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Chapter Text

A huge thump from outside the nightstand startled Sam from sleep. He blinked his eyes open to an angry exclamation of “OW! Sonovabitch… ”

Curious, Sam slipped out from the covers of his bed. As carefully as he could he padded over to the books to take a look at what was going on in the motel room. He poked his head out, trying to stay as small and unnoticeable as possible in case there was trouble. His eyes widened.

What the hell is Dean DOING…?

Sam frowned. The giant hunter was flat on his back with a few tools by his side, trying to prop up a flashlight so he could see the underside of the bed he was stretched out under. His legs and waist were the only parts of his body sticking out all way down at the end. From the general gist of things, so far all he’d managed to do was drop the flashlight on his face, bringing a smirk to Sam's face. Dean rubbed his head, grumbling to himself. Giving up on the flashlight, he stuck it between his teeth and started to examine the underside of the bed with long, dexterous fingers.

Even more confused now, Sam wandered slowly over to Dean, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. This was pretty close to the last thing he’d expect to find his brother doing in the morning. Usually if they didn't have a case, Dean would take advantage and sleep in. Or try and find a new case, research curses... pretty much anything but this. Whatever this was. He came up alongside a large screwdriver, nudging it to the side with his foot. Dean hadn’t noticed him there yet, as intently focused on the bed as he was. Sam squinted up, trying to figure out what Dean was looking for.

Sam didn't realize his mistake until too late. Letting out a cry of victory, Dean went to grab the screwdriver lying on the floor. Not noticing that his tiny brother was standing in the way, his huge fingers unwittingly snatched up Sam instead.

Sam let out a yelp as the floor disappeared from beneath his feet, the world spinning around him. A few disorienting seconds later, he found himself suspended directly over two very large, very surprised green eyes. Shock passed over Dean’s face when he realized what he had locked in his fist. The flashlight slipped out of his mouth, sliding off his shoulder. Its beam caught Sam square in the center when it landed.

“Sammy? Where the hell’d you come from?”

Squirming in Dean’s overpowering grasp, Sam tried to block his eyes from the bright glare of the flashlight. His heart was still pounding in his chest from how fast he’d been picked up, helpless to stop it. Dean loosened his grip, letting Sam slide down a bit in the hand so he was cupped in a loose fist.

Sam shielded his eyes the second his arm was free, taking a moment to calm his breathing. He squinted down at Dean once he'd recovered. “Well, when you get woken up by your giant brother shouting angrily, you usually want to figure out what’s going on.”

Guilt covered Dean’s face. “Shit, Sam. I didn’t mean to wake you…”

Sam shoved at one of the fingers supporting him, aggravated with Dean’s constant guilt trips. Dean would go on thinking everything was his fault if you let him. “Stop blaming yourself for everything. I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself.” 

Dean gave a small smirk at that. "You could've fooled me, pint-size." He ruffled Sam's hair with a careful fingertip. 

Sam batted the finger away, annoyed. "You know what I mean." While trying to straighten his messy bangs he arched his eyebrows down at Dean. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to find you flat on your back this early in the morning.”

Dean wiggled his eyebrows with a grin. "Kinky.” Ignoring an aggravated groan from Sam he lowered his brother gently to his chest, setting Sam down next to his amulet. “I was actually just trying to get one of these bad boys out.”

Catching his balance on the moving chest, Sam stared up at the underside of the bed stretching over his head. Sam followed Dean’s hand with his eyes, scrunching his eyebrows together when he saw what Dean was gesturing at. “A… screw?”

Dean grabbed his screwdriver, almost knocking Sam off balance from the unexpected motion around him. Sam caught himself again as Dean went on. “An iron screw, so you have a bit more defense the next time we run into an angry spirit.”

Comprehension dawned on Sam. “Oh.” He took a step back, trying to stay out of Dean’s way while he wielded the gigantic tool. The huge arm swooped over his head, getting back to work taking apart the bed.

Dean gave him a smirk while he worked. “Hey, the more weapons you have, the better off we both are. And let's face it. The way things are now, I can’t exactly make you an iron knife to go with your silver blade.” With his free hand he held a finger out to Sam. Just the tip of it was bigger than Sam’s entire hand. 

With a sad laugh at the comparison, Sam held up his small hand, pressing it against the extended fingertip. His fingers, stretched out as far as possible, barely covered the tip. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” 

Sam’s small silver knife was one of a kind, given to him for his birthday before he’d been cursed. Dean had spent months crafting it, taking Bobby and his father’s lessons on making his own weapons to heart. It was very lucky it had shrank with Sam, considering how much he'd used it. It had even saved his life a few times. And Dean's. 

With Sam so small, Dean would never be able to make him another. As adept as Dean was with his hands, compared to Sam's scale he was nothing but clumsy. And nothing else Sam’s size had close to the quality of that small knife.

Dean took his finger back, turning his attention to the bed. Dodging under Dean’s arm, Sam scaled down the massive chest, wanting to stay out of his giant brother's way while he was working. Letting go of the shirt once he was close to the ground, he slid down the last few inches, landing with a thump on the carpeted floor next to his brother. Even lying flat on the ground like this, Dean's body stretched over his head. 

Sam backed away, keeping an eye on Dean’s progress. If the bed fell apart on Dean (which, considering the caliber of motel they normally stayed at, was very likely) he didn’t want to be anywhere near the blast zone. Dean was far more durable than Sam. He’d just get bruises if the bed fell apart on him, whereas Sam would get squished. 

Leaning against the leg of the second bed, Sam slid down. The thick strands of the carpet provided a soft cushion for him to sit on while he watched his brother work.

It only took Dean another five minutes before he managed to get the screw out with the bed still in once piece. He grinned triumphantly, holding the little screw pinched in his fingers. It was an inch long and would be the perfect size for Sam.

Laying his head flat on the floor, Dean glanced around, searching for Sam. He didn’t want to move before he knew where his miniature brother was. Especially after grabbing him by accident not long ago. Dean felt his face heat up when he remembered that. He hadn't even noticed until Sam was right in front of his eyes, staring down at him with equal shock from the massive fist.

Gotta be more careful around him. The little guy isn't exactly durable, asshat. What if you accidentally hurt him there?

He'd never forgive himself.

His eyes landed on Sam, leaning casually back against the second bed. "What do you think?" Dean asked. He stretched his arm out to Sam, screw in hand. 

Sam stood up, accepting it from the giant fingers. Once he was holding it they could both see it was as long as his forearm, with the head of the screw as wide as his palm. He gripped the threaded part and gave Dean a confident grin. "This'll work fine." He made a few jabs with it, wielding it like a short sword.

Dean grinned at the absurdity of his brother wielding a screw like a sword, briefly cheered at the sight. On purpose or not, Sam came off as adorable on occasion. The curse of being so small.

Sam ended with a twirl, whipping the screw over his head to show off. It might be silly, but he savored the chance to show off his moves as much as Dean enjoyed watching them. He couldn't exactly duel with Dean, so something like this was his only opportunity to show off.

While Sam was distracted, Dean tried to slide out from under the bed. He didn't get far, unable to maneuver in the cramped area. Sam took a few steps back with a wary eye cocked in Dean's direction the moment he saw his brother moving.

Good, Dean thought. He didn't want Sam near him if the bed came down over his head.

Trying another way, Dean grabbed onto the edge of the bed, using it to pull himself out. It went swimmingly until he heard a low groan come from over his head. Expecting it to all come down on him, Dean scrunched his eyes shut, bracing for impact. Nothing happened. He peeked one eye open with his face still nervously screwed up. The bed was still in one piece. Trying to avoid touching it and tempting fate, he wriggled his way out as fast as possible. Laughter came from where Sam was sitting at his awkward movements.

Finally free, Dean stood up, giving his entire body a good shake and stretch. He gave the bed one last, wary stare. "Let's not use that bed again," he muttered, more to himself than Sam. He started to walk to the bathroom to wash up when his brother's quiet voice stopped him in his tracks.

Dean knelt down so he could hear his brother better. "What's up?" he asked.

"Is there any way I can grab some floss? I have an idea for this." Sam waved the screw over his head.

"Sure," Dean said. He held his hand out next to Sam, patiently waiting for him to climb on. It still tickled when Sam climbed on his hand, but Dean was far more used to it nowadays.

Going to stand up, Dean brought his second hand up so Sam couldn't fall off by accident. The two hands dwarfed the small hunter so much, he almost disappeared in Dean's grasp. A brief pang hit Dean at the sight of his younger brother's complete trust. Deep inside, he knew he'd never be so calm held like that. But for Sam it was normal to be held between two hands far bigger than he was. He wasn't even bothered by it anymore.

Arriving at the bathroom counter, Dean unfolded his hands so Sam could get off. Grabbing the floss, he held it out, curious what his brother had in mind. Wasting no time, Sam got right down to business. He sliced off a length of floss as long as he was tall and sat down on the counter twinning it together.

Dean washed up, getting the grease and dust bunnies off while he watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam was still at work when Dean finished, so he was left there while Dean went through the rest of his normal morning routine. He had his sights set on a case in Hibbing, Minnesota. He hadn’t mentioned it to Sam yet, planning on filling him in on the road.

He came back over to Sam, smirking when he saw what Sam had managed with the floss. He’d made a little belt so he could sling the screw over his hip. That way, he wouldn’t have to lug it around everywhere when they were on a case.

“Well, what do you think?” Sam asked, showing it off.

“Pretty good,” Dean admitted, impressed as always with Sam's ingenuity. He put his hand down next to Sam. "I found us a case a few states over," he said as he lifted Sam up to eye level. "You up for a trip to Minnesota?"

Sam squirmed in his seat, trying to get comfortable. They'd only been on the road for an hour and he just couldn't sit still.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean grumbled. A hand rose up, scratching the part of his neck right over Sam's head.

Sam batted at the fingers infringing in his personal space. "You try sitting on someone's shoulder for hours on end and be comfortable!" he snipped testily.

Dean lowered his hand, shifting his shoulder under Sam. "Yeah, well try having your brother sitting on your shoulder constantly squirming!"

They both let out world-suffering sighs, Sam slumping back against Dean's neck and Dean slumping down in the front seat of the Impala.

Sam tried to distract himself from the desire to squirm again. "So what makes you think this case is our kind of thing?"

So far, they'd only talked a little about the case. Once Dean had finished getting the screw out of the bed for Sam, he'd swung into motion gathering their things together. For some reason he was eager to get to another hunt. Sam had just gone along with it, letting Dean scoop him up without argument for once.

The screw he’d tucked away with his clothes, keeping it for later. He wouldn't need to haul it around all the time but it was definitely nice to have some reliable protection against spirits. No matter how small the iron, it would be just as effective against the spirit. One good hit was all he'd need.

Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully. "When I checked the town records, there's far more missing persons per capita here over the years than other towns nearby. Plus Dad has the town marked as the hunting grounds of a possible phantom attacker."

Sam crossed his arms. He couldn't help thinking of his father's journal longingly. Currently it was tucked away in Dean's jacket not far under where Sam was sitting. Safe, but completely out of reach for him without help. 

He sighed. He hated the way he pretty much needed Dean's permission for something as mundane as reading a book. "So what's your plan when we get to town?"

Dean arched his eyes. "Well, there's supposed to be one eyewitness to the most recent vanishing. Some kid. Figured we could start with him and work our way out from there."

"Yeah... sounds good." Sam sat quiet for a few minutes as the road passed them by, torn, before he finally decided to just get it over with. "Uh... Dean?"

"Mmm?" Dean didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Would... would you mind if I took a look through Dad's journal? See what he's got on the phantom attackers?"

Dean gave Sam a surprised glance. "Of course. All you ever gotta do is ask." He dug in his jacket under Sam, pulling out the journal from one of his many hidden pockets, some that Sam was familiar with, many he wasn’t. Dean stuck it on the seat, flipping it open to the middle. "Just... be careful, alright? I don't need you flying off the seat."

Sam snickered. "Yes mom," he laughed as he climbed down Dean's arm. He let go once he was a few inches off the seat, landing on his feet.

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned his attention back to the road. "Smartass," he muttered in a voice Sam could only just make out.

Sam grinned as he climbed onto the book. As odd as it was, he found Dean's attitude reassuring. Even after all the years they'd been separated, that hadn't changed. It helped remind him that no matter how huge and intimidating the other hunter could be - and Dean did huge and intimidating very well, whether it was on purpose or not - he was still Sam's brother. Still just Dean. And as long as Sam was with him, he was safe.

Once Sam found the page he was searching for he settled down onto the page, digging out his own journal to write down what he could glean from John's scrawled writings and what he knew about the case they were on so far. That way he could organize his own thoughts on it and hopefully help Dean figure out what was going on.

That night, Dean turned the Impala into one of the smaller motels to be found in Hibbing, Minnesota. The places to stay in the area were split between nice, fancy hotels and the pay-by-hour motels that were sleazier but in the range Dean could afford.

Dean chanced a glance down at his brother, not surprised to find Sam knocked out on his shoulder. Once he'd lost the light to see the journal, he'd climbed back up to his normal spot in the car and Dean hadn't heard a peep from him since. 

Reaching a hand up carefully, Dean let Sam slide off safely onto his palm. Sam flopped onto his side in his sleep, curling around his little satchel. He mumbled to himself as he got settled again, relaxing into the curve of Dean's hand. Dean's eyes softened at the sign of his brother's trust. It meant the world to Dean that Sam could relax so completely around him, especially with how vulnerable Sam was in the world.

Unsure what to do with the miniature, sleeping hunter, Dean tucked him into the side pocket of his leather jacket. He'd be safest there while Dean checked them into the motel. Far safer than leaving him alone in the car while he was asleep. 

Sam didn't even budge, sleeping obliviously on. Carefully pulling his hand out, Dean strode into the main entrance of the motel. 

A young girl was running the front desk, probably around the same age as Sam. Long, straight brown hair and dark eyes glanced up at his entry. She dimpled when she saw Dean. "Hi, checking in?"

Dean smiled back at her. "Yep. One room, please." He took a quick glance at her name tag. "Beth."

She typed away at the computer while he waited, looking through the selection. "Well, right now we only have rooms with two queens open. All the rest are... taken." She blinked at the screen. "Does that sound good?"

While she was talking, Dean realized he could feel his brother shifting around in the pocket. Must have woken up, he thought to himself. Dean slipped his hand in to keep the girl from noticing the movement. Sam squirmed as far away from the hand infringing in on his space in the tight pocket as he could before settling down. 

"Yeah, that sounds great." Dean slipped his hand back out, grabbing his wallet.

Once everything was settled, she pointed him to where the room was. "Room 150, right around the corner."

Room key in hand, Dean gathered Sam out of his pocket the moment he was outside, putting him back on the shoulder. Grumpily, Sam slouched against his neck. "What's the big idea?" Sam grumbled.

"Figured you didn't want to be hanging around on my shoulder while I checked in," Dean smirked. "Next time, I'll be sure to introduce you."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Sam held on while Dean dug through the back of the Impala, tossing a few things in the duffel bag. His own satchel was slung around his shoulder again. "I can find my own dates."

"Yeah, how's that going, anyway?" Dean tried to soften his tone. Sam didn't exactly have much chance of ever meeting up with the girl of his dreams, considering his curse. Being under a foot tall cut his relationship prospects down to almost zero.

Sam just scoffed. "I'm fine, Dean. Besides, the last girl I liked is scared of me now."

Surprised, Dean arched his eyes. Sam had never mentioned any girls. Dean would remember that. "Who's that?"

"Krissy - the girl we left Sean with when you found me. She... ah. She didn't take it too well when I told her I used to be a human." Dean could feel Sam slouch back against his neck.

He frowned to himself, trying to think of something he could say to help. Nothing rose to mind. Dean might not be the long-term relationship type of person himself, but he didn't have any problem finding someone to hook up with for a night or two. Sam, on the other hand, didn't even have the option.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Dean went into the motel room. Red shades hung down the height of the door. Glitzy beds and bright lamps finished off the feel, making it one of the.... brighter rooms he'd ever stayed in. 

"Huh," said both brothers in unison, staring at the crazy colors.

Dean dropped his duffel by the door, scooping Sam off his shoulder to put him on one of the beds. While Sam was still recovering his feet, Dean strode over to the phone. "Hungry for anything?" he called over his shoulder.

"Uh... whatever you get is fine." Sam set out towards the nightstand, climbing down from the bed.

Once Dean finished calling a deep dish pizza with everything, along with a small side salad for his stubborn brother, he walked over to the nightstand where Sam was. Kneeling down on the floor, he peered in. "Homey," Dean quipped. 

Sam was sitting against the wall with his knees up, writing in his small journal. He arched his eyebrows at the giant staring in at him. "Sure..." he said dryly. "Whatever you say."

Dean smirked. He dug into the bag next to him, pulling out Sam's bed and the rest of his stuff. Sam completely ignored him while he set up the dollhouse-sized possessions and the wall of books to separate Sam's small room from the rest of the world.

Standing, he made sure he couldn't see any sign of Sam before heading to the bed to watch TV while he waited for the food to arrive. Couldn't be too careful, however unlikely it was that anyone would ever catch sight of Sam or his stuff.

The food came shortly after. Dean dug into the pizza while Sam made his way over to the table. He didn't often let Dean help him with simple things like that, preferring to do it himself. 

Sam clambered up the table, using one of the chairs to climb this time. They had wooden decorations carved into the sides, making it an easy trip. He blinked in surprise at the salad Dean had set up and waiting for him. "What's this?" he asked.

Dean gave him a half shrug. "Figured you'd want to try something different from me."

"You shouldn't have, Dean."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, cause a salad costs so much," he said sarcastically.

Sam ducked his head down, refusing to meet Dean's eyes. He scuffed a boot against the tabletop. "I just hate that I can't help you pay for anything. That you're the one who has to take care of everything like that."

"Sam, I don't mind. Really. It was only a few bucks. And..." Dean thought of the card he was using at the moment, "not to mention, it isn't even my money I'm using here."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Dean sighed, nudging the little salad over to his brother. "Just eat and enjoy it for once. Stop thinking too hard about these things. You've helped save lives, including mine, so you deserve to eat what you enjoy. Even if it's a salad." He wrinkled his nose.

Sam sat there and ate the salad without further comment, staying quiet the rest of dinner. Dean grabbed his laptop, putting in a bit more research about the case before turning in for the night.

Sam woke up to Dean tossing his things in a bag. Shuffling to the edge of the nightstand, he blinked tiredly up at the energetic human. "What's going on?" he yawned, brushing a hand through his rumpled hair.

"There was another man that got abducted last night from a truck stop. Picked it up on the CB radio." Dean stared down at his bag, lips moving silently as he listed off the items he'd need.

"Dude, you are way too excited about this."

Dean cocked an eye down at him. "Hey, this might be a lucky break. Trail's still fresh. This might end up being an easy in and out case for once."

"I'm happy for you." Sam set out towards the table, trying to straighten out his rumpled hair. Huge boots hit the ground inches from him as Dean grabbed his gun from under the pillow on his bed. Paranoid bastard.

It didn't bother him anymore to have his big brother step around him like that. Dean had never once given Sam a reason to be afraid of getting stepped on.

"You wanna come with?" Dean asked as he finished packing his bag.

"Nah, think I'll hang here." Sam hauled himself up the chair. "You just planning on interviewing the vics’ families, right?"

"Probably," Dean admitted. "Not feeling the pocket today?"

"Good guess." Sam hauled himself to the top of the table at last, stumbling a bit once he was up. "Mind if I use the laptop? Think I'll get in some overdue research while you're out..."

"Not a problem." Dean opened up the laptop, loading it for his little brother. With a smirk, he rumpled Sam's hair, grinning at the curses shot up at him in response. "See you around, pint-size."

Sam gave a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as Dean left, not really paying attention to him past straightening his hair. Dean always loved to mess with it, teasing Sam for how long he'd grown it out. Sam tried to ignore him for the most part, pointing out that Dean's hair was technically longer if you didn't factor in their relative sizes. After all, his 'short,' spiky hair was longer than Sam's legs at some points. Dean just ignored that and continued on with teasing as normal. Sam should have known his argument wouldn't work. Sometimes he wondered why he even tried.

The door slammed shut, the lock clicking securely in place as the table shook slightly with the vibrations. Sam jogged over to the computer, planning to continue his own line of research while Dean was out. Dean wasn't the only one who wanted to find a way to break Sam's curse... it would be nice to finally be able to really help Dean out on a case.

A few hours passed eventlessly with Sam hopping from key to key on the spacious keyboard. He might not be able to reach from one end of the keyboard to the other like his older brother, but determination paid off with time. And he always worked up a good sweat using the computer like this. His own little exercise regimen.

He found a website on various forms of witchcraft and settled down next to the touchpad to read over the different hexes and countercurses outlined in front of him. Sitting like this, he could scroll through the text without having to get up.

It was such a calm and peaceful morning, he never saw it coming. 

In retrospect, he'd let his mind drift off to the oversized font on the screen in front, words blurring into the background while his mind slowly fried from too much time spent staring at the bright screen. The small scritches of a lockpick in the door didn't fully register while he was gazing at the screen in an overwhelmed daze.

Chapter Text

Time with Dean had softened Sam's instincts that had been honed from being so small most of his life. He didn't realize at first that something was missing when the door started to open.

There weren't any knocks.

When he'd first hooked back up with his brother, they'd settled on a way for Sam to know it was Dean coming into the room, or that it was safe for Sam to be out in the open even if it was Dean. His brother would always knock twice on the door before opening it. If there were no knocks, Sam was to take cover, regardless of who walked in. That way, Sam would have a fighting chance to get to safety.

Dean had never once forgotten this. Sam's constant vulnerability nagged at him, forcing him to change the way he operated. He was far more cautious with his movements, staying constantly on guard no matter where he was. Sam had never had to worry about Dean not paying attention to where he was walking. Not once. Considering the size of Dean’s boots compared to Sam, he was extremely grateful for that. Dean had probably adapted to having a miniature brother better than Sam had gotten used to living with a human after years living with his adopted family 'borrower-style,' as Dean always said, no matter how many times Sam told him that the people he lived with were not borrowers. After all, they didn't borrow.

The only time Dean had ever come into the room without knocking had turned out to be a monster wearing Dean's face. Without the knocking system, Sam would have been caught out in the open. Trusting and helpless, believing in his big brother. It was impossible to know what would have happened to him then. The monster could have killed him on a whim.

Sam brought himself back to the present forcefully, pulling himself to a stand on the computer. A quick glance around at his surroundings gave him little hope for escape or cover. He had his satchel sitting next to the computer, but aside from the laptop, there was nothing on the table to take cover behind. And no lamps on the table, so no cords he could use to climb down easily. He could climb down the fishing line, but that would take too long to get him out of sight... 

Fear jolted up his spine as the door creaked open. Grabbing his satchel, he dove behind the laptop while two huge shadows moved into the room. Sam put his hand on the knife he kept tucked into his jacket. Hunkering down, he listened to two voices as they slunk into the room. Neither was Dean's, raising the danger he was in exponentially. At least if his brother had been one of them, he could still protect Sam if he was discovered.

"Do you see him anywhere?" A woman's voice, soft and sultry.

"No, nothing." This one was clearly the voice of a man, dark and foreboding. "You're sure you saw them go into this room?"

"Yes, of course I am. How could I forget?" A dark chuckle followed. "It's not every day you see a human walking with one of them sitting on his shoulder out in the open like that. Just asking to be taken."

Sam felt himself fill with shock. They knew about him. They'd seen him. He hadn't been careful enough, far too accustomed to the safety Dean provided just by being around. This was all his fault for being overconfident. If he hadn't been on Dean's shoulder last night, these people wouldn't know he was here. And now here he was, stuck with no cover, no route to safety. Who knew when Dean was going to get back to the room... 

No. 

He would have to handle this on his own. Sam dug in his satchel, grabbing the fishing line. If he moved fast enough, he could get to the ground quick and dive under the dresser before they saw him moving. He could get into the walls and hide until Dean returned. In the walls was safety...

He readied himself, peering cautiously around the edge of the laptop to see where the humans were. One was standing in the bathroom. If she turned towards the table Sam would be visible. The other was kneeling down by the nightstand. Sam could make out slicked back brown hair, but nothing more. With a wince, Sam saw him knock all the books sitting in front of his bedroom across the floor, revealing it for all the world to see.

"Hon, I found something!"

The woman came out of the bathroom, her dangerous gaze sliding past Sam's hiding place. He tensed as she passed by, her shadow falling over him briefly. She stood by the nightstand next to the man, staring down into the cubby. "What's this?" she asked softly, darkly.

"Seems like he lets the little borrower think he's a human. His own bed and all! And," he sat up, holding up Sam's journal, which had been tucked down next to the wall. He'd been using it before bed the night before. "He's training it. Even letting it read and write. Haven't seen that one before."

