When Dean woke up, the world was falling to pieces.

At least, it felt like it was. The ground was quaking with relentless tremors that put the Richter scale out of business. Dean scrambled to stand on unsteady feet, whipping his gaze back and forth.

"Sammy?" The instinctive phrase, perpetually on the top of Dean's tongue, was the first word out of his mouth.

There was no sign of his brother, but he wasn't alone. He was under some sort of tent-like structure, with squared wooden poles at least three feet wide. He craned his neck back: the poles seemed to stretch on for the length of a speedway into the sky, culminating in a taut black canvas stretched between them. Between the wooden poles, Dean could see shoes. Dozens of them. Huge, massive, daunting giants stomping this way and that across the dusty floor. His stomach dropped to his feet when it dawned on him that the earthquakes were merely footsteps.

Given his experience with Sam for the last 24 hours, it didn't take him more than a few seconds to piece together what had happened.

"I'm a friggin' borrower," Dean dismayed under his breath.

And an extra puny one at that. He remembered holding Sam in the palm of his hand only minutes ago. Standing up straight, his little brother hadn't even been three inches tall. Dean swallowed hard, realizing that he was likely around the same size right now.

Without some sort of cover, he was trapped here, lest he risk death by sneaker. He could only stand in place, watching the giants go about their business with not a single glance thrown in his direction. He may as well been invisible. Within a few seconds, Dean had already pictured himself starring in 50 Shades of Smushed into a Bloody Smear on the Floor.

Morbid creativity at its best.

New voices were raised above the others, coming closer:

"You can't just disappear and pull that diva card on us, Jared! That's soap opera crap!" the episode director said, stressed out to say the least.

"Sorry. I just needed to go over my lines real quick. Lost my script," Jared lied through his teeth.

The director pulled his own folded, marked-up script out of his back pocket and pressed it into Jared's hands.

"You've got five minutes. We've got two pages to shoot and we're already gonna be extending till eight tonight." With that, he stomped off to discuss camera angles with the DP.

Dean flinched back into the middle of the space as Jared's shoes spun towards his hiding place. He walked right up to the chair and took a seat. The whole structure shook as he got comfortable, and Dean went rigid as he looked up to watch the cloth ceiling to concave from the weight sinking down into it.

It wasn't Sam. But considering he at least knew what was going on with the imp now, this guy was his best chance of finding Sam again and getting out of here un-smushed.

Five minutes.

He had five minutes before Jared got up to shoot his scene and Dean was trapped down here indefinitely. The slip-on leather boots landed on the floor in front of him. At this size, that was the only part of his body he had access to. Dean felt his cheeks heat up. Dean fucking Winchester, the hunter that monsters had nightmares about... smaller than a shoe. Hell, just the heel of the giant boot was as long as he was tall. And thick enough to reach his shin, easily.

This wasn't going to be easy.

Dean's heart flitted fearfully inside his chest as he stepped out of the shadows- the same type of quiet fear he got before any hunt. The kind that came from a raw, human need to survive.

Standing out in the open next to Jared's gigantic shoe, Dean was entirely on edge, ready to jump back at a moment's notice if someone screamed at the sight of him. Surprisingly, he had a sliver of luck: the crew were currently giving Jared a pretty wide berth. And those who did happen to glance his way certainly weren't wasting time ogling his feet.

Not having any more time to waste, Dean gave the side of the boot a hard look before giving it a stern kick. He craned his neck back. He couldn't even see Jared's face from here! Just his legs, towering up towards the ceiling until they bent at the knee. Dean grit his teeth and tried again. He kicked the side of the shoe over and over... only managing to make himself sore. Jared didn't so much as twitch under Dean's attack.

"Son of a bitch..." Dean groaned, stepping back under the wooden beam of the chair leg to recollect his thoughts. Apparently, his miniature aggression wasn't even registering to the giant. Not through that thick leather anyway. His green eyes drifted higher. His ankle. That could work. It'd be a bit of a climb, but it wasn't impossible.

Three minutes.

Dean clenched his jaw and set to climbing the shoe, grabbing hold of the crumpled denim cuffs of the jeans once he was high enough. It made his stomach clench to look around and realize he was literally standing on a fucking shoe. How the hell had his brother ever been anything less than hysterical at such a puny size?

Before Dean could so much as raise his voice, the world suddenly turned over around him. The shoe beneath him shifted as Jared casually crossed his ankle on his knee. Dean was swung into the air with the motion, clinging to the jeans for all he was worth. Jared's eyes remained on his script, not hearing the teeny tiny curses spewing from his ankle.

