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The Comeback Kid || Chapter Ten

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The library was hosting some sort of old people's book club in the lobby. The local library was actually impressive for such a little town, much bigger on the inside than it appeared. The circle of little old ladies all turned around when Dean pushed through the revolving doors, making no effort to conceal their nosiness. Even without their scrutiny, Dean stood out like a sore thumb as a first-timer to the joint. He caught their whispers and gave them a little nod before marching up to the reception desk, away from their lingering eyes.

"Excuse me."

The pale intern looked up from haggling with the fax machine to see a tall, rugged man leaning forward against the front desk. She just about had to pick her jaw up off the floor. They never got guys like this in the library. Especially not alone.

"Hi. How can I help you?" She tucked her shoulder length black hair behind her ears and stepped up, more eager than usual.

"I'm doing some research on a particular topic, and I was hoping you could point me in the right direction," he replied.

"O-oh. Yeah, we have lots of... material,” she stumbled over her words at the tail end. Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly- all she needed was to be urged into logging into the network. "Every library is a different maze, right? What topic is your research about?"

"Demons," Dean replied bluntly.

She gave a small start, looking warily over the monitor at him. He flashed her a smile to counteract the bluntness. "Doing a comparative religions project at the community college. Need a little extra punch to my paper."

"Oh, I see." She smiled nervously, clicking away on the computer. "For a second I thought you were one of those creepy satanist people."

She giggled, but trailed off when Dean only gave her a tense half-smile, not having the patience for such a joke. Clearing her throat, she walked around the desk and waved him to follow. "This way."

Sam watched the top of the pocket get pushed shut from the outside. He shivered slightly at the scale of the action, once again reminded of his insignificance. He was sitting in a pocket that was so tall he wouldn’t be able to get out without climbing. He threaded his fingers through the coarse fabric. At least he’d have plenty of fingerholds at this size. The clothes he and Dean wore turned into a mass of organized threads like this.

His entire world suddenly shook, making the pocket swing slightly through the air. Recognizing the cadence of Dean’s footsteps, Sam realized it was just Dean walking. Sam tried to push himself further into the corner of the pocket, seeking stability and safety in the lint-covered bottom of his brother’s pocket.

Sam found the steady beat of Dean’s heart behind him a comfort, reminding him that no matter how alone he felt right now while he was stuck in a pocket, his brother was there for him. Barely a handsbreath away.

The steady rocking of Dean’s footsteps went on for at least ten minutes before Sam heard the sound of a massive door being pushed open. He pulled the duffel bag closer to him when he recognized the sound of other voices in the background. He had no desire for any other giants to see him like this, completely defenseless.

Dean’s huge voice rumbled behind him, making Sam clap his hands over his ears from the volume. He’d forgotten Dean hadn’t been talking in his normal voice almost the entire time Sam had been shrunk. A girl's voice answered Dean, giving Sam a short respite from his brother. The exchange went on for a minute before Dean’s swaying stride started up again, Sam slumping back thankfully. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, but that didn’t change how it hurt Sam’s ears. Sam huffed at his own vulnerability.

Sam relaxed slightly when he heard footsteps heading away from Dean. He hoped that Dean was finally alone. Being stuck in here with no idea what was going on outside sucked.

When the intern had return downstairs, Dean waited a few minutes to be certain the silence up here was absolute. He glanced around and lifted the flap of his pocket.

"We're clear up here," he whispered, certain that Sam would understand what to do with the hand he pushed inside. Sure enough, once he held still, he felt Sam wriggle into a more secure position, winding his arms around a finger as a safety measure, the tiny boots scuffing on Dean's fingertips.

Dean drew him out into the light and set him down gently onto the table top. Direct physical contact between them had been few and far between, and Dean preferred to keep it that way. Feeling Sam's fragile ribs between his finger and thumb made him want to squirm to no end.

"Alright, we got demon lore here, A-Z. Most of this is gonna be a rehash, but you know the drill. Keep looking between the lines." Dean pulled over a few imported volumes on multi-cultural demons and laid them out in a semi-circle.