Training it? Sam felt something angrily clench in him at the sight of his journal held between clumsy fingers like that. He'd been angry enough when Dean had found it, but now a red hot rage coursed through him at their careless handling of the precious tome. It contained everything... all Sam's knowledge of living at this size, everything he'd ever learned about the sons of bitches he and Dean hunted... his entire life, everything he was, carelessly crushed between giant fingers. At least Dean had understood how important it was to Sam, just picking it up out of curiosity. And as soon as Sam had let him know he didn't like anyone reading it, Dean had never once pressed the issue. The giant man holding it now flipped a few pages into it, one of the pages tearing at his careless handling of the delicate book. 

A dark smile was in the woman's voice. "Well, we'll have to teach him his place, won't we."

Sam took a few stumbling steps back, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. Now's not the time to freak out about your journal... you gotta get away, get to safety and find a way to get hold of Dean... that's all that matters... a few more steps to the edge, and he saw a small crack in the table he could plant the fishhook.

One last glance in their direction to confirm they were still kneeling by his temporary home, as far away as he could hope for them to be, and he bounded to the edge. With a grunt he slammed the hook into the crack and yanked himself down the wire, tossing himself off the table without hesitation. The world passed him speedily as he fell, barely controlling his slide as the wire burned his hand from the friction of his passage.

He heard a shout behind him the moment he started his swift journey down. A vicious chill went up Sam's back when the human spotted him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck even as he fell. It was similar to the feeling he got when any human saw him, but far more powerful, far more potent. He could almost feel the malice directed at him. The floor shook as the two massive humans stood, the woman running at the table. 

"I've got him," she crowed, huge fingers reaching for the tiny figure on the ground.

Sam released the wire the second he saw the hand approaching, preferring the fall to being grabbed in unfamiliar, dangerous hands. He plummeted the last eight inches, groaning in pain when he slammed into the ground. He barely stayed on his feet after the impact, stumbling. He was light enough the fall didn't hurt him the same way it would a human, but it was a shock nonetheless. His satchel tumbled off his arm, dropping behind him as he dashed away from the giant hand. A shadow fell over him as the woman snatched at him again. 

Abandoning his satchel, Sam ducked, pulling out his small knife. He ignored the burning pain from his hands, ripped up with friction burn after his fall. He slashed at one of the fingers nearest him, drawing blood when it connected.

The hand drew back with a hissed curse, replaced quickly by two larger, more powerful hands. The man was there now, dark brown eyes locked on Sam’s small form. Sam found himself boxed in by a wall of flesh. Brandishing his knife, he backed away, staring up into the faces of two angry humans, looming over him. They were acting exactly the way he'd always been warned by his adopted family... trying to catch him, acting like he was just some kind of rodent... Sam felt smaller under their condescending stares than he had in ages.

The man trapping him grinned. "Ready, darling?" he asked the woman with a sneer.

"Always." 

Sam ducked back again when she reached for him with her uninjured hand. Sam tensed, then lunged again. His knife was caught between two fingers. Without hesitating she ripped it from his grasp. Sam was sent sprawling into one of the hands curled around him from the force. He heard a clatter of metal as the knife was dropped onto the ground, over a foot away from him. Seconds later, the slimmer fingers of the woman wrapped around his body, crushing the air from his lungs. The world passed in a dizzying blur, shapes and colors all he could make out as he was yanked up faster than he'd ever been grabbed before. He found himself desperately missing Dean's considerate movements, always careful with his tiny brother.

The hand paused for a second, enough time for him to make out a gaping black abyss under him when the fingers released... dropping him helplessly into the confines of the woman's purse, his situation more hopeless than ever as it closed above his head.

Kara blinked back fearful tears as she watched the giant humans stalk the tiny little guy she'd been hoping to talk to. He was far braver than her - diving off the edge of a table with only a near invisible string to hold him safe as he fell over three whole feet to the floor. The huge woman dove for him when he got close to the ground, making him let go of the cord before he made it all the way down safely.

She backed further into the darkness of the vent, afraid to be spotted by the destructive giants in front of her. She had been so close! With her father gone for so many days now, she was desperate for help, anyone who could help her find where her father had been taken by his captors. She had thought that maybe this guy - Sam, she had heard the kind-seeming human call him - would be able to help her.

He was the first person her size she had ever seen actually interacting with a human safely. Before that it was only running, hiding, escaping from any of the giants that had seen them. But Sam... he had actually been talking to a human. Sitting on his shoulder when they came into the room. Eating with him. A million things she'd never thought to see someone doing without being in danger. He wasn't even afraid of the human stepping on him! She'd never seen anything like it in her seven years.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd conjured up the dream of going to Sam - he was so tall, a half inch taller than her daddy! - and asking him to help. Surely if he wanted to help her, the human would help them too. Despite how frightening he was, towering over everything, he was so kind to Sam. Maybe he'd be kind to her.

But now Sam was being taken just like her father. She shuddered, tears coming to her eyes. All her hopes were being dashed by the huge vibrations coming from below her. There was no way for her to help him, and without Sam around she could never ask the enormous human for help. 

She heard a shout from Sam, and brought herself back over to the edge of the vent in time to see him tumble into a massive black purse... far taller than he was, and almost impossible to escape while a human was holding you captive.

The woman pulled out a pouch from her pocket, reaching into the purse and speaking firmly down into it. Another brief glimpse of him showed struggling arms and legs as he was hoisted into the air... and then dropped into the pouch. The woman smiled up at the man that was with her, standing as she dropped the struggling pouch containing Sam carelessly into the purse again. Kara stood up as the couple left the room, the door banging shut. They didn't even bother to clean up the mess they'd made of the tiny little area under the nightstand. 

She wanted to cry more than ever with all her hopes dashed, but that would do her no good. There was nothing she could do from here. Daringly, she pushed open the edge of the vent, taking out her tiny little rope. Maybe there was something left by the two humans she could use to find where they'd gone... as long as she was free, there was hope of seeing her father once more.

There was always hope.

A few moments after being dropped into the purse, Sam found himself dodging a hand again as the woman pulled a black pouch out, clearly intending to trap him in it. With an annoyed look in her eyes, she grimaced down at him.

"This will go far easier for you, little snack, if you just give up fighting it. You're mine now, and I will do what I please with you." The sneer in her voice was easy to make out. "There's no way out." 

Sam gasped as a finger snagged his leg, hoisting him into the air for a few seconds before he was falling again. This time he fell into the dark pouch. Before he was able to recover in the swinging enclosure the top drew shut. He could vaguely make out huge fingers tying a knot in the cord above his head. Then he fell again, slamming against the items strewn about the giant purse. Sam moaned as he righted himself, searching for the opening he knew was there. He struggled, trying to open the pouch he was trapped in. There was no way he would be taken without a fight! 

His efforts were for naught. The knot was too large and too tight for his small hands to open. He just didn't have the muscle mass to compete with the huge knot.

The constant swaying of the purse knocked him around, keys, loose change and everything else crashing into him with every step she took. The pouch offered no cushioning to protect him from anything in there. His tiny body was battered and bruised, and his legs, still in pain from the fall from the table, flared up in red hot agony whenever anything shoved against them. Sam hissed in pain, redoubling his efforts to escape.

A careless sway from the woman outside made a huge wallet tumble from where it had been propped up, slamming down on Sam's legs. He gasped, trying to pull himself out from under it. Simple, everyday objects like that had become life-threatening for the miniature hunter. Every step she took made the pressure increase on his legs. Red sparks appeared behind his eyelids as he pulled first one leg, then the other from under the wallet. It slammed into the ground once he was free, weighed down by the change that clinked inside.

Sam pulled himself up, leaning against the wallet. For a brief second, he rubbed his legs, making sure he was still in one piece. Once he was certain nothing was broken, he got back to work trying to escape. He maneuvered the top of the pouch in front of him, making it easier to slip his arms out and get to the knot. He tried to wrap his fingers around the knot, but the cord was too thick to get them all the way around. Yanking didn't do any good either, no effect showing however much effort he put into his agonized yanks, closing his eyes and praying to himself that he'd be able to loosen it even a little bit.

If only he still had his knife - he could have cut his way free. The cord would be child’s play for the honed edge of his blade. Better to risk his life jumping to freedom than die trapped like an animal. But it was on the floor of the motel room, not far away from his satchel with the rest of his equipment. All useless to him now.

A minute after hearing the door of the motel room close, with the kidnapper escaping out into the world with her small captive, there was a huge impact. Sam's entire world slammed into something massive, solid and huge, bouncing easily off. Sam was thrown into the wall, suddenly finding himself desperately glad of the rigid walls of the purse that prevented him from being crushed in the resulting impact. The wallet hit the wall inches from Sam, coming close to squishing him.

An angry outside voice cut through the stuffy air of the purse, deep vibrations echoing loudly around Sam. "Hey lady, watch where you're going!"

Dean!

The sound of the familiar voice had Sam scrambling for purchase in the dangerous, shifting environment. It didn't matter how close he'd come to getting squashed by a wallet - his brother was so close! If he knew Sam was in here, he could just reach out and grab the purse with Sam in it back! It was his only hope - the only escape from a desperate situation.

Throwing caution to the wind, Sam tossed himself, pouch and all, against the side of the purse Dean had slammed into. "Dean! Help! Dammit, I'm in here! Dean! " Sam clawed at the side of the pouch, willing his voice to carry far enough for Dean to hear. Trapped or not, he attempted to scale the smooth wall of the purse using the wallet to climb up, only to be thrown down again when the women's swift footsteps started up again. "Dean,help! "

No response came, aside from a peal of laughter from his captor, as though her husband had said the funniest joke in the world. His cries for help were easily covered up by her overpowering voice. Sam's hopes plummeted to his feet when he heard Dean's distinctive footsteps thudding away, fading off along with muttered curses directed at the couple.

Dean left, taking Sam's hope of rescue with him.

"No.... nononono..." Sam moaned, still struggling hopelessly with the knot. Dean hadn't even noticed. He was right there, and Dean hadn't noticed. How in hell was he supposed to get out of this one? All his almost forgotten insecurities about his size came crashing back down on him like an anvil. He was so small and so unnoticeable that his own brother couldn't hear him calling for help from a foot away.

"Fuck." Sam sank down into the purse, leaning against the side to brace himself against the swaying. He shoved the wallet that kept bumping into him away as hard as he could, taking out what anger he could. He closed his eyes in the swaying darkness, feeling the pain set in from his legs and hands. All he could do was sit there and wait and worry and wonder where they were taking him and why.

Sam wasn't left alone for long. 

A quick drop came, quickly followed by an explosive bang he recognized as the slamming of a car door, far closer to him than normal. With Dean, he was usually on a shoulder or a pocket situated safely away from the dangerous door. 

The world outside the pouch he was trapped in brightened as the woman opened the purse above him. Long, elegant fingers wrapped around him completely, crushing his arms and legs as he was yanked out. The knot keeping him a prisoner unraveled above his head right as the car started. The huge roar of the engine drowned out his groan of pain as he was dumped headfirst onto a flattened palm. The feeling of being watched returned to him, raising the hair on his neck yet again.

While he was still getting his bearings the man’s voice echoed overhead. "Be careful with that one, Dear. We can't afford to have him permanently damaged. He's too valuable to us."

"Of course. I know what I'm doing. He needs to learn his place, and that’s what I’ll do."

Sam groaned as he reflected on the possible meanings of 'permanent.' With any luck, they wouldn't let him get anymore beaten up than he already was. He was going to need his strength if he was going to have any chance of escaping this disgusting couple. "What the hell do you want with me?" he demanded, holding his head in his hands. An entire drumline was beating out its own tempo inside his skull.

He quickly regretted speaking up. Two fingers closed around his chest, slowly crushing his ribs. The wind rushed out of him. While he was trying to catch a breath, he was lifted up by only those two fingers, held in front of two ice cold, blue eyes. "Little snacks like you don't get to ask questions," a low, feminine voice hissed. Sam closed his eyes against the hot, minty breath that washed over him. Unlike when he was near Dean like this, it felt oppressive and demeaning. Belittling. "And they certainly don't call for help when their owners walk by."

The pressure let up seconds before Sam was certain his ribs would have snapped. Sam cried out with pain and fear as he plummeted through the air, slamming back onto the surface of the palm he'd been dumped out on in the first place. He curled into a ball, wrapping both arms around his middle for protection. He tried to stop the shuddering that wracked his body, wanting to keep from his captors how truly shaken he was. He'd never been hurt like this before, so carelessly and easily.

What the hell did she mean by 'Little Snack?' he thought to himself. Or my 'owner?' She couldn't have meant Dean, right? He remembered the stories his parents had told when he was growing up to keep him in their home, away from human eyes. Stories about capture, entrapment, enslavement... even humans who would eat any of his people that they could find... considering them 'delicacies'... he'd always thought them to be exaggerations, embellishments to get young children to behave. It was a disgusting thought, eating another person like that. Hopefully it was just a phrase she used... maybe she used it specifically because of the fear it caused, being held by someone who was easily big enough to eat a person Sam's size.

And calling Dean his owner, like Sam was nothing more than a pet to care for... it was like they didn't even consider Sam as an equal, at least intelligence-wise. And Sam had spent enough time with the others his size to know that was the only difference between their two species... hell, he technically was a human, just a really small one.

That thought caught in his throat.

He was a human.

Just like Dean.

And they had no right to take him like this.

It was the first time that that thought came to him of its own free will. No matter what Bobby and Dean ever told him, he could never admit to himself that's what he was. After all, humans had fingers the same size as him. He was tiny and insignificant. So many times his family had gone hungry because they couldn't get food from rooms with humans in them. He'd learned to consider himself separate. Different.

But now the thought lodged in his mind, even as the woman's eyes traveled up and down his body possessively. Like he was an object to be admired and owned.

No matter what anyone told him, he'd always have that to hold onto.

He desperately wished he was back at the motel with Dean. Safe and protected by his reliable giant of a brother who'd do anything for him... his brother who never saw him as a pet, or a burden, or a second-class citizen, but as his partner, his best friend, someone Dean relied on more than anyone else in the world... he wondered if Dean had even noticed he was missing yet. With any luck, Dean wouldn't think he was out exploring the motel the way he sometimes did. His stomach twisted at the thought that it might take time for Dean to notice his absence. Time that Sam definitely did not have in this situation.

Shit... he thought to himself.

Sam rolled over, trying to sit back up. He was finally able to get a good look at his captors. The woman had shiny black hair, full of curls that fell perfectly in place. She had icy blue eyes, that saw him as less than human whenever they turned to him. Like an object, something to be possessed, not befriended. The man driving the car had a far softer face with his slicked back brown hair pulled back, but his dark brown eyes had that same cold look in them when they peered at Sam. He had no doubt that they both saw him as a mere possession. Something to be taken, claimed for their own.

Sam felt something in him shrink away at the impression both the people in the car gave him. They knew what he was, and from what he could tell, regarded him no higher than a gerbil. Something to be captured, abused.... and what? What would happen to him now? What could they possibly want from him?

Sam was afraid to find out.

While Sam was recovering, the two humans continued their conversation above him as though he wasn't there. The woman whose palm he was stranded on ignored him completely while he shifted in place, regaining his bearings. There had to be a way out of this, no matter how dire it seemed at the moment.

The man started. "Do you think he suspected anything?"

"Of course not, why would he?" The icy blues fell on Sam again. He stiffened in her gaze like a deer in headlights, pins and needles assaulting his neck. He still didn't have any of his strength back after the way she'd crushed him not to long ago. His ribs were on fire, his legs ached. He wouldn't be able to struggle against her at all.

"Mmm," the man said thoughtfully. "I don't know, maybe 'cause you ran into him? What are you trying to do, get him to remember you?"

She scoffed at that. "Please, give me more credit than that. It's not like I bumped into him on purpose. And besides, he'll just brush me aside as yet another rude passerby. Not important enough to be remembered, or even given another thought. People always push aside things like that. Why would he be any exception?"

The man rolled his eyes. "I don't know, maybe because we stole this one from him?" His cold eyes fell on Sam for a moment, making Sam bristle at the consideration in them. "We can't afford to mess this up. This boy is the perfect specimen. And now he's ours."

The woman gave a predatory grin. "These little darlings, whatever else they may be, are only good for pets. Why would anyone put that much effort into searching for a pet like this?" A hand rose towards Sam and he flinched back, trying to pull himself out of reach on the palm. A finger with elegant painted red fingernails stroked forcefully up Sam's side, almost knocking him over from the careless strength.

"Who knows, if we keep an eye on that one, he may lead us to more treasures like this one. We'll have to tell the kids. This may be our ticket at last." 

The man nodded distractedly, following her line of thought. Sam wasn't, though. Were they talking about other people like him? As pets? At least he knew Dean wouldn't lead them to any others like Sam. His brother had no more idea than Sam did where others were, outside of the motel that Sam had been found in. At least he wouldn't get anyone else caught.

A tiny blossom of hope rose in his chest. If they were going to keep an eye on Dean, that meant they'd be keeping close to him, giving either Sam time to escape, or Dean time to rescue. A slim chance, considering his circumstances, but a chance nonetheless.

"This little snack," she continued, "was just a pet. He'll worry and fret, but he can't exactly put out MISSING posters for him. What law enforcement would believe him? And maybe if we're lucky he'll just assume this one ran away." Sam was caught in her fist again, lifted up to eye level. "You should always keep your pets on a leash."

"He'll never stop looking for me," Sam gritted out between his teeth. He couldn't stop himself, the words spilling from his lips with stubborn determination. "He'll never give up on me. He'll hunt you down."

The icy blues hardened. The fist clenched around him, even harder than before. "I see my little snack has trouble listening." The pressure increased by increments. "Little snacks don't talk to humans like that. They know their place."

Fire laced through Sam as the fist tightened. His entire body was trapped inside as the pressure climbed higher and higher. He screamed. 

Something inside him snapped, and darkness fell.

Chapter Text

Dean opened up the motel room door, still trying to brush himself off from the woman ramming into him in the parking lot. People these days - didn't even look up long enough to see where they were going. And the way she'd glared at him after... like it was his fault. Bitch.

Glad to be back, Dean tossed his bag into the corner, stripping off his jacket. "Sam, you're not gonna believe who was abducting all the people in this town!" He tossed the jacket on top of the duffel. "It was just people! Crazy, marry your sister, eat your uncle people, but still people!" 

He peered over at the table, finally noticing Sam's absence along with the tiny fishhook against the wall. He glanced down at his feet, realizing Sam could be anywhere. Sam had told him once exactly how it felt watching a pair of boots stomp around with no idea where he was. Dean couldn't even imagine how it felt, the thought itself was alien. But he'd be damned if he let anything happen to Sam because he was being careless one day. "Sam, you in here?...Just give me a sign, man. Lemme know if you're around..."

He walked carefully around the bed, staring at the ground. The silence was almost deafening. It wouldn't surprise him if Sam had gone out of the room to explore, he did it all the time. He had the freedom to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted to. But Dean knew his little brother. Sam would never have left that fishhook behind. It was one of the few items that helped him climb almost anywhere, one of his most prized possessions. Without it, he could easily get stuck or stranded too high up to get down on his own. Sam might be many things, but forgetful had never been one of them.

Coming around the corner of the bed, Dean felt his insides freeze up.

The little area he had set aside for Sam to use for his bed was out in the open, old books strewn across the floor carelessly. Sam was too small to have been able to knock them over on his own... "Sam?!" Dean gasped, hurrying over. Pushing aside the books, he fell to his knees. Carefully wrapping his hand around the bed, he lifted it up slowly, hoping Sam would be hiding behind it. Scared maybe, hurt possibly, but still there, still where Dean could find him and take care of him. The way he was supposed to. Like a big brother should.

There was nothing.

While he was lifting up the bed, Sam's tiny journal slipped off, falling onto Dean's bent knee. He stared down at it for a long moment, pain and anguish first and foremost in his mind. With a shaking hand, he carefully picked the precious book up off his jeans, knowing how much Sam loved it, how much time he'd put into it. None of Sam's other possessions, aside from the small silver knife Dean had made for him when they were children, meant more to him. Dean held it up as close to his face as he could without it blurring, squinting his big green eyes to see it clearly.

The tiny book seemed... ragged... compared to the last time he'd held it, so long ago. Gently flipping it open, he almost dropped it in shock when he saw one of the pages almost fall out, nearly ripped clean from the book. An almost invisible drawing of a twisted tree was on it, forcing Dean to remember when Sam's visions had lead them back home. He'd almost lost Sam that time... "Sammy..." he murmured as he carefully put the page back where it was supposed to be, closing the book. Sam would have never let that happen to the book if he could prevent it. It served to reinforce Dean's sudden fear that something bad had happened to his brother.

"Shit," he growled. He carefully put the book back on the bed, fixing the fallen books the way they were supposed to be. Sam would want to see it when he came back. And he would come back. He would write in his journal again, sleep in his bed again. Dean would make sure of it.

Standing, he went over to the table where he'd last seen Sam. It was the best place to start a search for him. Dean shut the laptop so he could see the entire table clearly. The little fishhook was past the laptop, as close to the wall as it could get and still be on the table. As if Sam had been trying to run from something. Dean's heart twisted at the thought of Sam afraid and in trouble without him around for support. All the times he'd had Sam for backup, saving his ass, and Dean wasn't there the one time Sam needed him.

Quickly dropping to his hands and knees, his eyes were drawn to the small satchel his brother carried with him everywhere. It was right under the fishing line, dropped as though Sam had been in a hurry. Pinching it between big fingertips, Dean carefully lifted it off the ground, tucking it into his shirt pocket. He didn't want to risk losing anything in the bag. It was all too small for Dean to keep track of. All irreplaceable. Sam would be devastated if anything was lost.

A moment later, a small reflection of light caught his eye. Crawling forward a few inches, he saw a tiny knife left abandoned on the ground. "No..." he moaned forlornly. Leaning over, he bent down as close to the ground as he could and still see the knife. The edges were soaked in blood. It reinforced his fears, increasing the foreboding feeling in the air.

Someone must have broken into the room, and taken Sam. It would explain the knocked over books, the grappling hook.... Sam's absence. The blood. There was no other explanation that made sense. 

But who? And why?

And how had they known where to find him?

Dean carefully went to pick up the knife. His thick fingers couldn't grasp it, sliding harmlessly over it on the ground. With a curse, he scraped a fingernail over it, quickly growing frustrated that he couldn't get it off the ground. "Son of a bitch," he hissed angrily. It finally slipped under his fingernail, getting stuck. Lifting it up, he dug at his nail, turning it bloody until the tiny knife tumbled into his palm. The inside of his mouth turned to ash as he stared at it, outsized by the wrinkles in his palm.

It was absolutely fucking miniscule. 

Just like his brother.

How could he have left Sam on his own? 

He knew Sam couldn't defend himself against a human at his size. But he'd let Sammy's confidence infect him, believing he could handle himself alone. After all, Dean hadn't been around for all those years growing up, right? And, despite his size, Sam was a great hunter. He was resourceful, inventive, determined... stubborn as all hell. Dean would trust his life in Sam's small hands any day. But here they were, all Dean's worst fears vindicated by Sam's absence.

All his fault. If he hadn't left Sam on his own, none of this would have ever happened.

"Dammit," he muttered as he stood back up. His boots roughly scuffed the ground as he went back over to the nightstand. Ever so careful, Dean cleaned off the blood from the tip of the knife, handling it like the most important object he'd ever held. And it was. The only thing that held a closer place in his heart was the Impala. He couldn't let it get ruined. He'd never be able to make a knife this small and intricate ever again. It was, and would stay, one of a kind.

Just like Sam.

Once it was clean, he gently laid it on Sam’s bed, next to the little journal. He couldn't risk carrying it around in his pocket like the bag, there was a chance it would cut open the pocket and fall, never to be seen again. Too small to ever be found again.

Once that was all set, Dean grabbed his blue jacket, making sure his FBI ID was in it. He needed to get a look at any surveillance videos that the motel had, ASAP.

Sam might not have time to wait.

An eternity passed. With effort, Sam clawed his way out of the black pit his mind had fallen into. He woke in midair. His body slammed into the ground, red flashes of pain shuddering through him and almost putting him back in that dark pit. 

A mumble of background noise, the ground shook. Something near him slammed shut, shaking the ground even more, followed by the familiar sound of a lock closing. The sound echoed around Sam.

"Huuuh....Whuuu...." He tried to sit up, but ended up collapsing back on the ground, curled around his tender midsection. Pain flared up in his left arm unexpectedly.

The tremors slowly dwindled into the distance, quickly replaced by soft whispers at the edge of hearing. He groaned again. A shadow approached him, as the whispers turned into voices.

"Is he alright?" a soft voice said from right beside him.

"No, not with these marks on his arms. None of us were in this rough a shape when we first got here."

Firm hands grabbed ahold of his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. For a few moments, the importance of this didn't sink in. Then his eyes snapped open in shock.

