Surviving a Winchester hunt is no 'small' feat...
Title: Surviving a Winchester hunt is no 'small' feat...
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: some swearing, crack
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Bobby
Word Count: 1,700
Summary: Castiel helps Sam and Dean on a witch hunt where they end up not quite themselves. Patiently (or not so patiently) enduring the brother’s inevitable squabbling as they find a solution to their ‘small’ predicament...complete crackiness that I blame entirely on lack of sleep...
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“This is all your fault,” Dean grumbled.
“How?” Sam asked sceptically.
“It just is.”
“Cas was there too…”
“Don’t pick on Cas.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, because I said so.”
“And?”
“Because I’m the big brother and what I say goes.”
“At the moment you’re a six inch tall midget in a tutu.”
“Well at least mine isn’t pink.”
They come to a sudden stop as they ran into the back of Castiel legs, as he stopped suddenly in exasperation at the bickering that had been going on for the last hour. Castiel resisted the urge to sigh. He had attempted to carry the miniaturised Winchesters at first, but between their squabbling and Dean’s constant wiggling he had given up and put them back on the ground 10 minutes ago.
Castiel looked down to where Dean was leaning against his ankle. They hadn’t gone far but the now diminutive Winchester looked exhausted, his brother in no better shape as he sat on a twig, his arms folded and glowering at nothing in particular. Dean used the cuff of Castiel’s trousers to wipe the sweat from his brow, before collapsing onto his shoe like it was a lounge.
It had been one of those days, well not really, even for them this was pretty fucked up.
“Even for a witch this is pretty fucked up, I mean cruel and unusual.” Dean began to bemoan again about just how much he despised witches.
Dean had repeated something along these lines numerous times in the last hour with varying levels of foul language. Even if some of the metaphors went over Castiel head (or maybe got lost somewhere around his ankles) Castiel had to agree with the sentiment.
Dean stretched his aching, tiny legs, and accidently rolled off the side of Castiel shoe, landing in a heap in the leaf litter. He glared at Sam who almost fell off his own seat in laughter.
Not content with a mere verbal retort, Dean charged his now considerably smaller (though still unfairly taller than him) brother. Caught off guard Sam toppled over backwards, the brothers tumbled amongst the leaves trying to best each other. The urge to sigh became too great for Castiel to resist.
He reached down and picked the brothers up, holding them by the back of their shirts like tiny, exhausted, adorable yet frustrating kittens. “If you promise to remain quiet, I’ll carry you again.”
“Sure Cas,” Dean replied happily, his mood brightening instantly at the prospect.
Sam merely continued to glare, thinking his brother looked entirely too thrilled at the prospect of the angel carrying him again. Looking for all the world as though he hadn’t been bitching about being six inches tall just moments before.
In an attempt to avoid further squabbling Castiel split the brothers up. Placing Sam carefully in one of the trench coats pockets, where he quietly curled up, relived to no longer be walking but no doubt still scowling. He put Dean into the pocket of his shirt. Dean happily looked out from his vantage point to where they were going. Dean was apparently incapable of remaining still as he wiggled in Castiel’s pocket trying to see everything, but at least they were no longer squabbling as Castiel had requested.
After several moment of brooding silence from Sam, and wiggling from Dean, the older brother piped up, “You think we’re far enough away for you to try teleporting again?” he asked, looking above his head to Castiel, somehow still managing to meet the angels eyes. Apparently even miniaturised Dean and the angel were still capable of those lingering looks that always made Sam want to roll his eyes. Of course the whole personal space issue that Dean was so resolute about was sort of a moot point at the moment.
Castiel paused for a moment, seeming to look into himself, as he tried to determine if they were far enough from the witch for the spell she had put on Castiel, preventing him from teleporting, to have worn off. “Almost,” he replied a second later.
“So you must have seen some fucked up shit over the years?’ Dean asked a moment later as Castiel kept walking.
A muffled groan came from the pocket Sam was riding in, that Dean correctly interpreted as Sam’s ‘god my brothers an idiot’ groan.
“What? He’s lived for thousands of years it’s a legitimate question,” Dean called out as he looked over the edge of his pocket to the lower one where Sam was.
“Just ‘cause you’re the size of a stunted barbie doll and wearing a tutu doesn’t mean Cas has to tell you stories,” came Sam’s muffled reply.
“You’re just jealous ‘cause he doesn’t tell stories to you.”