Sam's shrunken stature was emphasized by the presentation of ordinary objects. Smaller than a book... hell, he was only as long as a short sentence. A very short sentence. It was obvious that research was going to be more strenuous than flipping pages for his little brother, but Dean wasn't about to have him sit this out in his pocket while he did all the work. Sam would hate that. Besides... It made him feel better to keep Sam where he could see him.

"Hey," he raised an eyebrow at Sam, giving him a little nudge towards a book. "Don't think you can slack off just ‘cause you lost a couple inches,” he warned, trying to hide the small smirk on his face by burying it into a book himself.

Sam buried his face against the finger, nauseous the second he caught a glimpse of how high up he was. His fingers tightened minutely on the grooves in Dean's skin. Normally he was good with heights, but this was ridiculous! And that was just from the pocket to the table, never mind how high up he was with Dean standing at his full height. He could feel the hand move through the air, gently lowering him to the table.

He definitely preferred standing on the immense palm over this. Feeling Dean's huge fingers pinched around him right now, knowing how easy it would be for Dean to end him, even by accident... hell, the fingers alone were almost as thick as Sam's entire body right now. And being held captive in his brother's fist, even just for the few seconds it had taken for him to be put in the pocket earlier had been just as bad. His instincts were going haywire like this. He couldn't do anything to help himself, even against Dean. It felt wrong on so many levels to include his brother as a threat but after what he'd been through earlier, he had no choice.

He opened his eyes when the huge finger and thumb he was pinched between opened, his boots landing safely on the table with a small thunk.

Sam glanced around at his surroundings as his brother talked, taking in the immensity of the table covered in books. They formed an all encompassing landscape, with cliff-like shelves in the distance and simple items like the books around him turned into massive boulders. Hanging lights above completed the illusion, substituting the sun and moon. He couldn't even make out the ceiling, as distant as it was.

Sam almost tripped over his own feet when Dean's huge knuckle nudged him out of nowhere towards one of the books. Gentle for Dean wasn't quite the same as it was for Sam anymore. Stumbling to catch his balance, he shot a glare up at his brother, briefly dismayed by the sheer difference in scale between them.

"Ha ha, very funny," he grumbled up at Dean, secretly glad he was back to keeping his voice down. 'Course, that could just be because they were in a library. "Don't tell me you're still trying to get out of research."

Seeing Dean was already buried in a book, he walked over to the closest one. The book itself was knee high, giving off the comforting smell of musty paper. Sam grabbed onto the cover, trying to shove it open so he could read. Nothing.

This is a problem, he thought to himself.

"Uh, Dean..." Sam called up, trailing off. His face warmed with the realization that he needed his brother's help with something so simple.

Dean didn't answer, still intently poring over the book in front of him.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, aggravated. Once the huge greens locked on his tiny form, Sam felt himself stiffen again. He still wasn't used to being stared down at from something so massive. Not someTHING... it's just DEAN...

"I... uh..." He gestured at the book, embarrassed he needed help with something so simple.

Dean's eyes skated from Sam's sheepish posture to the comparatively huge book waiting next to him.

"Gotcha covered," he said back in a deep, hushed tone.

A quick smile of understanding perked up the corners of Dean's lips as he reached forward and opened the book up, flipping forward to a page about legends of demons in ancient Chinese culture. It wasn't like he was trying to show off, but all it took was a couple curled fingertips under the lip of the cover to effortlessly open it wide.

"You need help turning the pages?" Dean offered, hand hovering close. Under other circumstances, it would have been snide humor, but right now he was completely serious. Sam shot him a defensive look and Dean held his hands up in mock innocence. "Hey, man. Just checkin.’ "

He went back to his own book, pretending to immerse himself in reading. In reality, he was just waiting for Sam to become too involved in his own reading process. Dean smirked wickedly as he slunk his cellphone out of his pants pocket and held it up over the edge of the table, framing his shrunken brother in its viewport. He snapped seven or eight shots, zooming out a bit to get the real scale of the books compared to Sam.

After climbing into the massive book, Sam surveyed the information stretching out under his boots. In order to be able to read he had to walk along the columns of text. His vantage was too low for anything else to work.

Realizing he could hear Dean shifting around behind him, Sam twisted in place. His suspicion grew when all he saw was Dean sitting innocently with a book. He gave his brother a probing stare. When Dean noticed all Sam got in return was an innocent 'what?' look.

