Goodnight, Moon: Chapter Two

[dragonfly11]

“Jeezus H… what’d you two retards do now?” Bobby yelled, only to be shushed by Dean.

“We don’t know exactly what happened, Bobby. That’s why we’re here.”

“What? You’re just rollin’ down the highway playing I Spy, when, poof?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Not exactly, no… listen, can we continue this after I lay him down?” He shifted the boy in his arms. “He’s small, but the kid’s solid.”

Bobby eyed them skeptically. “Are you sure it’s even Sam?”


The younger man looked offended. “Of course I’m sure!”

“Look, I’m just…”


“It’s him, Bobby,” Dean’s tone left little room for argument. “Now where can I lay him?”

Bobby sighed, but started towards the house mumbling something about not owning any damn diapers.

Dean stood staring, mouth gaping at the older man’s back. He was at least four-years-old, not four-months-old, for cryin’ out loud. “For Sammy’s sake, I’m not even going to dignify that with a reply.”

~*~*~*~

“Well, he looks normal… for a four-year-old, anyway,” Bobby observed, watching the boy sleep in his usual spare bed. It dwarfed the once six-foot-four frame now though. “How was he actin’?”

“Like Sam. Adult Sam,” Dean amended, eyes never straying from the boy. “I don’t understand, Bobby. What’s the benefit of….of, of shrinking something and making it smaller if you’re gonna eat it?” He cringed at his own words, but he knew it needed to be asked.

“Well, maybe to eliminate the threat. Sam’s not much of one now, is he?” he said grimly.

“Have you ever heard of a leshii doing this?”

“No, but when the hell does that make a difference?”

Dean cocked his head to the side, Touche’.

Bobby frowned, “He have a fever?”

“Yeah, little one,” Dean confirmed. “You think it’s just his body adjusting?” he asked hopeful. “Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t wake up in the car for me.”

“How the hell should I know? Do you see ‘pediatrician to the paranormal’ anywhere on this flannel?”

Dean saw the sarcasm for what it truly was, though—blinding, heart-wrenching worry. They were responsible for more of those grey hairs than age was.

Mumbling something, Sam curled onto his side towards Dean…then with a gasp, bolted straight up.

“Sam?” Dean edged onto the bed.

Looking down at his hands, his tiny hands, Sam’s shoulders fell. “Fuck.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, half amused, half stunned. Sam rarely used language like that and to see it coming from someone his…size... “Out of the mouths of—”

“Don’t even,” his little brother warned, cutting him off.

‘Cranky’ Dean mouthed silently to Bobby, then crinkled his brow when Sam started to pinch himself. Frowning, Dean pulled the hand away. “Sorry, bro. No funky mushroom dust.” Didn’t he wish though.

Sam took a deep shaky breath, but couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from his hands. The older men watched as he kept flexing them, mesmerized. “Any luck figuring out how to change me back yet?” he asked, trying to put on a strong front. He hadn’t even bothered looking up. Apparently he recognized the weathered, dingy bedspread covering him. He recognized home.

“I don’t know,” Dean needled, “it’s much easier hauling your ass around in its new…eco-friendly package.”

This had Sam looking up. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“And, come on, Bobby,” Dean turned towards their old family friend, “how adorable is he? He’s practically a babe magnet now. Single father raising his kid all alone. Chicks fall all over that shit. I’d be a hero to them. Superdad by day. Batman by night.”

“Dean.” A warning.

“Come on, Sam,” he cajoled. “I’ll pay you in lollipops and candy canes.”

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was calm, but dangerously low as he mustered everything he had to look threatening in his new…body. “I may barely reach your navel now, but I still know how to handle sharp objects. And I will attack at eye level.”

Clearing his throat, Dean smartly stood and distanced himself from his brother while petulantly grumbling something about someone needing another nap.

Shaking his head, Bobby stepped in before fur began to fly. “Sam, do you remember anything strange about the leshii?”

“Other than the fact that it turned me into a child? No.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Killing it. There was this bright flash, then the next thing I knew I was flat on my back with a rather freaked looking Dean hovering over me.”

“Freaked is an understatement.” Bobby heard the older boy mutter from behind him.

“Then the spirits of the leshii’s victims started attacking and Dean hijacked me and ran out of the cave.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe, “You’re welcome.”

Bobby just looked back and forth between the two. “Are you sure this thing didn’t shrink both of your brains? What’s with you two? You’re both actin’ like a bunch of four-year-olds.”

They hung their heads. Truth was they were both worried—and each about the other. It would be harder for Dean to protect Sam this small. And it would be harder for Sam to save Dean if he were a child. And it was a well-known Winchester fact that concern brought out the ass in them.

Shaking his head, Bobby muttered something about ‘a bunch of girls’ and ‘seeing what he could find’ and left the room.

After Bobby’s retreat, Dean turned to Sam and asked boldly, “What’s his problem?”

Sam just grinned sadly, picking at his bedspread. They both knew the answer to that. Bobby wasn’t immune to worry either.

“So uh,” Dean cleared his throat, pushing off the doorframe and walking back towards the bed with his hands in his pockets, “how you feelin’? …other than small,” he hung out an olive branch and his brother took it.

