The Comeback Kid || Chapter Seven

"NO!" Horrorstruck, Dean threw himself forward, hand outstretched. Not fast enough.

The teeny black car faded, like it was being pulled out of this dimension. Then it flickered out of sight, and Dean's hand landed on the empty space it once occupied. There was a faint tinkling of eerie laughter that faded away, signaling the permanence of the disappearance.

No. He seized the comforter, searching it as if Sam might be just within its folds.

"No, no, no..." Dean dropped to the floor, his stomach twisted in knots. He peered under the bed, under the table... Behind the nightstand and even in the mini fridge. Backpedaling to the center of the room, Dean looked all around him, listening for life of any kind.

"SAM?!"

The silence that followed was positively crushing.  

Dean shut his eyes wearily.  "Fuck."

He sat there at the side of the bed, stewing in his own self-loathing and abject dread for ten minutes. Furious tears he wouldn't admit to stirring up glistened in his eyes, unshed. When he got his hands on that little demon girl, he was going to mince her up like an onion. He had zero leads on where to find Sam in this dump of a town, zero leads on how to kill whatever that little thing was that had cursed him... and just as much on how to restore Sam to his proper height.

The familiar guitar riff of his ringtone called out for his attention. Dean scrambled to snatch the cell off the nightstand, catching sight of the caller ID. Sam had managed to keep hold of his cell phone during all this. Small blessings.

"Where are you?" he greeted urgently, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice as he cut right to the point.

---

Sam groaned as he picked himself off of the seat of the car, clutching his head. Whatever had hit him had had more oomph than the last time he'd been zapped. Or maybe being asleep had offset the teleport hangover the other times.

Patting himself down to make sure everything was intact, he glanced out the window of the Impala, afraid of what he'd see. After what he'd been put through in just the last 12 hours, anything could be out there.

Instead of an immediate threat, the outside world seemed... deceptively peaceful. Birdsong floated over to him, a gentle breeze shifted through the open drivers side door. Tall stalks of grass stretched over the Impala to one side, a jagged grey river ran on the other side. Despite the strangeness of everything, Sam recognized a concrete path, winding its way through the grass.

Above everything else, stretching to towering heights, were massive oak trees. Sam could have sworn they stretched thousands of feet in the air, massive branches overshadowing the entire area around him. He'd thought Dean was big, but his older brother, as tall as he was right now, had nothing on these monoliths. They were so tall that from his perspective the tops of the branches faded out of sight.

Blinking a few times, he pulled himself away from the scenery and back to his own personal problems. From what he could tell, he was sitting in the Impala, on a path through the woods. Very descriptive, he thought to himself, annoyed. What the hell use would that be in finding his way out?

The sun had edged its way above the horizon, sending the first rays of a new day across the land. The wildlife was starting to come to life more the longer he sat here. Sam decided that his survival was probably best served by getting the hell out of dodge. Even a chipmunk could kick his ass right now, never mind a cat or dog.

Patting himself down, he was relieved to find the keys still safely in his pocket, after all the tumbling he'd gone through the night before during the demonic girl's 'games.' He started up the Impala, switching into drive quickly and starting off. The sidewalk he was on was rough and jagged under the tires, and he didn't want to know what damage it was doing to Dean's precious car, but it was drivable.

After only a minute on the rough road,Sam realized he could feel a rhythmic thudding echoing up through the car. For some reason it seemed to remind him of something he'd felt before. Then it hit him.

Dean's footsteps.

But his brother was assumably back in the motel room. For all Sam knew he was miles away from there now. So, whoever's footsteps was approaching had no idea that Sam was here, might not even spot the car... he floored it. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he spotted a pair of tennis shoes... definitely not Dean... running at an even keel. Naturally, since the Impala was smaller than either foot, the person was catching up to him without a problem.

His pulse started to race as he lost ground steadily. The Impala just wasn't meant to outrun giants. Memories briefly flashed in his mind of how easily Dean had grabbed the Impala, covering all the ground Sam had gone in less than a second. Fear hitched his breath.

How could you fight against that?

What the hell kind of game were they playing? How the hell could they expect to win when they didn't even know the rules?

He was starting to feel like the demonic girl was toying with them, a cat with her own captive mice. She didn't need to eat them, but she loved to poke and prod them in whatever direction she wanted. If they wanted to come out of this game on top they were going to have to start thinking ahead, try and outmaneuver her. Somehow.

Huge, booming footsteps slammed into the ground less than a foot away from Sam and the Impala, the person running not even taking note of the car he'd almost stepped on. The shoes passed Sam, still running at the same pace.

He started to calm down for a few seconds. He needed Dean. Every fiber of him hated to admit his vulnerability, but there was no way he'd make it without his brother. It was just a fact. There was nothing you could do to defend yourself when you're barely over two inches tall. One wrong step, one slight mistake from anyone and he was a goner. Him and the Impala.

Sam took advantage of the brief moment of peace. He could see other joggers now in the distance, out to catch the chill dawn air before the world hearted up properly. He'd done it himself on occasion, enjoying the freedom he found out in the open air, away from the stifling confines of a motel room or car.

Shifting the car into park for a brief moment, Sam gave the Impala a well deserved break. He dug around the seat, searching for his phone. The last place he'd had it had been in the car, but considering he'd been tossed around at the time, he'd lost track of it sometime before tumbling out of the door. With any luck it was in the car and not sitting near Dean’s miniscule duffel bag on the bed, dumped out by his brother with the other items. Completely useless.

He finally found it tucked underneath the seat of the car, against the passenger door. Flipping it open, he dialed Dean’s number in record time.