With a sigh Sam went back to his reading. Dean was definitely up to something, but at this size there was nothing Sam could do to drag it out of him. Or get him back.

He tried to concentrate on the images below his feet, reading about the Yaoguai the book started with. They didn't sound like the little demon girl at all... The Yaoguai were described as going after holy men. She'd done nothing of the sort.

He stalked through the book, dismayed by how long it took to read just a page like this. It was going to take him forever to get through the reading. Even the sound of Dean innocently flipping pages behind him was pissing him off to no end. Why'd he have to get shrunk? Everything was so easy for Dean... Determined, he grabbed the edge of the page, hauling it over his head to turn it.

It finally gave way, shifting to the second page of the text. But right before he could push the page all the way over and seal his victory, it shifted again with a rustle, covering him up in the book.

Shoving his cellphone back into his pocket at random, Dean watched the thin paper waft down right on top of Sam. The paper pushed up in the form of tiny punches and protests from underneath, but it was like a baby trying to find its way out of a king sized bed sheet.

"Good reads, huh?" Dean smirked softly, just barely keeping his chuckle at bay. He reached over between the pages to pluck Sam up and out.

The amount of squirming he received was downright startling. "Whoa, hey--" Dean's smile dropped as he shot out a second hand under the first, a safety net under his brother who was wriggling between the two fingers and thumb like a rabid snake. Quick as he could, Dean set him down on the next page, free of his grasp. The protesting stopped short. Dean raised an eyebrow, giving Sam a familiar what the hell? look.

"S-sorry," Sam managed once he was standing on his own again. Being picked up so fast reminded him how easily he'd almost died not long ago. "Just.... give me a little warning next time, ok?" He shook himself off, regaining his equilibrium.

Something in Dean's eyes shifted. Not quite pity... but a version of reverence perhaps. The decrease in the number of bitchfits Sam was throwing was actually bumming Dean out. It was disturbing to have Sam so thoroughly intimidated of him in such a short time.

Well you did almost eat him, a voice in the back of his head sneered. Not to mention almost pancaking him inside Baby last night.

Blushing faintly at his own destructiveness, Dean mumbled a quick apology and buried his nose in his book. They had to find a way to make this right. He was not spending the rest of his life with his brother reduced to a pocket pet. Even as he so diligently pored over the suggested hierarchy of demons in the dry thesis, Dean kept glancing up at his little brother. He wondered if, even after Sam was restored to his proper size, if that would really fix things between them. Even for them, this was a lot of family trauma to squeeze into such a short timeframe.

After about an hour, the intern came back up to check on Dean. Sam was easily hid under the pages once again until she left them alone again. The distant murmur of the book club on the first floor became more apparent in the silence of determined reading.

"Hey," Dean said, finally picking up on something unique. He pushed his current book around to face Sam and tapped a picture of a woodcut illustration of a man with black bat wings, under the bold heading IMP.

"Says these things get their kicks by annoying people into submission. Apparently, that's all that friendship is down in the lower ranks of demons these days."

Sam cocked his head at the picture. It was definitely reminiscent of the girl… the only difference was her wings were red. “Makes sense…” he said. He tried to recall what he could of imps. Nothing rose to mind. They’d never even encountered other demons that mentioned imps… maybe the imps annoyed all the other demons so much no one wants to admit they exist, he mused to himself. Could be why she was seeking out humans...

Brashly, he climbed up on the book Dean was reading from, stalking over the passages about imps. He ignored the way Dean was leaning over the entire landscape of the pages, confident in his safety near his giant brother right now.

One phrase caught his eye while he was reading. “They were known as lonely little creatures, always in search of human attention,” he read out loud from the words under his boots. “That definitely fits. She seems to want us to like her… she seemed to get upset when I was mad at her earlier.”

Dean's expression flattened, irritated at the mere gall of this imp to be upset with them after the hellish 24 hours she had imposed on them.  

"Hell of a way to make friends,” he muttered unhappily. "Skip to the part about how we can ice these tiny bitches."

They returned to skimming the text, expertly picking out relevant information based on keywords. Dean loathed the dry task, but he was good at it when he set his mind to it.

