Goodnight, Moon: Chapter Three
19 April 2008 06:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonfly11Dean snorted, but Bobby gave him a steady look. “Oh, come on! You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? Isn’t that supposed to be in Florida, anyway?”
“Believe what you want, Dean, but you’re once taller brother is now looking up at you from a three foot frame.”
“Three and a half,” Sam piped in matter-of-factly, lifting his chin and crossing his arms. He had checked.
Dean just stared dumbfounded. “The Fountain of Youth? The Fountain of Youth?” he repeated incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“But why didn’t my mind revert too?” Sam asked, ignoring his brother.
“I’m not saying this is what changed you. I’m suggesting that it’s possible the hobyah channeled its power through it.”
“Can it really do that, Bobby?” Sam asked, huge eyes full of both wisdom and youth peering up at him from under unruly bangs.
The older man shrugged. “I really have no idea, kiddo, but, I’ve seen crazier things.” Eyes narrowing, he studied Sam closer. “And I’m lookin’ at one of ‘em right now.”
~*~*~*~
The next thing Sam knew Dean was shaking him awake. He must have fallen asleep reading on the couch.
“Bobby’s out trying to get more info on the mountain and I need to run and get you some cold meds.”
Sam blinked blearily up at him, “Ooookay, couldn’t you have just left me a note or something?”
“Maybe,” Dean conceded, “if I were crazy enough to leave you here by yourself.”
Oh. That’s right. Sam pinched the bridge of his little nose between his thumb and index finger. God his head hurt. He just wanted to go back to sleep. “What if I promise not to put a knife in the toaster?”
“I’d consider it, but Bobby’s all out of Mr. YUCK stickers.”
Sam groaned, “I hate you,” but sat up, pushing off the covers someone must have thrown over him. He sniffled and his nose made that annoying squeaky sound again. Damnit.
Dean frowned when he heard it, but walked away. “Well, hate me in the car. I’m starved. Let’s go.”
~*~*~*~
To Sam’s surprise, it was going on seven o’clock. His four hour nap did nothing to make him feel better, though. In fact, he felt worse. He was definitely coming down with something. Great.
Though the air and sun were warm on his skin, Sam shivered as he stepped outside and Dean didn’t miss it. “Cold?”
“Yeah,” he surprised himself by admitting.
“I think I got you a mini-hoodie, didn’t I?”
Sam shrugged. He couldn’t remember, and Dean was already heading back inside to check anyway. He sighed. This was really happening. He really was truly…a child. Looking down the length of his new body, he made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl. They really didn’t have time for this shiii...
Stiffening, Sam sensed something close. Immediately, he reached for the gun…that wasn’t there, and rolled his eyes at the image of a 9mil tucked in his Lightning McQueen waistband. Slowly turning empty handed, his already huge hazel eyes widened when they landed on the beast. He’s been hunting over half his life, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened to him next.
In a flash of teeth and hot breath, he was pinned to the ground. Heart hammering in his chest, Sam looked up into huge black eyes and instantly paled. It was at least three times bigger than him. He didn’t have a chance.
As it went to strike again, Sam squeezed his eyes tightly shut… and yelped when it dug its gigantic wet nose into his side. Squirming, Sam squeaked in surprise under the attack. The Rotweiler/Mastiff mix was mercilessly tickling him with her snout—somehow knowing exactly where his most sensitive spots were.
“Deeeeean!” Sam cried, squealed…whatever, “Deaaaan!” He’d never get out of this on his own. Not that it mattered, because he was never gonna live it down anyway.
Storming outside at his brother’s calls, Dean relaxed at the sight, lowering his weapon. “Looks like Lazarus found the new squeaky toy,” he sauntered over with a shit-eating grin, tucking the gun back in his waistband.
“Get it,” giggle, “off of,” squeak, “me!” Sam demanded as best he could.
“Oooone sec,” Set to camera, Dean held his cell phone up, “lemme…”
“Dean!”
“Alright, alright,” he snapped it shut. “Come on, Kujo, snack times over,” Dean pulled the dog off, but not before it got a few good licks down the entire length of Sam’s cheek.
Dean tried to keep a straight face as his little brother lay spent, panting on the ground, limbs spread every which way. “You okay?”
“I feel…” Sam finally managed breathlessly after a long moment, “like I’ve just been taken through a drool-powered car wash—without the car…or the objective of clean.”
“Ew.”
Sam looked down at his “Big Kid under Construction” tee-shirt. It was covered in drool and dirt…and doggy snot.