"Shit." Dean barely dared to breath. He didn't have to look down to feel the lethal free fall awaiting him. All it would take was a flick of the ankle to send him to his death.

Dean clawed at the thick denim and dug his heels in deep, holding his spot for all he was worth against the taunting threat of gravity. He craned his neck desperately for some sort of eye contact with Jared, but Dean couldn't see past the crinkled ankles of the blue jeans. He grit his teeth with effort as Jared tilted his ankle absentmindedly, still moving his tiny refuge without knowing.

Come on, you big idiot. Look down!

Jared waved off a PA as he took his seat to go over the script. Drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the arm of his chair, he tried to concentrate on the script in front of him.

It was a lost cause. Jensen was back in the trailer downsized to a Polly-fucking-Pocket and Dean was missing, gone God-knows-where. Based on their luck so far, nowhere good. And Jared couldn't even help in the search.

He shifted in his seat, crossing his ankle casually over his knee. Resting the script on his bent leg, he gave another attempt at focus.

It was close to his time to go when a movement on his ankle caught his eye. Is that a bug...?

Jared leaned over, squinting down at the little thing. Realizing what it was, he gasped, jerking away at the sight of a tiny person, clinging desperately to his ankle for all they were worth.

"Holy shit! " Jared blurted out. He shot out a hand to catch the little guy just as he slipped, jarred by Jared's unexpected movement. The tiny body plopped into his hand, landing on the firm cushioning of his thick skinned palm.

He lifted the hand closer to his eyes, trying to make out the features of the guy cupped in his hand. "Dean?!"

Dean was speechless. It hurt, staring up at that moon-sized face. Hearing Sam's voice and seeing those searching eyes... And knowing it wasn't him. Every bit of this was horrifying. Being hoisted up in that massive hand felt like flying without any restraints. Dean looked pale green as Jared's huge hazels honed in on him. He twitchily looked around at the fingers taller and stronger than his entire body. His stomach twisted as he realized this was how Sam had seen him for the last 24 hours.

"No need to share the burger breath," Dean greeted under his breath, scooting away from that far-too-close face. When he was a better distance away (not that he could go very far in his vulnerable position), Dean got right down to business: "Where's my brother?"

Jared frowned at the small insult from Dean, then pushed it off. It was exactly the way he'd expect Dean to act after all these years filming. It was strange to hear the insults from the man himself instead of Jensen in character.

"Yeah, I'm sure yours was no picnic for Sam," Jared jabbed back. He pushed down the tiny bit of guilt he felt, arguing with a guy who couldn't beat a finger in height. He kept his fingers arched over Dean's head, praying none of the cameras were pointed in his direction. This was the last thing he needed anyone seeing, right up there next to Sam wandering around.

"Sam's back in the trailer. He's back to normal, all six and a half feet of him, and Jensen's been downsized." Jared approximated Jensen's height with two fingers. "Same as you."

He peered closer, checking for any signs he'd hurt the pocket sized hunter. "You alright? And how'd you end up clinging to mypants? "

Dean's little shoulders slumped in quiet relief as Jared filled him in. At least he didn't have to worry about Sam getting stepped on by his doppelgänger this time around while they were separated. Or by anyone else for that matter. But they were still trapped in this parallel universe and Dean was still barely two and half inches tall. They were far from out of the woods.

His thoughts cut short when he felt his platform move, and Jared's gigantic face surged forward towards him. In his haste to recover much-needed personal space, Dean's shoe caught in the crease of Jared's palm and ended up falling hard on his ass.

"Alright, that's close enough, Goliath," Dean griped. "Give a guy some space, huh?" He gave the giant a desperate glare, knowing that there was nothing he could do to actually make Jared comply.

The Sam look-alike backed off a few inches, and Dean realized that was as good as it was gonna get. With an irate, uncomfortable huff, Dean tried to pick up his train of thoughts to answer the question.

"Sneaking a ride on your jeans is about the last thing either of us wanted, believe me. But I couldn't exactly waltz up and tap you on the shoulder from the floor. This imp is a real piece of work, lemme tell ya..."

"She definitely is. All the shit she's pulled..." Jared's ears caught his name being shouted across the room. He glanced up in surprise, meeting the gaze of the director. He was standing next to the set tapping his watch.

