Title: Five Times Dean Was Bigger Than Sam
Seasons: Pre-series through Season 4
Category: Five Things, Humor, Drama
Spoilers: All Seasons
Summary: All through his adult life, Dean has been smaller than Sam. Here are four times where he was bigger, and one where it mattered.
Word Count: 1364
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke and co. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. This is for entertainment purposes only; no financial profit has been gained from this story. This story is not mean to infringe upon the rights of the above-mentioned establishments.
Sam didn't know it, but there was that stretch of time in Rhode Island when Dean kept spiking Sam's coffee milk. He'd heard once that caffeine could stunt a person's growth. At the rate Sam was growing in his sophomore and junior year of high school, Dean thought it might just come in handy. He was doing Sammy a favor, a favor that had nothing to do with Dean's desire to stay the tallest. None. Of course, John caught him adding shots of espresso right into the flavored milk, which ended the experiment real fast. But Dean liked to think that his actions did something to stop the weed from turning into the Jolly Green Giant.
John's face remained impassive as his gaze darted between Sam and Dean. John didn't even have to say a word for Dean to know they were both grounded for life.
"What did you do?" John asked at last.
Dean went to scrub at his head, but thought better of it once Sam shot him a "touch and I kill you" glare. He promptly planted his hands by his side.
John's face darkened. "Dean?"
John glared at Dean.
"Sam," he repeated. He motioned to Sam. "That's Dean."
Dean let out an uneasy chuckle and suddenly wondered what that must look like on Sam's face. His own face only glared back at him.
"You know that fugly Chinese puzzle box?" Dean asked John. He looked down to Sam – well him – and wondered if he really looked that short compared to his brother.
Sam sighed. "It wasn't a puzzle box."
John shook his head with disgust as he shut the spell book he'd been reviewing. "I should let you stay this way for a few days. It'll serve you right for disobeying me."
"I have to take my SAT's tomorrow!" Sam cried.
"No problem, Sammy. I can take 'em for –" Dean never had a chance to finish. He jerked back, surprised at the rage in his – Sam's – face.
"Come on," John said with a sigh. "Let's fix this mess."
Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and followed John. Though he could feel Sam's eyes burning a hole in his back, he relished the moment. Their dad didn't seem so scary from up there.
When Bobby opened the front door, Dean wore his best smile and raised the shoebox in his hand.
"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Bobby asked.
Dean's smile waned, but he let out a nervous chuckle despite himself. "Got a little problem."
"Ha ha. Funny."
Bobby frowned as the sound of Sam's voice – Sam's very small tiny voice – echoed from within the box.
"You're kidding me," Bobby mumbled.
"Wish I was," Dean admitted.
"How did this happen?"
"God knows. One minute we're in the car driving to some tunes and next minute he's The Incredible Shrinking Man."
Bobby said nothing.
"Hey, I did my best. I even tried to get him one of those cool little Barbie convertibles but the dude bit me."
Bobby looked less than impressed as he waved Dean inside. "Lemme see what I can find." He shook his head. Dean swore he heard the word "idjits" again.
After a few calls and some boring recitations from Bobby's stash of smelly books, Sammy was back and taller than ever. Or at least as tall as he used to be. Yet to Dean, Sam just didn't seem all that tall anymore.
Dean frowned, eyeing his brother as they made their way back to the Impala.
"What?" Sam asked. His face darkened. "You better not have pictures."
Dean kept his phone firmly in his pocket. Sam didn't need to know about that. "Me? Nah." He shrugged. "I just thought you were taller."
"That's right. Rub it in. It's probably the one and only time you'll be the big man on campus."
Dean ignored the comment. "Hey, I was the nice guy. I took care of you."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "You kept me in a box."
"For your own good." He grinned and mimicked eating a burger. "I got you good eats."
Instead of rolling his eyes, Sam frowned. He nudged his chin in Dean's general direction. "What happened to your clothes?"
Dean looked down at the cuffs of his sleeves and puckered his brow. They caught him mid-forearm. When he tried to pull them back down, they refused to budge.
Annoyed, he flapped his arms by his side. "Perfect."
"Looks like we have a big problem," Sam said with a grin.
"At least I'm not Tiny Tim," Dean mumbled. "All I need now is a 100 Foot Tall Woman and I'm set."
"You know how all those movies end, Dean."
He knew. They both turned around and headed back to Bobby's house.
Friggin' magic rabies.
Sam opened the door to the back room of the club and froze.
Dean felt his face redden as Sam's blank face gaped at him. Coolly, Dean straightened his fishnet stockings and, ignoring the wobble to his legs, he paraded past Sam in five-inch stilettos.
"Not a word," Dean muttered.
The things he did for this job.
Dean leaned against the fence by an old abandoned barn. He and Sam had pulled off the highway to make some small repairs to the Impala, but to Dean's surprise, Sam had insisted on making the adjustments himself. Dean hadn't argued this time. He'd just stepped aside and watched Sam work under the hood while he waited in silence, toying the discarded old rag Sam had tossed away.
A lot had changed while he was away. While he knew he should be proud of Sam, Dean couldn't muster the strength. Not even all the flash and power of his angel stalkers could lift him up. He was drifting farther and farther away until he was nothing but an insignificant speck on the horizon.
Dean tossed the rag over his shoulder and bent low, picking up his half empty beer bottle. He paused midway when he realized Sam was walking over to him and only straightened his back when Sam had reached the fence.
"The car's almost fixed," Sam said, waving the wrench toward the Impala.
Dean took a swig from the bottle. "Awesome."
Sam nodded, but he didn't go away. Dean stared at him, waiting, knowing there was more to come.
"Do you remember the range back in Montana?"
Dean arched his eyebrows as he searched his memory. They'd been to a lot of ranges. After awhile, they all kinda blurred.
"I was eleven," Sam said. "You were helping me hone my aim."
"Didn't need my help," Dean said into the bottle. "You nailed those suckers first try."
Sam nodded. "Only because I'd been watching." He laughed. "I was too proud to ask."
Dean stared at Sam. Where the hell was he going with this?
"This trip down memory lane for kicks or what?"
Sam didn't answer him and just looked back to the Impala. He twirled the wrench as his thoughtful gaze remained on the engine.
Dean rolled his eyes. At the rate Sam was going, they'd be there all day. He pushed off the fence and grabbed the wrench from Sam's hands. "Lemme do it before you break my baby."
Dean jammed himself under the hood and began to work. He had to admit that Sam's work so far was top notch; he must have actually paid attention from all the lessons he'd given him. Dean smiled despite himself. It wasn't like Sam had had a great teacher or nothing.
As he finished, he felt Sam hover behind him, absorbing every last detail. He didn't ask questions, though Dean knew he didn't really need to. That wasn't the point.
On that cool late winter day, in the dead of nowhere, Dean realized he didn't care how small and insignificant he was. In that small moment, he felt oddly important. For all the times he'd felt like a big man, there was only one that was essential. He was a big brother and that would never change, not today and not tomorrow, not in heaven or hell, and certainly not when the world ended.