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John got the hell out of there. He didn’t actually know that Sam was cursed and with them until probably about a half hour into the drive. He thought that the witch had taken his youngest and was gunning for his eldest. His first thought was getting Dean the hell out of that motel and out of her reach.

Dean managed to pull himself together enough to reveal what he had cupped between his hands. Poor Sam was downsized to two and a half inches. They ended up on the side of the road when John was too shocked to keep driving.

With Sam unconscious and no way for them to wake him, they drove to Bobby’s. Dean refused to leave Sam’s side. While John and Bobby were desperately searching for a cure or a curse reversal, he was there with his brother in his hands, watching over him.

When Sam woke up a week later, he and Dean were in their own room at Bobby’s, but his bed was now too big. So Dean kept him on his chest to sleep, where he could make sure Sam was safe the entire time.

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Poor Sam. He’ll have to find a way to let Dean know it’s him. Maybe he can get some of his pencil lead out of the desk and scratch out a message for Dean. It won’t be easy, but mice are crafty little guys. Sam can manage it. Dean will never let him live it down, that’s for sure. And for the next few days he’s got a mouse in his pocket, keeping Sammy safe.

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So I’m on my way to the NJ con this week in Secaucus! If anyone else is coming and wants to look up their friendly Brothers Apart writer, this is what I’ll look like! So, be sure to track me down. This is my first convention ever, and I’m attending on my own and wouldn’t mind a friend or two to talk to. Fourth row back, I think. Gold ticket, and there for all three days. And I’ll be getting a pic with the bros, for sure.

I love to talk stories, gt and supernatural, so if you see me, we can chat about any of the above. Everyone that gives me a chance will get their ears talked off about story ideas. I find that talking and sharing ideas with others helps me develop my own or find inspiration for new stories.

Will anyone else be around?

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Dean groaned as he read over the text. “This is boring,” he grumbled. “We should sneak out and get ice cream.”

Sam scoffed, taking a few steps on Dean’s back. He’d started out perched on Dean’s head so he could read over the assignment, but Dean spent so much of his time grumbling over the work, he was still on the same page five minutes after Sam had finished.

After being this size for a few weeks, he was beginning to find it far more intriguing than frightening. So long as their dad wasn’t yelling at them, of course. Even now, he could feel the muscles shift under his feet as Dean finally went to turn the page. He was massively outsized, but perfectly safe where he was.

“Y’know that I can’t give you all the answers,” Sam pointed out, walking back up to a shoulder so he could peer off. “You need to do some of it for yourself.”

No one had spotted Sam yet, not even during a test. He was small enough to use the folds in the shirt to hide in, and his voice was soft enough that the other students couldn’t hear him. Dean’s grades had taken an upswing, even with the course material a few years ahead of where Sam was. It was a welcome challenge that he could use to keep his mind off things.

Dean reached the end of the reading and grabbed a notebook. “Whatever. But you’re still helping me with the homework, pint-size. Can’t have you slacking off either.”

Sam hid a smirk as he swung his legs off the edge of the shoulder, letting them dangle before he dropped down to the soft mattress below. He landed in a pile, bouncing slightly before he caught his balance. From this angle, he was completely bathed in shadow from above, Dean’s shoulders blocking the light.

Making his way over to the book, he glanced up at Dean. “Do you at least have something my size to write with?”

Dean looked like a deer in headlights when he was put on the spot. He glanced between Sam, who stood all of two and a half inches tall, and the pencil in his hand, which was easily five inches, if not longer.

“Uhh…” Dean trailed off.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Looks like you’ll still be doing the work,” he jabbed.

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John crossed his arms, staring down at the brothers. “Mind explaining what the hell you were thinking?” he demanded of Dean. 

Dean stiffened, annoyance flashing in his eyes. Sam was surprised. Even after everything, he was so used to Dean doing whatever their dad said like a good little soldier. But now, the older brother was in clear disagreement with the hunter.

Dean clenched a fist. “He’s not going to learn anything if we just lock him up all day. And I was watching out for him. No one ever saw him in my hood.”

John scowled. Sam shrank a little closer to Dean, intimidated by the angry glare. No matter how much he understood intellectually that he wasn’t going to be hurt, it was hard to see someone bigger than a building so angry.

Dean’s hand scooped Sam off the table when he wasn’t looking, too distracted by their father. He was cupped protectively by Dean’s chest while the boy continued arguing. “Dad, if we just keep him locked up like that, he’s going to get bored and he needs to stay sharp if he’s going to be this size, at least until we find a cure. You can’t watch him all day. At least if he’s with me, he’s safe.”

John didn’t move for a minute, sizing both his sons up with his arms crossed. “If anything happens to him, you’re responsible,” he snapped at Dean before stalking away.

Sam could feel the tension leak out of Dean the moment he was turned away. He didn’t say a word, holding his tongue as gratitude filled him. He wouldn’t be stuck in a massive room all day with nowhere to go. 

Thanks to Dean, who’d stood up to their father for the first time.

