Sam ate tiny chunks out of his massive sandwich as he listened to Dean explain what he'd learned from Ashley's neighbor. By the time Dean had finished his own meal, Sam had barely made a dent in his, and yet he felt certain he couldn't eat another bite. Seeing as the motel room had no fridge to keep it in, Dean ended up just tossing it.

Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table between the two beds in the room, Sam saw it was now half past two. He felt an uneasiness in his stomach. The more time that passed from when he'd been normal sized, the more anxious Sam got. It was very possible that Ashley could skip town, if she hadn't already, and the more time that passed the more time it gave Ashley to figure out how and where to hide from them.

Sam's worrying was put on hold when he found himself suddenly cast into darkness. He looked up to see that the darkness was in fact just Dean's shadow. "If you're dead set on coming with me, then we've got to figure out where the best place to keep you is." Dean said seriously. "My hands and shoulder are out, which basically just leaves pocket-travel." He told him.

There was something particularly dehumanizing about the idea of riding around in someone's pocket to Sam. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that pockets were intended for carrying objects. Regardless, Sam had been hoping to avoid having to ride around in Dean's pocket, but it seemed that would be impossible.

Sam let out a heavy sigh. "Fine, it beats being here." There was a very brief wavering of disappointment on Dean's face, but he was quick to disguise it.

Dean's hand twitched forwards, instantly putting Sam on edge, but thankfully it stopped before it got too close. Sam looked up to see a slightly sheepish look on Dean's face. "Uh right." He mumbled, supposedly remembering Sam's request not to be grabbed. "How about..." Sam forced himself not to flinch as Dean's hand continued towards him, however this time, instead of coming at him, it stopped a few feet in front of him, palm up. Sam glanced up at his brother who gave him a short nod of encouragement.

Taking in a steadying breath, Sam stepped up onto the offered palm. He tried not to think about how weird the spongy surface of Dean's skin felt beneath his shoes as he walked to the center of the palm. "Might be a good idea to sit down." Dean said quietly from above.

Sam lowered himself down to sit cross-legged, hating how deep the lines of Dean's hand felt to him at this size. "Ok, I-I think I'm good." Sam mumbled. When he got no response he remembered Dean probably hadn't been able to hear his voice at such a low volume, so he instead just threw out a thumbs up to the giant hunter.

Dean must of taken note of the signal, as the hand began to suddenly lurch into motion, moving upwards as the fingers rose up behind him like a kind of protective barrier. Sam could tell Dean was trying hard to keep his hand steady and his movements slow, which Sam was immensely appreciative of. And while this method of being carried was far preferable to the enclosed fist version, the fact that it would be easier for him to fall off the sides was not lost on him.

Expecting to be riding in one of the pockets of Dean's jacket, Sam was surprised when the hand continued up towards Dean's chest. When Sam caught sight of the chest pocket of Dean's gray button up he realized what his brother was intending. Sam jumped to his feet, despite his instincts urging him not to. He shot a glare up at Dean's face several feet above him. "I am not riding in that pocket, Dean."

"What's wrong with it?" Dean asked defensively.

Sam rolled his eyes, "That's a little too close for comfort for me." Not only would Sam be pressed up against Dean's chest, but he'd be smothered under the additional layer of Dean's jacket. On top of that, the chest pocket was considerably smaller than those in the jacket.

"Don't be a baby about it." Dean told him.

Sam scowled. "Why can't I just go in your jacket pocket?" He demanded, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.

"The jacket pockets are tilted, meaning you could fall out." Dean replied firmly, taking on the bossy big brother tone Sam had heard thousands of times in his lifetime.

As much as Sam wanted to argue it, he knew Dean had a point, and it wasn't worth wasting time on, not when time was of the essence right now. Sam let out a huffy sigh, "Fine."

"Good, now hold still, I'm going to have to pick you up for this." Dean said, giving only a moments warning before plucking Sam up by the waist and hoisting him into the air. It was short lived as seconds later Sam found himself being carefully lowered into Dean's chest pocket.

Once Sam's feet touched down on the fabric bottom of the pocket, the giant fingers around his waist let go and retreated out of the pocket. Sam stumbled on the unsteady surface, eventually giving up on standing and just plopping down in the bottom.

"You good?" Sam startled at the rumbling of Dean's voice. He could literally feel the vibrations in Dean's chest behind him. Talk about surreal.

"I'm-I'm fine, let's just go." Sam shouted. The sooner they got going, the sooner Sam could get out of this fabric prison.

As soon as Dean began walking, the pocket jolted with the movement, each step jostling the occupant within. It was far from a pleasant experience, but Sam wasn't about to complain to Dean, not if he was going to prove he could handle leaving the motel room.

Relief flooded over Sam when he heard the familiar creak of the impala door opening. His relief was interrupted however by the massive vertigo that hit him a moment later. Sam imagined the swift and jarring motion had been caused by Dean getting into the car and was proved right when he heard the loud bang of the car door slamming shut. "Out, Dean." Sam groaned, one hand clutching at his aching head, the other pressed against the side of the pocket in an attempt to stabilize himself.

There was a moment of hesitation before finally two fingers appeared within the pocket, quickly finding Sam's waist once again and lifting him up into the air. When Sam found himself back on his feet it was once again on a palm, with the face of the hand's owner hovering only a couple feet away.

"What's wrong, are you ok?" Dean asked, worry all over his voice.

His stomach beginning to settle somewhat after the series of gigantic movements he had been subject to, Sam gave a small nod in response. "Yeah, just didn't want to spend anymore time than necessary in that thing." He huffed, still in the process of catching his breath.

There was a flash of guilt on Dean's face. "That bad, huh?" Sam opened his mouth to tell Dean that he didn't blame him, but Dean had already began speaking again before Sam could say anything. "You wanna go back on the shoulder for the car trip?" He asked.

A part of Sam wanted to just sit in the passenger's seat like he always did, but knowing how oversized the seat would be for him now...well it was probably for the best that Sam just take Dean's suggestion. "Yeah, thanks." He replied.

After dropping Sam off on his shoulder and waiting for him to get settled, Dean started up the car and pulled out of the motel parking lot.