I am so happy to see my writing get so much love! I hope you all are enjoying reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester, coraline20, and Harryswoman for your lovely comments! Next posting day will be on Tuesday!

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the Pinconning Trail Inn, another one of the scummy, roach-infested motels that he'd spent his whole life in. He patted his pocket, looking for his motel key, before he realized he'd just slammed his hand into the pocket containing Sam. He winced, feeling the struggling little figure press against his fingers.

"Sorry, bro." He said, looking down. "You, uh, didn't happen to see a key in there, didja?" He asked, opening the top of the pocket. Sam was inside, blinking blearily up at his brother's massive, looming face.

"No, asshole." He spat out, leveling a punch at Dean's wall-sized chest. Dean barely felt it, more like a little tap through his shirt. He chuckled.

"Well then, you're gonna have to wait in there a little longer, then, Sammy-boy." He said, getting out of the car, heading towards the janky reception office.

It was strange to hear Dean's voice rumbling from his vantage point inside the pocket. The missing key necessitated a trip to reception, where a surprisingly pretty woman was working the desk.

"I, uh, managed to lose my key today, sweetheart." He heard Dean say, his characteristic flirty mannerisms dripping from every word. Sam rolled his eyes. He had seen enough of his brother's behavior, and it wasn't any less awkward when he was tucked away from sight. The girl's response was muffled through the layers of fabric separating Sam from the real world. The steady beating of Dean's heart coupled with the thick leather jacket on the other side of him was effective insulation. It still freaked him out how alien the sensation was.

"I'm in room 102." Sam heard Dean say, and Sam shook his head. Gathering his strength, he punched Dean's chest three times. Immediately that pressure was back, pressing him into the massive wall behind him. He fought the urge to struggle, only giving a few weak kicks before settling into the overwhelming pressure of Dean's hand. "Sorry, uh, room 103." Dean said, keeping his hand pressed over the struggling little body in his pocket. Another muffled response from the woman and another minute compressed between massive forces and Dean finally relented. He took a few swinging steps before slipping a finger into his pocket.

"What the hell, dude?" Dean said, looking down at the miniature bitch-face looking up from his pocket. "She could have seen you moving!"

"Really? What the hell, me?" Sam said, incredulously. "Maybe remember what room we're in next time! And try not to crush me next time I try and help you, asshole." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, whatever. Let's just get back to the room." Dean let the pocket close and he gritted his teeth. He felt bad for the way the tiny figure had struggled briefly against his palm. It still made him feel so weird that Sam could now be subdued with a single press from his hand.

But still, he'd started moving when he was about a foot away from someone else, someone who didn't know he was there. What if she had seen? His heart hammered faster as he remembered the way Sam had been clutched in Lily's hands again. The thought of someone else with their hands on his brother was enough to raise his blood pressure a few points. He stormed into the motel room, tossing the duffel bag onto one of the beds and plopping himself down.

Sam felt nervous after he'd yelled at his brother. As soon as that pocket had closed off again, sealing him in his fabric enclosure, Dean's heartbeat had begun pumping into overdrive, belying some intense emotion. That fear that Sam had felt upon realizing his new size began to amplify. He wasn't necessarily afraid of his brother, but the fact that he was so massive and held all the power…

He began to understand why those prey animals, like mice, were always hyperventilating. If Dean became angry, or upset… It wouldn't even need to be intentional. Even a careless angry act could irrevocably hurt him. He shivered, again remembering the way that his entire arm had been encased in Dean's massive, truck sized fingertips, and the casual display of power. Even a stray muscle twitch could have snapped his arm completely, and he would have been powerless to stop it.

He was completely helpless like this. His own heart was pounding to match Dean's, and he folded his arms up around the massive bruise on his chest, trying to curl up and make himself even smaller. He could hardly feel any more worthless, more helpless. Yeah, make yourself even smaller, you little bug. His internal monologue commented cruelly. At this point, that's all you are.