“Dude, you are so not getting in my car like that.”
Sam plopped his head back onto the ground, still breathing heavily from the…attack. He’s battled demons, witches and evil spirits galore, but he was…
Dean snickered, disappearing back into the house to get Sam another shirt. “Taken out by Lassie.”
~*~*~*~
Samuel Winchester, ex-college student and current demon hunter, in a four-year-old’s body, hopped out of the Impala and tried to close the passenger side door. After nearly bursting a vein straining, using all of his body weight, not to mention leverage from the curb, he finally succeeded.
Breathless, he glared at the door. Heavy-ass piece of…
“Sammy? She only talks to me, bro,” his brother misinterpreted his staring.
Rolling his eyes, Sam turned, and squinting into the setting sun stepped onto the sidewalk with “Grandma’s love bug” displayed across his chest complete with little hearts. If it had a teddy bear on it, it would have been stuffed down his brother’s throat. He zipped his hoodie up to cover it. “Finding Nemo” was the lesser of two evils in his opinion.
He’d be salting and burning all of his little clothes once this was over.
“What are you hungry for?”
“Nothing really.”
“You have to eat something, Sammy. You’re a growing boy.”
“Jerk.”
“Language, Samuel,” Dean chided, subconsciously herding his little brother against his side as shoppers crowded the sidewalk. There was some sort of town-wide sale going on and there were a lot more people crowding the street than usual.
Sam felt like he was walking against a herd of elephants. They just plowed past him at a high rate of speed that was beginning to make him lightheaded. He was sure to be trampled.
Sure enough, one second he was standing and the next he was on the ground and Dean was calling someone a jackass. Hands under his armpits, he was brought back to his feet at a dizzying speed.
“Sorry, I didn’t seem him there,” said a man apologetically.
Sam closed his eyes, humiliated. God, it sucked being small.
“You okay?”
Opening them, he looked up at his slightly agitated, always worried brother. “If I stomp my foot right now, will you promise not to judge me?”
Dean snorted, straightening back up. “Come on, Squeaks,” he lightly cupped the back of Sam’s head and Sam hovered even closer to his leg as they continued down the sidewalk, too preoccupied with not getting run over to notice the new nickname…or the fact that Dean was guiding him…like the small child he was.
~*~*~*~
“Do we have to eat here?” Sam asked—borderline whined, taking fistfuls of the seat’s vinyl and hauling himself up into a booth. Dean had already taken his seat, knowing his help would have been refused anyway. “Can’t we take it back to Bobby’s?” Sam hated being out in public like this. He felt too vulnerable. And, though he’d never admit it—a bit intimidated. You’re twenty-four-years old, Sam, he reminded himself.
“No, because once we get back to Bobby’s you’re going to bury your nose in a book again and conveniently forget to eat.”
“Dean,” Sam said, barely keeping the impatience out of his voice, “I’m allowed to forget to eat. I’m an adult, remember?”
Dean just looked at him, all three and a half feet of him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means,” he said, then turned to flag down a waitress.
Sam would have kicked him under the table…if he could reach.
~*~*~*~
Humiliation. That was the current undefeated heavyweight champ of his life as of… thirteen…God, only thirteen? hours ago. After paying for their meals, to Dean’s undisguised amusement, the older waitress had handed him a lollipop and given his butt a quick pinch with a loud boop. Stunned, Sam had wordlessly turned to walk away with the candy. She practically chased him out of the damn building then, making weird noises and grabby fingers the entire way to the door.
He was forced to go for the shins again when Dean offered to go back inside to get her number for him.
His brother was enjoying this way too much.
The screeching of tires and a deafening horn and Sam found himself violently flying backwards through the air and tucked against Dean’s side. Walking out of the diner, he couldn’t see over the parked cars, and being distracted, nearly got hit by a moving one.
He sighed. His second childhood was turning out to be just as traumatizing as the first. Held against his annoyingly bigger and stronger brother’s side, long brown bangs concealed the embarrassment in Sam’s eyes. “Heh”
“Yeah, heh,” Dean mocked angrily, “I’ll remember that next time when I’m scrapping your body off a car’s grill.” He loosened his grip on Sam a little and now the boy dangled from a single arm looped around his waist.
Sam deflated, boneless, tired and fed-up, “Are you gonna put me down?”
“Let’s just get across the street first,” Dean said, waiting for the cars to pass.
Oh, hell no. “Dean, put. me. down,” Sam grated through clenched teeth. He was tempted to start kicking his feet…but then he’d really look like a four-year-old.
