A Brother's Apart fanfic.
Borrower You for a Minute?
The air in the hotel room seemed to shift around Sam as he slowly woke up that morning. A cleaner scent then the usual musty smell of old IKEA wood of the garden variety nightstand that seemed to be a requirement for every hotel room they've stayed in before. A staple that he could rely on no matter what state they passed through on their way from monster hunt 'A' to supernatural event 'B'.
He felt like he was suffering from either a minor head injury or he was somehow drugged up, because everything felt like it was swimming in his head. Thoughts scattering like kids after school. Feeling all kinds of disoriented. Like his limbs were too heavy and his head too light. Sam laid there, eyes still closed and willing himself to remember what he did before going to bed, because what's going on with him now is just weird. Maybe this was jet lag? Hearing the term a few times but never fully explained. Being small enough to fit in a pocket meant that he could be more susceptible to it since his modes of transportation moved faster and farther then he ever could on his own. His human brother acting like a living taxi that hauls him around at a height comparable to small aircraft, were Sam human sized. The Impala was like a rocket that moved horizontally, he knew just doing the calculations would hurt his head even more at the moment, so let it be for now. He simply knew it must be 'really fucking fast'.
Maybe his body is just now catching up to the fact that the speed and height of his daily travel is giving him jet lag? That notion was brushed away the next moment. Jet lag wouldn't still be an issue after a good nights sleep. Add to the fact that he'd been traveling with Dean for awhile now, and it's never made him this disoriented waking up.
He shifted under his blankets and found two instead of his usual one. Frowning slightly at the oddity he squinted at the sheet that half covered his head. Pushing the covers aside and finding that the bed too was different then usual. His own bed had been kind of stiff, but comfortable. It was built for a doll house after all, and fake dolls didn't complain about the lack of proper back support for their plastic butts. More dignified then a tissue box, but, well, come to think of it, he wouldn't say no to one of those in a pinch... But that was beside the point, the bed he found himself on now didn't feel like his. This one actually had a bit of spring to it, testing it out with a slight bounce up and down, fingers pressing into the soft sheet underneath him as well. Nothing about the bed smelled right either. Did Dean replace his with a new doll sized one?
He blearily pushed himself up into a sitting position and stretched and yawned deeply. The dim light barely illuminating the room from off to the side where the books should be. Books that were the only things hiding his makeshift bedroom under the nightstand from the hotel room proper. But now? There were no books. And there was another bed across from him. His old bed? He stared absently at it for a few seconds, squinting at it like it was another of Dean's pranks on him, or if the one he's on now is the new gift, but Dean didn't want to get rid of his old bed for sentimentalism's sake?
A glance around the rest of the room showed that his desk and chair were missing. Replaced by apparently a dolls nightstand, a small table with two chairs on the other, and dresser off to the other side of his space. A thin black box like shape resting on top with a slightly reflective front to it. His eyes still not cooperating with his head well enough to tell much more then basic shapes and colors.
Warning bells were going off in his head as nothing was adding up. He turned is body and attention to the other side of his bed. Intending to leave his nightstand room, going by the source of the light in the space and stared at the curtains there. No books. Curtains. He stood up, swaying slightly, and went towards them. Peeking through the crack in the curtains to see blinding white lights beyond, slowly resolving into apparently, a toy replica of the Impala and other cars. A parking lot. His heart beat a little faster, stepping back from the thing that looked like a window the longer he stared at it with widening eyes. It went from his knees to just above his head level, and wider then his arm reach but not nearly as colossal as windows usually tended to be for his kind.
“No. Nonono... what's going on? Dean?” He muttered and found his voice coming out all wrong as well. Nothing about this morning was making any damned sense! He assumed that for some reason Dean put him in a doll house sized hotel room that was starting to look more like a real freakin' hotel room and not an elaborate prank. To make matters worse, his head still felt like it was going to explode with the pounding his hearts making.
And that heart is really racing now as he hesitantly went to the only thing that wasn't furniture in the room, a duffel bag on the floor in the corner, and stared at it for a few seconds. The bag looked so familiar and it took him a second to realize why. It was Dean's bag but his size. He hesitantly touched the canvas of it, half expecting a shock of some kind. Like making contact with it was going to collapse a singularity or some crap he'd heard from that late night movie. A rift in time and space, if he interacted with it, it would snap all of reality around him. Something from an alternate reality that transported itself to his world. Expecting the worse, it surprised and pleased him immensely to see that reality still existed, even with this thing that belonged to Dean, but Sam's size. As impossible as it was, it was just a regular bag. Sam wondered if he'd have such troublesome thoughts about the other much more supernatural sights this morning if he was at full cognitive capacity.
He shrugged to himself and unzipped it quickly, dumping out all of the things within. Clothes, shaving kit, first aid box, and finally a knife and gun falling out and clattering to the floor loudly. He lifted the knife which was the only thing so far that looked familiar but even that was different. More roughly made. Not like his own that Dean made himself, which was finer crafted. That feeling of unease hitting him a bit more forcefully then the bag did. Bags can be duplicated easier then this knife. He darted to the pillow on the bed he woke up in and threw it to the floor between the beds. There was a knife there, but that wasn't his either. It was Dean's. The pearl handle on it glinting in the dim light coming into the room.