Sam gasped in pain as he pulled away from the hands. He was surrounded on three sides - a young woman with straight blonde hair was crouched by his side, concern on her face. An older man was the one that had been holding onto Sam's shoulders until he pulled free. His short brown hair was unkempt, sticking in every direction. His sharp, steel grey eyes were out of place in that mess. And the third was a man that was old enough to be Sam's grandpa, his grey hair managing to look regal even in captivity. Golden eyes stared out at Sam with a knowing look.

They were all his size.

For a few long moments, Sam couldn't do more than stare. "You... you're like me!" he blurted out in shock. Despite exploring almost every motel since leaving his home behind, he'd never been able to find any signs of people his size. Just mice and bugs, living in the dark corners humans never ventured. He'd started to despair that they were all gone, and he was tilting at windmills trying to find them.

One of the men, the older of the two, squinted at Sam. "Yes.... we are. Why are you so surprised, boy?"

"Because..." Sam gasped out. His ribs burned at him, taking his breath away. He started coughing, each making it even harder for him to breathe. The girl smoothed his hair back, trying to take away the pain. Her touch helped ease the cough a little.

She gave a pointed glare at the others in the... where was he? Sam's eyes flicked from side to side, realizing they were all in one large, wooden container. One side had hinges, where the door he'd been dumped through must be. It was at least three times their height, maybe more if his depth perception was off, which was very likely after what he'd been through.

A crate. They were locked up in a fucking crate.

Something in Sam wilted at the thought of how easily they were confined. It would take Dean less than a minute to smash something as simple as a crate open.

God, he wished Dean was here.

The wooden walls blocked out almost everything. A small slit between planks let in enough light for them to see their prison well enough. Away from where he’d been dropped, there was a bundle of fabric, giving the appearance of a small nest. He cringed at the thought of these people being forced to live like animals.

After a few moments he realized everyone around him was continuing their conversation. The pain was making it hard to concentrate on anything. 

"He's hurt, we need to help him."

"Where do you think they found him at? I've never seen anyone who looks like him before. Or dresses like him, either. He almost has human clothes, but much better than the doll clothes Bree gets."

"We'll figure it out once we get him stable. I've never seen them bring anyone in this bad a condition. I wonder what he did to piss them off."

"Let's be honest, it's not exactly hard..."

"You never got hurt that bad."

"There must be a reason..."

"Here."

A feminine voice addressed him directly. Sam stared up into the girl’s earnest face. Golden blonde hair haloed her face, accentuating her vivid blue eyes. She was holding out a small container of water for him. "You need to keep up your strength," she smiled gently. "And we need to see how bad you've been hurt."

Sam let her gently pull his arms away from his chest. As soon as he drank the water he was pushed down so he was lying flat on the ground. The girl held his head straight, cushioning it on her lap as one of the men bent over him, carefully putting pressure on his body. Sam hissed in pain when his hands passed over the ribs, but couldn't hold it in when they reached his arm. He cried out in pain.

The man shook his head unhappily. "Well, we're lucky the ribs are in one piece." He pushed the shirt up, showing painful bruising over most of Sam's chest. "He's most likely going to have these bruises here for a while, but they're all intact right now." An unhappy frown crossed his face. "His arm though... they broke his arm. Snapped it clean through."

Sam groaned. "My arm?" he gasped out. "Dammit," he said, closing his eyes. "Just got over a sprained wrist, too." Without his brother, a broken arm was practically a death sentence. He wouldn’t be able to climb oranything until it healed. And it would already be hard enough to escape.

The girl smiled down at him, her gaze upside down from his point of view. Her hair drifted against his face. "Sounds like you lead an exciting life."

Sam flinched when one of the men grabbed ahold of the arm, the other splinting it with some wood. "You have no idea," he managed to gasp out. His eyes flicked up to her, searching for a distraction from the pain while the arm was being wrapped. "What the hell's going on here?"

She brushed his hair from his eyes. "We don't really know. I've been stuck with these humans for a few years, but they recently started to hunt for other people like me. They found Mikael," she nodded at the older gentleman. "And Christian here at a motel within the last month."

Mikael glanced over at her. "Yeah, nabbed me out of one of the rooms. I still can't believe how easy they got me."

Sam frowned. "That's where they got me too, they broke into the room I was in to find me. It was like they knew I was already there. Like they were expecting me."

"Hmm," the girl frowned. "They're getting better at finding us then."

Sam met her upside-down stare. "My name’s Sam. What's yours?"

"Oh! I'm Bree. I mean... Briella, but Bree sounds much nicer, doesn't it?"

"Good to meet you, Bree."

Sam hissed when one of the others - Mikael, Bree had named the older man - put pressure on his arm, making sure it was straight as he set it. Then the name sunk in. 

"Wait... Briella? Briella Watch? "

Her hand jumped off Sam's shoulder like she'd been burned. "How... how do you know that name?" she demanded, eyes angry.

Sam didn't meet her gaze. "They... they saved my life," he admitted softly. "A long time ago." The last thing he wanted to tell this poor girl, after all these years in captivity, was that her parents had died. Because of him.

Naturally she didn't let him off the hook so easily. "Are... are they okay? When did you last see them? How...." Her tone was fast, urgent, desperate.

"Bree, calm down!" Mikael said. "This poor boy needs to rest, get his strength back!" She backed down under his watchful eye. "After all, he's going to need it here," he finished in a barely audible tone.

A few more minutes of pain later, Sam's arm was splinted. He groaned as they helped him up to a sitting position. More water was offered, and a few flakes of a cracker. Bree took some of the dirty cloth from where they slept and wrapped Sam's hands from further damage. 

"Sorry," she said softly, staring down at his hand. "This is all we have."

"It's okay, Bree." Sam said. "I understand." He took his hand back, checking how tight she'd wrapped it. He carefully flexed each finger, making sure none were broken.

Once they'd helped as much as they could with his injuries, they helped him over to the side of the crate so he could sit with some back support. Sam limped his way over, hissing angrily at the pain in his legs. Some of the blankets were piled up to soften the area he was propped against. The burning in his ribs had died down, but his arm throbbed with constant pain.

Bree and Mikael sat with him. Christian stalked over to where they had food, gathering up a bit for Sam.

"So," Mikael started. "How did it happen?"

Sam closed his eyes, watching the capture happen again. Reliving the huge, grabbing hands crushing him, his brother, so close yet so far away... Dean might as well have been in a different world instead of a foot away. "I was in a motel room. They broke in.... I think they picked the lock or something. I didn't hear until it was too late. They came in, and I was stranded on a table... I dove off, swung down on some fishing line, but the woman saw me. Grabbed at me. I got away from her, but the man got his hands around me, walling me in so she could grab me. Then I got put in that pouch, and that was it. The knot was too tight to get loose and she stuck me in her purse."

Bree blinked. "Did they break your arm when they caught you?"

"Ah, no... she took me out in the car. Checking out her prize I guess. I, ah... I argued with them. Apparently, they didn't think that something like me should talk back. My arm must have got broke when the woman crushed me in her hand... I remember feeling something snap, but I blacked out from the pain." He stared at the floor. "And then I woke up here."

Mikael sighed and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, you're brave, but pretty stupid."

Sam gave a start. "Hey!"

A knowing look from Mikael stopped him from going on. "You argued with people who could kill you with a touch. That is the last thing I'd ever expect from any self-respecting borrower."

"Borrower?" Sam couldn't help asking in surprise. "I thought you never named yourselves?"

A narrowing of eyes. "No, we didn't. That's one of the names given to us by humans. It seems as good a name as any to go with. After all, humans so love to name things. But... why do you consider yourself not one of us?"

"I... ah... what gave you that idea?"

"The way you asked the question... 'how we name ourselves...' what do you call yourself?"

Sam stared down at the rough, splinter filled floor under him, remembering his former humanity. "It doesn't matter anymore." He rubbed a hand against the thick grain, pulling off a splinter and snapping it in his hand. "I'm not what I used to be anyway." He might be a human according to Dean and Bobby, but he sure as hell didn't feel like one anymore.

Mikael gave him a hard look. Sam simply stared back, wholly unaffected. Dean's glares, even the joking ones, had rendered him immune to anyone else. After staring down someone who could hold him pinched between two fingers effortlessly (and had done so before), a person his size was barely an annoyance.

Bree was practically humming with energy. "This is all well and good," she snapped impatiently, interrupting the staring contest. "But please... can you tell me where you saw my parents?"

Sam met her eyes, his puppy dog look coming out full force. "Bree..." he said, emotion filling him at the memories... Mallory pinned against the ceiling... the fire consuming their small home, burning itself out before he got back there, too late to save anyone. The torn remains of their roof, scattered around the motel room until Dean had cleaned them up to hide that anyone had ever lived there from other humans.

Dead because of him.

"Bree, c'mon. Let's let the man rest. He's been through a lot. You can ask your questions later." Slapping his legs, Mikael stood, gently taking Bree with him. She cast a glance back at him as she was ushered away, her eyes silently promising him that the conversation wasn't over.

Sam sighed, grateful that Mikael had ended the conversation when he had. It gave him time to go over in his head what to tell Bree. Bree, the daughter of his adopted parents, long thought lost. Long since mourned. 

He rested his head lightly against the wall of the crate, taking in his surroundings while he was alone. The crate, from his point of view, was immense, the ceiling soaring above his head. If he had to guess though, from his time with Dean, for a human it would reach to about knee height. 

Each plank of wood used to make it with was as tall as Sam, and from what he could see past the slim cracks where light leaked through, the planks were at least an inch thick each. Far too thick for Sam and the others to be able to break out of without help. A little ways from where he was sitting was the rest of the fabric, bunched together like a nest. A tub of water and a pile of crackers was right next to it.

They were trapped like rodents.

Sam groaned, closing his eyes. Doesn't matter what they think of you. All that matters is you heal, find a way out and get back to Dean. You can do this.

There's no other way.

An hour later, Dean found himself sitting in the security office of the motel, watching the videos from that day. To his dismay, none of the cameras were facing the room he had been sharing with Sam, so he had no way to see any of the people that went near the room, only those that passed through the general vicinity. In his head he ran through a constant stream of curses, seeing any chance of finding his four inch brother slipping through his fingers. 

How could he spot Sam when all someone had to do to hide him from view was stick him in their pocket?

He'd even seen himself on the cameras, walking back, and that woman who'd practically rammed him off the sidewalk. If only he'd come back sooner... been there for Sam, the way he was supposed to.

The security guard that was assisting him sat up. "I'm afraid that's all the videos from today. Did you want to check out any others?"

Dean sat forward, resting his head against his hands. "You're sure you didn't have any cameras pointed at the motel rooms?" he asked, unable to prevent an angry growl from escaping him.

The guard eyed him nervously. "N-no, sir. Most of the patrons that come to our establishment... they prefer that no one knows who they come to the rooms with. So we keep the cameras on the cars. After all, we get a lot of nice ones coming through here. Like yours... real classics. The patrons like good security for them."

Dean ignored the guard trying to cozy up to him. He could imagine why the patrons didn't want anyone to see who was staying in their rooms. Hard to explain to the wife why you were seen at a motel room with a different woman... harder to get out of when there was hard proof of the act. He sighed, wishing he'd found a different motel to stay at... one where his brother would've been safer.

"Is there any way I can get a copy of the footage?" Dean demanded.

"Uhh... yes. I'll need a few minutes to make copies. Do you mind waiting here?"

"No, that's fine." Dean sat back, resting his head against the chair while he waited. Adrenaline was still surging through him, demanding that he do something to find Sammy. But he knew that with nothing to go on, he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of finding him. Sam was too small, too easily concealed by his kidnappers. He needed to stay calm, treat this like any other case. And after all I just went through stopping those crazy hillbilly hicks from 'hunting' people... no rest for the wicked. I shoulda taken him with me. I shoulda...

Left to himself, he dug Sam's tiny satchel out of the chest pocket of his shirt. A slight wetness rose to his eyes as he stared at how small it was in his hand... a reminder of how easily hurt his brother could be. 

He could remember the one time he'd grabbed Sam in both his fists, trying to protect him from the water sprite Nixie. Sam hadn't been able to budge any of Dean's fingers, completely helpless. And now, he was alone in the world. No one to help him. Unless Dean found a lead, no one to save him.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, eyeing the bag from all sides. It was so small and fragile between his big, clumsy fingers, tiny clasps that were almost invisible to him holding it shut. Without Sam, there was no way for him to even open the bag without ripping it. Hell, he could accidentally crush all of Sam's possessions without ever noticing. 

Crush Sam without ever noticing. 

Closing his eyes, he let out a deep, shaky sigh. If it was the last thing he did, he would get his brother back.

A short time later, the guard came back into the room, a few DVDs held in his hand, carefully tucked in individual envelopes to keep them from getting scratched. "Here you go," the guard said brightly. His hand shook a little when he handed them off to Dean. So far as he could tell, the man had never actually met another FBI agent before. He got shuddery every time he was near Dean. Nerves, maybe?

"Thanks," Dean said. Taking them, he tucked them into his jacket. "If you hear anything about any other thefts, give me a call, alright?" He handed the man a business card with his fake name and the number of one of his burner phones. 

"Yes, of course!" The security guard walked with him to the front desk of the motel and didn't seem too sad to see Dean go. Beth gave him a sad smile when he passed by.

Dean stared down at the ground as he walked back to the room. Now what? he asked himself uncertainly. So far, he had no leads on who had taken Sam, no way to know if Sam was hurt or even... he shied away from that thought. Sam was okay. He had to be okay.

Dean opened up his room with the room key. Flipping on the lights, he stepped in cautiously. Months spent with a miniature brother for a roommate had that effect. Seeing nothing on the floor further depressed Dean. He couldn't help hoping he would see Sam step out from under the bed, laughing at how gullible his big brother was. Dean would be pissed of course, and he'd have to find some way to retaliate, but at least Sammy would be okay, and that's all that mattered.

But there was nothing. Dean sat in front of the laptop, ready for a long night of research.

Chapter Text

C'mon... pick up your damn phone!

Dean white-knuckled his phone as he held it to his ear. He could feel himself losing hope with each ring.

Finally, a voice came over the line, picking it up seconds before the call went to voicemail.

"Dean? " Bobby's voice was one of the most welcome sounds Dean had ever heard.

"Bobby!" Thank God... Dean thought to himself. A tiny ray of light in the black abyss his life had become in a few short hours.

"What's goin' on? Did something happen? "

"It's... it's Sam. Bobby, Sam's missing. I think someone took him."

There was silence on the other end of the line. It stretched on so long that Dean started to think his phone had lost its connection. "Sam's missing." Bobby's voice was low. He understood exactly what that meant. "How long? "

"Yesterday. I got back from a hunt, I was just supposed to be out interviewing vics so he stayed in. You know how he feels about pockets... and when I got back, there was no sign of him. The knife I made for him was bloody, his stuff's all over the place..."

"Slow down, relax. You need to take a deep breath. You're not gonna do anyone any good if you have a panic attack."

Dean took his advice, taking a few deep breaths. His hand stopped shaking against his cheek and his breathing slowed. After he managed to calm himself down, he turned right back to the conversation with Bobby. "Bobby, I need your help. If you can do anything... anything to help me find him... please. I..." Dean's voice broke. "I can't lose him again..."

A sigh came over the line. "Of course, I'll do anything I can to help. You know how I feel about you and your brother... all you ever have to do is ask."

Dean felt tension leave his shoulders that he hadn't realized was there. "Thanks Bobby. It means everything to me. I'll check in with you later."

He put the phone down, scowling at his computer. A night spent staring at the repeating images had revealed nothing to him. No sign of his tiny brother anywhere. He'd seen so many people pass by in the time he'd been gone, and a million places Sam could be... pockets, bags, purses, even an upturned baseball cap he couldn't see all the way into. Sam could fit almost anywhere.

Dean's stomach had sunk all the way to his feet while he was watching. The amount of danger out there in this world for someone Sam's size continued to haunt him. Sam couldn't win a fight with a housecat, never mind anyone set on kidnapping him. He barely stood as tall as Dean's finger.

Dean buried his head in his hands, giving in to shame and regret once more.

Light started to trickle into the crate early in the morning. Sam groaned when a beam fell right on his eyes, and tried to throw up a hand to block it.

He was drawn out of the sleepy state when pain like he'd never felt before ripped through him as he moved his arm. "Fuck..." he growled to himself. Broken arm, right. Forgot about that. 

So it wasn't a bad dream.

His tired eyes fluttered open to the same dreary surroundings. Bree and Mikael were barely visible in the pile of fabric in the center, sleeping the morning away. Christian was prowling the edges restlessly, trying to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

Sam hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the pain that shot through him at the movement. He forced it away and tested out his legs, taking careful steps. One foot in front of the other... it wasn't so bad if he took it a step at a time. He put a hand on the wooden barrier of their prison, using it for support. He haltingly made his way to where the fabric was bunched up.

Bree and Mikael didn't even stir at his approach. Sam took advantage of the moment, slipping his good hand into the small basin of water sitting next to them. He gulped it down desperately. It must be the next day already. He'd slept away more than twelve hours.

After he satisfied his thirst, Sam sat back. He couldn’t see much of the room outside the crate from where he was. Wanting to get a clear picture of their prison, Sam hauled himself back to his feet. He trudged over to where the crate’s door was. 

Christian eyed him up from a few inches away, watching him with a wary gaze. For the moment he kept clear of Sam. Now that Sam was standing, he was surprised to note Christian stood a full head shorter.

Ignoring him, Sam brushed his hand up the edge of the door. The wood was thick from his point of view, coarse and splintered. He snapped off a splinter the length of his forearm, testing how sharp it was. Sam tucked that into his jacket and slipped his good arm through the crack in the wood. He groped around as far as he could. If he stretched, he could reach the outside. Barely.

With a sigh, Sam pulled his arm back in. He peered up, staring at the shadow of the lock that held them captive. From what he could see, the lock was massive and thick. At least as tall as Sam himself. He wouldn't be able to break it. He might be able to pick it with the splinter if he could reach the keyhole, but his arm barely reached the outside. There was no way for him to get the maneuverability he'd need to properly pick the lock like that. And his splinter was just that - a splinter. A simple, wooden splinter. It could snap trying to pick a metal lock. He'd better not rely on it.

It still made him feel better, knowing he could use it against his captors if he got the chance. Any small advantage in this situation.

Curiosity aroused, Christian stalked over at last. His eyes darted over Sam's tall form, taking in everything about him. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Sam arched his eyebrows. "Trying to find a way out. What's it look like?"

He turned away from Christian, continuing his search. The hinges to the door were on the outside so he couldn't tamper with them at all. Pity... Dean had shown him a thing or two about taking stuff apart, demonstrating on one unlucky door in one of their motels. As much as he could with such a tiny student. Sam had enjoyed watching Dean explain how things stayed together. Dean was always thrilled to talk about stuff like that. It brought out a part of him that Sam normally never saw. He even wanted to show Sam how to repair the Impala one day, never mind the fact that Sam would never be able to open the hood of the immense vehicle. 

Sam by himself was too small to be able to unscrew a screw, but maybe with someone else's help... he knew better than anyone that just because his people were small, they weren't to be underestimated. As a people, they tended towards ingenious when it came to finding unconventional solutions.

Christian followed him. "Why do you want to get out so much?"

Sam turned, confusion covering his face. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't I want to get out of here?"

Arms crossed over his chest, Christian stared at Sam. Or rather, Sam's clothing. Realization started to dawn on Sam as Christian talked. "You've clearly spent time around humans. Isn't this what you're used to?"

Sam drew himself up to his full height. Christian stood a head shorter than he did. It was a good feeling to be tall again, at least by comparison. "My mom made me these clothes. Just because they look like what humans wear doesn't mean I'm ready to be someone's pet." He stalked away, intent on checking out the rest of the crate.

Christian followed. "I find that hard to believe. I've never seen anyone our size wear anything close to that."

Sam whirled around. "What about Bree then?"

Freezing in place, Christian stared at Sam. "You don't know?"

Sam frowned. "Know what?"

"Bree... she's been here most of her life. These people... they've had her a captive for fourteen years."

Sam tucked his head against his chest at Christian's chilling confirmation of his suspicions. "I've heard," he admitted. "So, that's why she wears what she wears?"

A sigh. "Yeah." Steel grey eyes met soft hazels. "She's been here so long she's forgotten what it's like to be one of us. Her owner... sometimes she seems friendlier with Beth than me or Mikael. Trust me, they want the two of us to dress the same." He nodded in the direction of cloth. "At the bottom is the clothing they keep bringing us. One of the women sews for dollhouses. She's sized all of us up." He shivered. "The clothing fits better than anything I've ever seen, but to put it on... to accept what they want us to be..."

"I understand." Sam said softly. And he did. To take what was offered would be admitting they were owned. They were pets. It went against his core to even consider it. Years of conditioning while living at this size had ingrained that attitude into him completely. He had a hard enough time letting Dean help him, and that was his own brother. In some ways it made him reliant on Dean. But Sam knew he couldn't think that way. Dean relied on him just as much, in other ways. Who else would be there to save Dean's bacon time after time? Dean was a brilliant hunter but he could get caught off guard. While Sam was small and easily overlooked, Dean had a hard time sneaking around by comparison. Sam could help him out when he got himself into trouble, or needed to sneak around.

All in all, it was quid pro quo - something for something. Sam could do things Dean couldn't, and Dean could do things Sam couldn't. They were both better off together. It had taken Sam a long time to see it, but it was there. No matter what, he always had a place in the world. He belonged.

"Christian, I may be many things, but I'm no pet. No human owns me, and never will." His eyes flicked to the outside world, concealed from view. "No matter what these people plan on doing with us, I'll find a way out. There will always be a way." He gave Christian a smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out."

Christian's shoulders slumped down. "I hope so." This time when he met Sam's eyes there was a tiny spark of hope in them. "You have anyone else out there?"

"My brother." Sam thought of how worried Dean was. By now he'd know Sam wasn't out exploring. He'd know something was wrong. Sam tried to not get his hopes up. He knew how hard it'd be for Dean to track him down. He was too small... too easily concealed from view. A simple purse had separated the two of them and Dean would never know it. "My brother's out there."

"Hopefully they don't find him too."

That didn't sink in for Sam right away. "They can't," he determined. Confusion covered Christian's face at his statement. Realizing his mistake, Sam backtracked. "I mean, he's too good. He'll stay out of sight. They'll never catch him."

The last thing he wanted was for them to realize he was, or at least, he used to be, a human. It felt like a betrayal now, sitting with and being helped by the people who'd lost so much to humans. He knew that if any of them ever saw Dean coming, they'd run away. Get under cover and not come out. Sam's heart crumpled at the thought. Dean didn't deserve that. He'd never hurt them. But his sheer size...

That would always work against him.

"I hope so..." Christian said, depression sinking in. "I hope all of them can keep out of sight..."

Sam picked up on this. "You lost someone," he said simply.

"My... my daughter. Kara. She's all I have left in the world. I was out one night, trying to find food with her. She was... she was learning how. That was the night I was taken." Tears pricked at his eyes. "They never saw her - I was out in the open. Exposed. Kara was under the dresser on her way back to the entrance. I was just grabbing one last thing. I don't... I don't know what happened to her after that."

Sam could feel his heart breaking. "How old?" he asked softly.

"Seven... barely seven years old. I... we lost her mother a few years back. Kara needs to learn to fend for herself... when..." Christian closed his eyes. "She's so little... only two inches tall." His mouth twitched. "She was always small for her age and now she's in that motel, all alone."

Sam's resolved hardened. "Don't worry. We're going to get out of this and you're going to see her again. I promise."

"How can you be so sure?"

Sam turned back to his examination of the walls. "I just am."

He had to be.

The light in the room slowly shifted off of the crate they were trapped in. Sam prowled the edges in the same way Christian had when he'd awoken. He found no weak spots, nowhere he could slip out or budge. But he wasn't giving up hope. There was always a way.

Bree and Mikael woke up not long after his conversation with Christian. They washed using the small water basin and ate some of the stale crackers left to the side. There was not much else they could do, after all.

Sam avoided the others for the moment. He could see Bree sneaking surreptitious looks in his direction. He knew the moment she caught him alone he'd be drilled for information about her family. And even though it hurt like hell, he knew he'd have to tell her the truth. After all these years she deserved no less.

After an endless amount of time spent like that he became aware of a shaking coming from the ground. He froze, a familiar fear washing over him.

A human was coming.

And it wasn't his brother.

Bree squeaked, diving in the bundled up cloth. Mikael was sitting near her, still eating his cracker. He shifted so he was hovering protectively near Bree. Sam and Christian were too far away, Christian standing near the door and Sam halfway between.

A massive shadow fell over the small crate, blocking out the light from the room. Sam could hear the human mumbling to themselves as a key clattered in the lock. Christian backed away from the entrance as the door swung outward.