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I have a feeling, if cats can pull off a bitchface, that’s what Dean will be getting for that picture. Super teeny kitty, though! So cute, and it’s probably a good thing he only has itty bitty claws. Dean will probably be driving him nuts before they manage to get him back to normal.

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So far, Dean has only been knocked out and tied up with Sam around. This will come up in the future, though. Good ways for Sam to help out big bro would be carefully talking Dean through an injury if it’s too big for Sam to handle, keeping Dean from slipping into sleep when he might have a concussion, even taking a bullet out of a wound. His hands are the perfect size to slip in and grab it.

Sam hasn’t hurt Dean yet, either physically or emotionally. The closest is Dean having to see Sam afraid of him after the events of Taken. Even Sam’s hurt by those automatic reactions, he just can’t stop them.

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The Climbing Bet

BA Canon: Yes

Timeline: After The Golden Touch

Dean snorted. “No way.”

Sam glared up at him. “Seriously? You doubt me? After I saved your sorry ass from being a statue.” He shook his head mournfully with a smirk hiding in the corner of his lips.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the bookshelf. “Sure, but you climbed a tree back there. I’m betting there’s a few more handholds on a tree than a shelf. The thing’s pretty much a cliff.”

Sam jabbed his hook at Dean. “If I can climb it, I get control over the television for a week.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Deal.” He stuck a hand out.

Sam grinned confidently as he let Dean cautiously shake his much smaller arm between two fingers. “You’ll be eating your words,” he shot back at his big brother as the older hunter stood and stepped back.

“Better put your money where your mouth is, pint-size,” Dean said as he leaned against the wall. Standing, he was just as tall as the shelves he’d challenged Sam to climb. “Or I’ll be in charge of the TV for the week.”

Sam uncoiled his fishing line, the clear rope ready in his hands. He ignored the looming shadow of the older Winchester, knowing Dean wouldn’t interfere unless Sam slipped. For once, he actually had a safety net as he climbed. Normally, he was on his own when he tried foolhardy stunts like this. Walt would always lecture him, but he’d always do it again. He was one of the best climbers around, after all.

The first shelf was easy. An easy toss got the hook snagged on a vase. Sam tugged on the line, judging how solid the catch was. Only when he was certain that it wouldn’t shake free did he start climbing up.

The line he used was smooth, hard to climb directly up most days. After years of practice, his hands were becoming as callused as Dean’s, but for completely different reasons. The calluses gave him a better grip on his line, letting him haul his body up with nothing more than his hands.

He clambered up the first shelf, eyeing up his surroundings. Beyond the vase and a discarded Bible, he could see Dean’s knees, the thick legs crossed while he leaned against the wall. Sam couldn’t help a smile at the thought of using Dean to climb the rest of the way up, but pushed that thought away. Besides being an easy out, Dean would probably declare that ‘cheating.’

Sam flicked his line, releasing the hook from its snug fit. He held it at the ready, staring up at the shelf above. This time, the game would be interesting. The shelves were all even, so there was no way for him to reach the next one up without leaning out into the open air.

A careful examination of his surroundings revealed a bracket above, used to set the shelves into the wall. There were holes interspaced on the brackets, and one of them might be just far enough out for him to be able to use it to climb up. With a rush of confidence, Sam tossed his hook at the bracket.

And missed.

He growled as he pulled the line back. Dean leaned down with a smirk. “Need a hand?” he goaded Sam.

Sam ignored him, trying the shot again. At least in this case, there was no hurry, and no danger from the human nearby. No danger past the teasing and jokes, at least.

The second toss did it. He tugged on the line, then began climbing again. This time, his line didn’t make it all the way to the shelf, but he was able to grip the metal bracket, scaling up the last few inches. He unhooked his fishhook on the way, attaching it to the pocket Walt had made for a time just like this.

The grin wouldn’t leave his face after that level. The end of a blanket draped down from the shelf above, so he didn’t even need to get his hook back out to get to the third shelf, putting him at chest height for Dean and one shelf away from his goal. He caught his hook on the bracket on his first toss. Barely two minutes later, and he hauled himself up to the top, swaggering over to Dean’s surprised face with a knowing grin.

“So,” Sam smirked. “Who’s up for some Star Wars this week?”

Submissions Open!

Askbox Closing!

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Due to the fact that I will be attending the NJ convention next week to get a picture with the Winchester bros, a hug from Jensen, and a whole lot of fun and inspiration, the Askbox for prompts and asks will be closed as of tomorrow, Saturday the 19th. So if you have anything you want to put in for an ask or a prompt, do it now!

There’s much to do to get ready so I won’t be able to attend my pages quite as religiously as I ordinarily do, and there’s only the one of me, so I’ll have to shut down the temptation.

I plan on working through the prompts that I have waiting in the wings and doing as many as I can. Some might take longer than others, and I’m not sure if I have ideas for all of them yet.

Submissions remain open, so if anyone gets an idea for a story of their own, a picture, a manip or anything they want to submit to the blog, feel free to do so!

Love you all! Askbox will reopen after the con!