Since waking, nothing in the room belonged to him. It was all Dean's. When will his head stop throbbing long enough to let him figure this crap out?!
“Dean?!!” he shouted the first thing to come to mind when hes in trouble and wants to know what the hell is going on, and heard a slight thump at his feet. Eyes darting down to the small nightstand. “What the....” Sam crouched down a little, peering down at the books that were upright against the opening on the bottom. He strained his ears and heard soft cursing coming from behind the books. He propped up his body with one hand on top of the nightstand and the other went to remove a book. The whole set up scarily familiar. His fingers grazed the book gently, the careworn cover softer then he'd found it before. Nudging it slowly to get it into an easier position to pull out and down to the ground below the bottom shelf. The other book followed and it too was a perfect replica of the book he'd stared at before falling asleep every night. Fingers tracing the slight indents made by the letters that were embossed into the spine and front. Setting it down with trembling hands next to it's mate.
He held his breath and ducked his head down a bit to look inside the nightstand's alcove. He saw an impossibly small shape shrink back from the entrance with jerky, small movements. Followed immediately by a startled yelp as it tripped over something behind its feet, that shocked it into a hastier reaction as it backed up all the way, crawling quickly away from the opening. It reached the near black rear wall of the shelf and screamed.
Sam fell backwards, landing heavily onto his ass and scooted back as well from the shock. “What the fuck?” he shouted again, breaths coming short. No way did he just see that. Hear that. This can't be real. It's not real.
He stayed there for a few minutes. Watching the tiny figure like a hawk to see what it would do. Unable to see into the dark box much at all. Which was also freaky as hell because no matter how pitch black a space was that he looked or resided in, he used to be able to see perfectly fine in it. He'd grown up since the age of 10 in near pitch blackness. And now? A deep bottom shelf of a night stand is giving him trouble??
He could hear muttered curses and small thumps against the thick wood of the nightstand. Like the little thing was testing out the wood to see if it could break through. More curses that sounded more and more upset. It looked like the figure was pressing itself up against the back wall of it, and Sam heard a tiny voice gather up some modicum of courage to shout out at him. Sounding very strained, but determined to get some answers. “What's going on-?” some more slight shuffling sounds like the thing was willing itself to stand its ground. “Why did you steal my face?”
Sam was not expecting that response from the figure, its voice sounding like a man's voice but coming out in a higher strung pitch. Borderline hysterics. “Hey...” he said softer but still pretty loud according to the new flinch from the dark outlined figure. He lowered it even more, “Hey, it's ok little guy. I don't know what you're talking about.” hands going up and out to show there's nothing in them. “I'm not gonna hurt you... unless you're the one that did this?” his voice turning hard after a moment. “Are you responsible for this?” Sam asked, hating how his voice sounded so familiar but different. A lot like Dean's voice actually but the tone and temperament was way off.
“Think again, Godzilla! You are the one that stole my face! You tell me!” the figure shouted back, now holding up possibly the worlds smallest knife going by the tiniest glint of metal in one of it's hands.
“I didn't steal...” Sam's hands went to his own face, rubbing the skin there and moving his fingers through his long hair but finding it wasn't long, it had been cut short and was now slightly spiky. He paused and toyed with the spikes a bit, pulling out a few strands and feeling that they had been attached to his scalp from the minute sting. Examining the light brown hairs. Pulling more strands out. Surely there was a mistake. “Did someone cut my hair when I was asleep?” he muttered to himself. An incredulous laugh escaped him for a second, things were getting just way too weird. “and dye it?”
The small dark figure crept forward slightly at the bewildered expression and tone. He cleared his throat and asked the giant the most important question. “Just please. You can do whatever you want with me, Gigantor. Just tell me that you'll leave my family alone.”
“Yeah. A little dude, was about four inches tall... had this bag with him everywhere.” He lifted up a tiny bag with a three pronged fish hook hanging out of the side. The only thing that came into the light of the room.
Sam's eyes went wide. Before he even thought about what he was doing, he dove forwards, landing on his elbows and knees just outside of the nightstand. The man scrambled backwards, throwing the bag aside as a distraction for his escape but finding the only entrance in and out of the box he was in was now blocked by the giant. Some quiet sounds of distress as it tried in vain to get some distance from his captor. Putting the small bed in-between them.
Sam darted his hand forward, easily snagging the tiny bag in hand and freaking out the little guy even more. Sam lifted it up and turned it side to side, index finger prodding at the delicate clasps of it. Debating if he wanted to force it open. Finding every detail about it accurate, but minuscule. His gaze went from his bag to the figure again. Narrowing dangerously. He heard a few panicked curses and the little guy was backed up all the way to the corner. As far away as it could possibly get.
Sam held up the bag by its little strap, shaking it angrily at the figure. “This. Is mine.”