Past him all Sam could see was a mammoth pair of jeans, squatting down on the ground. Huge boots scraped against the ground as the human leaned down. A huge hand planted on the ground near the opening. Dark brown, almost black eyes peered in. He scanned the tiny people staring fearfully up at him, unaffected by their stares. Sam tried to ignore the chill that ran up his back at the dark glare.

"Stupid woman should get her own stupid borrower..." he was muttering to himself. His eyes landed on Sam. A smile quirked the edge of his lips. Not a nice smile.

That was all the warning Sam got before a massive hand rushed at him. He gave a cry of alarm, trying to turn and run. His sore legs stumbled, upsetting his balance. The moment he fell, huge fingers curled around him and snatched him up, encasing him in a fist. Sam curled into a ball, the fingers pressing harshly against his body. He grit his teeth, determined not to give in to weakness.

He couldn't see out, but he could feel air rushing by. Vertigo struck as the human lifted his hand off the ground. The click of the lock came and Sam felt the hand soar into the air as the human stood fully. He squirmed, trying to get in a position where he could use his legs to kick against the fingers. If he had even the slightest chance of escaping, he had to take it.

Feeling him squirm, the human closed his fist even tighter around Sam's little body. He couldn't breathe as the pressure increased. A little more pressure, and Sam was certain his back would break. Red sparks of pain spiked through his head. The world shook around him as the thudding footsteps of a human started up. Tears of pain leaked from Sam's eyes as each step rattled through his broken arm.

The trip was short. Sam found himself suddenly falling through the air, a few inches away from the surface. Thinking fast, he managed to turn enough so he landed on his good arm, cushioning the broken arm against his stomach. With a moan, he slowly tried to pick himself off the table. The burns on his hands sent new waves of pain through him as he lifted himself off the ground.

"There. You have the one you wanted. Can I go now?" The giant that had grabbed him sounded bored, annoyed.

Sam stared at the new human. It was an older, smaller woman. Wrinkles covered her face completely and her eyes were far kinder than any of his other captors. Grey hair was gathered into a tight bun and her dark eyes bored through the human who'd carried Sam here.

"Yes, I do. And you were sure to make him suffer, weren't you?" The condemnation in her tone shocked Sam. "You are just as bad as your parents. Send Beth in here when she's free. There's no reason to make this boy suffer more, child."

The man balled his hands into fists, staring daggers at her. But she paid him no mind, turning to Sam. After a moment he stalked angrily out of the room.

"There, you don't need to worry about him." A hand reached for Sam. He couldn't help diving away, trying to escape her grasp. She gave him a kind smile as she scooped him up into a leathery, wrinkled palm. "I'm not the one you need be afraid of here, child."

Sam didn't answer her, not believing it for a second. Her fingers carefully examined his body, stretching out his broken arm for a moment. She clucked distastefully. "No need, no need," she muttered, no longer talking to Sam. A pinch of his hand and she was checking his palm. Another shake of her head for the damage there.

The door creaked open. "You asked for me, Grammy?"

The girl that came in was pretty. Long brown hair, soft dark eyes. She was younger than the others he'd seen, maybe a year off of Sam's age.

Sam found himself lowered sharply as the older woman smiled warmly at the girl. "Beth! Yes. I need help with this one and your brother seems to enjoy making things difficult." She scowled. "Last thing I need is this boy getting more hurt. That won't reflect well on us when she arrives. Your mother's already done enough to him, the poor dear." She held Sam up to the girl, displaying the tiny splint on his arm. Sam struggled fruitlessly, trying to protect his arm from further scrutiny. "Your mother broke his arm when she caught him."

Sam stared up at Beth fearfully, shocked at how fast he'd been put in front of her. But her eyes were kind, even kinder than the grandma's. "Hi," she whispered. Her dark eyes glittered as she stared at him. She lifted up her hand carefully, holding out a finger for him.

It took him a long time to figure out what she wanted. The only other human to ever offer to shake his hand had been Jenny (aside from Dean, of course). But considering his situation, he decided it was in his best interests to go along with it. He held up his right hand, carefully putting it on her finger. "H-hi," he stuttered. She gave his arm a tiny shake before pulling away. 

The grandma lowered him back to the table. "Darling, can you get my measuring supplies?"

The girl - Beth - walked out of Sam's line of sight. He found himself dumped back on the table by Grammy. So much for her being more careful... Sam thought to himself ruefully as he picked himself off the ground yet again.

While the girl was out of the room, Sam scanned the area he was standing in. He couldn't miss any chance for escape. He was standing on what seemed to be a kitchen table. Pristine countertops lined the room, gleaming appliances against one wall. The room was lit by a single window, the sun shining through it. A vase full of beautiful flowers sat alone in front of the window, adding color to a monotone land. Everything was shades of grey - the white table he was standing on, solid black appliances, gleaming metal sink along with a countertop that was marbled silver. 

On the table itself, there was a napkin holder, standing taller than Sam. Salt and pepper shakers the same height as him, an abandoned plate that was leftover from breakfast with a half eaten pancake sitting on it, drenched in syrup. Sam couldn't stop his stomach from growling at that sight, dissatisfied with the simple meal of stale crackers he'd had after waking. He'd been with Dean long enough to crave human food when he saw it. Living with his family before Dean, he would have welcomed a steady source of food, even slightly stale crackers. Too many nights had been spent going hungry because he or Walt couldn't find any leftovers.

Beth returned shortly, a small container in her hands. Sam was quickly subjected to a series of measurements by the grandma. She measured every part of him. Each leg was stretched out, numbers marked in a notepad with delicate handwriting. His small boots were removed from his feet forcefully. Both the size of Sam's feet and the size of his boots were marked down before the boots were returned to him to put back on. He did so begrudgingly, hating how it felt to stand there in just his socks. 

She only measured his right arm, careful to not touch the injured left. Sam found himself inordinately grateful for that. The arm was still burning from being trapped in Beth's brother's fist. It wasn't going to stand a chance of healing straight if he was subjected to that all the time. 

Beth stood away from the table, watching her grandmother work. Her dark eyes stayed on Sam the entire time, watching his reactions to the giant, groping hands. Her expression was sad and cheerless. Resigned.

At last the measurements were completed. Grammy tapped her pencil down the list she'd made, mouthing each measurement to herself. Once she was satisfied, she turned back to Beth. "Take him and put him back with the others," she told her.

Beth nodded without a word. Sam flinched when her hands came for him but this time he was gently scooped into her palm. She didn't grip him at all. He let out a shuddering breath as he was taken away from the grandmother. Twitchily, he tried to read her expression but she was as hard to read as Nixie had been. Not to mention the angle he was staring at her from was far from ideal.

She opened up a door and went into a room. Sam glanced quickly around. He realized where he was when he spotted a small crate shoved against a wall. It was his prison.

The room they were trapped in was a small storeroom. One window with light filtering in from outside, supplies shoved against the far wall. The crate itself seemed small from as high up in the air as he was. She knelt down carefully next to it.

Before opening the crate up she lifted him in front of her eyes. Gentle brown eyes stared at him. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

Sam couldn't stop from twitchily backing away from her on her hand, as far as he could. "Why do you care," he spat.

Hurt shone in her eyes. "I never wanted this..." she whispered. A gentle hand lifted up, touching at Sam's injured hands with a finger. "I never wanted any of you to be hurt..."

He froze at her unexpected motion, staring up at her with confusion on his face. She didn't look at him again, quickly lowering him down and putting him back in the crate. Sam was carefully dropped in the center, on the pile of fabric to cushion his landing. The same hand that put him down scooped Bree up. Bree went without a struggle, giving Beth a warm smile.

Sam closed his eyes, leaning back to let some of his new hurts fade.

Bobby's voice droned in Dean's ear.

"I've got my feelers out... anyone hears anything about something Sam's size it'll get back to me. But Dean... you might not..."

"Don't say it. I'll find him. Whatever it takes."

Dean slammed the phone down angrily on the tabletop. At the edge of hearing he caught a small squeak of surprise at the impact.

What the…

Chapter Text

Kara spent most of the night exploring the human's room. He wasn't around for a long time, giving her plenty of opportunity to see if there were any more clues she could use to find her daddy. The humans that had taken Sam hadn't left anything behind. No clues for her to follow, nothing she could use to save her daddy. Or anyone else.

Her tummy growled at her. Resting a hand over it she said softly, "Shh, I'll find food for you soon, promise. I don't have anything with me right now." She tried to push it from her mind as much as she could. There was nothing to be had in her small bag and nothing waiting for her back home. Not with daddy gone. Maybe she could find something while she was exploring. The human here had to leave crumbs at some point - if he ever ate. So far she hadn't seen him so much as touch any food.

When the human returned to the room, she hid behind the dresser. There was nowhere else for her to go. Tearfully, she watched his huge boots clomp around on the ground, terrified of how big he was. Those boots could crush her and he'd never even know she was there. But... he walked slower than a normal human while he was moving. Usually when she saw a human walk, the shoes swept across the floor faster than someone her size could ever hope to escape from.

Probably still hoping to see Sam, she thought sadly to herself. Like she hoped to see her daddy every time she returned to their home. She avoided it as much as she could. It was just a reminder of what she'd lost. First her mommy all those years ago, now daddy...

Once the lights in the room went dim overhead, Kara carefully climbed up the back of the dresser. It was dangerous to stay on the floor by herself, as her daddy had told her many times. She was so small, she could get hurt by the bugs and spiders that made their homes in the motel. Ever since those humans had started to take people like her daddy, the bugs had multiplied, starting to encroach on the places they used to live. She was the last one living there that she knew about at this point. So many had been lost in recent years. Not just to humans...

It was like this motel was cursed.

She finally made it to the top. With a quiet grunt she hauled herself over the edge, slipping as close behind the TV as she could. She peered nervously around it, staring at the huge human. He was hunched over his laptop, staring down at the bright screen. He was so intently focused on the strange device, she'd have been surprised if he noticed anything. She gave a sigh of thanks. He was so big. She was scared to death of catching his attention - no matter how nice he'd been to Sam, there was no telling what he'd do to her if he found her, and there was no way for her to defend herself.

With another sigh, she curled herself into a ball around her bag. It would be safe for her to rest her eyes... just for a few minutes...

Sam rested on the pile of fabric for what felt like hours. It wasn't relaxing by any stretch of the imagination, but he needed to keep his strength up. Needed to stay strong. The burning pain in his arm hadn't died down at all since being placed back in the crate by Beth. At least she'd been kinder than her brother...

An angry rage filled Sam at the memory of being crushed in the man's fist. Completely helpless to get out. If he was the same size as Dean, he'd show that asshole what it felt like to have his arm broken.

After what felt like forever, Bree was returned to the crate. Beth locked it up with a sad smile. "I'll be back later," she promised, smiling.

Bree waved at her as she left. Sam was surprised at that. Bree was far more comfortable around the human than he'd have expected. But... then again, she had been a captive more than half her life. Instead of the way he'd been shrunk down and lived with people his size, she'd been captured and forced to live with people that were so much bigger. It would be a coping mechanism to find a friend here. A way to survive, or hold on to your sanity. A form of Stockholm syndrome - completely unavoidable in the long run, and her time here certainly counted as 'the long run.'

Sam smiled at her as she came over. She sat down an inch away. "How's your arm?" she asked kindly.

Sam brushed his hand protectively over it. "Been better," he admitted. "That other human... Beth's brother..."

"Chance," Bree supplied helpfully. "His name is Chance."

Sam's mouth thinned to a line. Such an innocuous name for someone that had almost crushed him. Happily. "Chance," he allowed begrudgingly. "He... he came close to crushing me."

Bree's eyes fell away from Sam. "Yeah, that sounds like him," she muttered. "Beth won't let him near me ever since he dropped me, almost killing me. Even his parents were furious, and they usually don't give a damn."

"Those are the two that caught me, right?"

"Yeah... Isabelle and Nicolas. Lovely people, right?" A brief bout of humor crossed her face before it extinguished. "Sam... I'm sorry for what you went through."

"Don't be sorry," Sam assured her. "You're not the one that hurt me. It's not your fault this happened."

"But still..." she blinked. She glanced over at Christian and Mikael. "I've been with these humans so long... I can't help but feel responsible. I mean, if they never caught me as a child they would never have known we existed. Christian would be with his daughter, Mikael would be safe at home..."

Sam scooched over, closing the distance between them. He carefully wrapped his arm around her. Hopefully this didn't make things worse, but he couldn't stand the look in her eyes... the blame, the depression, the regret. She could never go back to the way she'd been before being taken.

It couldn't be easy for her. She'd lived with these humans for years, surviving day to day. And suddenly they captured two other people like her, but with completely different outlooks. It wasn't her fault she was friendly with the human girl... and Sam had to admit Beth seemed very nice, especially compared to the rest of the family he'd been subjected to. Bree had survived, in her own way.

She stiffened at his touch, then curled against him. He wasn't prepared for what it felt like. She was soft and warm and nice against him. Sam had never been this close with a girl before, not even with Krissy, his one friend growing up.

Small shudders wracked her body. He rubbed his arm down her back, soothing her. "It's okay, Bree. None of this is your fault. It's all gonna be okay."

She turned her head, burying it into his shoulder. "How can you say that?" she mumbled into him. "They're not gonna stop. They'll just keep finding more of us..."

"There's only so many they can find around here, right? Any others still around should be more careful if they know about Christian and Mikael being taken." She shrank down against him at his words. "Did you ever ask Christian and Mikael if there were any others left?"

She shuddered against him. "They won't tell me. They think the first thing I'd do is tell Beth." Red-rimmed eyes peeked up at Sam. "But I wouldn't! I'd never put anyone else in danger! I promise!"

"I believe you," he assured her, rubbing her arm gently. "But look at it from their perspective... if they're wrong and they tell you, more people could end up hurt. Better to be safe than sorry, right? They might be protecting friends, loved ones..."

She deflated against him. "Like Christian's daughter."

"Yeah, like her," he blinked in surprise. "He told you about her?"

"He couldn't exactly hide it. The first week he was around all he did was worry about her... if she was alright, if she'd found food... he said that their house didn't have enough to feed her for more than a few days. She'd've had to go out and get her own food, and you know how dangerous that can be. How dangerous humans are, even when they don't see you! She's only seven! "

Sam sighed, thinking back to when Dean had caught him. It had to have been months ago by now. Dean could have easily hurt him without even realizing who Sam was. Trapped in a huge fist...no way out... as much as Sam trusted Dean now it still hurt to remember that moment. Hurt to remember his fruitless struggles. The terror from his own brother catching him like it was nothing. With Sam in his fist, Dean didn't even need to put any effort into keeping Sam trapped. Helpless. And Christian's daughter was even smaller than him, easier to catch. "Yeah, I know."

"Sam..." she pushed herself up so she could look him in the eyes. "You mentioned my parents yesterday."

Sam froze, the expression of a deer in headlights passing over his face.

She took this in. "Please Sam. I need to know how they are. How do you know them?"

"I... ah... Bree, they saved my life years ago. About a year after you were taken." Sam swallowed nervously. It was hard to even think about what had happened. "They uh, they raised me. Taught me everything I know. Your mom, Mallory, she's the one that made me these clothes." He plucked the edge of his sleeve, indicating the soft fabric that made up his jacket.

"Mom made this?" she asked quietly. A hand brushed down Sam's good arm. "But... these clothes almost look human."

"She did it for me. I was comatose when they found me, dressed like this. She ended up liking the clothes so much she made some for Walt too. Said they were very versatile, compared to what he normally wore."

"Sam, you're avoiding my question. How are they now? When did you last see them... does Beth's family know where they are? Are they in danger?"

"Bree, slow down." He held out a hand, gently clasping hers. "I'm sorry, but you need to know."

Fearful eyes blinked at him. Mallory's eyes. He could recognize her in Bree's face, putting an ache in his chest. The soft blue eyes started to water as she caught on to his mood. "Need to know what, Sam?"

"Bree... a few months ago, their home was attacked. I... I was the only one to survive..."

"No..." she whispered. She pulled away from Sam. "No, they're alive, they have to be alive. They're all I have left..." she stumbled back from him. "You're lying, you have to be..."

"Bree, wait..."

But she didn't. She ran away from him. Sam watched her go sadly. He could feel tears of his own prick at his eyes, remembering the last sight he'd seen of their tiny home. Black and charred where Mallory and Walt had last been... his adopted mother's clothing burnt to a crisp... Sam hadn't cared if he survived there. If it hadn't been Dean that found him that day he probably wouldn't be around anymore, either. Dean had saved him then.

Bree crumpled in the back corner of the crate, sobbing desperately to herself. Mikael and Christian stared at her in surprise. Sam could feel their eyes burn holes in him the moment he faced away. Blaming him.

He buried his head in his arms.

A thunderous thud filled the air, startling Kara from sleep. She squealed in fear, grabbing her bag to her chest.

Heavy silence fell.

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, panicked breaths shaking her body. She'd forgotten where she was. That she wasn't home, safe in her bed with daddy nearby. She stayed as still as she could, willing herself to not even breathe. Just a mouse... silent as a mouse... you didn't hear anything... she thought tremulously, desperately willing the human to ignore the noise she'd made.

"Hello?" came a deep voice. The air itself rumbled around her at the powerful sound. Covering her ears, she ducked her head against her chest, tears falling from her eyes to the rough surface of the dresser beneath her.

He'd heard her.

"Who's there?"

A minute more passed, the silence pregnant with expectation. A shaky breath hiccupped in her throat from fear.

A huge scuffing sound filled the air. The human was standing up, his boots hitting the ground and shaking the dresser beneath her. A light clicked on overhead, illuminating the room.

Blinking in the sudden brightness, Kara clutched her small hook, threading the rope through her fingers. All she had to do was slip down from the dresser and get back in the walls where it was safe. Why had she ever stayed here?

Because this is the last link to the people who took daddy from me...

That thought filled her as she gathered herself to run. She wasn't going to lose the link to her daddy. She was just going to get to safety and then she could find out more. When the human wasn't around again. She'd be safer... more careful this time. Yeah. That's what she'd do.

Huge, thudding footsteps filled the air. The entire dresser shook under her. He was coming. Kara closed her eyes for a second, then ran.

A huge exclamation filled the air the second she moved. Her vision narrowed down to a tunnel, focusing on the edge of the dresser.

Seconds before she reached it and safety, her entire world went black. Something strong wrapped around her, closing around her body. She shrieked, trying to escape the powerful grip. She couldn't move her arms or legs. Whatever had her wasn't budging. Her entire body was encased.

Her chest fluttered, starved lungs trying to draw breath in her prison. She could feel the world moving as whatever had her shifted, taking her away from the safety of her hiding place. A heavy pulse beat in her ears, thudded against her back. It filled her entire world.

Light filtered in suddenly. Kara found herself lying on her back. Desperate breaths shook her, her small body wracked with fear. Something moved at the edge of her vision and she flinched away, spotting the massive fingers surrounding her, light slipping through the cracks between them. They were twice as long as her body, thick and powerful, arching over her body.

A hand. She was in a hand.

Past the rushing blood in her head she realized a rumbling voice was filling the air, trying to talk to her. It was fast, powerful, loud... its tone just as panicked as she felt. Trembling, Kara tried to scrub the tears out of her eyes. Since opening up the fingers hadn't moved. She shivered at how strong she knew each one would be. And here she was, helplessly trapped in their clutches.

Once her eyes were clear she stared tremulously up at her captor. Panicked green eyes bigger than her head met her frightened dark greys. She finally managed to focus on what he was saying... if only to think about anything but the size of his mouth. It was a few inches away from her, teeth that could bite her in half flashing in and out of view as he talked. He could eat her in one bite if he wanted to. The shaking started up in her arms again at that thought. She was helpless, trapped in a hand far bigger than she was, at the mercy of an unknown human.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, you're okay... please, please stop crying. I promise you're safe, nothing's gonna happen to you..." his words tumbled over each other as he failed to reassure the tiny, two-inch girl cupped helplessly in his palm. Hot breath washed over her body as close as she was held to his mouth in his own panic.

The hand moved again, the huge green eyes darting away from her. The giant human glanced quickly around the room, searching for something. Kara took the opportunity to try and jump off the side of his hand. It was only a few inches off the dresser, near the edge. She could make it. She could still escape. There was always hope.

"Whoa!" the human cried out as she desperately leapt. His other hand swooped around her before she landed, stopping her from reaching the dresser. His reflexes were unnatural. "Hey now, don't do that, you might get hurt... you're safe with me, I promise... I won't let anything happen to you..."

He moved fast, taking her away from the dresser. Kara squealed at the speed with which he walked, the terrifying height in the air she was held. The second hand cupped around the one holding her, keeping her trapped between thick, leathery walls of skin so she couldn't fall off. After a moment his hands lowered, landing softly on one of the beds in the room.

"There, can't have you getting hurt trying to escape from me. Right?"

Kara tumbled off his palm the instant she could, bouncing on the cushiony surface of the bed. She whipped around, making sure he wasn't going to grab at her again.

What she saw caught her off guard. Both his arms were gone and he was sitting back, away from the bed. Her bag had been left a few inches away from her. She hadn't even realized it had fallen from her arm during the excitement. She grabbed at it, clutching it to her chest. Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she stared up at him. "Why... why do you care?" she asked, her voice shaking with fear.

"Why wouldn't I?" There was surprise in his voice. Maybe even a little bit of hurt.

She hesitated, remembering how he'd been when she'd seen him with the other one... Sam, he'd been called. Careful, caring... everything she'd been told humans weren't. Maybe... maybe he really was different.

"No reason..." she mumbled, curling herself around her bag. A few tearful shakes hit as she checked her surroundings. The bed she was sitting on was expansive, stretching out from her in all directions. Massive folds in the covers were nearby, deep enough to get lost in. She was sitting closest to the human, near the center. He was resting on the floor, leaning against the bed opposite Kara. His head was at the same level as she was.

She pulled herself to her feet. He didn't move.

If she ran, he'd have plenty of time to grab her again. She was nowhere near cover and he was fast. She settled down. Her escape needed the right moment. "What do you want from me?" she asked tearfully.

An expression of shock passed over his face. "N-nothing!" he stuttered, "I just... I didn't want you getting hurt running from me." He shifted the way he was sitting, moving closer to her.

Kara stumbled away, tripping over her own feet. She sprawled on the bed, her fall cushioned by the plush surface.

He froze. "S-sorry," he mumbled. He held out a hand, palms out. "Not reaching for you. See?"

Kara nodded, untangling herself from the cover.

"I just wanted to get a better look at you. You're as safe with me as..." his voice trailed off, a tormented look passing over his face.

"As safe as Sam is. Was that what you were going to say?" Her voice, as tiny as it was, came out stronger than it had so far while talking to him. They did have something in common, after all. It was why she was here in the first place. They'd both lost someone important.

"How'd you know about him?" The human straightened, suddenly looming over her.

Kara squeaked at the movement, backing fearfully away. Any words she would have said were caught in her throat from sudden fear.

"Sorry," he repeated, his voice softer. He shifted back away from her. "Let's try this again, alright...? My name's Dean. What's yours?"

"I'm... I'm Kara." Suddenly inspired, she stuck her hand out the same way she'd seen her daddy do when he'd met someone new.

A smile twitched on the giant human's face as he recognized the gesture. He slowly reached forward with his own hand. Kara could feel her insides freeze up when she realized exactly how much bigger than her it was. How easily that hand had engulfed her mere minutes ago. But all that happened when it reached her was a finger and thumb, both longer than her entire body, closed gently around her tiny hand, so light that she could barely feel it.

He released her hand. "Good to meet you, Kara." His hand dropped back to his side.

Kara's stomach growled, loudly, making her jump in surprise at the sound. Nervous, she glanced up to see his reaction. She didn't want to make him mad.

Worry filled his eyes. "You're hungry, aren't you." It wasn't a question. "Kara, how long's it been since you ate anything?"

"Uumm... I had the last of my crackers yesterday in the morning..." her voice drifted off. She tried to remember if she'd eaten anything else since. Nothing came to mind. She'd been hoping to find food here, but he kept it hidden and hadn't eaten any himself so there had been no crumbs for her to find.

Dean blinked at that. "Nothing since then?" He stood right up, a dark shadow falling over her.

Kara backed away, trying to put distance between them. The sight of him standing reminded her of how trapped she was right now. "N-no, nothing," she said with a hiccup of surprise, her voice fearful again as he towered over her. He was so big.

"Wait here," he said, sounding distracted. He thudded away, going over to the table. Her tiny body bounced in time with his powerful footsteps. Kara shivered. It would take her an hour to get over there and he did it in seconds. She couldn't see what he was doing at the table, her line of sight blocked by his body.

She was alone.

Kara's eyes flicked to the edge of the bed next to the nightstand. If she could just get over there before he turned back around, she could escape... Her daddy had helped nice old uncle Mikael make an escape path back there not long ago. All she had to do was reach it and he wouldn't be able to get to her.

She'd be safe at last.

