Jensen and Dean swiveled their heads to the side, giving him identical withering looks.
"If you post that to Twitter, I'm gonna-" Jensen started in on him. Jared waved his hands in his defense, looking taken aback by the identical glares on him.
"I-I'm not. Just gonna need proof later that I'm not tripping on acid here," Jared tried to explain.
Jensen narrowed his eyes at the cell phone, but was distracted in the next second. He glanced down to his pocket as if hearing a private conversation. Dean snapped his gaze down as well, noticing for the first time that Jensen hadn't moved his hand from his pocket the entire time. His heart lurched in his chest.
"Right, right," Jensen muttered. "Hang on little guy."
He carefully pulled his hand from his pants pocket, gingerly uncurling his fist between them to reveal a barely two and a half inch man sitting in his palm.
"Sam," Dean breathed, leaning down closer to see his little face. "Damn, it's good to see you."