The guy shouted up in a wavering voice. “It's not! It belongs to my brother! Did you do something to him?” the question gaining some anger behind it. “You can't just claim it as yours! Give it back!” A few pissed steps forward and arm outstretched. Anger temporarily driving back the fear.
“Your brother?” Sam frowned deeper again, hand going back to his own face. Noticing small brown dots on the back of his hand, and rubbing at them. The tiny spots weren't coming off. Freckles. He leaned back quickly, still clutching the bag in hand. The bag was nearly squeezed into destruction but Sam caught himself and shakily put it on top of the nightstand.
He ignored the figure for the moment and got to his feet, dashing to the other room where he saw the edge of a tall mirror there. His gut feeling like several bricks were dropped into it. Squinting into the room was even darker then the main one and reminding himself that he can change that. Looking around the walls and finding a light switch. Fingers grazing by it before turning it on. Shocked he was able to use it. The light flicking on without a problem. Something he would have needed help with before. He turned from the palm sized electrical marvel and saw Dean's image against the wall. A startled expression on his face as Dean stood there.
For a moment thinking that Dean's just as surprised as he is to see that they're the same size, but quickly coming to the conclusion that he didn't mistake a mirror for a window. And, it is not Dean standing behind him in a mirror. That's him. He's in Dean's body. That is as floor length mirror. His hands came up and started tracing his cheeks, nose, eyebrows and nearly poking himself in the eye with his prodding fingers. It can't be real. Has to be some kind of hallucination. A trick.
Despite all of the pieces falling effortlessly into place, he could not accept it. He can not be in Dean's body. This can't be real. He didn't just suddenly...
He caught movement on the floor behind him and darted his gaze back into the main room. The little guy was running full tilt towards the other bed. Fuck. If he's in Dean's body, then it just stands to reason that his older brother could be the one that's running for his life away from him... in his body.
“Dean?” he asked, striding closer and falling to his knees at the edge of the bed, bending down to look at the freaked out man who had stopped for half a second to just breath from the sprint. At seeing his hiding spot being exposed he ran away again with even more determination. Sam's eyes went wide again. “Dean! Stop!”
“Fuck you!” the guy shouted over his shoulder and kept on going.
Sam grunted in frustration. “It's me!” his hand swept forward and brushed against the man's side. It was still too dark, and the man too small, to see many details so he wasn't entirely sure it was his old body. How could he be so freaking tiny? The man was knocked off balance and cried out in renewed panic. Stumbling sideways for a few seconds before catching himself. Arms waving at his sides to keep his tentative balance on the ankle deep loops of carpet fibers. Eating up his feet with every frantic step.
The man cursed some more to himself, breathless but no less desperate for some kind of reserve strength to kick in and help him escape. “Gotta find Sam. Find him. Get him the hell out of this bizarro-world! Man he must be fucking tiny if I'm really this small.”
Sam thought about what this all must be like for his older brother as he watched the man clear the vast distance under the bed. Transfixed on seeing something so small run like that. No wonder Dean was always worried for Sam's safety on the floor! And now, that's most likely Dean even though the guy is too small to make any details out. After all what kind of monster would shape shift into a Little in a human's room?
How scary this all must be to him? Some giant monster wearing his face is trying to capture him. But. Sam simply can't let his brother leave like this. If it is Dean, he doesn't know the first thing about living in the walls but that wont stop him from getting to that opening that Sam found the night before. And if it isn't Dean, then he still needs to catch him anyway for some answers. No way is it coincidence that the weirdness started at same time that this mystery guy shows up. Either case, it's too risky to let him leave. Which, hell, while he's been coming up with some theories and plans, the tiny man is within two feet of that wall opening.
“Damn it!” He came out of his staring trance and jumped over the bed to land on the other side, putting his hands down to cushion his fall and the second his hip and legs hit the floor to help support his body, he thrust both hands forward and slammed down between the man and the wall, cutting off the guy's path as he stumbled to the ground again from the floor's shock wave. One huge hand going to block the wall entrance while the other pushed the guy away from it on instinct. The man tumbled and rolled away from the force of that shove and ducked his head down. Obviously going into defensive position, no doubt expecting to be squashed right after that huge shove.
That act of cowering down halted Sam's next impulse to snatch the guy up in a fist. The fingers were curled and ready to do just that, hovering over the man within inches overhead. The shadow of his hand spread over every one of the guys few inches and then some. Sam recoiled a bit, slowly.
The man shot his look up at his face and panted hard. The little chest heaving, mouth hanging wide open. Face flushed. Long hair fell in front of his eyes and he blinked at that fact. Lifting a hand to push the hair back slowly. Squinting in confusion as the fingers played with the longish brown hair. Then the focus came back to Sam's face who made up a good portion of the man's eyesight. Sam knew that face. Very well. And if he had any doubts before, he knew now. Dean was in his body, and just now realizing the fact that it wasn't the one he was born in.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” Dean shouted, bewildered as his hands gripped the curtain of brown colored bangs in his face, pulling them outwards to see them better. Then his attention went to his clothes, patting down the home made pants and gray shirt. “This isn't mine. What the f-? What?” quick breaths nearing hyperventilating.
His last bit of sanity snapping.