An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hey! If you want something fluff-filled with a side of angst, maybe check out my Tiny!Dean fanfic?
SUMMARY:
Dean, Sam, and Castiel go up against a witch- and Dean gets cursed with a mysterious purple powder, and is now only 3 inches tall.
In which Castiel and Sam are protective, Dean is scared and hurt, and Destiel is out of control.
Updated: TODAY Words:6937 (so far) Chapters:6/?
Look at the first chapter under the cut
Dean
“TAKE THIS YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yells as he punches the witch in the face. Sam is knocked out cold, Cas restrained by holy fire. And Dean’s gun, loaded with witch killing bullets, is uselessly lying across the room. This witch was prepared, Dean would give it that.
And another punch.
The witch stumbles at the blow, spitting out blood, and Dean winds up for yet another swing just as the witch acts. He swipes a leg out, knocking Dean flat on his back. Before Dean can react, a purple, sparkly powder falls over him and he hears the witch muttering an incantation before he seizes in pain and everything goes black…
Castiel
“DEAN!” Castiel yells as he sees the hunter fall. He has to do something. He has to help. He has to save Dean, and Sam- he has to get out . Castiel looks around, frantically calculating what he can use to escape. He almost doesn’t hear the sound of rain- barely a drizzle, but it will do. Castiel looks at the rafters directly above him and uses his grace to gouge a hole in the roof, allowing rain to spill down on and around him.
The holy fire fizzles out, and Castiel surges toward the witch who notices Castiel too late- just as Castiel plunges his angel blade directly into his heart. Castiel barely notes the blood seeping onto his hand, his coat, and merely tosses the witch’s body aside in favor of looking over to Dean- who is gone.
“Dean?!” Castiel calls. He dematerializes his angel blade and scans the room. Sam is still slumped against the wall with a gash on his head- unconscious, but not in immediate danger. Could the witch have transported Dean somewhere? He could be anywhere. There is some powder still on the ground. If Castiel gathers some he can study it and maybe tell-
Castiel’s thoughts are cut off by a minuscule groan he can only hear due to his grace-enhanced hearing. He looks down to where he heard the noise come from and scans the ground. And then he sees, there, right where he would have stepped next, a three-inch-tall Dean .
Dean
Dean groans and covers his ears instinctively at the loud rumble- it only makes his headache worse. And boy, does he ache- everywhere . Hell, he hurts in places he didn’t know he could hurt, and he’s hurt in a hell of a lot of ways. To top it off, he can feel the wetness of blood on the back of his head from where he hit it when he fell, and knows he probably has a concussion. Whatever it is.
He is about to open his eyes when he feels something very, very large shifting to his right. He feels warmth getting closer, and it’s only then that he realizes how cold he is. That son of a bitch could have done anything to him, and the something next to him could be friendly- or it could be about to kill him. But Dean is not one to go down without a fight.
Dean stills himself, waits for the Thing to stop moving, then springs to action. He pulls his knife out of his pocket and leaps to his feet in one fluid motion, digging the blade into the area of the Thing closest to him. The Thing doesn’t react, and Dean takes a moment to take in how big it is: a solid, black mass a few feet taller than him...but it keeps going, up and up for miles, up to a mountain of tan, and, so many miles up, is…
“Cas?”
Castiel
Castiel sits cross-legged on the floor next to Dean, a little wary, watching him carefully. When Dean says his name, Castiel nods, and feels a pang as Dean stumbles backwards at the movement, stumbles back in fear .
“Dean, it’s alright-” Castiel begins, raising a hand to attempt to comfort the hunter, but Dean shouts, still a tiny noise, and covers his ears as he sinks to the ground.
Castiel freezes immediately, and adjusts his voice accordingly. He whispers, “My apologies. You are safe, Dean: the witch is dead.”
Dean doesn’t seem comforted by the information. On the contrary, Castiel watches as Dean trembles, face buried in his arms, knees to his chest, breathing rapid and erratic.
Dean is having a panic attack.
Castiel’s mind works rapid-fire, trying to figure out a way to help Dean, some way to give him comfort. He realizes he, in and of himself, is probably adding to Dean’s anxiety ten-fold just by being there. He can sense with his grace that Dean is hurting, and that he is terrified, and, above all, cold . Humans were not built to be this size, and the floor of the witch’s cabin is unforgiving, hard concrete, and it is Autumn to top it all off. Dean needs warmth .
Castiel whispers, even lower than before, “Dean, I am going to put my hand around you now. You are extremely cold, which will make your heart beat accelerate at a dangerous pace- I wish to prevent this. Is that alright with you?”
Castiel sees Dean stiffen even more as he speaks, and notes a barely visible, tiny nod. He raises his right hand before remembering it is covered in blood. He cleans it in a second with his grace, and proceeds to ever so slowly lower his hand to cup around Dean. He can feel Dean’s shivers against his fingertips, and Dean never looks up, but slowly, slowly, his breathing becomes more normal.
Once his panic subsides, Castiel feels Dean shifting so as to be further encased in the warmth of Castiel’s palm.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters, and Castiel only barely catches it, even with his enhanced hearing.
Downloading They Might Be Giants podcasts at the computer lab to a flash drive while I restocked Neopets items on the FAST CONNECTION, going home and using Audacity to cut them into individual songs, listening to the mix CDs I made out of them while restocking the next day and downloading more, and so on and so forth
I can’t get over the fact that my bosses hired four people for this marketing job and fired the only two marketing majors but kept a graphic design and history major instead.
Business degrees are not only miserable and boring, they’re also useless lmfao.