Before he could even say a word, Dean’s voice filled the air, desperation clear in his voice. Guess I’m not the only one panicked here, Sam thought wryly before focusing back on the problem. He needed to get out of here before more people came around. His eyes flicked around his surroundings, searching for anything distinctive. “Uh… trees… sidewalk. There’s a bench nearby and I think I’m parked near a trashcan. Dean, I have no idea where I am, I can’t tell anything from down here. Even the grass is taller than the Impala. Some guy already almost stepped on the car, and I can see more joggers out now. Dean… I don’t know what to do.”

"Told you jogging was bad for you," Dean pointed out with a brief smirk at the irony.

The slim hope that maybe the little bitch had at least switched tactics was dashed. Sam was still bite-sized, and to Dean's horror, currently a wide open target for a quick and painful death by jogger or who knew what else.

"Get off the sidewalk for starters,” he said, marching for the door with the phone to his ear. He doubled back to the bed to scoop up the tiny duffle bag and its contents as an afterthought. At this point, he wasn't sure whether it would come in handy or not. "Is there anywhere nearby you can take cover? Under a bench, maybe? Tree roots?"

Dean felt like he was betraying his precious car by telling him to go off-road and risk straining suspension... But if he didn't, there was a solid chance he'd be left with little but a bloodstained piece of crushed metal. It was a small price to pay for Sam's safety.

Dean slammed the motel door behind him, not bothering the waste the time in locking it. It wasn't like he had anything valuable in there.

"I'm on my way. Just... keep your head down until I get there."

"O-okay," Sam kept the phone by his ear as he shifted the car back into drive. His eyes landed on the immense bench, less than a quarter of a mile away. "Gotcha." He didn't hang up the phone, almost afraid to lose the only lifeline to his brother he had while he was trapped out here alone.

Pushing down on the accelerator, Sam set out for the bench. Thank god he had the Impala with him, he couldn't imagine how screwed he'd be without it. Just the thought of trying to escape on foot... he glanced out the back of the car. He'd have to get on the other side of the sidewalk to reach the bench... at least he should be safe once he got there. Another jogger passed him by, this one on the other side of the concrete, their massive, crushing feet nowhere near the car. This person gave the tiny vehicle a sidelong glance, as though he was confused what it was doing there.

The moment the path was clear again, Sam floored it, getting past the danger zone as fast as he could. It only took him a few moments until he reached the other side, the car jumping in the air when it careened off the edge of the sidewalk. Tiny pebbles bounced under the wheels as the Impala determinedly pushed her way through the grass. At one point, Sam caught sight of a beetle the size of a dog, and a small army of ants marching alongside the ar. He sped up, determined to stay away from any of the creepy crawlies down here. They were enough of a nuisance to a regular sized human, he didn't want to know how dangerous they'd be while he was this small.

"I'm almost there, Dean... the bench is only a little bit away."

Sam glanced around his surroundings, checking on the distance he had from the sidewalk. He'd gone decently far in the car, but realized that to a normal sized person, he was only a few steps away. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a mother walking with her little boy's hand in hers, and a dog keeping pace alongside them.

The dog sniffed the air, its head turning in Sam's direction.

"Fuck."

Dean froze where he stood outside the motel check-in area, rifling through the tourist brochures and flyers for any parks in the area.

"What?" he barked. "Sam, what's-- what the hell is that?" His question turned more insistent as a static-ridden scuffling began to overwhelm the sound of Sam's voice on the other line. It was impossible to tell what it was from his end of the line. To Dean, it sounded like a dragon prepping to lay waste to a village. He hastily scanned through the pamphlets-- closest park was a cute little place called Wallaby Park. He held open the map for a few seconds to try and get his bearings. But as the scuffling got louder on the phone, his luxury of time was cut down even further.

"Oh fuck it," Dean muttered, shoving the map in his back pocket. He took off at a desperate sprint, missing his baby more than ever.

---

Ian wasn't exactly the most excited seven year old that morning. He was grounded from TV and his mom was making him go on a stupid walk without bringing his transformer toy or phone or anything. She said he had to ‘appreciate nature’ and ‘take responsibility of his pet.’

Pfft. Whatever.

"Oh, Ian honey. Did you see that Cardinal back there?" his mom said cheerfully, looking over her shoulder at a majestic oak. "It was making a nest!"

Ian said nothing, grumpily remaining silent. His mom sighed. "There's just as much to enjoy out here in God's green earth as there is in your video games."

"No there's not," Ian huffed. He let his beagle's lease go slack, ambling along the sidewalk. Without warning, the leash ran taut. "Urrrgh, Odin!" Ian grunted, pulling back on the leash. Odin whined, trying to crawl closer on his belly. Relenting, Ian walked over with him, giving him the necessary slack to keep sniffing around the bench area. The beagle was insistent on his search, his ears perking up when he finally found his treasure.

"What'd you find?" Ian asked, his curiosity peaked when he saw his dog's wet nose rock something shiny and black under the shadow of the bench.

"Ian, let's keep going!" His mom beckoned him impatiently.

"Hang on!" Ian called back.

Odin snorted from the confusing smell, unsure whether to growl or whimper. Luckily, his owner stepped in to continue inspection. Ian reached in and picked up the toy car. He turned it around in his hands, looking over every detail. It felt like one of the nice model cars- made of metal, not plastic. Even the tires felt like they were road worthy.  

"Whoa..." He looked around for any kids playing around the area, then grinned. "Good boy, Odin! Free toy!"

"Ian!" His mother started to march over. He spun around, clutching his prize victoriously.

"Look! Somebody left this! You were right mom, nature is great."

His mom raised an eyebrow as he held up the miniature vintage Impala. She softened. It was nice to see something so harmless perk up her little boy's mood again. She took a seat on the bench, getting Odin to sit while Ian took up playing with his new find.