Shit, five minutes goes fast… Seeing one of the PA's coming over to him, Jared stood up with a start, shoving the hand holding Dean into his pants. It curled protectively around Dean as he tumbled down into the fabric. He couldn't afford to let anyone know about the small hunter. They'd most likely think he was pranking him, not to mention it'd be dangerous for Dean to be around anyone else at his size.

"Yep, sorry about that." Jared tossed the script on his chair, walking briskly over to the set. "Just had to remember a few small parts," he gave his most charming smile, wishing it was more effective on his co-workers than it was.

"Son of a bi-mmnnph! "

Dean's tiny voice was easily muffled between the denim layers. He writhed immediately, panicked in the enclosed space. He squirmed to get out of the giant fingers, twisting one leg free at a time before falling even deeper into the tight space past Jared's knuckles. He was stuck there for a moment with all the blood rushing to his head. Jared's voice boomed out overhead and without warning, his hand withdrew.

In the newfound space, Dean plunked straight to the bottom. He groaned, twisting around with some difficulty to get on his back. Even sitting up was a challenge. The pocket was constantly in unpredictable motion, squeezing Dean against Jared's leg and releasing him again with every step.

Other loud voices clamored outside the pocket, along with a whine of some machine.

"Oh hell no," Dean grunted, straining his upper body strength to pull himself higher. "I'm not your friggin' pocket pal."

He hammered his fist against Jared's leg. They didn't have time for this! He had to find Sam!

Jared acted out the scene in a haze, barely able to concentrate on what he was doing. After all, he had an itty bitty hunter squirreled away in his pocket! Who'd be able to even think about their job when they were caught up in something so massively,massively, crazy?

If he paid attention, he could feel Dean wriggling around against his leg. He seemed pissed, which Jared could understand, but still. It wasn't his fault Dean was here! And there was no other place he could put the guy that would be safe, not on a set in the middle of the frickin' day! Not to mention there was no way of knowing when the little imp would strike again. From what he'd seen while acting out this messed up storyline, she liked to catch everyone off guard. And she certainly seemed to favor Sam out of the two brothers.

It was a long twenty minutes, spent trying to get his lines right with all the major distractions going around. From what he could tell, Dean certainly hadn't given up on getting out of the pocket, if all the movement was any indication. The entire time Jared wished Dean would stop trying to draw attention to himself. What if someone else saw his pocket moving like that?

At last, the director called a short break while they reset a few of the props. Jared gave a sigh of relief and slipped away from the set, out of sight. He stuck his hand into his pocket, afraid of what he'd draw out. As gently as he could, he curled his hand around the small body in there, drawing Dean out into the light.

"Hanging in there?"

Dean glowered up at him, equal parts humiliated and furious. His short blonde hair had the looks of a long night of tossing and turning- or really bad sex hair.

"Fantastic," he answered with a smile so sarcastic, Jared wilted a bit. Dean ignored this and continued pointlessly dusting himself off, as if he could physically peel away how violated he felt.

"Oh, and in case you were wondering, you have a nice big hole in your pocket," Dean tacked on with a note of trauma, jabbing an accusing finger towards Jared's bulk. "And there's no way I can unsee what I saw in there!"

Jared barely held in a roll of his eyes. "You know, you have an awfully big mouth for such a little guy," he shot back. "We have a bit of time before I have to be back on set. We need to find where Sam and Jensen got off too. I know Sam's worried about what happened to you after the condition we found Jensen in."

He glanced around, checking for any onlookers. "How do you want to do this? Staying in my hand might not be the best plan."

Dean frowned. "They didn't tell you where they were headed?"

Great. In the dark again.

Pushing past his irritation for Sam's doppelgänger, Dean raked a critical gaze up and down the giant bearing him aloft. The best options were undoubtedly above the belt area. But after the last half an hour filling in as pocket change, Dean was decidedly against the idea of another cloth prison.

He glanced behind him again for any nosy crew or cast before speaking up again. "Bring me up to your shoulder. By the collar."

"Are... you sure that's safe?" Jared asked, concerned.

At the withering glare he received in turn, he let out a soul-suffering sigh, feeling a surge of empathy for Sam. The tiny hunter was enough of a handful at under three inches, he could imagine what Sam went through when Dean was full-sized.

"Alright, your funeral," he muttered, giving in. He lifted the hand up to his shoulder, holding steady for Dean. "Just... try to stay out of sight, okay? And... don't look down," he said, belatedly remembering the hunter's fear of heights.