This time his brother acted like he didn’t even hear him.
Sam let his head drop. Momentarily defeated he just hung there like a wet noodle. He felt like such a helpless ass. There was no way Dean was going to put him down now. Not when he was in big brother mode. The only thing… An evil grin met Sam’s lips. “I will puke in your car, man.”
Dean stiffened…then dropped him like a sack of potatoes—making sure, at least, that he landed on his feet. “Jerk,” Sam huffed, straightening.
“Wee-bitch.”
~*~*~*~
After getting his cold meds—and wasn’t that a fun experience, they were finally headed back to the car. Walking across the artificially lighted street, Sam’s Thrift sneakers were just reaching the sidewalk when he suddenly found himself in Dean’s arms again.
“Damnit, Dean,” he cursed. “We’re on the sidewalk. The sidewalk! Put me down!” he squirmed.
“Keep your mouth shut and I’ll give you five bucks,” Dean whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Brow furrowed, Sam looked up...and rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Sam,”
“NO!” he pushed with all his might against his brother’s chest. He was going home. His McQueen’d ass was going home, home, home, home, home.
“Come on, Sammy, she might know somethin’.” Dean didn’t seem to have a problem at all hanging on to the squirming four-year-old.
Bastard.
She was almost to them and though Sam knew Dean wasn’t going to ask her about a mountain that was an hour away, he also knew his brother would make his life a living hell if he didn’t cooperate. He stopped struggling. “Make it twenty, or I start screaming now.”
“Extortionist.”
“Look whose talkin’”
“Hi!” Dean put on the insta-smile, adjusting Sam in his arms. Already bored, Sam turned to look over his brother’s shoulder. God he was tired. And his headache was getting worse. He just wished the day would end already. He knew he could tell Dean how sick he was really feeling and they’d be out of there before Sam could blink, but he figured he’d give his brother this one. After all, if Sam couldn’t…
If he couldn’t…
Sam forced the thought way. He would save his brother. No matter how small he was.
Before he knew it though, without meaning to, he slowly started to melt into said brother’s warm arms, his head coming to rest in the crook of Dean’s neck. When he felt the woman, who introduced herself as Emma, lay her hand against his forehead, he lethargically turned and propped his chin on Dean’s shoulder.
“He has a fever,” the woman said, and he felt Dean’s arms tighten around him just a little more. Sam knew he was done flirting.
“Yeah, the poor kid has a darn head cold, not to mention some serious diarrhea.” Dean jerked and bit his lip to hold back a yelp when Sam sunk his teeth into his shoulder. “I’d better get him home.”
“You take care of him,” she said, coming around and lightly pinching Sam’s cheek before she left. Sam rolled his eyes. Damn his pinch-able cheeks.
Lightly squeezing him, Dean shrugged the shoulder Sam was using as a pillow “Sammy?”
Sam could hear the worry and guilt in his voice. After all, he was still in his arms, not demanding to be put down the moment Dean’s after-dinner mint sauntered off.
He wanted to get down. He did. He felt ridiculous. But he was also feeling miserable. And Dean’s warmth?... felt good…and safe. After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed away and Dean let him gently slide down his body. “You okay?”
“Just tired,” he answered automatically, shivering from the lack of body heat. He relented when Dean gave him a look. “And I have a headache.”
With a frown, “Come on, little man let’s get you back to Bobby’s,” Dean shuffled him towards the car.
It was the best idea Sam had heard all day.
~*~*~*~
Sam had fallen asleep not five minutes into the drive and Dean’s eyes shifted between the darkened road and his brother. He couldn’t help but wonder what their dad would do right now if he were still alive. Probably shit a brick, he thought with a grin.
Sam would probably already be back to his original and unfair size actually. Or maybe not. Dean was realizing more and more lately that their father hadn’t always had the right answers after all.
Still…he ached to have him back. He ached and missed the irrational feeling of safety when he was near. He also missed and longed for that second string of defense when it came to protecting his brother. …because Dean was first string, of course. He always had been. He always…
Startled by his ringing cell phone, Dean cursed. Reaching in his pocket for it, “Yeah,” he answered gruffly.
“How’s the runt?”
“Tiny and tired.” He glanced to the right of him. “You find anything?”
“Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it.”
“We’ll be there in five.”
~*~*~*~
“It was a spell that changed Sam?”
“Yup and a powerful one at that,” Bobby said, watching as said boy wearily climbed into the kitchen chair. It didn’t look like the nap he’d taken in the car had done him much good.