"Found it." He tapped the paragraph at the bottom of the page. He moved his hand away to make room as Sam ambled deeper in Dean's shadow upon the page. "Though mostly thought to be immortal, Blah, blah, blah... Legend has it they can be bound to an object, such as a sword or crystal ball," Dean announced triumphantly. He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully at their options, though it wasn't really a contest in his opinion. "Well. Sword's got my vote."

Sam couldn't stop a smirk at that, relaxing in the familiar banter. It gave him a sense of normalcy, even as he read from letters the size of his boots. "You would."

Crossing his arms, he frowned to himself. "You have any plans on where to get a sword from?" he called up to Dean.

Dean shrugged, his confidence already returning with determination. They had a way to fight this thing now; no longer would they be helpless at the whims of an imp. Now, they could do what they did best.

"Dunno. Maybe one of those old hags downstairs knows that ancient Holy Grail knight from The Last Crusade." He waggled his eyebrows at his own joke, egged on when Sam merely rolled his eyes. It was strangely reassuring that Sam wasn't so scared of him that he'd pretend to laugh at his bad jokes.

He laid a hand flat on the table, curling the index finger inward in an invitation. "Gotta be a museum or psychic somewhere in this town..."

“I think our best bet would be a museum first. So many psychic’s use fake crystal balls, there’s no telling if we’re gonna get the real thing or not,” Sam called up to his brother as he clambered up onto the offered palm without hesitation. With a way to trap her, he might be able to finally get back to size. End this nightmare. Dean’s fingers curled around him protectively once he was standing in the center of the hand, dwarfing him on all sides.

Dean nodded, willing himself not to be distracted by the fact that Sam's foot was nearly all but disappeared into the crease of his love line.

"Good call. See you soon, short-stop." Pinching Sam delicately by the collar of his jacket, Dean lowered him into his breast pocket until he felt the tiny knees buckle and hit the bottom. He figured it was better than half-smothering him in his fist again. After standing up and stacking the demon books, Dean started for the stairs. He gave the occupied pocket a light pat as if saying his little brother wasn't far from mind.

“Yeah, sounds- yah!” Sam gave a yelp of surprise when his jacket was pinched between massive fingers. He froze in place when Dean lifted him up, not wanting to accidentally squirm out of his brother’s grasp so high above the ground. This time, he was thankful to feel the bottom of the pocket under his boots. Once he was settled, the huge hand rose up out of the pocket, leaving him alone in the dark.

It wasn’t for long. The moment Sam felt the huge, thudding footsteps start up a massive weight pushed against the pocket. It was light enough he wasn’t smooshed, but still completely overpowering. He flailed for a few seconds in shock before it fell away.

Sam sent a glare up at the top of the pocket, recognizing Dean’s hand as the source. With every bit of effort he could manage, he threw a punch into the solid wall behind him. With any luck, Dean could still feel that.

Dean faltered momentarily in his stride. Once he pieced together that the tiny poke had been Sam's fist, he smirked shamelessly.

"Nice arm, Thumbelina," Dean said, just loud enough for Sam to hear. He gave the flap of the pocket a tug, jostling the pocket just enough to send Sam straight onto his ass.

The back and forth petered out after they left the library. Much to Dean's dismay, there were zero swords in the local museum. Not even a dagger. Most of it was native american artifacts from the early settlers and a bunch of useless art. Fortunately, the pawn shop had different results.

"How much?" Dean jerked his thumb at the medieval sword hanging on the wall over the register.

The bearded, weathered owner gave it long look. "One-twenty-five."

"You guys take credit cards?" he asked hopefully. The owner gave him a flat look, slapping the sign taped to the cash register that read: CASH ONLY.

Dean pulled out his wallet and flipped through the remainder of his petty cash. "I've got... ninety seven. And I'll throw in the watch."

"And i'll throw you outta here. No deal, son."

Dean looked down at himself, desperately inventory his belongings for anything he could part with. Before he could come to terms with anything, the owner clicked his tongue and spoke again.

"On second thought, lemme take a look at that little doo-dad you got 'round your neck there."

Chin to his chest, Dean saw the man was motioning at the amulet strung around his neck.

"It's not for sale,” he stated firmly, eyes fierce despite himself.

Sam mumbled curses at his brother after the mini earthquake died down. It was infuriating how little he could do like this. He stumbled over to the duffel bag, shoving it into a corner for support against the swaying environment.