For hours, Bree stayed in the back corner. She tried to avoid all the pitying stares the others sent her. She hated that. After so many years spent alone with only humans for company the last thing she ever wanted was for her own people to pity her.

Sam was still sitting where she'd left him, head buried in his arms. He hadn't moved an inch since they'd talked. That's how she realized he wasn't lying. If he was lying, he should have kept trying to convince her. But instead he sat there, a cloud of anger and guilt hanging low over his head. As upset as she was in his own way.

She closed her eyes. The dried tears on her cheeks cracked at the motion. She could remember her family so well... memories of them had kept her going all these years. No matter how long she'd been a captive, she'd never mentioned them to anyone. Except for Beth, the only person she could trust.

Anyone else in this cursed family would have made their first line of business catching the others. Chance, Isabelle, Nicolas... even Beth's granny had no problem taking people like her. Like objects. She'd watched them sell off more than one to that wretched Mina... the only bright side being that they never sold her off, with Beth so attached to her 'little friend,' as Isabelle put it.

Bree had no doubt if she'd ever slipped up and mentioned her family, they would have gone straight back to the motel she'd grown up in and tried to catch the others that were still there. She couldn't risk it. Her mother, father... her best friend Krissy growing up... she couldn't risk them anymore than Christian and Mikael would risk the others in their motel.

Beth was the only one she trusted. In all the years she'd been trapped, Beth had always been caring and cautious with Bree. Where Chance would grab her in an angry fist and almost crush her walking from one end of the room to the other, Beth would carefully hold out her hand, letting Bree get on without help. Even when she scooped Bree up without warning, the grip was light and careful.

Isabelle and Nicolas had forced both their children to get jobs at the motel in town, hoping to find clues about other tiny people living in the area. From what they'd discovered, Bree's people tended to live in areas where they were hard to notice. Rarely did they chose to live in the walls of a house, though Bree had heard rumors of others making a living with a human family. It was mostly motels, hotels... even the occasional restaurant. Food was easier to come by, missing items were rarely noticed... a better deal on all ends.

Bree was the first they'd found, all those years ago. She'd been out exploring without her father knowing. The worst mistake of her life, as it turned out. But she'd been so curious, wanting to know what was really out there. Walt had never wanted to take her with him when he was out getting supplies. The few times they'd traveled together had always been to 'safe' rooms. No danger for her at all, no excitement.

The first room she'd ever snuck into had been Beth's.

Spotting a discarded candy bar on the table, she'd daringly crept up the side. She managed to get a few pieces of chocolate, filling the bag her father had made her the year before. That was when it all went to hell.

Of all people, Chance had been in the bathroom. When he came out, the light from the bathroom illuminated the table. She'd been caught out, trapped. A shout woke his entire family.

And that's all she wrote.

Bree had spent the next few days trapped in a cage they scrounged up. Nothing she did could get the bars to budge. They were thicker and stronger than her arms. Her father had found her hours before the family left. Bree remembered sobbing desperately as he did his best to free her. He tried everything. The lock was unbreakable, there was no way to bend the bars for him... all things a human would have no problem with.

The last time she'd seen him he'd embraced her through the bars, trying to hold her one last time. It's okay, Walt mumbled in her ear. We'll get you out. We'll find a way. She could hear the desperation in his voice as it trembled. His hand tightened around her neck. There's always a way, baby girl... he kissed her forehead through the bars. He jerked away when the doorknob started to twist. I'll be back, I promise...

And now her dad was dead. She'd never be able to give him another hug. Never tell him it wasn't his fault. It was hers. She'd been too overconfident, brash... eager to get out and explore. Her family was lost to her...

Days after the family left with her cage in tow, the parents had given her to their daughter. An early birthday present, they'd called her. Whatever that was. The only good thing that had happened to her. Beth was the only one willing to respond to Bree when she talked. Everyone else acted like it was just the wind talking. Like she couldn't speak, or even think for herself. Beth had been a blessing in disguise.

Ever since Beth and her brother got jobs at the local motel, their family had started to find and catch others like Bree. From what Bree understood, Chance was proud of being the one to track them all down. He'd become a security guard at the motel while Beth became the receptionist. He used the hidden cameras he'd placed in certain rooms to track movements. That was how he found Christian and Mikael. It must have been how he'd found Sam. The actual kidnapping was always left to the parents. They didn't want to risk Chance losing his job when they reaped so many rewards, and Beth refused to help them at all.

Everyone caught had been kept in the crate. Even Bree. Until recently she'd lived upstairs in a dollhouse. Her own bed, a comfortable blanket to sleep under, even silverware and dishes to eat from. She hadn't had anything like that growing up. But something changed after they started catching others. It was as though she'd suddenly become a precious commodity out of the blue.

A screaming fit from Beth had done no good. Neither of them liked Bree being trapped in the crate with the others, all of them treated no better than animals. Beth had done her best to get them better conditions but nothing had changed. Now she settled for sneaking them better food. Clean cloth to sleep in. Even better water. Bree she took out as much as she could. Her parents didn't trust her as much as they used to. For every Borrower (seriously, how had humans come up with that name?) Chance had brought home, she'd steadfastly refused to help. As far as Bree was concerned, Beth had proven her trust time and time again.

Not that it mattered. Christian and Mikael didn't trust Bree, not really. They cared for her, wanted to protect her from the other humans, but they didn't want to talk to her. In their eyes she was tainted after all her years here. And they refused any potential help from Beth.

And her last hope of somehow getting to go home one day, see her family again had been pulled from under her feet by that new guy, Sam. She had nothing left. Nothing but herself in this world. She gave a small scoff. The only person she could really rely on was a human. What was she coming to?

Chapter Text

Dean stared down at the table. What the hell did you feed a tiny, two inch tall girl you’d accidentally caught?

The look on her face when he’d opened his fist had slammed his heart straight through the floor into the bedrock below. She was terrified of him.

Not that he could blame her. She was tiny. He’d thought Sam was small, but she couldn’t stand more than two inches tall, if that. His ring could slip over her shoulders and be used as a hula hoop for Christ’s sake! She weighed almost nothing in his hand… and she was just a little girl, all alone in a human's room.

Her tiny face had been soaked in tears the first time he opened his hand, causing his stomach to lurch when he realized what he’d caught. Tiny, light brown curls framed her face, with her eyes too small for him to even see their color. It ground into him exactly how fragile she would be if he screwed up at all. Her life was literally in his hands.

Dean flexed his fingers as he dug through his bag, remembering what that had felt like. He was terrified of holding her again. She was way too vulnerable, tiny and delicate. More like a baby bird than a person… and she hadn’t eaten anything in over a day. Surely she had family that would take care of her, make sure she was fed. How had she ended up in his room, alone and starving?

Maybe she’s not alone…

Dean pushed away the desire to search the room. His paranoia could wait until she was fed and taken care of. 

His hand closed around a granola bar. Perfect, he thought to himself. It was something she could eat, as he’d found out when Sam took a liking to them. And healthy, too, unlike 90 percent of what Dean ate. Good for a growing kid. 

Ever since he’d found out Sam liked them he’d taken to keeping a few extra on hand. Sam might hate asking Dean to buy things for him but he couldn’t complain if Dean already had them. Problem solved. Sorta. Sam hadn't figured him out yet. He'd probably get pissed if he knew.

Food in hand, Dean turned back to the bed with a brief glance downwards to check the floor was clear of anyone else. He was starting to think he’d have to watch his feet for the rest of his life at this rate. One stupid wrong move and he could kill someone like Sam or Kara. They didn't deserve that.

His eyes fell to where he’d left her on the bed.

She was gone.

Pushing down his rising panic, Dean scanned the rest of the bed. He couldn’t afford to lose her in the room. Not as small as she was.

There. She was stumbling on the plushy surface, almost to the pillows. Her tiny chest rose and fell in panicked breaths, her tiny bag, so like Sam’s, clutched in front of her.

Moving quick, Dean took two big steps to close the distance between them. Trying not to think of how terrified she was at the moment - how scared she was of him - Dean dropped his hand a few inches in front of her. It formed an impenetrable wall of flesh separating her from the edge.

Unable to stop in time, Kara bounced off his palm with a squeak. Recovering her feet, she attempted to dart around the hand. Thinking fast, Dean scooped her up into his palm again. Didn't matter if he scared her like this - he couldn’t afford to lose her in the room.

“Hey hey hey. Calm down. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Dean said soothingly. 

His words had no effect. Tears falling down her cheeks again, she curled into a ball, scrunching her eyes shut. Her tiny shoulders shuddered in fear as he raised his hand up to eye level. He could just barely make out her mumbling something, soft, quick and fast.

Dean tilted his head curiously, trying to catch what she was saying.

Her tiny, bird-like voice trembled as she spoke. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. Please don’t eat me, please don’t hurt me…” her chest heaved in a sob. “I just wanted to find my daddy, I’m so sorry…”

Dean’s heart broke at the fear in her voice. She really thought he was going to hurt her for trying to run away and escape.

He dropped the granola on the bed, cupping both hands carefully around her as he sat down on the floor, giving the tiny girl all his focus.

“Hey…” he said softly. She didn’t move, eyes still scrunched shut. “Kara, I don’t know what happened or how you got here, but I promise I’m not mad at you for trying to run. You're safe here.” As carefully as he’d ever done anything in his life, he brushed a finger over her tiny cheek, wiping away the tears. “You’re pretty brave, you know that? I don’t think I’d be brave enough to run from a giant like you did.”

Tiny eyes peeked open, peering up at him. “Really?” she asked in a quavering voice. “You think I’m brave?”

“Yeah! Of course!” Dean hesitated for a moment, afraid of scaring her more, then went with his big brother instincts. “I mean, I’m pretty big and scary you know.” He made a funny face at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

She squealed, but this time with laughter. “You’re not that scary!” she giggled.

He was finally starting to get through to her. “Then why do you want to run away from me so much?” he asked, letting a little of the hurt shine through in his voice.

She stuck out her bottom lip, considering. “My daddy told me all humans are dangerous. He said if I ever got caught I had to get away no matter what.”

Dean smiled down at her. “Your daddy’s a very smart man. He’s right. Humans are dangerous. You need to stay away from them at all costs.” 

He nudged her in the side with the tip of his finger, eliciting a giggle. “Stop it!” She uncurled from her protective ball, batting his finger away with an absolutely tiny hand. Dean let her 'win,' feeling something in him thaw at her happy expression. He pulled his hand away.

He still couldn’t get over how tiny she was. If she stood next to his finger, she wouldn’t reach the second joint. Why was she out here all by herself? It was dangerous for Sam to go into a stranger's room when they were around, never mind someone Kara's size.

She sat up fully in his hand, scooching her legs under her. The light movement tickled his palm. “Shouldn’t I stay away from you, if daddy’s right?”

Dean hesitated. As much as he hated to admit it… “Yeah, you should. Even though I’d never hurtcha, there’s no way you could have known that until it was too late. But I promise you'll be safe with me. And…” he thought about how much he wanted to tell her. After all, she couldn’t be more than seven or eight years old. And she’s sitting calmly in the hands of a giant. She can probably handle a little more, he thought to himself. He chewed his bottom lip. “I think I might need your help.”

Dean lowered his hand back to the bed, next to where he’d left the granola bar. “I promise, if you really want to leave I won’t stop you again. But please, eat something first.”

She stared up at him, her small, dark eyes wide. “Okay,” she said. “You really promise you won’t stop me?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Dean drew a cross over his heart, meaning every word. He could never bring himself to trap such a small and vulnerable girl against her will.

She hopped down from his hand. Dean settled down on the floor, leaning against the bed she was on. He gave her a smile. It didn’t seem like she was going to run off on him again, which he was fervently thankful for. He’d be afraid of moving while he didn’t know where she was.

Dean grabbed the granola bar, ripping the package open. 

Kara’s eyes went wide. “That’s so much food!” she exclaimed as the food came into her view.

Dean grinned. “And it's all for you,” he promised with a chuckle. The thought of the tiny girl trying to tackle a granola bar lightened his mood. He might be big and scary and dangerous to her but at least he could give her this. He could still hear her tiny stomach growl from time to time. She must be starved for it to be loud enough for Dean to hear, big as he was in comparison.

Dean broke off a small piece, pinching it between two big fingers. He was a normal sized guy but being around people like her and Sam constantly was making him feel more like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk.

Fee, Fie, Foe, Fum… he thought to himself with a wry humor. Sam would roll his eyes when Dean told him.

The situation slammed him in the face again. He couldn't tell Sam anything. He might not get to tell Sam anything ever again.

Sam...

She bravely stood her ground in front of his hand, not even flinching this time. “I can’t eat that whole thing!” she giggled. “You should have some! Daddy told me waste is bad, so I shouldn’t waste all that when you can have it!” She grabbed the tiny piece he was holding. The moment it was in her arms it transformed from a little crumb to Dean to a hunk of food bigger than her head. Unaffected by its size, she settled down on the bed and started happily eating.

Dean took her up on the offer. He broke off another small piece that was close to the same size as she was. He’d save that in case she wanted more later on. Setting that to the side he finished the rest in a few big bites. He hadn’t eaten yet that day, or the night before. All his attention had been devoted to trying to track down his little brother.

She paid his loud chewing no mind, intent on her own snack.

He waited almost patiently while she finished her food. As much as he wanted to go back to researching for Sam, his instincts were screaming at him that she might be the big break he was waiting for. She’d mentioned Sam earlier and something about her father later on… Dean had a sinking suspicion he knew why she was alone.

There was a distant thump.

Sam jolted out of sleep, startled out of dark dreams of grabbing hands and terror. He glanced quickly around, checking his surroundings.

Bree hadn't moved a muscle since the last time he'd seen her. She was still slumped in the back of the crate, red rimmed eyes staring around. Christian and Mikael stood near the door, talking softly amongst each other. Their eyes darted around at the noise from outside the small room. It was impossible to know what was going on out there. 

A feeling of expectation filled the air.

A distant, thundering voice shouted in the house. "Beth! Mom wants you to bring the new borrower and Bree to the kitchen!"

Sam couldn't help a tremble at the sound of Chance's voice. He remembered all too well being nearly crushed in the man's hands. Despite the fear he felt at that woman - Isabelle - wanting to see him and Bree, he was glad Chance wouldn't be coming near them.

Less than five minutes later, almost dainty thuds filled the air. They stopped at the door. Sam drew himself up to a stand, trying to catch a glimpse of the world outside. Christian and Mikael backed away from the door, moving closer to Sam.

"What do you think they want?" Christian muttered at Sam.

"I... I dunno." Sam frowned. "Did they ever take you out like that?"

Christian shrugged. "Once or twice. They didn't seem as interested in the two of us... I think we were a little old for their tastes or something from what I heard."

The door to the room swept open, Beth walking in. She knelt down and carefully opened up the crate. "Hey guys," she said as she leaned slightly in. Her eyes fell on Sam. "I'm sorry."

That was all the warning he got before being swept gently into her hand. He hissed when he landed on his arm, trying to sit up on the moving platform. After a few dizzying seconds and a loud click later he found himself sitting on her hand next to Bree.

He barely caught a glimpse of the crate before she left the room. It was locked up tight again. Sam took in what detail of the lock he could. If he ever got out of here he had to find a way to save the others. Now that he knew about their plight he'd never be able to turn his back on them and ignore their suffering. If only he and Dean had been able to discover this another way.

Beth's swift footsteps carried them away. Sam turned to Bree. Her cheeks were flushed with anger and tears caked to her face. "Bree..." he said quietly trying to avoid catching Beth's attention. She barely twitched at his voice. "Bree, I know I can never make it up to you..." Sam wrapped one of his hands around hers, ignoring the flash of pain from his injured palms.

She blinked up at him, brushing away a tear. "T-thanks..." she mumbled. "I'm sorry... it's just a lot to take in all at once. I... I don't blame you, Sam."

They didn't have any more time to talk. Beth gently placed her hands down on the table flat for them to climb down from. Bree hopped off without a qualm. Sam hesitated. He didn't want to face that woman again... not after what she'd done to him the last time he'd seen her.

Beth took the decision from Sam's hands. The palm tilted under him, making him stumble off to avoid falling. The moment he was down she stepped away from the table, peering around the door. "Mom!"

Sam's body locked up at the sound of clicking high heels. Bree stared at him. "Are you alright?" she mouthed softly.

"N-no..." he managed to get out. He curled his good hand protectively around his broken arm.

Isabelle walked around the doorway, coming into sight. Her cold eyes landed on Sam and Bree, mouth curling into a facsimile of a smile. "Good to see you remember your place, sweetheart," she purred at Beth.

Beth didn't bat an eye. "Why did you want my Bree?" she said with a flat glare at her mother.

Isabelle smiled as she turned to face Sam and Bree. "Well, we have an interested buyer. But turns out she only wants borrowers within a certain age group. Since the other two are... old for her tastes, we decided to show her these."

Beth's eyes lit up. "Mom, you can't!" she said, going for the table. Chance slipped from behind the doorway, stopping his sister. "Bree!" Beth's hand stretched for the small girl next to Sam.

Chance hauled her into the air, easily crushing his sister's arms to her sides. She squirmed desperately, kicking and trying to bite the arms around her. Nothing did any good. He was too much stronger, and a full head taller than Beth.

"Beth, no!" Bree tried to reach for her, desperately leaning off the table. Sam grabbed her, dragging her away from the edge.

Chance carried his thrashing sister away with a grimace of distaste. "C'mon sis, let's leave mom to it."

Beth put up a good fight, desperately trying to escape her brother's arms, but it did her no good. Soon enough Sam and Bree were alone with the mother. Isabelle was still watching the door, tapping a finger against her arm.

Sam scanned the tabletop for a way to escape. Nothing rose to mind. "Bree..." he said warningly, backing away from Isabelle's towering form.

Bree ignored him. With a groan of annoyance, Sam grabbed her shoulder, pulling her towards the middle. If they were lucky they could reach the other side, find a way down the table and get out of sight. It might be dangerous but it would be infinitely safer than staying here. Bree just wouldn't cooperate. "You gotta come, Bree, it isn't safe to be near her... she broke my arm!" Sam hissed out. "We can escape, there's always a way..."

No sooner had those words left his mouth than Isabelle turned towards them. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the two tiny people on the table. "Hmm..." she said, taking in their position. Sam and Bree both froze the moment she saw them, but they were clearly farther from her than before.

She stalked over. "Well, it seems my little snack still hasn't learned his lesson. Bree, dear, you should turn away," she smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "You know better, after all."

Sam glared up at her. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Two fingers locked around his legs. "You need to know your place, that's what it means." She tightened her grip, getting a groan of pain out of Sam. But that was all. Determined to not give her the satisfaction, he refused to budge, keeping his glare trained on her. "Little snacks like you don't talk to your betters. Or run away. Ever."

Sam grunted when she lifted him off the table. He was dropped into her hand, weakened legs collapsing. Long fingers curled around his body. Sam flinched back, trying to hold his broken arm out of sight.

She sneered when she saw that. One of the fingers curled around him slipped under his arm, lifting it up without warning. Sam cried out in pain as the delicate splint was jostled. Isabelle didn't stop there. With one thick finger she pushed down on Sam's leg, almost enough to crush it.

"Aahh!" Sam cried out, unable to stop himself. He glared up at her angrily, blinking through tears of pain. He managed to slip his hand into his jacket. It curled around the splinter he'd hidden there, what seemed like forever ago. At this point he'd give anything just to be back in that crate, away from this woman's grasp. 

"Now, all you need to do," she said, holding him up to her eyes, "is keep your head down when Mina comes in to visit. We need to make a good impression with her, after all."

Sam spat at her. "Like I'll ever do what you want, bitch." With a red hot rage coursing through him he stabbed his splinter down into her palm, concentrating on what looked like a half-healed cut.

She dropped him with a curse. Sam threw his good arm out, slamming against the table with a pained cry. He scrambled back a few inches before being scooped up by the other hand. One of the fingers had a bandage wrapped around it, where Sam recognized he'd stabbed her with his knife the other day. He gave a brief, predatory grin. If he was going down, he was going down fighting.

Isabelle glared at him with those icy blue eyes, so out of place with her midnight black hair. "If we didn't need you so much, that would have been the last thing you'd ever done." A finger flicked against his splint. "You're lucky we need you in one piece."

Sam crumpled into a ball from the pain, curling up. He gasped a deep breath of air, trying to breathe. He checked his splint, ignoring her completely. At least outwardly. His instincts were on overdrive. Every second he was in the disgusting woman's hands he could feel his pulse racing faster.

The hand lifted up, held right next to her mouth. Sam tried to look away, but couldn't tear his eyes from the massive teeth so close to him. "If we didn't need you so much for Mina I would make you pay for ever touching me." The warning was whispered in a harsh voice, shaking his small body.

Sam was placed back near Bree. A shuffling noise filled the air as the older woman Sam recognized as Beth's grandmother wandered in. The sound of a chair scraping against the ground filled the air around them as she sat down. "Isabelle, you only gave me a day to get his new clothes ready. All I could do was re-size some of the older sets we had."

Isabelle leaned against the wall, watching the older woman with the same angry look she'd given Sam. "As long as he's presentable for when Mina arrives, that's all that matters, mother."

The older woman arched an eyebrow. "You should show me more respect, girl. After all, no one else you know can make these clothes. We're in this together, Belle, my dear."

Isabelle didn't respond. She crossed her arms, locking her eyes firmly on Sam and Bree.

Sam couldn't help a twitch from being caught in her glare again. He turned towards the older woman, trying to put Isabelle out of his mind. It wasn’t working.

The older woman took note of his reaction. "Here, you don't have anything to worry about with me, do you?" she said in a soft tone. "After all, I'll never hurt you like they will."

Out of her pocket she pulled small articles of clothing. Thin leggings and a blouse for Bree and a new jacket and jeans for Sam. "We need you to look your best for dear Mina in a bit. She's going to adore the two of you." She rubbed a finger up Sam's side. "Now, put on the clothes and you won't have to worry about mean ole' Isabelle over there."

Isabelle scoffed at that, stalking out of the room. "I don't have time for this." 

The grandmother smiled when she was gone. "And that takes care of that." Her hand overshadowed Sam. "Now, time for you to get in your new set of clothes, child."

Sam tried to get away, failing to avoid the grabbing fingers.

Dean, where are you?

Chapter Text

Kara didn't look up at the human until she was finished eating. She tried to take a few more bites of the food he'd given her, but her tummy grumbled at the thought. She put it down with a sigh. She hadn't been this full since before her daddy had been taken away. It was nice.

Before anything else, she made sure to tuck the extra food away in her gathering bag. There was still plenty left. A piece that size would keep her going for a few days, at least. More if she stretched it, something she'd learned to do out of necessity with her father gone.

She peeked nervously up at the human, but he hadn't moved past finishing the rest of the granola bar he'd given her. It was incredibly hard to stay sitting and not at least try to leave again. All her life her family had told her to avoid humans and here she was, sitting calmly next to one of the biggest she'd ever seen.

For the moment he was sitting quietly. His eyes kept flicking to the table and his laptop, worry filling his expression. He hadn't glanced down at her since eating his portion of the granola bar.

She scanned the area around her, considering her options. She could always leave... after all, he'd said he'd let her go. But so far he hadn't done anything to hurt her, had in fact helped her, and right now she had no way to get her daddy back. She was alone, lost and abandoned in this gigantic motel.

Maybe he'd be willing to help her.

"Th-t--" she stumbled over her words. The huge green eyes locked onto her at her words, making her stiffen. "T-thank y... you..."

He straightened in his seat. She squeaked in fear, scrambling back a few inches, hoping to keep some space between them. He stopped moving as soon as he noticed. A smile crossed his face. "You're very welcome, Kara."

Her pulse raced every time he said her name, his rumbling voice curling around it naturally. Having something that size know her name made her nervous. She tried to force it away, blinking back a few small tears. "Dean..."

"Yeah?" he asked, keeping his voice down.

"Can... is there any way you can help me find my daddy?" She stared down at her hands, clenching them into matching fists. She was afraid of his answer as much as she was afraid of him.

"Kara," Dean inched towards the bed, trying to focus on the tiny little girl sitting there. She refused to look up at him, her tiny shoulders shaking in fear. "Kara, tell me what happened. Please. If there's anything I can do, I'll help. I promise."

Kara scooched back on the bed when he moved closer, keeping her eyes down fearfully. "My daddy... my daddy was taken away. Just like Sam." She squinted her eyes shut at the memory. "We... we were out getting stuff for home. He was showing me how. After all, it's just the two of us now. Mommy's been gone since I was little. Daddy said I needed to know how to take care of myself, in case anything ever happened to him." She fiddled with her rope and glanced up at him. He was less scary now, with understanding painted all over his face for what she'd gone through.