“Soooo, not the Fountain of Youth then?” Dean asked. “The legend was wrong?”
Bobby cocked his head to the side. “Depends on how you look at it.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, right? We’ll find a counter-spell and poof, sasquatch.”
“This ain’t Charmed, Dean. You can’t just mix a bunch of spells together and throw a little fairy dust on the boy. Not with this. There are actually two spells we have to find. One to figure out the exact components Sam will specifically need to be turned, and the other to hopefully change him back. And then there’s still the little problem of finding someone actually powerful enough to perform it.”
“Oh.”
“And that’s assuming it can be reversed. From what I’m gathering…” Bobby lowered his head, shaking it. The worry he’d been trying to keep at bay, away from the boys was taking a one-way ticket to the surface. “You boys can sure pick ‘em, that’s for sure,” he said bleakly.
“Bobby, what?”
“From what I’m gathering, these hobyah of yours used to be human. And they weren’t exactly upstanding citizens either if you get my drift.” At Dean’s questioning look he continued, “Warlocks. And I’m not talkin’ your Wiccan variety either. My guess is somethin’ went wrong a crap load of years ago. I dunno, maybe they got what was comin’ to them or something.”
“Oookay,” Dean said slowly, “so why the, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids?”
Bobby’s eyes turned to Sam…who was lookin’ like a stiff wind could knock him over. “This thing wasn’t lookin’ to feed off meat when it changed Sam into a kid, Dean,” he said grimly, looking back up into narrowed eyes. “He was fixin’ to feed off your brother’s innocence.”
~*~*~*~
Through half lidded eyes, Sam just looked back and forth between the two. He couldn’t seem to concentrate, or summon up enough energy to even care right now. He was just so tired. And his head…Wordlessly, he turned and slid out of his seat.
“Sammy?”
Despite his brother’s worried calls, he didn’t stop until he was curled up in bed.
“Sam?” The mattress dipped under Dean’s weight.
“I’m fine,” was Sam’s automated, unconvincing reply.
“We’ll fix this, okay,” was Dean’s automated, unconvincing reply as he handed Sam a little plastic cup of cold medicine.
Wordlessly swallowing it, Sam handed it back and turned on his side away from Dean. He was the one supposed to be telling his brother that.
~*~*~*~
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Dean then let it drop in his lap. “So, what now?” he asked softly, despairingly—eyes never leaving his brother as Bobby leaned in the doorway.
“We figure out how to change him back,” the older man replied.
Dean snorted, “If only it were that easy, right?” Watching his little brother sleep, so vulnerable, so little and littler still when curled into his barely four foot frame, Dean licked his bottom lip, “Bobby…” he started thickly, only to be cut off.
“Get some sleep, son. It’s been a hell of a day for you too.”
~*~*~*~
Swinging his legs from the chair he sat on, Sam ate his Fruit Loops.
“You look like you’re feelin’ better this morning,” Dean said, coming into the kitchen, which was bathed in morning sunlight and blinding the hell out of him. He had managed to get some rest, but ended up spending most of the night watching his brother sleep and looking for the spells they needed.
Sam still had that squeaky quality to his breathing, but appeared to be a lot more alert than the previous day. Dean was trying hard not to show his disappointment that yesterday wasn’t just some horribly fudged up dream in the first place.
Sam merely nodded at his observation, munching on his cereal contently, swinging his legs back and forth. Something was off, though. Something had activated Dean’s radar. Looking at the scene more closely as he poured his own bowl of cereal—why the hell not, might as well treat himself— Dean noticed that there weren’t any books on the table…or, for that matter, a laptop. Dean couldn’t remember a time Sam hadn’t done research while eating—and considering what was on the line…
He was about to ask what gives when his smaller half spoke for the first time that morning. “Where’s dad?”
Two words. Two innocently asked words had Dean’s heart stuttering in his chest. He nearly dropped the milk he had just picked up. “What?”
Unaware of his brother’s distress, the little boy pushed a fruit loop back onto his spoon when it came too close to falling off. “He said he’d be back last night. Where’d he go?” Swing. Swing. Swing.
Just as Dean was about to start really freaking out, something seemed to click. Sam’s legs stopped swinging with the abandonment of youth and the twenty-four-year-old looked up at him through a four-year-old’s eyes again, brows immediately furrowing, “Dean? You alright, man?”
“Am I…?” With a look of undisguised fear and disbelief, Dean numbly lowered himself into the chair beside his brother. “Sam, you just asked me where dad was.”
