Thank you soph, kathy, EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester and harryswoman for your wonderful comments!

Sam gratefully stood under the tap of cold water in the motel sink, electing to remain fully dressed. The cold water washed the blood off him, rinsing most of the blood out of the clothes. He'd need a good visit to the laundromat after this, to clean all this blood out. Most of it was his, but he knew some of it was the cat's as well.

He smiled a little, happy that at least he'd been able to draw a little blood, despite the size difference. He'd fought a hundred different monsters, but never had he actually faced down something that outsized him like that.

He removed his shirt, wringing out as much water as he could before putting it back on. He winced as the wet fabric brushed up against the cuts on his back and chest. Sometime, when they had time, he'd have to wrap those up.

For now, he was determined to soldier through and put an end to this. Luckily, he didn't think any of the injuries the cat had given him needed to be stitched up. There wasn't a needle in the world small enough to help him right now.

Dean watched his younger brother wash the blood off in the sink as he took in the sight of the injuries the cat had left. Long scratches scored the length of Sam's body, including a few holes made in his chest when he'd been pinned. All of these were laid over the ugly bruises he'd received just yesterday.

He couldn't help but be furious with himself. It was his fault this happened. If he hadn't left him alone, if he had run up the stairs sooner…

"Hey, come on, man." Sam called up. Dean blinked and turned the water off. "Did you find anything out while you were talking to the girl and her mom?" Sam figured they'd abide by their usual MO: if they didn't talk about it, it didn't happen. He didn't want to think about the way Dean had looked when he'd finally opened his eyes, his eyes shining with guilt and worry. Dean looked down at him, his eyes distracted.

"Shit. Yeah, the little girl was about to say something when I heard the cat… She said that someone else had given her the cup. The only thing she said was that 'she gave it to me.'" He said, furrowing his brow. "I don't think it's the little girl. I did a salt test, and no reaction." He said. Sam squeezed some of the water out of his hair.

"You don't think it's her? I mean, I know she was the one who did this to me." Sam asked. After a cold rinse he was freezing, and the body heat radiating up from Dean's palm wasn't doing enough to warm him back up. He shivered.

"I'm not sure. The way she talked about it, it almost seemed like she'd been… I don't know. Tricked or something. What was she like when she gave you the cup in the first place?"

"Well, I guess she had some other cups, and she said that one was for me specifically. I didn't think anything about it until I'd already touched it. But the way she handed it over… I think she knew what it would do."

"When I talked to her, she said she knew it would work, but she didn't know how. And she… She didn't know how to change anyone back." Dean said, his face falling. Sam felt a stab of disappointment at the words, but refused to let it show. He didn't need to keep showing weakness.

"We'll figure it out. There's always a way to break a spell. Or, you know, whatever this is."

"Well, let's head back to the house and confront them again. Actually get some answers." Dean said, lowering his hand as a platform for Sam.

"Oh yeah, the two of us?" He said, stepping on, the trepidation getting less and less the more he did it.

"Yeah, I don't think it's a good idea for me to leave you alone, not after what happened." Sam shook his head.

"Nah, I'd rather not. I'd rather help with the hunt. Just give me a saltshaker and I'll do what I can!" He said. Dean smirked.

"Yeah right, pint-sized. I think even a saltshaker would be too much for you to handle. You still have your knife, right?"

"Yeah, silver but no iron." Sam said, wiping the blood off the little pocketknife before putting it back in his damp jeans pocket.

"Hopefully you don't need it. We should go talk to the girl, get her to give us the cup, and then… I'll think of something. Find the remains somehow. I wonder if that Ethel bitch has a way to talk to the girl."

"Sure, ok. I'll be holding my breath."

"Hey, watch the sass. Who's on whose hand here?" Sam rolled his eyes. The adrenaline from his fight with the cat had finally worn off, and the easy camaraderie he fell into with his brother helped relax him further.

Dean moved his hand up to his pocket. "Here, how about you stay here for the time being. I'll let you out if I can." He said, holding it open with his other hand. Sam sighed, not wanting to subject himself to the warm, dark pocket again, but he definitely didn't want to be left alone and out of Dean's reach again.

He jumped in, letting out a quiet 'oof' as he hit the fabric at the bottom. He straightened and gave Dean a thumbs up. Dean's fingers receded and the pocket closed, only a moment of stillness before he started walking. Before he got too far, Dean's cellphone began to ring. He pulled the phone out and looked at the screen – Bobby.