Taking his kind expression to heart, she kept going. "They got him before I knew what was happening. Suddenly the door was open and a huge hand had Daddy in its hold. I heard him yell. There was..." she stumbled over her words. "I couldn't do anything... I just dove in the walls as fast as I could. He was gone so fast..." she put her head in her hands, tears leaking out. "I lost him just like that..." she mumbled into her hand.

After a moment like that she realized there was something warm against her back, gently rubbing to reassure her. She peeked open an eye out of curiosity. Spotting a wall of fingers curling around her, she stumbled to her feet. "No, wait!" she cried, throwing her hands out defensively. Then stopped. He hadn't moved past putting his hand there. "You... are you going to trap me again?"

Dean moved his hand away. "Kara, I promise you're safe with me." He stared sadly down at his hand, flexing it into a fist. "I was just trying to help you feel better. I never wanted to trap you the first time."

"Oh." Surprised, she thought about that. He wasn't looking at her now. His face was full of guilt and unhappiness. She'd made him feel that way. It was her fault.

Kara grabbed her bag and slung it around her shoulder. She hiked over the cushiony surface, determined. She slowed as she reached the edge, peering over. When she saw the height, she backed a few inches away. His legs stretched past where she was standing, longer than she thought possible. She could never hope to run from legs that long. Kara paled at the reminder of what he was. Why did humans have to be so big!

With a nervous gulp, she glanced up at him. "D-Dean?"

"Hm?" His eyes flicked to where she'd been standing on the bed, then trailed over to her. They widened when he saw how close she was. "What's the matter, Kara?"

"I'm... I'm not scared of you anymore. Promise. You're just.... really big! " She held out her arms, trying to approximate his size.

He smiled at that. "I promise I'm not afraid of you either," Dean swore.

Kara giggled at his assurance. "Someone as big as you shouldn't be afraid of anything! " She sat down on the edge near Dean.

Dean grinned. "I dunno, you're awfully scary sometimes." He gave her a wink, then sobered up. "Kara, do you remember anything about the people that took your dad? What they looked like, dressed like, anything?"

Kara stuck a lip out. "No," she said sadly. "I ran before I saw anything but their shoes and hands. Once daddy got grabbed, I... I couldn't..."

Dean saw her lip start trembling. "Kara, don't worry. It's okay. You would've just gotten caught with him if you stayed."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled to her feet. "I couldn't see." An unnoticed tear slipped down her cheek. "But wait!" she cried out in realization, excited. She jumped to her feet, bouncing on the cushiony surface.

Dean's eyebrows climbed to the top of his face at her exclamation. "Yeah?" he asked.

"I saw Sam get taken! And I saw everything... what they looked like, what they did... everything!" She bounced a few inches closer to him in her excitement, not thinking about his size now.

A smile crossed the human's face. "Kara, if I show you pictures of some people, do you think you could point out his kidnapper?"

"There was two of them. And I definitely, definitely can! They were big and tall and scary, and so mean to him." She turned her face up at Dean. "Do you think they have my daddy, too?"

His lips twitched away from a smile at her words, sobering up when she said they were ‘mean to Sam.' Dean was afraid to find out what that meant. Sam was so small and vulnerable compared to a human... "Kara, I think there's a very good chance of that," he said, sitting up. "With any luck, when we find Sam, we'll find your daddy."

Dean reached towards her with his hand. She almost ran away, but remembered his promise that he was safe. The hand stopped right next to her, patiently waiting. "Kara, will you help me?"

She thought about it, staring down at the huge hand next to her. His hand alone was bigger than her bedroom. But there was only one thing she could do. She climbed into the palm of his hand, staring trustingly up at her huge new friend. "Anything to save my daddy. And your Sam."

Sam tugged at the sleeve of his new jacket, annoyed. It was tight on his broken arm, making it throb with constant pain. It did serve to block the splint from view, which was what the humans must have wanted. Hide the damage they did to him with their angry, careless handling.

The grandmother hadn't given him a choice. If he hadn't stripped down to his boxers himself she'd have done it for him - in fact, she'd tried at first. He'd squirmed out of her grasp desperately, tumbling to the ground with his pants half off. The violation he was being put through was awful. But he needed to keep his strength up as much as possible, considering what these people were still doing to him. Putting on the clothes himself had solved one problem, small as it was. He couldn't imagine how much it would've hurt if she'd tried to get his broken arm out. Even the thought made him clutch his bad arm desperately.

So here he was, standing in a black jacket and stiff, uncomfortable jeans. The jeans were nothing like what his adopted mother had made him. With those, she'd made them out of far finer thread than anything humans used in their clothes. What humans considered frayed beyond use actually became the perfect size for Sam's people to use. Even better, it was often discarded or fell to the ground unnoticed and unwanted. One of the few things that could be taken without humans noticing or caring it was gone.

An expert seamstress like Mallory had been able to use that to sew perfectly tailored clothes. So even at his size the jeans were soft and comfortable, easy to wear. What he had on currently was closer to what Dean wore. Thick threads, rough on his far thinner and more delicate skin. A human would never notice but to Sam it was painful and grating. If it stayed on too long he'd chafe everywhere on his legs, on top of the bruising.

The other problem with the clothes Sam had picked up from the grandmother's rambles while she was 'helping' him into them. What he was wearing had originally been made for Christian. The grandmother hadn't had time to make a completely new set of clothing sized for Sam, which was why everything was tight and uncomfortable to begin with. Christian was a good head shorter than Sam, and nowhere near as bulky and built. She'd loosened the clothing up a bit and made it longer but Sam still felt like he was wearing little kid clothes.

Standing next to him, Bree was staring down at the table, cheeks flushed. She'd changed into her new clothes without argument, used to this treatment. Her pants were black and skin tight with a ruffled blue blouse accentuating her petite form. The grandmother knew Bree's size very well after all the years together, and Bree hadn't worn anything else in ages.

Isabelle was back in the dining room, with Nicolas sitting at the table near Bree and Sam. The grandmother had left as soon as she had Sam and Bree dressed, muttering about her work being rushed.

Isabelle leered down at Bree. "Beautiful, dear. Mina is going to adore the two of you."

Nicolas grunted, glancing up from the newspaper he was reading and looking to the side. "When's she supposed to get here?"

Isabelle checked her watch with a smirk. "Any minute now. With these two we should get a good offer. Hopefully enough to cut down on our... other businesses."

Sure enough, not long after that the doorbell rang.

Nicolas got the door, ushering in their guest with a flourish. "Mina, how good to see you again."

The woman that walked in wore a pale, cream colored coat that reached down past her waist. Her light brown hair was wrapped up into an elegant style, very precise and sharp. Her lips tightened in a smile. "Nicolas. A pleasure, as always." A faint British accent tinted her voice, giving it the air of an aristocrat.

The moment Mina walked in, Isabelle's demeanor softened. Must want to make a good impression, Sam thought disparagingly.

"Mina! May I get you anything to drink? Some refreshments, perhaps?"

Mina's eyes narrowed slightly. "I was told you had something for me to see. Shall we just cut to the chase? After all, you've wasted my time enough with those other borrowers you showed me before."

Isabelle tapped her fingers on the table. "Your offer of ten thousand for the pair is still.... low, considering the efforts we went through to procure them." A smile twitched. "Maybe you'll reconsider your offer once you see the two we have today."

Mina's eyebrows rose up curiously. "Oh?"

Isabelle walked over to the table, heels clicking on the tile flooring. "Right over here."

Mina followed with Nicolas right behind her. Her eyes landed on Sam and Bree. Stiffening, Sam tried to block Bree from view as best he could. She shivered behind him at the human woman’s scrutiny.

"Well now, where have you been hiding these little gems?" Mina bent down over the two of them. Her eyes trailed up and down Sam and Bree, a covetous gleam in her eye.

Isabelle smiled dangerously. "The boy we found skulking around at some no-tell motel just this week. The girl... we've been saving her for a special occasion." She reached out, stroking down Bree’s back with an elegant finger.

Mina reached out for Sam. He flinched back, cowering from her. "Don't be afraid, darling," she said softly. "I'd never risk anything happening to you. You are far too valuable just the way you are."

Her finger trailed over his back. Sam couldn't help twitching in pain as she passed over his bruises from being manhandled the day before. "What's this?" she whispered. A weight brushed down Sam's limp arm. Her sharp green eyes darted up at Isabelle. "He's injured," she said flatly. "How did this happen?"

Isabelle sneered disdainfully. "He was a fighter. We had to show him who the boss was."

Mina stepped away from Bree and Sam. Sam felt himself relax with a bit of distance from the humans, at least for a moment. He clutched his injured arm to his side. The splint was still on, but the tight jacket arm was doing it no favors. If he couldn't keep it straight there was no way it'd be able to heal straight at this rate.

The two of them watched Mina wheel about, confronting the couple. "So you injured him on purpose? Is that it?"

"J-just to make sure he does what he's told! Nothing permanent, I swear." Isabelle's complexion was flushed, desperation tinging her voice. "He refuses to listen, unlike the others!"

Mina stared down at Sam, a bit of curiosity in her eyes. "Got a little spark in you, don't you?" She leaned down again, reaching for him. "Good."

Sam tried to jump out of the way but she easily scooped him up. Sam groaned at the sudden pain of being held. Mina lifted him up to eye level, inspecting every part of him with discerning green eyes. Sam tried to struggle, determined to not give in so easily. The color of her eyes disturbed him. They were so close to Dean's, but the expression in them was alien to him. Seeing him as an object more than a person, just like the family that'd caught him. So close, yet so far from Dean.

Once she was done, she turned back to Isabelle and Nicolas. "Well, I suppose I can overlook the arm. It is necessary to discipline some of them, after all. But I expect nothing else to happen to him. This boy is very valuable. I think you'll be... disappointed if he's hurt again." Her lips curled up. "And trust me, I'll know."

Sam got dropped back on the table. He stumbled when he hit the surface, slipping to his knees. Bree helped him to his feet seconds before she was picked up, pulled right out of Sam's arms. "Bree!" he gasped out.

Mina saw that. "Attached, are they?" Bree was inspected same as Sam. "That would be... unfortunate. Most likely they'll be separated. Not too many will pay for more than one."

Isabelle frowned. "We only found the boy the other day. Hardly time for lasting attachments I would say." She crossed her arms, stalking over to Mina's side. Ever since being berated by the other woman she hadn't said much. "He's just protective of her. Like all the males we have are. Put a female down and they'll huff and puff to show who's best for her."

Sam's face flushed angrily at the shallow explanation. Apparently as far as they were concerned, for Sam's people if it was female all the males would react the same. No better than animals.

Mina just smiled. She put Bree back down on the table next to Sam and slipped a hand into her purse. A dainty digital camera was pulled out. "My interested party will want to see an image of the two you have."

Isabelle's eyes narrowed. "That won't be free." She stood between Mina and the two on the table. "Can't have images of them just floating around, after all."

Mina gave a bored sigh. "One hundred."

Isabelle stepped away. "Snap away."

Money grubbing bitch, Sam thought angrily. The last thing he needed was proof people like him existed floating around out there.

Sam held Bree close as a flash went off, illuminating the table. He knew what it was from his time as a human but he'd never seen one so 'small.' The cameras he'd seen as a child had been far clunkier.

Mina straightened. The little camera slipped back into her purse. "Well, I should have an offer for you in the morning." She met Isabelle's eyes without expression. "And I will expect to find the both of them in the same condition. Damaged goods don't sell. Are we clear?"

"Yes, of course, Mina."

Mina gave them a dazzlingly fake smile. "I'll see you first thing then."

Sam and Bree were swept into Nicolas' hands. As the women said their goodbyes he returned the two of them to the crate in the small store room.

Sam and Bree were left in the crate with the other two. With effort, Sam tried to stretch out his only good arm. It hurt but he could still use it. At least with Mina's ultimatum he shouldn't get hurt more... hopefully.

Bree let out a sob as Nicolas left the room. Sam wrapped his arm around her, hoping to console her. "Don't worry, we're going to find a way out of this. There's still hope."

She didn't respond past burying her head in his side and crying.

Dean stared down at the difference between his hand and Kara. She was so tiny, he could feel anxiety twitching at him as she stepped onto his palm. Her footsteps were so light he almost couldn't feel the bits of pressure as she made her way to the center of his hand. One wrong move, the slightest twitch could hurt or kill her.

Dean almost held his breath when she waved her readiness up at him. Going to stand up, he cupped his second hand around the one holding her, trying to make sure there was no way for her to fall off. Tucking the hands against his stomach, he walked over to the table much slower than normal. He had no idea how his immense movements were affecting her, so better to be safe than sorry. He'd never felt this stressed holding Sam.

After what felt like forever with her in his hands (but couldn't have been more than a few seconds), Dean lowered her down. He flattened his knuckles against the table, trying to make the surface of his hand as flat as possible for her to get down from.

While she made her way off his hand, Dean eyed up his belongings on the table. Suddenly it all seemed dangerous. She was small enough to get lost in his bag, bumping a glass of water over near her could crush her, or the water could sweep her off the table or... he had to force himself to stay still. He didn't want to freak her out with him freaking out.

Kara bounced down off of his hand and smiled up at him. Dean felt something in him melt at the tiny girl’s trust. Sam was one thing, being his brother, but Dean had never expected any others like Sam to trust him. He was too big, too dangerous for them to be around. The reaction Sam's adopted dad had when he saw Dean that one time was proof of that.

“O-okay…” Dean managed to get out, watching the little girl walk away from the edge of the table. "So... I'm gonna put some videos up on my laptop and you can see if you recognize anyone."

She turned around to face him. "What's... a lap... top?" she got the strange word out, screwing up her face.

"It’s, uhh..." Dean debated how to explain a computer to a girl who had no use for it. Deciding it would be better to just show her, he opened it up. "It’s something me and Sam use to learn new things. Or, like today, to find someone." He clicked open the disc he still had loaded in it. The picture of the outside of the motel came up with people going to and from the parking lot. "See?" he asked, gesturing at it.

Kara stood on tip toes to see. "Wow..." she said with awe in her voice. "They're my size!"

"Not really," Dean explained with a soft smile. "There's a way to take a picture of people outside walking around. That's what this is, from around the time when Sam was taken. So what you're looking at is humans like me here." He glanced down at her as he typed on the computer, realizing she couldn't have a good point of view where she was standing. "Do you... want to stand on the computer? That way you can see the people better?"

Glancing down at the tabletop, she scuffed a tiny shoe on the surface. "If... if you don't mind..." her face flushed red.

Dean moved his arm from the laptop, giving her room to climb up. The tiny girl scrambled up, the laptop coming up past her knees. He put his arm back in place, trying not to wall her in completely and failing.

Kara noticed right away. She backed away with a surprised sound, staring up at the massive arms that stretched over her head. "Hey, it's okay, I promise." Dean said as quietly as he could. "All you have to do is ask and I'll move out of your way in an instant. I just need to use the laptop to show you the people."

"Alright. I still trust you." She glanced around at the strange landscape she was standing on. All she could see from where she was standing was the computer screen, Dean's arms on the sides and his chest rising up behind her. She took a few steps forward, poking a key with her foot. "How do you use it?" she asked curiously. "How does Sam use it? It's so big!"

"Well, see this here?" Dean pointed at the touchpad with his left hand to avoid crowding her more. She was still willingly standing near his relaxed right arm and he didn't want to ruin that fragile trust. "This controls the pointer. I move it to what I want to click and it opens a new page." He demonstrated.

She watched with big eyes as he switched from one video to the next. Then peeked up at him. "Can I try?"

"Sure, just for a second." Dean moved away from the touchpad.

She sat down next to the pad, swiping it with a small hand. It responded for her the same as for Sam. It was a bit more work than it took for Dean, but she got the job done. Dean grinned for a brief second at the sight then sobered up. Every minute he took to find the people who took Sam was another minute he could be hurt. Kara clicked one of the videos, starting it up.

"Alright, see the people here?" Dean asked. Kara nodded up at him, standing up and away from the touchpad. "All you have to do is find the people that took Sam. All I need to do is see them and I'll be able to track them down."

"Okay!"

"Oh, and if you see them, all you have to do is step on this and the video will stop." Dean tapped lightly on the spacebar.

They both settled to watching the continuous flow of people to and from the motel. Older gentlemen, young ladies, skulkers... Dean eventually saw himself walking back from the case he'd finished up before losing Sam.

Kara jumped up with a squeal. "That's her!" She bounced on the spacebar. It didn't budge. Kara was too light to press the key down. Dean tapped it for her, almost knocking her off balance when the key moved under her.

"Sorry," he helped steady the tiny girl with a finger. "Where? Who is it?"

The tiny girl walked over the keyboard, none of the keys clicking at her light footsteps. "Her!" she bounced up, hitting the screen on a certain woman's image. "She tossed Sam in her purse and left with him!"

Dean's mouth went dry when he saw who it was.

It was the woman that had bumped into him on his way back to the motel. Dean distinctly remembered her hard-ass purse ramming into him.

Sam was in that purse.

Past the fact of how close Sam had been, how easily Dean could have reached out and taken his brother back, he thought of that impact. What if Sam had been hurt? He could have been crushed the careless way the lady had slammed into him! Dean could have hurt Sam and never known.

Dean had been inches away from his brother and he'd never known.

What if Sam had been yelling for him and Dean had been too busy cursing the woman out to hear? It would be worse than just losing Sam, it would be Dean's fault.

"Did I do good?" Kara's small voice pulled him away from his self-deprecating thoughts, her tiny face turned upwards in his direction.

"Yeah, you did, Kara." Dean smiled down at her through his worry. "Thanks."

He pursed his lips, staring at the image of the woman. He committed every detail of her to memory and for good measure took a screenshot of the woman. He'd email it to Bobby, see if Bobby could get a lead on the woman and where she was. Hopefully Dean could track his brother down with no time wasted.

Mina walked away from the Mangas’ residence. A smile graced her lips. The family didn't even truly know the worth of the two borrowers they had. Almost no young borrowers were found these days. Either from them becoming scarcer (and who could tell, they were hard enough to find already), or they didn't make as many slip ups as their elders. And Isabelle, bless her twisted, greedy heart, had managed to capture two.

If this all went as expected, Mina would come away from this far better off than she'd walked into it. A few million minimum for the pair, a hundred thousand for the family... she'd come out on top as always.

"Mina Chandler."

The voice came from the dark, soft and sultry. Mina turned to face the speaker, crossing her arms. "Always going for effect, are we?"

"Of course." The other came into view at last.

Mina's eyes trailed up the other's form. "You seem quite a bit... smaller than the last time we met." Unspoken derision was in her voice.

A hand was waved. "Always a risk in my line of business. Can't be too careful these days. I heard you met to see some... borrowers for sale." Lips curved up in a smile. "Such a silly name for them, considering what they are."

Mina held her face expressionless. It escaped her how her movements were so expertly followed. No matter how many times she tried to discover the method, nothing sprang out at her. "Yes, the family here makes it a point to keep an eye out for any of them lurking in the area. They come to me first. They say I pay a fair price for what they have." Her lips curled. "If only they knew."

"Yes, if only they knew you took what they sold you for a few grand and made millions across the seas. But forget that. I'm searching for a specific boy. I'm hoping you might be able to help me. I've seen his brother around in town, so with any luck he's the boy you saw today."

"Brother? What do you mean?" If there was another boy his size she might have an even better run than she thought.

The other with her didn't answer. Mina wasn't surprised. Deciding to try one more question, Mina tilted back her head. "What's your interest in him?" Though it disgusted her, she knew she'd have no choice but to hand the boy over to the other. Her hands were tied in more ways than one in this case. She had a bad feeling about what would happen to him. He seemed like a nice boy, at least for a borrower.

"Nothing you need to know, Mina dear."

Mina felt herself scowl slightly. It was so hard to get information out of them. Not something she was accustomed to. She pulled out her camera reluctantly. "They let me take one picture of the pair," she admitted, knowing the other could and would coerce her if she resisted.

She held out the camera, putting it to the correct image.

"That's him," came out in a whispered exclamation. "I've been searching everywhere for him." Dark brown eyes flicked up to Mina. "Get him for me and you will reap the rewards in more than just money."

Mina licked suddenly dry lips, realizing what they were talking about. "You're sure? You can speak to that?"

Celeste curled up her lips in another smile, this time predatory. She met Mina's eyes. "I can speak to it. And if you bring me Sam Winchester, I promise you will not regret it."

Chapter Text

"Stop moving, you're making this harder than it should be."

Sam grunted at Bree. "You try having a broken arm shoved into a tiny little sleeve. Trust me, it's no picnic."

Christian sighed next to Sam, working on his other side. "Why'd they put you in such a small jacket anyway?" He managed to tear part of the jacket, ripping the sleeve halfway down.

Relief surged through Sam as the pressure released. "They wanted me to impress the buyer they have for us. Guess she's after people me and Bree's age." He scowled at his bad luck so far that week. Getting captured, separated from Dean, broken arm, now put on display like some purebred dog... and he was certain he'd be sold off to her. He'd seen the gleam in her eyes when she looked at him and Bree. 

They would both be sold off soon enough. Maybe even the older men with them if the family had their way. Christian would never see his daughter again, Sam would never see Dean again... he had faith in his brother's tracking skills, but even Sam had to admit if he was shipped off to a distant country there was little chance of him ever seeing Dean again. The world was a very big place to get lost in, and he was very small.

Mina had said she'd be back in the morning with an answer. Sam had a shrinking window of time left before he lost any chance of seeing Dean ever again. Not that knowing this gave him any edge. He was still trapped in a crate he couldn't get out of. No way of breaking the wooden walls, no way of snapping off or picking the lock. At the mercy of humans that wanted nothing more than to sell him off, and a broken arm to top it all off.

He supposed that being sold off would be better than staying near Isabelle. The better of the bad choices. A new life he didn’t want.

Christian managed to slide Sam's arm the rest of the way out of the jacket after ripping the tightest parts. He frowned deeply at the splint. It was crooked, and barely holding in place. "We're gonna have to redo this," he muttered. Christian glanced up at Mikael, who was watching them from a few inches away. "Mind giving me a hand?"

"Sure." Mikael grabbed a chunk of wood from beneath the pile of cloth. Anything like that they'd hidden so the humans didn't take it away when cleaning the crate. Chance was never overly thorough, if he even remembered to do it.

Once again Sam's arm was carefully aligned with the wood. Cloth was wrapped around for padding, then thin strips used to attach the wood to the arm. Sam hissed with pain as the bindings were tightened to hold it securely in place. "Do you think there's a chance of it healing straight?" he managed to gasp out.

"Well, if it's left on its own to heal, you should be fine. You're still young, and the break was clean. You just need to rest, keep it straight. And as long as they don't try shoving it into another jacket like that we won't have to worry." Mikael kicked away the shredded remains of the jacket. "They left your old clothes over here," he walked back over to the center. A few seconds of digging yielded Sam's worn jacket and jeans.

Sam smiled at that, accepting them from Mikael. "I was hoping I hadn't lost these," he rubbed his hand against the soft clothing. 

Bree smiled back at him. "Waste not, want not, right?" she grinned, quoting her mother.

"You got it," Sam said, smiling back. He could almost hear Mallory saying it in his mind.

Sam carefully pulled on his jeans, out of sight of the others. He debated against putting on the jacket, afraid of upsetting the splint more. In the end, he chose to put the jacket on as well. The sleeves were wide enough to get the splint through safely and helped hold it in place.

Once that was all settled, Sam came back over to where the food was. The crackers were stale and old, but he needed to keep his strength up. He tried to dig through and find better crumbs, but they were all about the same. He settled down to eat the food, knowing better than to complain about the situation. "Wish my brother was here," Sam muttered to himself. Dean would have them free in seconds.

"What's his name?" came a voice from behind.

Startled, Sam almost dropped his cracker. He hadn't heard Bree come up behind him. Christian and Mikael were still a ways away, far enough they shouldn't have overheard anything. Sam gave her a tight smile. "His name's Dean," he admitted. As much as he wanted to avoid mentioning his all-too-human brother here, she deserved an answer as much as anyone ever had.

She glanced around the insides of their prison. "Why do you wish he was here with us? Aren't you glad he's free, away from these people?"

"It's not like that... I just... he could help us get out of here, you know? If he was here, we could get free..." Sam stared off into the distance. It had been so long. What if Dean never found him? Sam might never see his family again... never be able to talk to his Dad or share a mutual joke with Dean. He even found himself missing Dean's constant size jokes. Being called shrimpy or short stuff or Thumbelina or pint-size. Maybe he'd come up with some size jokes for Dean when he got back... get a little bit of revenge for himself for once. Sam pulled himself away from those thoughts, focusing on Bree.

She bit her lip, still seeming confused. "But, how could he get us out of here?" she asked, gesturing at their surroundings, especially the massive lock on the outside of the crate.

"It's a long story," Sam gave a small laugh. "And I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

She gave him a mock scowl. "You doubt me?"

Sam shook his head. "That has nothing to do with it. How 'bout this... I'll tell you the secret if... no, when... we get out of this mess. Together."