There was silence for a moment until Sam realised his brother couldn’t see the bitch face he was giving him, “you’re an idiot.”
“You’re an idiot. Who was it again that got us shrunk?”
“Not me.”
”Was too.”
“Was not. How exactly is this my fault? Why don’t you blame Cas, he’s the one with super angel powers?”
“I said don’t pick on Cas, he only had to come save your sorry ass because you fucked up the incantation.”
“Well if you’d shot her when you had the chance she wouldn’t have been able to put a spell on us. And he had to save your sorry ass too.”
Feeling a shift in his powers as he walked past the extent of the witches spell, Castiel teleported without warning his passengers. He couldn’t help the ever so slight smirk of satisfaction at the sudden quiet, as their squabbling was cut off from the unexpected and unsettling jump.
They appeared in Bobby’s kitchen. Startling the hunter in a swirl of paper, as Castiel’s frustration translated into a more than a little huffy entrance.
”Hey Bobby, we could sort of use some help,” Dean said from Castiel breast pocket.
“You think?” Sam grumbled as he finally poked his head out from his own pocket.
“Now,” Castiel finished in exasperation, tired of having squabbling, wiggling, pouting and otherwise frustrating miniature Winchester infesting his pockets.
Bobby took a moment to take in the scene before him. He desperately wanted to heap well deserved shit on the pint sized idjit brothers, but the look on Castiel’s face put an end to that line of thinking. The angel wasn’t exactly known for his patience, and having two squirming Winchesters holed up in his clothing and the undoubted whining that had been occurring, Bobby could see whatever patience he had left was wearing thin.
“Well after you called I did some digging, I found a spell that should reverse the effects,” Bobby said watching in fascination as Castiel plucked Sam out of his pocket and placed him on the table.
“Do you have everything needed for it?” Castiel asked, apparently not noticing that he had picked Dean up but had yet to put him down. Dean was standing on one of Castiel’s palms with the other hand wrapped gently around his waist to stop him from falling. Dean was leaning on Castiel’s fingers seemingly unconcerned.
“Um yeah, think so” Booby stuttered, trying to figure out what was weirder, that the two brothers were only six inches tall, or the sight of Dean gently cupped in Castiel’s hands. He looked down to Sam who simply rolled his eyes and plopped down on the edge of the table, doing his best to ignore his idiot brother and his gigantic angel.
Bobby forced himself to look back to Castiel’s eyes, “the spells pretty complicated. I thought maybe...”
“I’ll do it,” Castiel answered before Bobby could finish asking.
Castiel finally put Dean down, Bobby could have sworn it was reluctantly. He refused to admit that the brother were kind of cute. Mentally shaking himself he handed over the scroll and spell components to Castiel.
Castiel quickly set about performing the spell without really looking it over. The strange words tripping off his tongue with an ease Bobby was almost jealous of. As he said the final words and added the last ingredient into the bowl in the middle of the table, blue smoke sprung from it, enveloping Sam and Dean. As it cleared Castiel sneezed.
Bobby was relieved to see the two boys suddenly back to their normal size.
“Cas you’re my...” Dean words cut out mid sentence as he turned to where Castiel had been standing. Three sets of eyes craned down to the floor to see a miniature Castiel glaring up at Bobby.
“What the fuck?” all three of them said in unison.
Sam grabbed the scroll from where it had fallen to the table. His eyes quickly scanned it. “Umm Bobby I think you mistranslated this, it’s not a reversal spell.”
“What the hell is it then?” Dean asked as he reached down and picked up the angel.
“It’s a transference spell, it temporarily transfer the effects of a spell.”
“Shit I’m sorry Cas,” Bobby said to the angel that was still glaring at him from his perch in Dean’s hands.
“Sam this isn’t funny,” Dean said at the slow smirk appearing on Sam’s lips.
“Don’t worry its temporary,” Sam said, breaking into a full grin at the idea of the angel having to put up with same spell as he had, thinking it was just deserts for Castiel making tiny Sam walk back in the forest.
Dean glared at his brother, glancing down to his waist, “you keeping that tutu?” smirking smugly when Sam looked down frantically.
When Sam looked back up, furiously trying to hide his embarrassment, he was sure even the fucking angel was smirking at him. Sam walked outside. It was bad enough when Dean was a jerk, Castiel picking up Dean’s bad habits as well was more fucked up than he could handle after the day they’d had. He swore under his breath as he involuntarily double checked that the tutu was really gone.