"Bobby, tell me you've got some good news."

"Well, I've got some good and some bad. I've been looking into that woman, Ethel Burbank? Turns out she's been cremated. You're gonna have to find some other remains."

"Dammit, Bobby. That's not good news at all."

"Well, hold your horses, boy. It's not all hopeless. Her last husband was really into metalworking. Apparently, he liked to incorporate animal bone into his work. He was most known for making dishes, plates and stuff."

"And teacups." Dean said, the wheels in his mind turning.

"It was hard to find, but it looks like he made one set after Ethel died…And he wouldn't say where he got the bone from."

"So we're somehow dealing with a ghost and a cursed object. In the same damn thing. A cursed ghost. A haunted curse?" Sam said.

"Damn. So… Looks like finding that cup just became priority number one. Good thing we have an idea of who her next victim is." Dean said, ending the call. Bobby wasn't one to waste time during hunts either, he wouldn't be offended. "Alright Sammy, should we head on back?"

"Y-yeah, sure." Sam called back up. In truth, he wasn't sure if he was ready for another confrontation, but he was as eager as anyone else to get back to his usual size. Dean's stomach rumbled, sending the noise through Sam's entire body. He shivered. "Actually, mind if we get some food first?" He called up, sending an elbow into his brother's chest.

"Have you ever known me to turn down food?" Dean asked, and Sam heard the fact that he was smiling.

"Ha, no." Sam said, wincing in pain. Sitting in the pocket was only aggravating the bruises and scratches he was still nursing. He hoped that this would all end soon.

Dean sat in the unfortunately named 'Happy Dayz Diner', leaning back in his chair and waiting for his order. He glanced over to the napkin holder, where Sam was perched, his legs dangling over the side. Dean had propped a menu up to hide his miniature brother, but he couldn't stop himself from jumping every time he heard someone walk near his table.

"Do you have to be out here?" Dean growled, glaring at a couple who walked past his table. He'd tried to choose a corner table, out of the way of most of the people, but for some reason they decided this corner of the diner was the place to be.

"Listen, your pocket is stuffy as hell, and I'm hungry too!" Sam said, motioning towards his injured arms and torso. "Plus, these need a chance to breathe. You know that."

"Yeah, but… If anyone sees you…" Dean said, his voice low. His eyes darted around the restaurant, keeping watch for anyone looking in his direction. He couldn't stop bounding his knee with anxiety as he worried about Sam.

"They won't. I'll be fine, don't worry." Sam's nonchalance was a bit forced, but he couldn't have stayed in Dean's pocket anymore, as much as he wanted to be away from prying eyes. The bruises on his chest were beginning to ache, and the stinging from the multiple lacerations made curling up in Dean's pocket something he could barely tolerate. He didn't think he could handle doing it for an hour while Dean ate.

Still, he kept his eyes open and focused on the people moving around him, like monoliths in the massive diner interior. He'd begun to get used to seeing his brother move his massive limbs impossibly fast, but he also knew that he was slowing and steadying his movements for Sam's sake. The people here in the diner were not, and he couldn't stop his heart from fluttering as he watched the people around him move so quickly.

If someone were to trip and fall on the table, he'd likely be crushed. He swallowed and dragged his thoughts back to the menu in front of him. All of it was standard diner food. All of it would be so much bigger than him at this point.

"Bacon cheeseburger?" A female voice echoed above him, startling them both. The nametag on her apron said Denise. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin, turning away to cover his face while Dean slammed the menu over top of the napkin holder where Sam was sitting, hiding him from sight. In his hurry, he knocked over his water glass with his elbow, spilling water and ice all over the table.

"Shit!" He hissed, standing as the water started pouring onto his jeans. He jerked his hand away, causing the menu to fall onto the table. Immediately, he moved his hands over to the napkin holder to cover his brother, but Sam wasn't there. His eyes wide, and he paused. He wanted to search the table, find his brother, but the woman was still standing there, looming over them both.

Dean looked up at the poor woman, who was shooting him a look like she thought he might have had a bit too long of a night.

"Uh, and a side of fries. Are you ok? Let me get that." She said, her eyebrow raised. She set the plate down on an empty table behind her and pulled a towel out of her apron.