"That seems fair," she allowed, cocking her head at him. "But this doesn't get you off the hook," she winked. Scooching over to his side, she joined him at the crackers. "Why don't you tell me about him? To keep your mind off... things."

Sam gazed off into the distance. "He's the only person I have in the world I can rely on, y'know? I mean, your parents were great. They took care of me for years, raised me and taught me everything I know about living... like this," he waved his hand in the air. "Without them I would never have made it." His shoulders slumped down. "But now they're gone. After everything they did to help me, I couldn't save them..."

Bree's gaze softened. "Sam, I don't know what happened, but I do know it wasn't your fault." She rubbed his back supportively. "The way you talk about them reminds me about the way I talk about them. Like family."

"Yeah..."

"Sam, don't think about it. Tell me more about him. Your brother."

Sam smiled. "He's the one person you could count on in a fight. He'd do anything to help people, even at his own risk - doesn't matter if it's a friend or a complete stranger, either. In fact..."

He talked to Bree long into the night, filling the silence with stories.

"Thanks Bobby. This information helps a ton."

"Just get your brother back, alright? That boy deserves better."

Dean hung up his phone quietly, remembering Kara's reaction to him slamming the phone against the table earlier that day. He didn't want to risk alienating her after everything it had taken to earn her trust, delicate as it was.

At the moment Kara was sitting on the edge of the computer, eating a little more of the granola he'd given her. A bottlecap was sitting by her side, with a bit of water in it so she could have something to drink with her food. He'd left it for her while waiting for Bobby's call. She didn't even flinch at the size of his hand when he'd placed it down on the table.

Dean looked up the address Bobby had given him over the phone. "Finally..." Dean muttered. Ten miles. The damn family lived ten miles away from the motel. Dean was so close to getting Sam back... and dealing with the family once and for all. With any luck they wouldn't make anyone else suffer like Sam and Kara's father, ever again.

He gathered up his belongings, packing up his duffel bag. That done, he glanced down at little Kara. Leaving her would put her in danger, but taking her with him would put her in even more danger. He knelt down on the floor, putting him at her eye level. "Uuhh..." Dean started. "Kara, you mind staying here? I'll be back in a bit, hopefully with Sam and your dad."

"No, you can't leave me here!" She bounced to her feet, running towards the edge of the table. "I need to help you find daddy! Please?"

"Whoa, slow down there," Dean put a hand up, guarding the edge of the table so she couldn't fall off. "Kara, it's dangerous out there for you. Your daddy would want you to stay safe, wouldn't he?"

She stared down at the table, sticking out her lip. "No. I can't just wait here." She looked up at him, eyes filling with tears. "I've been all alone for so long. I don't want to go back to that. Please..." She leaned on the hand guarding the edge. "Please please please let me come, Dean."

Dean chewed his lip, nervous. He tilted the hand she was leaning on so she tumbled into his palm, landing safely in the center. So tiny... he couldn't even believe he was actually considering this. But she was in the same boat as Dean here. Could he really leave her alone and defenseless in his room when there were kidnappers out for people like her? Not to mention they'd already been in Dean's room once. He couldn't guarantee her safety if she was alone. Maybe she would be safer with him. 

"Kara, if you come with me, you have to promise to do whatever I say." He lifted the hand closer to his face. "Promise?"

She stared up at him, the same trusting look as Sam always had clear on her face. "I promise. Pinky swear!" she held up a tiny hand, extending her pinky for him. At least, that's what he thought she was doing. Her hand was so small he could barely see her fingers.

Kara by heartstores

Dean extended his own pinky for her with his empty hand. He touched it against her hand as softly as possible, trying to ignore how she was smaller than his smallest finger. She lit up at the promise, melting his heart a little.

Taking his hand back, Dean focused on the problem at hand. "Okay Kara. If you want to come with me, I'll need a safe place for you to sit. You, uh... mind sitting in a pocket?" He pointed at his chest pocket for her.

"That's fine," she said, shifting on his hand, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulders.

"Did you need anything before we go?"

"No, I'm fine. Let's go find daddy!" She bounced up and down a few times in her excitement.

Dean lowered his hand to his chest, propping open the pocket with his other hand. He held it open wide enough that it formed a fabric slide for her, down into the depths. With a giggle, Kara jumped in, sliding down to the bottom with a bounce. She landed right next to Sam's small satchel, still there from Dean finding it the day before.

"You okay in there?" Dean asked softly, keeping his voice down for her benefit.

She glanced up, meeting the giant eyes above her. "Yep, ready when you are!" she called up with an excited wave.

He watched for a second more as she got situated in the dark fabric, pushing her little bag against the opposite side of the pocket from Sam's small bag. Sam's was about twice the size as Kara's, longer straps and more room to put his findings. Dean couldn’t help a brief smile, remembering how protective Sam was with his own bag. Kara had that in common with his little brother… she never let her bag out of reach. All the more reason to get Sam's back in his hands where it belonged.

Once she was settled, Dean let the pocket close on her and stood up. The little lump that made up the tiny seven year old girl moved a bit, shifting in place as he moved. Trying to not get distracted by it, Dean grabbed the duffel from his bed, hefting it over his other shoulder. 

His brother was waiting.

Chance watched his mother hang up the phone with a smile.

Isabelle turned to her only son with a predatory grin. "We just had an offer from Mina. Over two hundred thousand for just the boy, three-fifty if we throw in the other three." She shook her head happily. "You found us the best of the bunch, Chance."

He took the compliment without comment. He enjoyed his job at the motel, keeping an eye out for all the little borrowers that supposedly lived there. That boy was the fifth or sixth he'd tracked down, and definitely the strangest. Seriously - he'd been living with a human. Who the hell lives with one of them?

Finding him had been one of the oddest moments in Chance's life. Normally he tracked them down with the cameras he had hidden in the motel rooms. Shadows against the wall, tiny figures sneaking around for supplies when there was no one in the rooms or when everyone was asleep. Once Chance found a pattern to their movements he'd report it to his parents.

With the newest boy, he'd seen him sitting, of all places, on a human’s shoulder. He wasn't one they'd ever seen or captured before, making him fair game. And he'd been out in the open almost the entire time he'd been in the room. Never taking cover once from the human he was living with. An easy catch when it came time to take him.

Isabelle left the kitchen. "Make sure to keep an eye on them tonight. She'll be here first thing in the morning to pick him up. Keep an eye out for that FBI man you said was nosing around the motel for the newest one." The door closed behind her with a snick.

Chance got up. First he'd make sure everything was as it was supposed to be in the storeroom, then check on his sister. He hated how she had to be locked in. With any luck she'd calm down once Bree was gone for good and stop causing him trouble. He didn't understand why Beth made things so difficult on herself. After all, their parents had got her the job at the motel for the same reason as they'd gotten Chance the job - track down and capture the little borrowers.

Selling them to buyers like Mina let them turn a good profit without falling into the more illegal side of things, like the smuggling they'd dabbled in before realizing they could find others like Bree. That had been the turning point for the family. Now they had a way to keep money coming in without risking arrest.

Beth, of course, hadn't participated in any of the family’s activities. She was so depressingly determined to be good. Go to school, get a degree, a good job... the black sheep of the family. Chance himself thought Bree had been a bad influence with his sister. He thought it was foolish his parents had let her keep the little borrower this long, especially after finding out how much they could sell for. At least that was over with for good, and Bree would be gone soon.

He shoved the door open to the storeroom. The crate sat in the corner, so ordinary you wouldn't be able to guess what was hiding in it. He knelt down, opening the lock so he could make sure they were still in there.

A quick count revealed all four were still there, the new boy in the center with his arm cupped against his chest. Chance smirked at that. If it was up to him, he'd have punished the boy far more after he stabbed Isabelle the second time. But no, they had to please Mina.

"You should know your place, insects." Chance said. He enjoyed watching the fear pass over their faces. Even Bree backed away from him. He wanted to enjoy that sight one last time before they were all sold off. Who knew when he’d have the chance again, with the slim pickings around these days. He knew he’d been lucky to discover the new guy.

Grabbing a different lock, Chance closed the crate up again. His sister didn't have a key to this lock. She wouldn't be able to get at Bree at all now. He hated the necessity, but didn't want to risk any of the little pests escaping and making him look bad.

He stood up, staring down at the crate. So small, but worth so much money... Strange how life was.

Chance took himself up to Beth's room. She was locked in by their mother until it was all over. Opening it up, Chance took in his sister's state. She was sitting at her desk, dejectedly poking at the dollhouse Bree had once lived in. A small bed was cupped carefully in one of her hands, against her chest. Tears streaked down from red-rimmed eyes. She glared up at him.

"What do you want, Chance? Haven't you taken enough from me already today?"

"Hey," he protested. "I just did what mother said. It's not my fault you're so attached to her."

"Yeah," she snapped. "That's why you enjoy this so much." She turned from him, still clutching the small bed to her chest. "Leave me alone already."

He hesitated by the door. As much as he disagreed with her over almost everything, she was still his sister. "Look, Beth... I'm not gonna lock you in. Just do me a favor and don't go anywhere near the storeroom. I'm going to be watching it all night and I don't want to have to lock you up again."

He closed the door softly. He doubted she'd even try anything past going to the bathroom. Too goody two shoes for her own good. A frown dug deep creases into his face. She was his opposite in almost every way, and they used to be so close, years back. Before Bree came into their lives. Maybe, with her gone, they could be close again.

He slipped back down the stairs. He'd grab a snack then settle in to keep watch on the storeroom. No worse than any other night at work. The only difference here was he wouldn't have the convenient network of security cameras to watch the premises.

"What's the chances anything will happen, anyway?" Chance murmured to himself as he walked around the corner. Like that FBI guy could even get anything from the tapes he’d given him. Chance snapped on the kitchen light.

Illuminating a tall man in a leather jacket, standing in the center of the room with a deer-in-headlights look on his face.

Chapter Text

Chance's mind caught up seconds later, taking its time to process through the unexpected intruder. Recognition dawned as he realized it was the FBI man, the one that had been travelling with the borrower he'd caught.

Unfortunately for him, Dean had been expecting to find people in the house. He had a gun in his hands in seconds, slamming the butt into Chance's face before he could move. Chance slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Dean stared down at the man at his feet. It was the security guard that had given him the security footage at the motel. "Well, that explains a lot," he muttered to himself. "Kara, you okay in there?"

His hand rose up to the pocket, carefully cupping around her small form. She hadn't budged a bit since the light had come on. Same instincts as Sam, there. Dean still caught his little brother freezing in place sometimes when a light flicked on over his head, even when Dean was the one that clicked it on. Self-preservation ran through their core.

Kara moved slightly. "I'm fine!" her small voice drifted up to him. Dean felt something tiny push against his hand, either a punch or a little kick.

He smiled, dropping his hand from his chest. She was definitely a hardy little thing.

He took a deep breath. Sam was close but he couldn't afford to let his guard down now. Grabbing the security guard, he propped the man up against the wall. Using some cord from his duffel, Dean trussed him up, making sure the bindings were good and tight. That way the man couldn't interfere while he searched for Sam. And from the look of things, he'd have a broken nose when he woke up, at least.

"Maybe next time, you bastards will pick on people your own size, huh?" Dean growled out as he tightened the bindings more than necessary and added a swift kick to the man's side for good measure.

After he was done, he peered around the kitchen door. He hadn't heard any other sounds from the house yet. With any luck the security guard was the only line of defense they had.

Dean stalked through the hallway, keeping a sharp eye out.

Sam woke from an uneasy sleep to a loud thumping outside their room.

"Wh-what's going on?" he mumbled, brushing a hand through his hair. 

The others were all huddled together with him in the center of the crate. Ever since Chance's visit earlier a sense of foreboding hung over them, the realization that everything would be changing soon.

Christian glanced at him. "No idea. We heard loud banging a minute back, then this. You only fell asleep a few minutes ago."

The door to their room creaked open. Everyone but Sam shrank back. They were afraid Chance would come back, torment them the way they knew he wanted to.

Sam crept forward. He wanted... no, he needed to know what was happening. If there was even a chance of using Chance for an escape, he had to take it. He smirked at the thought. A chance of using Chance... Dean would love that irony.

His smile fled a second later. He'd never get to tell Dean the joke.

"Sam! Get back!" Bree hissed. "You're just going to draw attention to yourself!"

"I just want to see what's going on," Sam muttered back. "You never know, we might get a chance."

Christian gave a sarcastic, barking laugh. "You still think we're gonna get out of this?"

Sam sent him a confident grin, determined to keep his hopes up. "Hey, a small chance is still a chance. I'll be careful."

He edged up near the door where the cracks were big enough to peer through. He stood as high up on his tip toes as he could. Like this he could barely catch a glimpse of the room beyond. But it was enough.

All he could make out was two huge, jean-clad legs stalking through the room. They weren't lucky enough for it to be Beth. She hadn't been seen since being dragged from the kitchen by her brother. The legs were thick and sturdy, clearly the legs of a man. Sam clutched his arm closer to his side, a brief memory of Chance's thick fingers closing around him hitting all at once.

The huge boots thumped closer to the crate. Sam fell back to the center with the others. "Stay behind me," he muttered, feeling a cold calm settle over him at the sight of the unstoppable human outside. The least he could do was make sure he was the one Chance went for. None of the others deserved what was happening to them. If Sam could give them this one small moment of safety, he would.

Bree whimpered in fear as the enclosure shook around them. A shadow fell over the entire area as the human outside knelt down. Sam braced himself for Chance to open the door.

Instead of the lock clicking free, a huge voice echoed around them. "Sam? Is that you in there?"

DEAN!

Sudden relief washed over Sam at the familiar voice. "Dean?!" he cried out, running over to the side Dean was kneeling by. Sam jumped up to try and catch a glimpse of his brother through the cracks. His knees almost collapsed with relief when he caught sight of a familiar, friendly green eye blinking at him from the other side. Sam sighed, all the pent-up adrenaline and fear rushing out of him.

"What do you think you're doing?" came Christian's strong voice from behind him. Multiple arms pulled Sam away from the side, away from his brother.

"Wait, you don't understand!" Sam managed to pull free with effort, hampered by his broken arm. He turned to face them all, bright eyes blinking in the dim light. Sam held out his arm, hoping they wouldn't freak. "It's... it's Dean. He's my brother. He can help us escape!"

"Wh-what do you mean, that's your brother?" Bree's voice shook with fear. "Sam, I don't understand. How can he be a human?"

Christian's eyes widened in realization. "That's why you weren't worried about him getting caught, isn't it?"

Dean ended up cutting their argument short, his naturally overpowering voice easily drowning out theirs. "Sam, I don't know what's going on, but I'm gonna get you outta there. We don't have long... the family's asleep but they might not stay asleep long. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine!" Sam called out. He turned away from the judgmental stares. "We're all okay, Dean!" He couldn't be sure if Dean had picked up on the others with him.

Dean leaned down further, trying to peer in. "How many of you in there? All I can see is shadows."

"There's four of us. You won't believe who I found, Dean!" Sam tried to slip his good arm through the cracks in the wood. A rough fingertip brushed reassuringly against his hand. Sam almost let out a sob, knowing how close to freedom he was.

"Well, once I get you guys out and safe, we'll talk about it." Sam could practically hear the smile in Dean's voice when he said 'safe.'

Dean drew away from the side Sam was standing by, his shadow falling swiftly over the door. He examined the door of the crate. "This lock's gonna be a bitch to pick and we don't have the time. I'm gonna hafta break it open. You guys should stand as far back as you can." Clapping his hands on his legs, Dean pushed himself up to a stand. His shadowy form loomed over the crate as he stepped away.

"C'mon, get back," Sam said, ushering the others to the back of the crate. They gathered in a circle near the cloth bedding.

"Sam, how could you?" Bree hissed at him, glancing nervously at Dean's dark form. "And how is it possible he's your brother? He's a human! "

Sam refused to look over at her, feeling shame cover his face. He couldn't admit to these people, captured and trapped by other humans, that he was a human as well. He tracked the shadow of his brother's bulk, watching Dean's progress in the room. Dean's every step shook the floor under them, a reassuring earthquake for Sam. "It's a long story, and I doubt you'd believe me anyway."

She grabbed his good arm, whirling him around so he was forced to face her. "But you think I should believe that human out there is your brother and he's here to help us? I have a feeling whatever your story is, it'll be easier to believe than that! ”

Sam found his voice again. "I doubt that." He calmly pulled his arm out of her grasp. "Bree, he really is my brother. Flesh and blood."

The boots thumped back over, casting them into shadow once more. "Alright, hold on everybody. I'm gonna have you outta there as fast as I can."

Anything Bree was going to say to Sam fled from her mind as she turned white with fear. She clamped a hand over her mouth, wide eyes watering.

A huge bang rattled the crate, sliding it slightly over the floor. They all fell into a pile from the earthquake, their fall cushioned by the scrap cloth they were standing over. Bree whimpered in fear at the center, terrified of the sheer power the unknown human outside wielded. Sam wrapped an arm around her consolingly. "It's okay. It's all gonna be okay," he whispered in her ear. "Dean would never hurt us and he's not gonna let anything happen to us either. I promise."

On the outside of the crate, Dean kicked out a leg. The toe of his boot propped behind the crate, holding it in place. 

Bree stared at the size of the shadowed leg stretching past them. "But... how do you know for sure? He's so big! We can't do anything to stop him if we needed to. Just like Chance..." her voice trailed off. She buried her face into his arm.

Sam brushed her hair gently, holding her close. "There's no one I trust more in the world. He's never let me down and he's not gonna start now."

Another rattling bang followed, shaking them all on the floor. One more came quickly, and Sam heard something snap. He pulled himself free from the others on the floor, standing over them. He saw familiar fingers grip the edges of the 'door,' prying it free.

Dean folded both legs beneath him, bending down to see into the crate. Green eyes peered into the small, dark container. "Hey," he said softly. "You guys alright?" A large hand reached in for them, pausing when everyone flinched further into the crate. Away from what they saw as a dangerous, crushing hand. Sam saw Dean's face fall at their obvious fear.

Dean recovered quickly enough. He sat up straight, face vanishing above the top of the crate. Sam forced away his unexpected trepidation. That's just Dean out there. All he wants to do is make sure you're safe. Sam took a few steps towards the open end of the crate. He ignored Bree's gasp of fear, listening. He could swear Dean was whispering something out there. It was soft enough even Sam couldn't make it out.

Sam reached the edge of their enforced prison, peering up at his brother. Dean carefully pulled his hand out of the chest pocket of his shirt, something closed in his fist.

Sam almost twitched away from the approaching fist. Dean unfurled his fingers carefully, revealing...

A tiny little girl sitting calmly on his palm.

Sam blinked in surprise. She glanced around at her new surroundings and perked up when she caught sight of Christian, still back in the crate.

"Daddy! " she gave a happy cry. She hopped off Dean's hand without any qualms and darted into the crate.

Christian stared in shock at her. "Kara? Is it really you?" He ran forward and swept her up into his arms. They collapsed in place, sobbing desperately into each other's shoulders. "Oh Kara. I thought I'd lost you..." Christian mumbled into her hair.

"Its okay daddy, Dean helped me find you." Her tiny hands patted against the back of his head, trying to reassure him. "He's the nicest human!"

Bree and Mikael ran over to Christian, hovering over them like they didn't know what to do. Sam met Bree's surprised glance and turned back to his brother, staring up at Dean's towering form.

Dean smiled down at him. "Damn, it's good to see you, kiddo."

Fresh air hit Sam as he stepped out of the crate of his own free will for the first time since being taken. The entire world opened up around him with the familiar cavernous walls and endlessly high ceilings of the human world. 

Without warning, two large hands approached Sam, obviously intending to scoop him off the ground.

Sam couldn't stop himself from reflexively jumping away, holding up his arm as though to warn off the huge fingers before they could reach him. "No, stop!"

The hands froze in place. "Sam?" The concern in Dean's voice fell around him like an anvil. "It's just me. You're okay!"

"S-sorry," Sam managed to stutter out. He tried to make his legs move towards the hands - big, powerful, friendly hands that would never hurt him, and wanted nothing more than to make sure he was alright - but nothing happened. He was frozen, stuck with the memories of fingers trapping him, crushing him over the last few days... snapping his arm like a stick. They'd stripped him of his humanity and dignity at the same time as they'd ruthlessly crushed him.

Dean seemed to take all this in from above. His eyebrows scrunched together as he scanned every bit of his little brother, lost to him for days now.

Lowering himself down, Dean flattened himself on his stomach so he was almost eye level with Sam. "Sam, what's wrong?" he asked, green eyes reflecting his concern at Sam. "What happened to you?" The hurt in his eyes was practically a slap in the face to Sam.

His hand approached again, much slower. Sam kept himself frozen in place, refusing to run away from his own brother. A finger gently rubbed his back, making Sam jump fearfully away at the contact. It wasn't even the pain from the bruises that bothered him, but instead the simple size of Dean's finger against his back. How small he suddenly felt next to his brother.

"Sammy, it's just me. It's Dean. You know I'd never do anything to hurt you." The cautious touch returned. This time Sam managed to keep still despite the way his heart raced in fear. A huge pressure smoothed down his back as Sam shuddered in fear. Dean tilted his head so his eye was level with Sam, peering intently at his little brother. "What did those bastards do to you?"

The finger moved from his back down his broken arm. He should have known Dean wouldn't miss the splint on his arm. The splinted arm was carefully extended so Dean could see the damage. Sam shivered at the slight pressure against his homemade splint, but Dean didn't press against it at all. He was well aware of how delicate the arm was compared to him. He just examined it, his intense glare focused on the tiny limb resting on his finger.

Sam heard Dean suck in a gasp of surprise when he realized what he was looking at. "How did you break this?" he asked softly.

"I...it broke when they first took me," he said, almost whispering. Sam took his arm off the broad finger, cupping it protectively by his side. He didn't look up from the floor when he heard Dean lean closer, clothes crinkling loudly at the movement. A steady gust of hot breath hit him this close to Dean's face, poking at the vulnerability he'd had shoved in his face the last two days. "I, uh... I guess they didn't like it when I talked back to them. They told me 'little snacks like me shouldn't talk back to their betters.' " He tilted his head back so he could meet Dean's eyes and ended up stepping back nervously. Dean was practically leaning over him to catch the soft words.

Dean realized how nervous he'd made his little brother, after everything Sam had been through. He backed off, dragging a hand over his face. "Sam... shit, Sammy. I'm sorry." He went to rub Sam's back again and visibly wilted when Sam couldn't hide a fearful tremble. "This is all my fault..."

Sam forced himself to look up at Dean again, surprised at the condemnation in his brother's voice. "Dean, how is any of this possibly your fault?"

"I shouldn't have... you were all alone in that room, and that's on me."

"Dean..." Sam touched at the hand resting on the ground near him. It hurt to hear the guilt in his brother's voice.

They were torn from each other at the sound of footsteps from the crate behind Sam. Sam turned away from Dean. A chill went up his spine at turning his back to such a large threat. No, not a threat... it's just Dean. You know him. He's not gonna hurt you! 

Sam heard Dean shifting behind him. A quick, nervous glance showed his brother pulling himself off the ground. Dean folded his legs under him again, resting his hands against the knees.

Kara had her daddy by the arm, dragging him towards the brothers. Christian's eyes went wide when the huge greens above landed on him.

Little Kara was undaunted by the intense gaze, surprising Sam as much as the rest of them. Meeting Dean in the eye with his natural intensity was no easy feat for people their size. "Daddy, this is Dean," she giggled. "He helped me find you after the bad people took you away!"

"T-thank you, sir." Christian managed to stutter out. He pulled to a halt right at the edge of the crate, blinking fearfully up at the enormous human. 

Sam realized it was his first time talking to a human as an equal. For a little guy, he was doing a good job of it. After all, even next to Sam, Christian was fairly short, only reaching a bit past his shoulder. Bree and Mikael hadn't come anywhere near the door yet. If Kara wasn't around, Sam doubted Christian would have either.

"Hey, you have your daughter to thank. I would never have found this place without her help." Dean smiled gently down at them. "I owe her for helping me find you guys."

Christian's eyes flicked between Kara and Dean disbelievingly. He knelt down in front of his daughter, putting a hand on each shoulder. He stared into her eyes. "Is this true?" he asked with surprise in his voice.

"I... I saw Sam get taken," she stared down at the floor, lips turned down in a pout. "I wanted to ask him to help me find you... after all, he had a human with him!" Her eyes darted up to Dean for a second before focusing back on her dad. "And the human was really nice, and never tried to grab Sam or be mean to him at all. But... I went to the room to ask Sam for help finding you, after the human went away and it seemed safe. These two humans broke in before I could talk to him." Her eyes teared up. "I saw them grab Sam," she said quietly. "They shoved him in a bag and took him away... I was so scared." Lip quivering, she stared at the floor. "I... got caught by Dean when he was in the room later. But he was really nice and let me go as soon as he knew what I was! He even gave me food. Dean's not like other humans, daddy. He's nice."