“Believe what you want, Dean, but you’re once taller brother is now looking up at you from a three foot frame.”
“Three and a half,” Sam piped in matter-of-factly, lifting his chin and crossing his arms. He had checked.
Dean just stared dumbfounded. “The Fountain of Youth? The Fountain of Youth?” he repeated incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“But why didn’t my mind revert too?” Sam asked, ignoring his brother.
“I’m not saying this is what changed you. I’m suggesting that it’s possible the hobyah channeled its power through it.”
“Can it really do that, Bobby?” Sam asked, huge eyes full of both wisdom and youth peering up at him from under unruly bangs.
The older man shrugged. “I really have no idea, kiddo, but, I’ve seen crazier things.” Eyes narrowing, he studied Sam closer. “And I’m lookin’ at one of ‘em right now.”
~*~*~*~
The next thing Sam knew Dean was shaking him awake. He must have fallen asleep reading on the couch.
“Bobby’s out trying to get more info on the mountain and I need to run and get you some cold meds.”
Sam blinked blearily up at him, “Ooookay, couldn’t you have just left me a note or something?”
“Maybe,” Dean conceded, “if I were crazy enough to leave you here by yourself.”
Oh. That’s right. Sam pinched the bridge of his little nose between his thumb and index finger. God his head hurt. He just wanted to go back to sleep. “What if I promise not to put a knife in the toaster?”
“I’d consider it, but Bobby’s all out of Mr. YUCK stickers.”
Sam groaned, “I hate you,” but sat up, pushing off the covers someone must have thrown over him. He sniffled and his nose made that annoying squeaky sound again. Damnit.
Dean frowned when he heard it, but walked away. “Well, hate me in the car. I’m starved. Let’s go.”
~*~*~*~
To Sam’s surprise, it was going on seven o’clock. His four hour nap did nothing to make him feel better, though. In fact, he felt worse. He was definitely coming down with something. Great.
Though the air and sun were warm on his skin, Sam shivered as he stepped outside and Dean didn’t miss it. “Cold?”
“Yeah,” he surprised himself by admitting.
“I think I got you a mini-hoodie, didn’t I?”
Sam shrugged. He couldn’t remember, and Dean was already heading back inside to check anyway. He sighed. This was really happening. He really was truly…a child. Looking down the length of his new body, he made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl. They really didn’t have time for this shiii...
Stiffening, Sam sensed something close. Immediately, he reached for the gun…that wasn’t there, and rolled his eyes at the image of a 9mil tucked in his Lightning McQueen waistband. Slowly turning empty handed, his already huge hazel eyes widened when they landed on the beast. He’s been hunting over half his life, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened to him next.
In a flash of teeth and hot breath, he was pinned to the ground. Heart hammering in his chest, Sam looked up into huge black eyes and instantly paled. It was at least three times bigger than him. He didn’t have a chance.
As it went to strike again, Sam squeezed his eyes tightly shut… and yelped when it dug its gigantic wet nose into his side. Squirming, Sam squeaked in surprise under the attack. The Rotweiler/Mastiff mix was mercilessly tickling him with her snout—somehow knowing exactly where his most sensitive spots were.
“Deeeeean!” Sam cried, squealed…whatever, “Deaaaan!” He’d never get out of this on his own. Not that it mattered, because he was never gonna live it down anyway.
Storming outside at his brother’s calls, Dean relaxed at the sight, lowering his weapon. “Looks like Lazarus found the new squeaky toy,” he sauntered over with a shit-eating grin, tucking the gun back in his waistband.
“Get it,” giggle, “off of,” squeak, “me!” Sam demanded as best he could.
“Oooone sec,” Set to camera, Dean held his cell phone up, “lemme…”
“Dean!”
“Alright, alright,” he snapped it shut. “Come on, Kujo, snack times over,” Dean pulled the dog off, but not before it got a few good licks down the entire length of Sam’s cheek.
Dean tried to keep a straight face as his little brother lay spent, panting on the ground, limbs spread every which way. “You okay?”
“I feel…” Sam finally managed breathlessly after a long moment, “like I’ve just been taken through a drool-powered car wash—without the car…or the objective of clean.”
“Ew.”
Sam looked down at his “Big Kid under Construction” tee-shirt. It was covered in drool and dirt…and doggy snot.
“Dude, you are so not getting in my car like that.”