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Sequel HERE...
Comments are love...
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: some swearing, crack
Characters: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Bobby
Word Count: 1,700
Summary: Castiel helps Sam and Dean on a witch hunt where they end up not quite themselves. Patiently (or not so patiently) enduring the brother’s inevitable squabbling as they find a solution to their ‘small’ predicament...complete crackiness that I blame entirely on lack of sleep...
......................
“This is all your fault,” Dean grumbled.
“How?” Sam asked sceptically.
“It just is.”
“Cas was there too…”
“Don’t pick on Cas.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, because I said so.”
“And?”
“Because I’m the big brother and what I say goes.”
“At the moment you’re a six inch tall midget in a tutu.”
“Well at least mine isn’t pink.”
They come to a sudden stop as they ran into the back of Castiel legs, as he stopped suddenly in exasperation at the bickering that had been going on for the last hour. Castiel resisted the urge to sigh. He had attempted to carry the miniaturised Winchesters at first, but between their squabbling and Dean’s constant wiggling he had given up and put them back on the ground 10 minutes ago.
Castiel looked down to where Dean was leaning against his ankle. They hadn’t gone far but the now diminutive Winchester looked exhausted, his brother in no better shape as he sat on a twig, his arms folded and glowering at nothing in particular. Dean used the cuff of Castiel’s trousers to wipe the sweat from his brow, before collapsing onto his shoe like it was a lounge.
It had been one of those days, well not really, even for them this was pretty fucked up.
“Even for a witch this is pretty fucked up, I mean cruel and unusual.” Dean began to bemoan again about just how much he despised witches.
Dean had repeated something along these lines numerous times in the last hour with varying levels of foul language. Even if some of the metaphors went over Castiel head (or maybe got lost somewhere around his ankles) Castiel had to agree with the sentiment.
Dean stretched his aching, tiny legs, and accidently rolled off the side of Castiel shoe, landing in a heap in the leaf litter. He glared at Sam who almost fell off his own seat in laughter.
Not content with a mere verbal retort, Dean charged his now considerably smaller (though still unfairly taller than him) brother. Caught off guard Sam toppled over backwards, the brothers tumbled amongst the leaves trying to best each other. The urge to sigh became too great for Castiel to resist.
He reached down and picked the brothers up, holding them by the back of their shirts like tiny, exhausted, adorable yet frustrating kittens. “If you promise to remain quiet, I’ll carry you again.”
“Sure Cas,” Dean replied happily, his mood brightening instantly at the prospect.
Sam merely continued to glare, thinking his brother looked entirely too thrilled at the prospect of the angel carrying him again. Looking for all the world as though he hadn’t been bitching about being six inches tall just moments before.
In an attempt to avoid further squabbling Castiel split the brothers up. Placing Sam carefully in one of the trench coats pockets, where he quietly curled up, relived to no longer be walking but no doubt still scowling. He put Dean into the pocket of his shirt. Dean happily looked out from his vantage point to where they were going. Dean was apparently incapable of remaining still as he wiggled in Castiel’s pocket trying to see everything, but at least they were no longer squabbling as Castiel had requested.
After several moment of brooding silence from Sam, and wiggling from Dean, the older brother piped up, “You think we’re far enough away for you to try teleporting again?” he asked, looking above his head to Castiel, somehow still managing to meet the angels eyes. Apparently even miniaturised Dean and the angel were still capable of those lingering looks that always made Sam want to roll his eyes. Of course the whole personal space issue that Dean was so resolute about was sort of a moot point at the moment.
Castiel paused for a moment, seeming to look into himself, as he tried to determine if they were far enough from the witch for the spell she had put on Castiel, preventing him from teleporting, to have worn off. “Almost,” he replied a second later.
“So you must have seen some fucked up shit over the years?’ Dean asked a moment later as Castiel kept walking.
A muffled groan came from the pocket Sam was riding in, that Dean correctly interpreted as Sam’s ‘god my brothers an idiot’ groan.
“What? He’s lived for thousands of years it’s a legitimate question,” Dean called out as he looked over the edge of his pocket to the lower one where Sam was.
“Just ‘cause you’re the size of a stunted barbie doll and wearing a tutu doesn’t mean Cas has to tell you stories,” came Sam’s muffled reply.
“You’re just jealous ‘cause he doesn’t tell stories to you.”
There was silence for a moment until Sam realised his brother couldn’t see the bitch face he was giving him, “you’re an idiot.”