“Alright, I guess,” Sam said with a weary sigh. “A bit hungry actually,” he added thoughtfully then started climbing out of bed…only to suddenly freeze.

“What?”

“Um...and naked.” He still had on his shirt and hoodie which technically covered his whole body, but no pants.

“Oh, uh…how ‘bout I run to the store for the new mini-you while Bobby fixes something to eat?”

“I can fix myself something, Dean,” Sam reminded him distractedly, tugging off the sheet and wrapping it around his tiny waist as he eased out of bed. “I’m not a kid.”

Dean couldn’t help but grin at his little brother’s bashfulness and…littleness.

Sam was about to tell him where he could shove that grin, when he got tangled in the sheet while half on/half off the bed and fell with an embarrassing squeak to the floor.

Biting his lip, Dean peered over the edge of the mattress, “You, ah, you alright there, Sammyboy?”

There was a dangerous pause, then, “Peachy.”

~*~*~*~

There are things one takes for granted being tall. Like being able to turn on the bathroom light without having to stand on your tippy-toes, or being able to wash your hands in the sink without needing to stack ancient, priceless books to do so, or even relieving yourself without fear of falling in and drowning.

A man’s ego can only take so much.

Precariously leaning over the sink while trying to wash his hands, Sam caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and was so startled, fell backwards right off the books and onto the floor. Falling, he had noticed, was becoming a nasty habit with him.

He knew he was small—that he looked four-years-old, but to actually see that image looking back at you…? Restacking the books, Sam scrambled back up them.

Holy shiii…

Numbly, he brought a hand up and placed it against his reflection. Tiny hand to tiny hand.

God…

His hair was still longer, dark brown and shaggy as ever, nearly concealing his hazel eyes—but his eyes… His eyes were different. He just couldn’t figure out how yet.

With one hand still on the mirror, Sam brought the other one up to feel his face. So smooth, so young—not yet touched by puberty or marked by battle. Not yet worn by pain and loss. That was the difference in his eyes he realized then.

Innocence.

Swallowing hard, Sam found himself mourning the boy before him. His entire life, he had always seemed to be reaching for that child, trying to hold onto that innocence.

But…

His fingers started to shake and he tightened them into a small fist. What good was he to Dean like this? How could he save his brother, get him out of the deal he made like this?

Even smaller now, in a world that was lately feeling too big to fight, Sam hung his head. Now what? he grasped the glass, closing his eyes.

Now what?

Head down, hand still pressed tightly against his reflection…Sam reached for the man trapped inside the child.

~*~*~*~

Dean came back to find Sam sitting on the floor in the living room surrounded by books, eating chips and…drinking a beer. Jaw dropping, he just stood in the doorway. He knew Sam was technically old enough to drink, but seeing a four-year-old crack one open was just…wrong. “Sam,” he reproached.

“It’s holy water, Dean,” Sam said, not even looking up from his books.

Letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, Dean threw a bag of clothes at him. “I also got some kid friendly food.” He eyed the chips and …water. “Good thing, too.”

“I’m not a kid, Dean,” said the broken record.

“Yeah, well, your tummy is.”

Walking into the kitchen, Dean could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes. He smiled, his shoulders relaxing slightly for the first time since he left to get supplies—just incase it wasn’t as easy of a fix as they were hoping. He hadn’t wanted to leave Sam…but to be honest…Dean had needed some time to think, to get his mind caught up with current events. Seeing Sam four-years-old again had brought back a lot of memories—of their father, of their innocence—even Dean’s. Because when Sam was that young, Dean thought he could protect him from anything—and be around forever to do so. At that age, fathers were stronger than demons and could save their children from everything.

Even hell.

Clearing his throat and veering off that particularly less than sunshiny road, “Where’s Bobby?” He didn’t like the idea of him leaving Sam alone. His brother may still be a hunter, but whether Sam wanted to admit it or not, he was just a kid now.

“Out back in the shed searching for something,” Sam replied, still not bothering to look up from his books. “Don’t worry. Before he left he gave me strict instructions not to get any smaller.”

Dean nodded, “Good man,” and started unloading the groceries he had picked up.

“Tell me those aren’t Fruity Pebbles.”

“You used to love these when you were a kid,” Dean defended, but held up a hand to forestall the inevitable argument. “I got them just incase your taste buds relapsed along with the rest of your body. You used to be such a picky eater.”

“No. I just got tired of living off of beef jerky and M&Ms.”

“My point exactly.”

Sam snorted. Then carefully standing so not to trip over his baggy clothes, grabbed the bag Dean had thrown at him. “If Sponge Bob is on anything in here, you’d better sleep with your eyes open tonight, brother.”

~*~*~*~

Dean finished unpacking the mini-Sam arsenal and was waiting impatiently for his brother to finish changing. He hadn’t forgotten about his fever and wanted to make sure it had gone down…or he’d be running back to the store. “Sam!” he called for the third time. “What’s taking you so long? You’re worse than a girl!”

When Sam did finally come out of the bedroom, though, he wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. The older brother frowned. Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have only gotten shirts with phrases on them. He couldn’t help it, though. Plus, they were on sale. “Jus’ turn them inside out, Sam.”