Sam plopped his head back onto the ground, still breathing heavily from the…attack. He’s battled demons, witches and evil spirits galore, but he was…
Dean snickered, disappearing back into the house to get Sam another shirt. “Taken out by Lassie.”
~*~*~*~
Samuel Winchester, ex-college student and current demon hunter, in a four-year-old’s body, hopped out of the Impala and tried to close the passenger side door. After nearly bursting a vein straining, using all of his body weight, not to mention leverage from the curb, he finally succeeded.
Breathless, he glared at the door. Heavy-ass piece of…
“Sammy? She only talks to me, bro,” his brother misinterpreted his staring.
Rolling his eyes, Sam turned, and squinting into the setting sun stepped onto the sidewalk with “Grandma’s love bug” displayed across his chest complete with little hearts. If it had a teddy bear on it, it would have been stuffed down his brother’s throat. He zipped his hoodie up to cover it. “Finding Nemo” was the lesser of two evils in his opinion.
He’d be salting and burning all of his little clothes once this was over.
“What are you hungry for?”
“Nothing really.”
“You have to eat something, Sammy. You’re a growing boy.”
“Jerk.”
“Language, Samuel,” Dean chided, subconsciously herding his little brother against his side as shoppers crowded the sidewalk. There was some sort of town-wide sale going on and there were a lot more people crowding the street than usual.
Sam felt like he was walking against a herd of elephants. They just plowed past him at a high rate of speed that was beginning to make him lightheaded. He was sure to be trampled.
Sure enough, one second he was standing and the next he was on the ground and Dean was calling someone a jackass. Hands under his armpits, he was brought back to his feet at a dizzying speed.
“Sorry, I didn’t seem him there,” said a man apologetically.
Sam closed his eyes, humiliated. God, it sucked being small.
“You okay?”
Opening them, he looked up at his slightly agitated, always worried brother. “If I stomp my foot right now, will you promise not to judge me?”
Dean snorted, straightening back up. “Come on, Squeaks,” he lightly cupped the back of Sam’s head and Sam hovered even closer to his leg as they continued down the sidewalk, too preoccupied with not getting run over to notice the new nickname…or the fact that Dean was guiding him…like the small child he was.
~*~*~*~
“Do we have to eat here?” Sam asked—borderline whined, taking fistfuls of the seat’s vinyl and hauling himself up into a booth. Dean had already taken his seat, knowing his help would have been refused anyway. “Can’t we take it back to Bobby’s?” Sam hated being out in public like this. He felt too vulnerable. And, though he’d never admit it—a bit intimidated. You’re twenty-four-years old, Sam, he reminded himself.
“No, because once we get back to Bobby’s you’re going to bury your nose in a book again and conveniently forget to eat.”
“Dean,” Sam said, barely keeping the impatience out of his voice, “I’m allowed to forget to eat. I’m an adult, remember?”
Dean just looked at him, all three and a half feet of him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means,” he said, then turned to flag down a waitress.
Sam would have kicked him under the table…if he could reach.
~*~*~*~
Humiliation. That was the current undefeated heavyweight champ of his life as of… thirteen…God, only thirteen? hours ago. After paying for their meals, to Dean’s undisguised amusement, the older waitress had handed him a lollipop and given his butt a quick pinch with a loud boop. Stunned, Sam had wordlessly turned to walk away with the candy. She practically chased him out of the damn building then, making weird noises and grabby fingers the entire way to the door.
He was forced to go for the shins again when Dean offered to go back inside to get her number for him.
His brother was enjoying this way too much.
The screeching of tires and a deafening horn and Sam found himself violently flying backwards through the air and tucked against Dean’s side. Walking out of the diner, he couldn’t see over the parked cars, and being distracted, nearly got hit by a moving one.
He sighed. His second childhood was turning out to be just as traumatizing as the first. Held against his annoyingly bigger and stronger brother’s side, long brown bangs concealed the embarrassment in Sam’s eyes. “Heh”
“Yeah, heh,” Dean mocked angrily, “I’ll remember that next time when I’m scrapping your body off a car’s grill.” He loosened his grip on Sam a little and now the boy dangled from a single arm looped around his waist.
Sam deflated, boneless, tired and fed-up, “Are you gonna put me down?”
“Let’s just get across the street first,” Dean said, waiting for the cars to pass.
Oh, hell no. “Dean, put. me. down,” Sam grated through clenched teeth. He was tempted to start kicking his feet…but then he’d really look like a four-year-old.
This time his brother acted like he didn’t even hear him.