Dean occupied himself by grabbing two fistfuls of the canvas collar, supporting his weight as he slung a leg over the slope of Jared's shoulder. Once he was free of the giant hand, he suddenly felt naked. A warm breeze that very well could have just been Jared's breath threatened to make him waver. Swallowing didn't help the sudden dryness of his mouth. Despite his better judgement, Dean looked past the edge of Jared's hand... All the way down to the ground. It was like looking down from the Empire State Building's top floor, down where the floor was so distant, it looked blurry. Deadly.

"Shit," he breathed, his voice practically reduced to a squeak to match his size.

Suddenly queasy, Dean dropped back down to a crouch and frantically looked for something more steady than a meager piece of a jacket. He scrambled to Jared's neck, backing right up into the thick wall of skin. He pressed so desperately into Jared, he could feel the hammering pulse pick up at his back, rocking him gently.

"Worse than planes," Dean panted. "For God's sake, Jared, do you gotta move your shoulder to breathe?" His eyes were widened from fear, his tiny calloused hands pulling at fistfuls of the plaid collar like a lifeline.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Jared said dryly. It was so strange. He could feel the hunter's tiny body huddled against his neck, almost shuddering at the height. Someone's entire body was right there, in that tiny bit of pressure on his shoulder. It was almost impossible to believe.

Jared reached up a hand, making sure the small hunter was steady on him since he couldn't exactly look at Dean the way he was pressed against Jared's neck. "Dean, are you sure you're gonna be okay? You know, I really don't mind carrying you in my hand if it keeps you alive."

"But then people'll start wondering why you're walking around with a tiny person in your hands," Dean said with a strained chuckle.

He shifted in the flesh-colored shade that Jared's massive hand provided. Dean narrowed his eyes at the lines and patterns of his palm, taking a distracted moment to notice at the guy had hardly any callouses. Had this pansy really ever shot a gun in his life?

Focus, Dean scolded himself.

The tiny hunter accessed his limited view of his perch. With the terrifying view to the floor cut off, it was a little easier to calm his breathing. He'd been tortured in Hell itself, Dean reasoned. He could make this work, even if he was the size of a corn chip.

Jared arched an eyebrow as he felt a very tiny pair of hands roughly gathering up locks of his hair from behind his ears, rearranging them. Dean heaved the edge of Jared's shirt collar over his legs. He snapped one of the threads and secured it through two belt loops on his jeans as a precautionary safety line.

"Alright, Jare, I'm good," Dean said, patting the hot neck. "Practically invisible up here." He smirked briefly. "I'll just be like the little angel on your shoulder. Or you know, the less-douchey version."

Jared couldn't stop a chuckle at the thought. He couldn't see what Dean had done back there, but he certainly sounded confident. Considering Dean's crippling fear of heights, he must have secured himself somehow. "Make sure you hold on then," Jared cautioned. "We'll check Jensen's trailer. That's where I left them before the scene you found me at."

He started walking towards the trailers, talking gamely to the air. It wasn't like anyone would expect him to be talking to the miniature man on his shoulder. They'd just assume he was on a Bluetooth headset with Gen or something. "Jensen got shrunk, same as you. Damn lucky no one stepped on the guy. The imp was kind enough to bury him under some papers on the ground. Thank god we had an idea what to expect after seeing Sam shrunk."

"Poor bastard." Dean shook his head with a heart brimming with empathy. He and Jensen were really riding this out on two sides of the same coin.

He resumed the tune he'd been humming, hitting every beat and note in perfect simulation of the song. Truth be told, Metallica'sSeek & Destroy was the only thing keeping him sane right now. That, along with the embedded need to protect the only family he had left. Dean was miserable. Being three inches tall... Even when they did find Sam, how could he do a damn thing? As selfish as it was, he found a part of himself wishing Sam had just stayed small. At least then Dean had more control; could keep him safe.

Yeah, a real stand-up job you did there, a dark voice sneered in the back of his head yet again.

Through the veil of Jared's hair, Dean watched a door swing open, and the massive trailers came into sight.

"I know Sam. He's not gonna stay put for long." Dean said, his small, deep voice carrying perfectly to Jared's ear.

Almost to the trailers, Jared paused for a heartbeat. What if they were gone? Or worse - what if the imp shrank Sam back down, leaving Jared to handle this on his own? He was an actor, for godsakes, not an actual hunter! All the wacky stuff on the TV was just for show. He'd never expected to be shoved into one of the storylines like this!

Jared reached the door at last. "Cross your fingers," he muttered quietly to Dean as he pushed the door open. A second of silence passed before he realized his eyes were scrunched closed. He pried them open and peered into Jensen's trailer.

Nothing.