Once he'd calmed himself down, Dean once again opened his pocket, but was a little taken aback by the way Sam had curled himself into a little ball in the corner of his pocket. At this size, the details of Sam's face and body were hard to make out, but he'd known his brother long enough to know that it wasn't simple nausea that was making him act like this. He looked… afraid. Dean felt a cold stab of guilt as he realized that he had probably been contributing to that feeling.

"Hey, come on, man. Let's get you out of there." He said, keeping his gravelly voice low. He scooped his fingers into his pocket, curling up the tiny figure into his hand. Sam barely moved, despite his confinement in Dean's head being much looser. When Dean set him on the table, Sam only moved to sit down, absently rubbing his sore muscles.

His eyes widened as he managed to take in the room, the first chance he'd really had to take in the environment since he'd been shrunk down. The room was familiar, but everything was so big. Even sitting on the table, the ceiling felt like a cathedral, stretching beyond what he could ever hope to reach. The floor was so far down, he felt like he was looking down at the street from a skyscraper. And Dean… he was sitting down too, and even like this he stretched above Sam. His hands were out of sight, but the massive scale of his face and those intense green eyes made Sam's stomach squirm again. He felt so small.

"Sorry. This is so… not fun." He said, trying to blow off his behavior, and make Dean turn that worried gaze away. He should have known it wouldn't work. His older brother had too many years of watching over him to hide anything. That and the fact that now he was completely exposed made him feel like he was under a microscope.

"All right, yeah, I guess that makes sense." Dean said, but didn't turn his face away. He was finally seeing Sam alongside other everyday objects, and the juxtaposition just made it even more clear just how little his younger brother had become. He was just under four inches tall, dwarfed by the cell phone and notepad that sat on the table near him. He looked so vulnerable. "Now we have to figure out what put this whammy on you. Witches maybe? Did you find any hex bags in that house while you were looking? Goddamn witches." Dean said, leaning back in the chair. Sam shook his head.

"No, I know what did this. At least, I'm pretty sure." He said, his face growing red again. "Right before I… you know - got like this, that little girl gave me a teacup. It was old and antique looking, really out of place with her other stuff. As soon as I touched it, something happened, and I woke up like…this." He said, motioning to his miniaturized form. Dean couldn't suppress a grin.

"A teacup, huh? Now what could you have been doing with a teacup, Sammy? Having yourself a little tea party?" He smirked, his mind flashing back to the little setup in the girl's room.

"Hey, now, listen. I was trying to make friends with the daughter, you know? See if she'd caught something her mother had missed. So yeah, I was playing along a little. Sue me! It's not like you were getting anywhere with the mom." Sam said, his little shoulders tense.

"Aw, hey, I'm only kidding. Although…" He said, raising an eyebrow. "At this size you do look like you'd fit right in." Sam shot him an intense bitch-face, only earning him another grin from Dean. Then, just as quickly, his face tensed again.

"Actually… Now that I'm thinking about it, that little girl was saying things in such a strange way…" he said, trying to remember exactly what they'd been talking about before he'd been unceremoniously reduced in size. "When I asked her about her father's disappearance, she would only say that he didn't want to play with her anymore. I thought that she was, you know, reacting to the way he just left without warning, but…" He trailed off, standing to pace a little on the table.

"Hold on, are you saying that the disappearances might not be disappearances?" Dean said, leaning back in and earning a startled jump from Sam. "Oh, sorry." Sam put his hand over his heart, which had started beating wildly when Dean had moved so quickly towards him. He was just so big, and to see him moving so fast sent that prey drive into gear again.

"It's ok. Just… Don't move so fast." Sam said, taking another step back. "But yes, I think all those missing men might still be…"

"In the house." Dean finished, his glare intensifying again. "Anyone who touched that stupid little cup." Sam nodded.

"Well, not anyone. Lily was touching it, and I didn't see her wearing gloves or anything. The disappearances were all men, remember."

"So… you think we're dealing with something that just affects… men. Huh." Dean said, sitting back in his chair.