Sam let his head drop. Momentarily defeated he just hung there like a wet noodle. He felt like such a helpless ass. There was no way Dean was going to put him down now. Not when he was in big brother mode. The only thing… An evil grin met Sam’s lips. “I will puke in your car, man.”
Dean stiffened…then dropped him like a sack of potatoes—making sure, at least, that he landed on his feet. “Jerk,” Sam huffed, straightening.
“Wee-bitch.”
~*~*~*~
After getting his cold meds—and wasn’t that a fun experience, they were finally headed back to the car. Walking across the artificially lighted street, Sam’s Thrift sneakers were just reaching the sidewalk when he suddenly found himself in Dean’s arms again.
“Damnit, Dean,” he cursed. “We’re on the sidewalk. The sidewalk! Put me down!” he squirmed.
“Keep your mouth shut and I’ll give you five bucks,” Dean whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Brow furrowed, Sam looked up...and rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Sam,”
“NO!” he pushed with all his might against his brother’s chest. He was going home. His McQueen’d ass was going home, home, home, home, home.
“Come on, Sammy, she might know somethin’.” Dean didn’t seem to have a problem at all hanging on to the squirming four-year-old.
Bastard.
She was almost to them and though Sam knew Dean wasn’t going to ask her about a mountain that was an hour away, he also knew his brother would make his life a living hell if he didn’t cooperate. He stopped struggling. “Make it twenty, or I start screaming now.”
“Extortionist.”
“Look whose talkin’”
“Hi!” Dean put on the insta-smile, adjusting Sam in his arms. Already bored, Sam turned to look over his brother’s shoulder. God he was tired. And his headache was getting worse. He just wished the day would end already. He knew he could tell Dean how sick he was really feeling and they’d be out of there before Sam could blink, but he figured he’d give his brother this one. After all, if Sam couldn’t…
If he couldn’t…
Sam forced the thought way. He would save his brother. No matter how small he was.
Before he knew it though, without meaning to, he slowly started to melt into said brother’s warm arms, his head coming to rest in the crook of Dean’s neck. When he felt the woman, who introduced herself as Emma, lay her hand against his forehead, he lethargically turned and propped his chin on Dean’s shoulder.
“He has a fever,” the woman said, and he felt Dean’s arms tighten around him just a little more. Sam knew he was done flirting.
“Yeah, the poor kid has a darn head cold, not to mention some serious diarrhea.” Dean jerked and bit his lip to hold back a yelp when Sam sunk his teeth into his shoulder. “I’d better get him home.”
“You take care of him,” she said, coming around and lightly pinching Sam’s cheek before she left. Sam rolled his eyes. Damn his pinch-able cheeks.
Lightly squeezing him, Dean shrugged the shoulder Sam was using as a pillow “Sammy?”
Sam could hear the worry and guilt in his voice. After all, he was still in his arms, not demanding to be put down the moment Dean’s after-dinner mint sauntered off.
He wanted to get down. He did. He felt ridiculous. But he was also feeling miserable. And Dean’s warmth?... felt good…and safe. After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed away and Dean let him gently slide down his body. “You okay?”
“Just tired,” he answered automatically, shivering from the lack of body heat. He relented when Dean gave him a look. “And I have a headache.”
With a frown, “Come on, little man let’s get you back to Bobby’s,” Dean shuffled him towards the car.
It was the best idea Sam had heard all day.
~*~*~*~
Sam had fallen asleep not five minutes into the drive and Dean’s eyes shifted between the darkened road and his brother. He couldn’t help but wonder what their dad would do right now if he were still alive. Probably shit a brick, he thought with a grin.
Sam would probably already be back to his original and unfair size actually. Or maybe not. Dean was realizing more and more lately that their father hadn’t always had the right answers after all.
Still…he ached to have him back. He ached and missed the irrational feeling of safety when he was near. He also missed and longed for that second string of defense when it came to protecting his brother. …because Dean was first string, of course. He always had been. He always…
Startled by his ringing cell phone, Dean cursed. Reaching in his pocket for it, “Yeah,” he answered gruffly.
“How’s the runt?”
“Tiny and tired.” He glanced to the right of him. “You find anything?”
“Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it.”
“We’ll be there in five.”
~*~*~*~
“It was a spell that changed Sam?”
“Yup and a powerful one at that,” Bobby said, watching as said boy wearily climbed into the kitchen chair. It didn’t look like the nap he’d taken in the car had done him much good.
“Soooo, not the Fountain of Youth then?” Dean asked. “The legend was wrong?”
