Dean stood on tippy toes, craning his neck up in an attempt to see himself in the bathroom mirror. "This shit sucks!" he squeaked, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

"We'll figure this out Dean," Sam said, looking down at him.

"Easy for you to say jackass, you're not 'fun size'," Dean frowned, gesturing at himself.

"Quit spazzing! We'll fix this…as soon as we figure out what 'this' is," Sam sputtered, trying to sound reassuring and failing miserably. "Just calm down."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much fucking better!" Dean scowled, looking more adorable than angry. "I need a freaking beer," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, you can't…" Sam said quickly. Dean crossed his arms and fought off the urge to stomp his foot. Great, now he was starting to act exactly the way he looked.

"Why can't I have a beer?" he whined without an ounce of shame.

"Because kids don't drink beer," Sam said frankly. "You're only pushing about 40 pounds now…one beer will do you in."

"I'm not a damn kid!" Dean protested, his tiny, bare foot stomping the floor in frustration. He was losing his grip. "I'm a grown-ass man and I want a damn beer!" Tears welled up in his sparkling green eyes, spilling over too-long lashes.

"Dude, I think you're having a temper tantrum," Sam smirked, trying to hold back his laughter. Dean wiped his tears on his oversized sleeve and breathed deeply, trying to collect himself. He looked up at Sam with big round eyes and flushed cheeks, his lips still puffed out in a little pink pout. He looked so sad and cute that it damn near broke Sam's heart.

"Shut up!" Dean spit. "I can't help it you know. You try being this way for a while and see how you feel." His head dropped, tiny hands hiding his face. All Sam could see now was brown, fluffy hair and ears that stuck out a little too far. A pang of guilt ripped through him and he squatted, putting a hand under Dean's chin to lift his head.

"It'll be alright…I promise," Sam said softly, arms reaching to snatch him up in a hug. Dean smacked his giant hands away, brows furrowing, lips still pushed out.

"Don't do that, I'm not a child," he huffed. Then, with as much manliness as a little boy could muster, he straightened up, drawing back little shoulders and puffing out his chest.

"Control yourself Dean. Get a freaking grip. You're not a kid, you're still you. Don't let it get to you…" Dean tried to convince himself. At least the voice in his head still sounded normal. He strutted over to the mini-fridge and grabbed himself a cold bottle of beer. Before Sam could open his mouth in protest he was twisting at the lid. Sam watched as he struggled. About a minute passed and he was still fighting with it. Dean felt the onset of more tears and he gritted his teeth, willing them back. He couldn't let his emotions get the best of him again.

"Why can't this be a can?" Dean shrieked, attacking the bottle with ferocity…still no luck. He wrapped the cap in his oversized shirt and twisted with all his might. "This has to work." he thought. "Come on!" he squealed. Nope, it still wouldn't budge. Frustration and disappointment wavered on his face. It was very difficult to mask his feelings in this new body. His emotions were raw, overpowering and he struggled with self-control. No more hiding behind his rough exterior…he was now an open book.

Sam stayed silent, watching his brother. Those sad green eyes weighed on him, squeezing at his chest, making it hard to breathe. He gave in, walking over and snatching the bottle from Dean with little to no effort. Dean gritted his teeth and grabbed for it but Sam held it just out of reach. He twisted the cap off with ease and Dean's face crumpled in defeat. He was about to lose it again, tears pricking at his eyes, body tensing…so close to falling over the edge.

"Just one," Sam said authoritatively, holding the beer out in front of him. Dean's eyes brightened immediately, bringing out the freckles that scattered across his nose. His lips turned up in a toothy grin, as he grabbed the bottle that looked overly large in his hands. He brought it up to his lips, shutting his eyes and taking a long, satisfying swig.

"Thanks," he said with a nod. Sam smiled warmly.

"You drink up, I gotta call Bobby…"