"No!" Dean said louder than he meant to, making Denise jump. "Uh, I mean, no, it's ok. My fault. Just leave the towel, I'll take care of it." He said, pulling the rag out of her hand. She just stood there, still looking at him.

"Sir, are you sure you're ok?" She asked, her look morphing into one of concern.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine. I just had a long night. Fighting with my girlfriend last night and you know…" He trailed off, shooting the waitress an awkward smile. She returned the smile, but her brow was still knitted. She tucked a strand of her curly blonde hair behind her ear.

"Ah, sure. Just let me know if you need anything." She said, finally turning away. Dean took a breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. That was too close. He hadn't even heard her come up, and in the resulting chaos, he'd somehow lost track of Sam.

"Sam?" He whispered, carefully lifting up the menu from its resting place on the table. To his relief, Sam was still there, huddling in the fold of the menu, lying in the growing puddle of ice water. "Damnit, Sam, I'm sorry." Dean said, reaching for his brother. He curled his fingers around him, gently, and lifted him back over to the side of the table near the wall. Quickly, Dean mopped up the ice water, brushing the ice cubes onto the floor.

"Holy shit." Sam said, once he'd managed to control his shaking limbs. One minute he'd been sitting on the napkin holder, the next he'd been casually brushed onto the table by a laminated menu, sitting motionless in a puddle of ice water. It had only been a matter of seconds, and he'd been knocked so easily onto the table.

He knew he was small. The last day and a half had done nothing but prove it to him over and over. But as he had been laying, curled up in a puddle under a menu, listening to two giants overhead, he really started to feel insignificant.

"Hey, are you ok?" Dean said as he finished tidying up the table. Sam waved up, wanting a moment to breathe. He was still shivering. He figured that since he was smaller, he was having more trouble retaining body heat, but being soaked in spilled ice water was making him shiver uncontrollably. Add in the fact everything that had just happened…

"I'm fine!" He called up, trying to steady his voice so he didn't worry his brother. "J-just a little cold." Dean's giant face contorted with guilt.

"Aw, shit, man, I didn't even think about that." He pulled a napkin from the dispenser and set it over Sam like a blanket. "Here, dry off." Sam watched, shivering, as Dean plucked a napkin from the dispenser he'd just been sitting on and dropped it over him like a towel.

He gripped the thin paper. At this size, it felt like a thick cotton blanket. He used it to soak up the water that still clung to him before wrapping himself in it for a minute to try and warm up.

"Here, let me help." Dean said, moving his hand gently into Sam's space. He carefully cupped his hand around Sam's side, hoping the heat from his hand would help warm him up without having to fully hold him. He placed the bottom edge of his hand up against Sam's body, letting his fingers curl over him like a canopy.

Sam wanted to shy back from Dean's hand, but truth be told, he was really appreciating the warmth that radiated from those massive fingers. They stayed like that for a moment and Sam finally began to relax.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry." Denise was back, and Dean slammed his hand over Sam, adrenaline coursing through him like white-hot lava. He looked up to see her holding his food. "I totally forgot to give this to you." She set the plate down on the table and gave him another look.

"Uhh, thanks." He said, trying to smile up at her in a casual manner. He must look insane from her perspective. "Don't worry about it."

"Let me know if you need anything." She said, reaching over and grabbing the wet rag off the table. "I'll get that out of your way for you." Dean nodded, wishing she would just go away. She was pretty, and if he wasn't trying to hide his mouse-sized brother he might have been interested. She finally left, and Dean lifted his hand. Sam had only curled a little further, but he'd had enough room to move around.

"You ok?" He asked, pulling his plate over to him. Sam nodded. He was really beginning to think that being out of the pocket was a mistake. His stomach growled, and he got to his feet, still a little shaky from the last few minutes. Luckly, the warmth from Dean's hand had stopped the shivering and helped his clothes begin to dry.

"Yeah, I'm good. Hungry though." He said, nabbing one of the French fries off the plate. It was a short one, but still about the length of his arm. He didn't even want to try with the burger, which stood about as high as he did and was the size of a truck. He nibbled at it, his stomach aching for food. He still had to fight to eat as he watched Dean devour the burger above his head.

Dean was hard to watch eat at the best of times, but when he was small enough to fit in his mouth… He looked away, continuing to nibble on the fry as he considered the details of the case.