Bobby cocked his head to the side. “Depends on how you look at it.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, right? We’ll find a counter-spell and poof, sasquatch.”
“This ain’t Charmed, Dean. You can’t just mix a bunch of spells together and throw a little fairy dust on the boy. Not with this. There are actually two spells we have to find. One to figure out the exact components Sam will specifically need to be turned, and the other to hopefully change him back. And then there’s still the little problem of finding someone actually powerful enough to perform it.”
“Oh.”
“And that’s assuming it can be reversed. From what I’m gathering…” Bobby lowered his head, shaking it. The worry he’d been trying to keep at bay, away from the boys was taking a one-way ticket to the surface. “You boys can sure pick ‘em, that’s for sure,” he said bleakly.
“Bobby, what?”
“From what I’m gathering, these hobyah of yours used to be human. And they weren’t exactly upstanding citizens either if you get my drift.” At Dean’s questioning look he continued, “Warlocks. And I’m not talkin’ your Wiccan variety either. My guess is somethin’ went wrong a crap load of years ago. I dunno, maybe they got what was comin’ to them or something.”
“Oookay,” Dean said slowly, “so why the, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids?”
Bobby’s eyes turned to Sam…who was lookin’ like a stiff wind could knock him over. “This thing wasn’t lookin’ to feed off meat when it changed Sam into a kid, Dean,” he said grimly, looking back up into narrowed eyes. “He was fixin’ to feed off your brother’s innocence.”
~*~*~*~
Through half lidded eyes, Sam just looked back and forth between the two. He couldn’t seem to concentrate, or summon up enough energy to even care right now. He was just so tired. And his head…Wordlessly, he turned and slid out of his seat.
“Sammy?”
Despite his brother’s worried calls, he didn’t stop until he was curled up in bed.
“Sam?” The mattress dipped under Dean’s weight.
“I’m fine,” was Sam’s automated, unconvincing reply.
“We’ll fix this, okay,” was Dean’s automated, unconvincing reply as he handed Sam a little plastic cup of cold medicine.
Wordlessly swallowing it, Sam handed it back and turned on his side away from Dean. He was the one supposed to be telling his brother that.
~*~*~*~
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Dean then let it drop in his lap. “So, what now?” he asked softly, despairingly—eyes never leaving his brother as Bobby leaned in the doorway.
“We figure out how to change him back,” the older man replied.
Dean snorted, “If only it were that easy, right?” Watching his little brother sleep, so vulnerable, so little and littler still when curled into his barely four foot frame, Dean licked his bottom lip, “Bobby…” he started thickly, only to be cut off.
“Get some sleep, son. It’s been a hell of a day for you too.”
~*~*~*~
Swinging his legs from the chair he sat on, Sam ate his Fruit Loops.
“You look like you’re feelin’ better this morning,” Dean said, coming into the kitchen, which was bathed in morning sunlight and blinding the hell out of him. He had managed to get some rest, but ended up spending most of the night watching his brother sleep and looking for the spells they needed.
Sam still had that squeaky quality to his breathing, but appeared to be a lot more alert than the previous day. Dean was trying hard not to show his disappointment that yesterday wasn’t just some horribly fudged up dream in the first place.
Sam merely nodded at his observation, munching on his cereal contently, swinging his legs back and forth. Something was off, though. Something had activated Dean’s radar. Looking at the scene more closely as he poured his own bowl of cereal—why the hell not, might as well treat himself— Dean noticed that there weren’t any books on the table…or, for that matter, a laptop. Dean couldn’t remember a time Sam hadn’t done research while eating—and considering what was on the line…
He was about to ask what gives when his smaller half spoke for the first time that morning. “Where’s dad?”
Two words. Two innocently asked words had Dean’s heart stuttering in his chest. He nearly dropped the milk he had just picked up. “What?”
Unaware of his brother’s distress, the little boy pushed a fruit loop back onto his spoon when it came too close to falling off. “He said he’d be back last night. Where’d he go?” Swing. Swing. Swing.
Just as Dean was about to start really freaking out, something seemed to click. Sam’s legs stopped swinging with the abandonment of youth and the twenty-four-year-old looked up at him through a four-year-old’s eyes again, brows immediately furrowing, “Dean? You alright, man?”
“Am I…?” With a look of undisguised fear and disbelief, Dean numbly lowered himself into the chair beside his brother. “Sam, you just asked me where dad was.”
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Date: 20 Apr 2008 07:28 pm (UTC)Thank you!