"Damnit, and I never had the chance to test Lily with salt or anything. I think we have to head back there." Sam said, gulping in trepidation. The last thing he wanted was to go back, put himself in proximity with those grabby little hands. But still… He remembered seeing a little figure on the floor near the toybox, a toy that hadn't looked like a toy. He couldn't abandon those men to whatever fate a careless little girl had in store for them, leaving them completely at the mercy of a child.

He squeezed his hands together. Get it together, man. You're here to help people, no matter what happened to you, he said to himself, memories of being suffocated by only a finger working their way unbidden into his head.

"Yeah, I think so too. We'll do some research tonight, get some grub, and head back in the morning?" Dean said, leaning back again and folding his hands behind his head. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"Yeah, when aren't you?" Sam shot back, rolling his eyes, but took a quick breath as Dean's stomach began to growl. Something primal in him reacted to the sound, sending an unavoidable chill down his spine. It's just Dean. Stop panicking, he ordered himself, unable to completely kick that fear. He grabbed his wrist to keep his hands from shaking. Another low growl sent an absolutely gut-wrenching shiver through Sam's spine, but Dean didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." He said, both to Sam and his stomach. He put his hands on his knees, standing up.

Sam, already fighting panic, felt his knees get weak as Dean stood up. So far, his perspective of giant people was limited to being up close or held in their hands. It was a whole other ball game watching as one of those giants stood, towering over him, dwarfing him in the blink of an eye. So big, so effin' big, he thought, the height he'd lost never feeling more pronounced.

Those legs were like skyscrapers on their own, but they were moving so fast. He had to crane his neck, looking directly upwards just to see the bottom of Dean's chin. He sank down, trying to stabilize himself. Dean looked down and Sam tensed, trying to gain control over his body. "What do you think, pizza?" He asked, tucking his chin to his chest to look down that far. Sam looked so small, sitting there on the table.

"Uh, pizza's fine." Sam said, keeping every muscle tense so that he could feign nonchalance. "Get me a salad or something."

"Ugh, I don't get why anyone would choose rabbit food over a healthy dose of meat, cheese, and bread." He said, rolling his eyes. He could tell something was bothering Sam, but he also knew that too much pushing would just cause his little brother to shut down. "I'm thinking delivery. I don't know how I feel about leaving you here… alone." He said, looking around the room.

There didn't seem to be anything off about the room, but as far as he was concerned, his brother had already been shrunk against his will, the culprit was still out there and aware that he had Sam with him. Of course, it was just a little girl, but it still felt wrong to know that whatever did this to Sam was still out there… He reached for one of the pizza menus, calling in the order for delivery.

Sam slowly calmed his pounding heart once Dean had moved farther away. It still struck some sort of fear into him to watch that massive mountain of a human move around the room, especially as quickly as he was. Those long strides could cover as much distance as Sam would take several minutes to run. Each heavy bootstep sent tremors up into the table, reminding Sam that just one step would be enough to crush every bone in his body, rendering him nothing more than a splotch on the stained motel carpet.

Dean wasn't stupid. He knew something was up. Sam was so tense, his eyes glued to Dean's back the entire time he was moving around the room. He just couldn't imagine what Sam had to feel like right now. He felt bad for the part that he'd been playing in Sam's reaction. He hated how his little brother now looked at him with fear.

"Hey, uh, listen. We're gonna have to do some major research tonight. I don't wanna go back to that house unprepared. One of us like… this… is too many." Dean said, retrieving the laptop out of his bag. Generally, he hated bothering with the research. Sam was so much better at it, and he didn't seem to mind the time spent sitting in the library or tapping away at the laptop. Dean preferred the hands-on work. But now… there was no way Sam would be able to handle this on his own. As he set the laptop down, he was struck again by Sam's stature. He would barely be able to step on the keys, jumping his way from one to the other.

"Yeah, you're going to have to take point on this one." Sam said, stepping up on the laptop and stomping on one of the buttons. It took some force to even do that much. The glowing screen was like a movie theater screen, and he had trouble seeing past the massive pixels.