"Hey, Dean?" He called up, a strange detail from his conversation with the men in the toybox finally coming back to the forefront of his mind. Dean set down the remainder of the burger, more missing that Sam could have thought possible in this amount of time.

"What, remember something?"

"Yeah, I just… right before you opened the top of the box, one of the men in there said something strange." He said, setting down the fry, only about half eaten. Dean picked it up.

"You gonna finish this?" He asked, tossing it into his mouth. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well, not anymore." He shot back, but he was completely full. "Anyway. I brought up that we were going to stop Lily from doing this again, and one of them said that it wasn't her that did this."

"Not Lily? But she was the one who did this to you."

"Yeah, she was the one who did this to me. But it might not have been her who did this to everyone else. I think there's more going on here than we thought. I mean, you did the salt test and found out that Lily's not possessed. But somehow, she has this magic cup made of a weird old man-hating ghost's remains? I mean, she knew exactly what it did. Someone had to tell her, right?"

"I mean, sure, that's true." Dean said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "We don't even know how a little girl got her hands on that shrinky-dinky teacup. I wonder if that woman is in on it somehow."

"Ella? Did she seem off to you when you talked to her?" Sam asked. He'd never actually spoken to the woman, other than to introduce himself in the beginning. Dean shrugged.

"I mean, she seemed distraught. She didn't want to believe her husband was really gone. But when I was leaving…"

"What, did she say something?"

"No, she didn't say anything. She just looked at me. And something was off with her expression." Dean said, trying to remember the details of their interaction despite all the excitement that had transpired since. "And Lily kept trying to tell me that someone else gave her the cup and was telling her to use it."

"Shit. I wonder if Ella does have something to do with it."

"Well, we were going back anyway. Maybe we can do a little test, see if we can figure out if she actually did all this."

"You need to be careful, Dean." Sam said, sitting up and looking at his brother in the eye.

"Me, why?"

"Because she's got six of us, right? And we know she's looking for the seventh. She's definitely got her eye on you. And we still don't know how the hell she's doing this. We can't risk you getting shrunk down too." Sam said, folding his arms. Dean sighed.

"I mean, you're right, I know. But what the hell am I supposed to do? I mean, obviously I won't touch any weird antique cups."

"Yeah, that's an obvious first step. But I mean, we have to be careful that she doesn't trick you or something. I don't know, maybe she could throw it at you. Lily handed it to me when I didn't know what it was, but we don't know anything about how the other guys managed to get shrunk down."

"Alright, fine. We'll head back, and I'll make sure to be real careful. I won't touch anything that looks spooky, old or cup-shaped." Dean said, raising his hand in a boy scout salute. Sam shot him a little bitch-face.

"You know, I almost believe you." He quipped, then saw movement behind his brother. He dashed around the backside of the napkin holder, hidden from view as the waitress stepped back to their table.

"Here's the check for you. Go ahead and pay up at the register whenever you're ready." She didn't meet his eyes this time, even though Dean had barely freaked out this time. Watching Sam scurry out of sight had prepared him, and he hadn't had to worry about concealing his brother this time. Dean rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing his wallet off the table.

"Wait here while I pay the check." He said, shooting a goofy smile at Sam.

"Yeah, as if I was going anywhere." Sam shot back, flipping Dean off. Dean smirked, then grabbed the little slip of paper to run up to the register.

Sam relaxed for a moment, still between the napkin holder and the wall. It felt better than he'd anticipated, having a moment alone and away from giant eyes always looking at him, away from hands that could snatch him up in seconds.

He really hated feeling this powerless. Despite have fought countless witches, monsters, and demons, Sam had been used to having power, even if just by his stature. Now he was reliant on his brother for everything and could hardly even protect himself from a simple house-pet.

He shivered, missing Dean's body heat. He couldn't wait to get back to the house and confront this stupid ghost so he could regain the height he'd lost.

Footsteps pounded near the table, and he peered out from his seat behind the napkin holder.

"About time, De-" He cut off as he realized, belatedly, that he wasn't looking into his giant brother's green eyes. The pair he was looking at were soft and brown and female. He froze, panic coursing through his veins. He considered running, hiding, maybe they hadn't seen him yet.

He should have known he wasn't that lucky. There was a stranger above him, and there was no denying the fact that she'd seen him.

Enter Denise, a local waitress who's always a little stressed. Too bad these boys are a comedy of errors whenever they're out in public together!