“I…” Sam cleared his throat, embarrassed, “I can’t get it buttoned,” he muttered, looking everywhere other than at his brother, lowering his head.

Not following, Dean gave him a once-over. Oh. His eyebrows finally shot up in understanding. No wonder he wouldn’t meet his eyes. “No problemo.” Walking over, he leaned down and snapped the button with one hand. No need to make it awkward, right? It wasn’t the first time Dean has had to button his little brother’s pants for him…course, it had been awhile.

Keeping his head lowered, Sam’s studied the betraying digits. “My fingers…”

Just to be on the safe side, Dean gently took the little hands in his own and turned them over. “They don’t hurt or anything, right? Just—”

“Small,” Sam miserably pulled them out of his much larger grasp and walked back to his pile of books. “Thanks,” he added softly.

Dean nodded, not really knowing what to say. “How’s the fever?” He reached down and felt Sam’s forehead for himself, only to be slapped away. Gone. Good. “Let me know if you start feeling sick or weird…or smaller, okay?”

Sam tugged a huge book onto his lap—huge compared to the size he was now, anyway.

“Sam,”

“Okay.”

Dean started out to look for Bobby, but his brother stopped him. “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah,” he turned back.


“How’d you know what size to get?” The clothes fit perfectly.

Dean grinned, “Hey, this isn’t round two for just you, kiddo.” He turned to leave again, but, “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?” This time he was hit square in the face by a torpedoed pillow.

“That’s for the shirts.”

Well, at least the kid’s aim wasn’t compromised.

~*~*~*~

Bobby came in the front door then, holding, what looked to Dean like some old maps. Reading Sam’s shirt, he shook his head and went straight into the kitchen. “Bunch of idgits.”

Dean smirked and Sam rolled his eyes before following after.

“Any luck?” Dean asked.

“That depends on what you mean by luck.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Have you found out a way to change my brother back into a sasquatch?” he clarified needlessly.

“No.”

“I think I have something.” Sam came waddling in with a book that probably weighed as much as him. Dean caught him around the waist and grabbed it when Sam started to stumble backwards. “Jeezus, Sammy, take it easy,” Dean chastised. “You aren’t the Jolly Green Giant anymore.”

Sam ignored him and climbing onto a chair, stood on it so he could be…almost at eye level. “I don’t think it was a leshii we were hunting after all. I think it was a hobyah.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Like, Lord of the Rings?”

“No, Dean, those are hobbits, and they’re the good guys.”

“Oh! The little guys,” he indicated by placing a hand waist high.

“Yeah,”

Dean grinned wickedly at him. “I guess that makes you a hobbit then,—especially with those big hairy feet, Samwise.”

Sam didn’t miss a beat, “Well, then I guess that would make you an orc, you big, smelly…”

“Nah, I’m more like Aragorn.”

“Boys!” Bobby had been watching the exchange go back and forth and was starting to get dizzy. “Focus.”

“Sorry,” they simultaneously mumbled.

Taking a breath, Sam continued, “The hobyah are actually in the same family as the leshii. Practically brothers actually.”

“Oh, that’s great. A family that stays together eats humans together.” Hello, Benders…

“But,” Sam continued, “the hobyah, so goes the lore anyway, are said to have eaten adults and kidnapped children.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “There were no missing children reported in that area, Sam. Only adults. And that doesn’t explain how, or why you were changed.”

“Yeah, it might actually…sort of, anyway.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Well, are you going to share with the rest of the class?” he asked when it didn’t look like his brother was going to continue anytime soon.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Sam seemed to snap back into himself. “When I first did the research, I found that over the last hundred years or so, about a dozen skeletons have been found in that area—which wouldn’t be surprising to authorities, it’s pretty rough terrain. But get this,” he continued, “I just dug a little deeper and found out that most of those skeletons? …were children. I guess they just figured they wandered away from their parents or something…”

Dean just stared at him. “I’m still not following you.”

“What if,” Bobby chimed in, thinking aloud, “the skeletons were the adults, after all?”

“Exactly,” Sam pointed at him, sitting his down-sized butt on the table. “And, I bet if we searched those caves we’d find more.”

“So…the kids’ remains they found were actually the remains of the grown-ups that went missing,” Dean clarified.

“That’s my guess.”

“Okay, but why,” Dean pressed, “if you’re going to settle down for a few meals only every decade or so, would you trade a bigmac…for chicken nuggets?”

Sam gave him a look. “Nice.” But relented, “I have no idea.”

“Well, I don’t know the why, but I may know the how.” Bobby laid the old hand-drawn maps he’d been holding out onto the table. “That Mountain you boys were in has a legend of its own…”

Chapter Three

Comments

[digitalwave]

This is such a great beginning, sweetie. I love wee!sammy with adult Sam trapped inside. I think that you've really nailed their voices, which is not an easy feat.

I'm really looking forward to where you take it. Thanks so much for sharing it with us. :)

[dragonfly-sg1.livejournal.com]

Yay! Thank you! Glad I seem to be pulling it off so far. Hope you enjoy the next chapter! Some interesting things will be happening.