While Sam stood on the massive spacebar, Dean settled his arms around the keyboard. Sam stiffened, those massive arms and chest blocking him on the surface of the laptop. As Dean typed, he realized just how much pressure was being exerted each time he tapped a single key. Enough to break his leg.

"Hey, let me off." He said, frustrated at his inability to even help with the research. Dean lifted one of his arms, allowing Sam a moment to scramble off the computer and back onto the desk.

After hours of fear and exertion, he suddenly found himself bored. There was an entire motel room right in front of him, looming at a scale he'd never considered before. He peered over the side of the desk, feeling his breath catch as he looked at the floor, which looked to be fifty feet down. The lamp's cord ran all the way to the floor before looping back up into the wall socket, and Sam wondered if he could scale down on his own. He pulled out his pocketknife, glad it had shrunk down with him. He glanced up at Dean, who was, for once, completely engrossed in his research. He was probably completely confident that Sam couldn't really go anywhere. Sam smirked, then grabbed onto the thick plastic. Just down and back up, something to do while his brother worked. He was tired of feeling afraid and useless.

Sliding down the cord was an easier task than he'd expected, though it turned out to be a dirty task. The yellowed plastic was covered in dust, the kind that spoke to the fact that these motel rooms were never deep cleaned. The dust clung to Sam's flannel overshirt and resisted his attempts to brush it off. He sighed as he continued downward, watching as the top of the desk disappeared above him. Unlike his brother, he wasn't plagued with a fear of heights, and he found himself enjoying the experience as he descended.

The motel carpet was disgusting, as expected. The thick green fibers were all the way up to his ankles, and threatened his balance if he didn't pay attention. It had a weird smell, one he might not have noticed if he hadn't been so close. From his new vantage point on the floor, Sam couldn't help but realize just how small he was. The desk towered over him, and he couldn't see anything on the top. Dean's massive form was hunched over it, and Sam realized, belatedly, how dangerous being on the floor could be. Dean would only have to move his foot a single step and Sam would be obliterated.

He gulped, turning away, vowing to stay near the furniture and avoid the center of the room. From here, he could see underneath the nearer of the two beds. He was small enough now that he would be able to walk underneath it without his head even hitting the bottom of the frame. He paused, considering the impulse. Dean didn't know he was down here. From his casual posture, he probably hadn't even realized that Sam wasn't on the desk anymore. Sam decided to take his chances, wanting to do something other than sit around helplessly. He dashed for the bed.

At his normal size, the distance would have been a few steps, but at his new scale, he had to run for several seconds before the bed was above him. He panted, realizing that the open air away from the furniture had been more frightening than he cared to admit.

He looked up at the bottom of the bed. He'd seen the undersides of beds before, but he'd never looked up at it before like a ceiling. He grimaced as he realized that the housekeepers in the motel weren't very thorough, but he wasn't surprised. The dust bunnies under here were the size of soccer balls, some of them even bigger. He could still hear Dean's fingers clacking on the keyboard, so he decided to push his luck and keep exploring. It wasn't like he was leaving the room, and he was safe from errant footsteps under the bed.

His arms were coated in the sticky dust from his journey off the desk, and now the massive clumps of dust seemed drawn to him. He was going to need a shower after all this. He pushed forward, heading to the back wall. He could still see the light of the room behind him, but the details of the room were blurry to him. If he squinted, he could still see the brown and blue of Dean's legs, but no detail beyond that. He kept going to the back corner, stepping over a lost earring. The gem was the size of a softball, and the post was as long as his forearm. He might have picked it up, but what was he going to do with a lost, dusty earring?

He looked back behind him, watching the room behind him recede. God, that was a strange feeling, watching a room that was only a few feet away become blurry with distance. Sam stumbled over a dusty crumb the size of a soccer ball and fell backwards. He twisted, trying to catch himself on his hands. Something caught him before he hit the floor, and Sam opened his eyes slowly, wondering what the hell had caught him.

His mouth went dry as his eyes adjusted back to the dim light under the bed and he saw the thin, sticky strands that tangled around him.

A spiderweb.