He sat like that for an endless amount of time, listening to the world outside. He still couldn't stop from flinching whenever he heard other humans around. It would be easy for him to be crushed if anyone else bumped into his brother. Not for the first time, Sam found himself thankful Dean hated having anyone in his ‘personal space.’

He gave a slight jolt when Dean’s voice rang overhead. Sam opened eyes he didn’t remember closing, pulling himself out of a slight sleep. Sam realized Dean was trying to barter for a sword at last… with any luck they could get out of this with a sword and get that damn imp…

"Did someone call my name?" came a familiar voice, far to close for comfort.

Sam twitched away in surprise, crashing to the bottom of the pocket.

Dean stepped outside, the bells of the pawn shop door bidding him a cheerful farewell. He leaned against the brick wall out of the owner's sightline and took the amulet between his fingers. He didn't have a lot of family mementos. A few childhood photos of him and his parents, his dad's old leather jacket, his mom's ring... And this amulet. He took it off and turned it over a few more times in his hands. Clinging to childhood memories wasn't worth condemning Sam to a tortured life at the whims of a demon. With a heavy heart, Dean made his decision. He'd have to turn it over to get the sword.

Entangled beside Sam at the bottom of Dean's rocking pocket was the imp, her black eyes gleaming with a wicked mischief. "You're gonna let your big brother spoil what we've got going here? We were just starting to get so close..." With superhuman strength, she clamped a hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out to Dean as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear: "I'm ready to play again."

She snapped her fingers, and then the world went black.



Sam groaned, picking himself up off the ground. Blood trickled out of his nose from the rough ride he’d been through.

He rubbed at the bloody nose distractedly, trying to scour the blood off. The ride got worse every time he teleported. A throbbing headache offset the bloody nose, pounding in time with faint music he could hear playing in the background.

Sam stiffened when he took in his surroundings. Where the hell am I…? he thought to himself, trying to force his mind to focus. It was like trying to push off the worst hangover after an entire night of partying.

He was standing out in the open, the world still towering around him. So the imp was still up to the same tricks. He rubbed his head, groaning slightly at the thought. So far every time he'd been separated from Dean he'd almost gotten himself killed. Why should he think this time would be any different?

A massive couch sat in the distance, leading to Sam glancing over his shoulder. Yep, there was a massive TV behind him. So he was standing on a coffee table, not too far from the edge. A few magazines were scattered on the edge away from him and a giant coffee mug was only a few inches away. It was so hot he could feel the heat rising from it.

Whoever's drinking this must not be far away... Sam thought worriedly.

The rest of the area he was in was too distant got him to completely make out. It looked like there was sunlight streaming in through a window, but he just couldn't be sure from the angle he was standing at.

With an unhappy groan, Sam set out to the edge of the table. Gotta find where I am, gotta find Dean and then trap that imp. Get everything back to normal at last, he thought to himself resolutely.

This resolve lasted until he heard the immense, worrying sound of a door opening in the distance. Heart in his throat, Sam dove for the only cover anywhere close.

The coffee mug.

Whoever it was came alone. Quick, casual footsteps vibrated everything on the table as a pair of denim-clad legs came into view. There was a slight ooomph of air leaving the cushions as the person took a seat on the couch.

"Ah, thank you, Jaime," a deep voice murmured happily, thanking the intern who had brought in the coffee just minutes beforehand.

The shadows shifted on the table- the only warning Sam got before a massive hand slid through the handle. Fingers longer than his body curled around the back of the mug, only a hair's breadth away from pressing into Sam's tiny body.

The typical Twitter alert dinged out from the couch. The fingers paused at the last second, barely brushing Sam's sleeve as they withdrew. It was so slight, the owner didn't take a lick of notice of the brief texture. A phone out of Sam's sight clicked dully as it was unlocked. A pause, and then a very slow, deliberate answer typed back in reply. Another pause, as the person apparently reconsidered what they wrote before pressing SEND. The phone clicked off, and fabric rustled.

This time, there was no time for Sam to react as the giant hand eagerly scooped up the coffee mug, taking Sam along with it.
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Phoenix-FireMage's avatar
At least they've got some stuff figured out.