“You’re an idiot. Who was it again that got us shrunk?”
“Not me.”
”Was too.”
“Was not. How exactly is this my fault? Why don’t you blame Cas, he’s the one with super angel powers?”
“I said don’t pick on Cas, he only had to come save your sorry ass because you fucked up the incantation.”
“Well if you’d shot her when you had the chance she wouldn’t have been able to put a spell on us. And he had to save your sorry ass too.”
Feeling a shift in his powers as he walked past the extent of the witches spell, Castiel teleported without warning his passengers. He couldn’t help the ever so slight smirk of satisfaction at the sudden quiet, as their squabbling was cut off from the unexpected and unsettling jump.
They appeared in Bobby’s kitchen. Startling the hunter in a swirl of paper, as Castiel’s frustration translated into a more than a little huffy entrance.
”Hey Bobby, we could sort of use some help,” Dean said from Castiel breast pocket.
“You think?” Sam grumbled as he finally poked his head out from his own pocket.
“Now,” Castiel finished in exasperation, tired of having squabbling, wiggling, pouting and otherwise frustrating miniature Winchester infesting his pockets.
Bobby took a moment to take in the scene before him. He desperately wanted to heap well deserved shit on the pint sized idjit brothers, but the look on Castiel’s face put an end to that line of thinking. The angel wasn’t exactly known for his patience, and having two squirming Winchesters holed up in his clothing and the undoubted whining that had been occurring, Bobby could see whatever patience he had left was wearing thin.
“Well after you called I did some digging, I found a spell that should reverse the effects,” Bobby said watching in fascination as Castiel plucked Sam out of his pocket and placed him on the table.
“Do you have everything needed for it?” Castiel asked, apparently not noticing that he had picked Dean up but had yet to put him down. Dean was standing on one of Castiel’s palms with the other hand wrapped gently around his waist to stop him from falling. Dean was leaning on Castiel’s fingers seemingly unconcerned.
“Um yeah, think so” Booby stuttered, trying to figure out what was weirder, that the two brothers were only six inches tall, or the sight of Dean gently cupped in Castiel’s hands. He looked down to Sam who simply rolled his eyes and plopped down on the edge of the table, doing his best to ignore his idiot brother and his gigantic angel.
Bobby forced himself to look back to Castiel’s eyes, “the spells pretty complicated. I thought maybe...”
“I’ll do it,” Castiel answered before Bobby could finish asking.
Castiel finally put Dean down, Bobby could have sworn it was reluctantly. He refused to admit that the brother were kind of cute. Mentally shaking himself he handed over the scroll and spell components to Castiel.
Castiel quickly set about performing the spell without really looking it over. The strange words tripping off his tongue with an ease Bobby was almost jealous of. As he said the final words and added the last ingredient into the bowl in the middle of the table, blue smoke sprung from it, enveloping Sam and Dean. As it cleared Castiel sneezed.
Bobby was relieved to see the two boys suddenly back to their normal size.
“Cas you’re my...” Dean words cut out mid sentence as he turned to where Castiel had been standing. Three sets of eyes craned down to the floor to see a miniature Castiel glaring up at Bobby.
“What the fuck?” all three of them said in unison.
Sam grabbed the scroll from where it had fallen to the table. His eyes quickly scanned it. “Umm Bobby I think you mistranslated this, it’s not a reversal spell.”
“What the hell is it then?” Dean asked as he reached down and picked up the angel.
“It’s a transference spell, it temporarily transfer the effects of a spell.”
“Shit I’m sorry Cas,” Bobby said to the angel that was still glaring at him from his perch in Dean’s hands.
“Sam this isn’t funny,” Dean said at the slow smirk appearing on Sam’s lips.
“Don’t worry its temporary,” Sam said, breaking into a full grin at the idea of the angel having to put up with same spell as he had, thinking it was just deserts for Castiel making tiny Sam walk back in the forest.
Dean glared at his brother, glancing down to his waist, “you keeping that tutu?” smirking smugly when Sam looked down frantically.
When Sam looked back up, furiously trying to hide his embarrassment, he was sure even the fucking angel was smirking at him. Sam walked outside. It was bad enough when Dean was a jerk, Castiel picking up Dean’s bad habits as well was more fucked up than he could handle after the day they’d had. He swore under his breath as he involuntarily double checked that the tutu was really gone.
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Sequel HERE...
Comments are love...