"Oh, Kara. My brave, brave girl. You've done so much." Christian gathered her into a hug. "I'm glad you're safe," he whispered to her.

While watching this, Sam realized he could feel a gentle weight against his shoulder, offering support during Kara's story. He glanced at his shoulder, jumping in surprise when he saw Dean's thumb sitting there.

Dean's hand was resting casually on the floor next to Sam, fingers extended in invitation. He felt his shoulders relax, knowing Dean wanted nothing more than to pick him up, make sure he was okay. But he willingly gave Sam his space with no added pressure.

Pushing away his trepidation, Sam climbed into his brother's hand at last. The heat from the skin warmed him all the way through. He hadn't been this warm since being taken, no matter how much cloth he'd buried himself under. Dean lifted him slowly away from the ground, bringing Sam close to his face so he could take a good look. "Hey, Sammy," Dean said softly. His warm breath breezed softly over Sam while he talked. It wasn't oppressive this time, but welcoming. "Everything's gonna be okay now, I promise."

Instead of bringing Sam into the familiar full body hug against his chest, Dean gently cupped his brother against his cheek. Sam squirmed slightly against the five o'clock shadow on Dean's jaw, surprised at such a vulnerable action from Dean. It was unexpected, to say the least. He brushed his hand over the coarse, stubble-covered cheek and it came away wet.

When Dean finally broke free, Sam could see the matching wetness in Dean's eyes. "Dean..." he said. He reached out, wishing he could offer support to his brother the same way Dean did for him. His size worked against him again. He was too far away to be able to reach Dean.

The hand holding him shifted slightly. "I thought I'd lost you," Dean said thickly, trying to explain. He cleared his throat, staring down at the ground in surprise, like he'd forgotten there were others with Sam.

Sam found himself lowered down to the floor, sliding off Dean's tilted hand. He cast a glance up at Dean when the hand withdrew. A spike of worry hit Sam when he saw Dean close his eyes, holding a hand against them. Another hand was close to Sam, flat on the floor to hold Dean's balance. The last few days must have been hard on Dean. Sam knew how personally Dean would take anything happening to Sam. Not knowing if he'd ever see Sam again, or if Sam would be alive when Dean found him...

A little hand tugged at Sam's jacket. He turned and found Kara staring up at him with a big grin. "Sam..."

He knelt down for her, putting himself at the same eye level. "Yes, Kara?" he asked with a smile. After all, everything they had right now was thanks to her.

She jumped into a hug with him. "I wanted to thank you!"

He managed to keep his broken arm from the hug. "What for?" He awkwardly hugged her back.

"Because if you weren't around, we never would have found my daddy!" She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Christian came over, peeling Kara off of Sam. "Come on, Kara. Let the man rest. He needs to let his arm heal."

Sam saw how close Christian was standing to Dean's hand. "You okay with all this?" he asked as he stood back up, motioning his head up at his brother.

"Well... no. Not really. But what other choice do we have? Stay here and wait to be sold or for Chance to get his hands on us again?" He put a hand on Kara's shoulder. "Plus, she seems to trust him. If I can't trust my own daughter, who can I trust?"

Bree slipped out of the crate nervously with Mikael behind her. "Sam... what's going on? Are you alright? He didn't... hurt you, did he?" Her voice was a soft whisper as she stared up at Dean.

"No, of course not. Like I said before, Dean's my brother. He just wants to help us." Sam came over to her, knowing she didn't want to get any closer to Dean than she had to.

"Yeah," she laughed at that. "That's why you tried to get away from him, right?"

Sam's face burned with shame. "No... I just... after what they did..." he rubbed the makeshift cast on his broken arm, remembering the pain of being crushed. "I was afraid of being grabbed again."

Her eyes softened. "I wish you never had to go through that." She put a hand on his arm, over the sling. "I'm sorry this ever happened."

"Bree, none of this was ever your fault. It never will be."

Bree let out a sarcastic laugh. "If I'd never been found they wouldn't even know we exist. So yeah, it is my fault."

Dean finally pulled himself together. The hand next to Christian and his daughter flipped over, palm up. "C'mon guys, we gotta blow this joint before anyone wakes up. I trussed up Chance in the kitchen but he could wake up at any time and raise the alarm."

Kara pulled away from Christian, clambering into Dean's palm. "Daddy, c'mon! He wants to take us back home!"

Christian did a double take at his daughter's trust, staring nervously up at Dean's looming form. Sam understood exactly how he felt. "T-thank you for taking care of my daughter," he managed to get out, stepping onto Dean's palm next to his daughter. Sam could see Christian shiver from all the way over where he was standing by the crate. Once he was settled, Christian stared down at the thick skin his boots stood on.

Dean smiled understandingly back down at him. "Not a problem. She's a little handful, I can tell you that."

Christian's hand tightened nervously on Kara's shoulder when Dean talked directly to him. "Y-yes. She certainly is."

Dean's eyes flicked over to Sam, Bree and Mikael. "Sam? It's time to go."

"Yeah, right." Sam focused back on the problem of getting everyone out safely. "Bree. Mikael. Let's go."

"What? You mean, just go along with a human like that?" Bree shook her head, backing away from Sam.

Sam grabbed her arm. "Look, I'm sorry, but we don't have time to waste. Chance might wake up at any moment. Come with me. You'll be fine, I promise. We can even bring you back home."

She froze. "Home?" she whispered breathlessly.

"Yeah. You can see Krissy and her family again... back where you belong." His hand tightened on hers. "I know she misses you."

A distant door slammed shut. Dean twisted in the direction of the sound. "Sorry guys, time’s up for the easy way." The hand holding Christian and his daughter lifted into the air, fingers curling up around them to keep them safe.

Sam lost sight of them when Dean's other hand moved, reaching for Sam and the other two. It effortlessly scooped the three of them into a fist without a problem. Sam was helplessly swept up with the other two, trying to twist so his arm didn't get hurt more. Bree gave a muffled scream next to him when the relentless fingers closed around them.

Darkness fell as they were dropped lightly into a large pocket. Sam landed in the pocket first, rolling out of the way of Bree and Mikael when they fell in after him. They untangled from each other’s arms and legs as quickly as they could after the unexpected landing.

Sam grunted as he dug his way out of the bottom of the pile in the suddenly tight confines. His stomach dropped as Dean stood up, taking them all along for the ride. Checking out his surroundings, Sam recognized the side pocket of Dean's leather jacket. One of the only jackets Dean had that had pockets so big. For a moment, he reflected on how odd his life must be that he could recognize the insides of a pocket so easily.

The pocket suddenly swung into motion from Dean's swift strides, bumping them occasionally into the solid wall that Dean formed to the left. Sam hoped Bree and Mikael wouldn't realize what they were hitting against. Bree was already panicked and Mikael hadn't said much since Dean had come, probably from the shock.

Sam said a brief prayer that Christian and Kara were safe wherever Dean had stashed them. He had no way to check on them like this, or even reassure them. With any luck they were just safely confined in the pocket on the opposite side of Dean, and not freaking out. At least Christian had Kara with him. For a tiny, two inch tall girl, she was awfully okay with a gigantic human like Dean. Sam found himself wondering how they'd met. 

And even Sam had trouble staying calm. He didn't know why, whether it was his recent experiences with the humans here or just because he had no idea what was going on outside the pocket. They were all completely dependent on Dean at the moment.

Bree started to hyperventilate, and he was yanked back to the present. "Bree!" Sam gasped as he scrambled over to her, progress slowed by the constant swinging from Dean's quick stride. "Bree, you're alright, we're okay." He rubbed her arms, trying to calm her down.

"But... but..." she managed to gasp out, "he's taking us... just like they took me away from Mom and Dad!" She pulled away from Sam, trying to reach for the opening of the pocket above them. 

"Bree, no!" Sam leaped for her, grabbing her before she was able to pull herself out. "Shit, calm down, he's just trying to help us! He’s not taking us, he’s saving us, I promise! Once we're out of this place, you're free to go wherever you want! You can get as far away from us as you want. Dean would never keep you against your will."

She tried to push him off, still struggling to reach the top. "No... I'm not gonna be taken again..." she growled. 

Hampered by his broken arm, Sam tried to pull her down from the side. She easily pulled out of his one-armed hold, grabbing the edge of the pocket. “Bree!” he gasped. If she leaped out of the pocket with Dean standing, she’d get badly hurt. It was no small distance to fall from.

A shadow fell over the opening, sending a shock up Sam's spine as the light was eclipsed. Dean's hand appeared, the familiar silver ring on it a dead giveaway. He must have felt them struggling against his side. The hand had no problem slipping in, the pocket designed to accept it. They were the ones out of place. 

Dean covered up the opening so Bree couldn't get out. She dropped down in the pocket, landing on Sam in her surprise. He grunted in pain when she brushed against his broken arm, sending red hot spurts of pain up his arm.

Cupping gently around the three of them, the hand gathered them into the center of the pocket, away from any edges they could use to climb out. Sam found himself herded same as the other two, with no way for Dean to tell the difference between them. Bree shrieked when one of the fingers brushed her side, collapsing against Sam in an attempt to get away from the hand. Mikael was no better, face green and nauseous, twitching every time he brushed against one of the massive fingers.

"Shh, shh. It's okay. I've got you," Sam murmured softly to Bree, holding her head against his neck. Mikael would have to wait with her still hyperventilating. With no room left in the pocket, Sam braced himself against one of the fingers arched beside him, using Dean's hand for support. The finger curled helpfully under him, giving him a place to sit. It reminded him how awful it must make Dean feel, knowing how scared they were of him, despite how much he was helping. Dean hated to be seen as the bad guy, but his size alone worked against him in this situation.

Her struggles died down slowly. The pocket warmed up, from so many people crammed inside with Dean's hand hovering around them to keep them safely inside. Sam could only hope that Dean would get them out of danger quick.

Chapter Text

Dean watched Sam try to convince the girl he was with to trust Dean. He was doing a good job with it, too. She glanced up at Dean, wide-eyed. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile in return.

They were all so small. He was used to being around Sam, but right now he had five tiny people standing near his hands. Two of them already waiting on one hand, ready to go, and Sam was trying to coax the rest out. If Dean moved in even the slightest wrong way he could send them all flying.

Dean heard a door close in the distance. His head whipped up, staring nervously at the door. If Chance had woken up, Dean was running out of time. Carrying Sam and the others meant he was in no shape for a fight. All it would take was a single punch in the wrong place to kill them all and Dean refused to take that risk.

He couldn't just leave them here while he went to check, either. They were defenseless right now. Even Sam wouldn't be able to escape with his arm broken like that. And no knife for protection.

No. Dean had to get them out of here before anything else. That was more important. After all they'd been through they deserved it. He had other methods to take care of the family, thanks to Bobby.

"Sorry guys," Dean said, mind made up. "Time’s up for the easy way."

He lifted the hand holding Christian and Kara away from the ground. Christian wavered in place before he dropped down to a squat in the hand, pulling Kara close to him. Dean whispered a quick "sorry" before dropping them into the left hand pocket of his leather jacket.

His other hand reached for his brother and the other two. Dean hesitated for a fraction of a second, trying to figure out how to do this without hurting Sam's arm more. Sam was cradling it by his side while standing there. If Dean touched it in the wrong way, he could make it a thousand times worse. That limb was ridiculously fragile, especially with it already broken.

Dean scooped the three of them into his fist, shifting so Sam's delicate arm didn't get hurt. He didn't have any more time to check on Sam as he dropped them into his other pocket. They landed on the bottom in a ball, trying to scramble up in the closed confines.

Dean pulled himself to a stand, hyperaware of the slight weight on both sides. Funny to think he had five people in there, instead of his keys or his wallet. They were completely dependent on him right now. The first step he took sent both pockets swinging into his sides. Dean cringed inwardly, hating how anything he did affected them in such a big way.

He crept to the door, peeking around the edge to see if anyone was around. The hallway was empty. With slow, measured steps he walked out of the storeroom, creeping towards the kitchen.

A few steps in, he realized one of his pockets - the one with Sam in it - felt like someone was trying to get out. He glanced down, trying to see in, but the pocket was angled away from him. The struggles grew in intensity and Dean saw a small hand trying to pull someone up.

Hoping he wasn't about to scare them more, he slipped his hand easily into the pocket. All he could feel was the warm, small bodies in there, trembling at his touch. He couldn't for the life of him tell which one was Sam, or which was the girl and the older guy. Saying a prayer he wasn't about to hurt Sam's arm, he gathered them into the center of the pocket, cupping his fingers around them. One tried to struggle against him but was swept to the center with the rest. Dean's fingers alone outclassed them in strength.

Once that was all set, with them shivering in the center trying not to touch the fingers arched around them, Dean felt one lean against his hand. He couldn't help but smile. Only Sam... he thought to himself. He curled a finger around the figure, giving his tiny brother a place to sit. It was the least he could do, with everything else Sam had gone through. Was going through.

He peered around the corner into the kitchen. Chance was still knocked out, head slumped down to his chest. The bindings around his arms were in one piece. So he hadn't warned anyone Dean was there yet. They could get out of this in one piece with a bit of luck. Which left the question of who had slammed the door shut earlier...

Dean slipped his free hand behind his back, pulling out his Colt from his jeans. Nothing wrong with being prepared.

He was a few steps through the kitchen when he heard a sound from behind. His shoulders tensed.

"You're taking her away, aren't you?"

Dean flinched at the sound of the sad, soft voice behind him. His fingers closed around Sam and the others a fraction more, making them start struggling all over again. He could practically feel his heart drop at the clear panic coming from his pocket after such a little flinch. Sam was the only one not panicking, still leaning against Dean's finger and from what he could tell, trying to calm the others down. Good 'ole Sam. Always dependable no matter how wacky the situation.

Dean swung around to face the speaker behind him, keeping the gun cocked. He almost dropped it when he saw who was there. "Beth?!"

The same girl that had been running the front desk of the motel was standing not five feet away from Dean, flinching at the sight of the gun. Her brown hair was frizzy and unkempt and she stood in a long nightgown. She gave him a small smile once she was certain he wouldn't shoot her. "You recognize me," she stated, unsurprised.

He took a few steps to the side, circling around her to get the door at his back in case he needed a quick getaway. "How could I forget?" he gestured at Chance with his gun. "You were in on this?"

"No..." she stared at her feet. "They wanted me to be, but I was never 'in' on it. Chance was the one who spotted... Sam... with you." Her soft brown eyes locked on his. "I'm so sorry for what happened. I wanted to warn you, but... with my brother working there with me, I never got the chance."

Dean realized someone was pounding against his hand, trying to get his attention. He drew the hand from the pocket, peering down in surprise. With it held carefully open he saw Sam waving at him. "What?" he hissed down at Sam.

Sam flinched at his harsh tone of voice, sending guilt cascading down Dean's spine. Sam was afraid of him, something he'd hoped to never see again. 

Sam recovered fast, meeting Dean's eyes almost straight above him. "Bree wants to say goodbye! Beth was her only friend here for years."

Dean caught sight of the small girl down there with his brother, still shaking whenever he glanced her way. "Alright," he acceded, his voice far softer now. His hand slipped back in, carefully scooping around just the girl. With her friend waiting above for her, she didn't struggle against Dean this time. He pulled out his hand, unfurling his fingers.

Beth's eyes softened when she saw her friend sitting there. "Bree," she breathed. She reached forward, only pausing to see if Dean would let her, then scooped Bree into her hands. "I'm so sorry for what my family did," she whispered down.

Once Bree was in Beth's hands, neither of them paid Dean any mind. He stood there, eyes scanning the dark house for any other movement that mean the rest of the family was waking up. Chance continued to lie motionless at their feet. Dean had to suppress an extreme urge to kick him in the face. He didn't want to scare anyone in his pockets, though.

Bree stood in her hand. "It's not your fault, Beth," she held out her arms as she spoke. Beth held the smaller girl to her shoulder, giving her one last hug. "I forgive you."

Dean stood nearby while they said their goodbyes, still on edge. With the amount of people depending on him right now, he wanted out of this place and back in the safety of his own car. Sam was injured and he needed to check on him.

Beth and Bree pulled out of the hug. "Oh!" Beth said, keeping her voice down. "Here," she reached into her pocket, pulling out a bundle of clothes. "I was going to give you these before my parents sold you off. They're yours, after all."

Bree took the pile from Beth with a smile, blinking away tears. "You're the only part of this place that made all these years bearable," she swore to her friend.

Beth held Bree out to Dean once her friend had the clothes in her arms. "Bye," she said. This time when Dean took Bree, she didn't struggle at all. Her small form fell against his fingers when he moved the hand down.

"Bye Beth," Bree called out, giving one last wave. She glanced up at Dean, shivering at the huge hunter holding her. "I... if Sam trusts you, I'll trust you too." She looked away from him. "After all, why else would you give me one last chance to see my best friend?"

Dean moved his hand down to the pocket again. "Try to hang on, alright? We'll be out of this place soon, I promise."

She slipped off his hand, landing back in the fabric confines. Dean let the pocket close up, sealing his brother and the others from sight once more. Turning to Beth, he gave her a tight nod. "Do yourself a favor and stay out of trouble, alright? Things will get sticky for your family after today."

She gave a sarcastic laugh. "I never had anything to do with my family's 'extracurricular' activities. I'll be fine, trust me. I've lived with them for a long time." She turned away, then paused. "Make sure she's safe, okay?"

Dean's lips edged up into a smile. "She'll be fine. I promise. Me and Sam will make sure she gets back home."

"Good," Beth said with clear relief. She left him there, standing alone in the kitchen.

Dean gave himself a good shake once that was all over. Time to get out of this shithole. He swung into motion, getting out of the house before anyone else decided to wake up at the asscrack of dawn.

The sky was turning grey when he reached the woods behind the house. The Impala was parked a quarter mile away from the house, far enough away so no one could catch wind of his presence. They already knew too much about him and Sam for comfort. He wanted out of this town for good.

On the way, he placed an anonymous call to the authorities. Thanks to Bobby he knew about the family's other dealings. The parents, before they gave up most things to find and sell off people like Sam, had been drug-runners. They didn't do it often anymore, but enough that the tip he'd given would land them and Chance in jail. All the cops had to do was look in that storeroom, on the shelves. He'd made certain of that.

Hopefully Beth managed to stay out of it all. She seemed like a good kid. Just born to the wrong family. Even after all her years in captivity, little Bree trusted her.

After ten minutes spent slowly trudging through the woods Dean spotted the shine of the Impala through the trees. He gave a relieved smile. So close to getting out of this with his brother intact. And little Kara had her father back, a huge accomplishment. She needed her father. She was far too tiny to survive in this dangerous world alone.

He rubbed the frame of the car before pulling the door open. Pausing before he climbed in, Dean realized he couldn't risk sitting down with everyone in his pockets. It would be far too easy to crush them without realizing it. He reached a hand in each pocket, wrapping his fingers around the small bodies so he could pull them out.

Bree slipped back down into the pocket, arms full of clothing. Mikael caught her before she landed on Sam again.

She twisted away, surprised by the arms around her. "Hey, hey, hey," Mikael said, trying to calm her down. "It's okay, it's just us."

"Sorry," she said, quiet. "Just... this whole thing's a lot to get used to." She glanced up at the opening of the pocket. "He's really trying to help us, isn't he?" she asked, eyes locking on Sam.

Sam gave her a half smile. "Yeah. Dean wants nothing more than us out of this place, safe. He won't try to keep you or trap you at all. Once we're out of here and back to the motel it's up to you what happens."

Dean's voice echoed around them, talking with Beth. Sam closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of safety the rumbling voice gave him. It didn't even matter what Dean was saying. Just hearing it was enough.

With Bree calmed down and Mikael relaxed, the pocket was more comfortable. Dean left them alone, keeping his hand out so they'd have more room. Sam was glad everyone had calmed down - there was no doubt in his mind that Dean wouldn't hesitate to put his hand back in if he needed to.

The whole pocket shook when Dean moved at one point, then swung into motion once again. Dean was on the move, and fast. Sam stumbled into Mikael, who caught him and steadied him in the pocket.

They all settled down, sitting at the bottom. "Sam," Bree said. "You said he's your brother. How's that even possible?" She glanced up at the top of the pocket. "How can you be related to all this? He's huge."

"I, ah... it's kinda hard to explain..." Sam tried to stumble around in his mind for a way to answer.

Surprisingly, Mikael beat him to the punch. "You're human, aren't you?" he asked, understanding blossoming on his face.

Sam twisted in surprise. "How... how do you know?"

Mikael's lips twitched. "I knew someone like you once. She got shrank when she was young. No one was supposed to know about it, but I always caught her hanging around the human rooms, staring longingly up at the furniture. Like no other person I'd seen before. Nobody wants to be in a human's room any longer than they have to." He sighed. "She told me eventually. Told me a story of how she was at the motel with her family and some tall blonde woman got into their room. There was a great flash of light and she woke up a prisoner of the woman."

Sam blinked in surprise at the story. "She... was shrank like me? How'd she get away?" Even Bree's face was rapt at the story.

"Never found out. She didn't want to talk about it. Then one day she was gone. We had no idea what happened to her until more went missing. Because she loved to hang around the human rooms, she was the first. Those people... they took us all out of the motel. So many went missing that rats and spiders and bugs started to move in where we used to live." Mikael stared down at the bottom of the swaying pocket under them. "My wife was killed by a rat because of what they've done."

"I... I'm so sorry..." Sam said, upset at the revelation. He'd run into rats before, with Walt. They'd made sure to hunt and kill off any that tried to infest the motel. Not only did they make good eating on the rare occasion they came around, Walt fashioned the boots and satchel Sam wore all the time out of the skins. He was one of the best tanners around, endlessly talented.

Rats were nasty, massive creatures. If they ever got a hold in the motel it was almost impossible to get them out. That made killing them off one of the most important things for Sam's people to do. If humans realized rats were around, an exterminator was a stone's throw away. The problem with exterminators was their methods would kill off Sam's people just as easy as the rats. And the poison could linger long after the rats were gone. The motel would become uninhabitable for any of Sam's people.

Relocation would become the only option, a dangerous course of action that rarely worked out for any of them. The distances they'd need to cross to get to a new motel or home would be immense.

If rats had got into Mikael and Christian's motel, it wasn't likely they'd be safe going home after all this time. Sam frowned at that, hating the thought of abandoning these people on their own in a hostile environment.

"How many others are left at the motel now?"

Mikael frowned. "None," he admitted reluctantly. "Before I was taken it was down to just Christian, Kara and myself. We're all that's left."

Sam and Bree couldn't bring themselves to look at him. Three people alone in a vast motel like that, one that was already being encroached upon by rodents... they wouldn't stand a chance.

Bree stared at Sam, still catching up to the conversation. "So it's true then. You're a human like..." her eye flicked up to where the opening of the pocket was.

"He's my brother. Just like I said." Sam closed his eyes in memory. "I was shrank by the same woman. She's a witch. We tried to hunt her down but she's an expert at vanishing. She got me when I was ten. Bree... your parents were the only thing that saved me from her. She attacked me and my brother, aiming to shrink us both down together. I got hit, your parents grabbed me, then my real dad came in. He saved Dean and she scampered off. I woke up a week later in your old home. Dad and Dean were gone... chasing the witch, as I found out later on."

Sam stared down at his arm, rubbing it without even thinking. "For weeks I thought they'd come back for me. Months. But they never did. I lived with your family for over thirteen years. They taught me everything I know about living at this size."

Bree pursed her lips. "So how are you with Dean now?"

"That damn witch. She started shrinking kids again, drawing my brother in. He's a hunter, just like our dad, and he came back to the motel on a hunt."

They both recoiled at that. "A hunter? ” Bree breathed, twitching away from the side that kept bumping into Dean. "He's a hunter, and he has us in his pocket?! How are we still alive?! "

"Because he's my brother and he'll never hunt, or hurt us. Not all hunters are the same, Bree! I promise!" Sam put his hand on his chest. "I'm a hunter too!"

He saw the skeptical looks they both shot him. "What? It's true!"

Mikael snorted. "A borrower who thinks he's a hunter. Now I've seen everything."

Sam glared. "I don't just think I'm a hunter, I am. Just ask Dean."

From outside the pocket, Sam heard the familiar sound of the Impala's door creak open. A huge hand slipped into the pocket without warning, scooping them all into its grip. Sam grunted when his arm was jostled briefly against a finger, but it didn't last.

They all rose up into the light, the fingers unfolding around them once they were out. Sam found himself sitting on the edge of Dean's huge palm with Bree trying to hide behind him and Mikael somehow standing behind them both.

Dean quickly lowered both his hands to the seat, letting them all slide off on the bench seat. Christian and Kara landed next to the other three. Dean's hands retreated to his sides, giving them space on the wide expanse.

"Hey," Dean said in his rumbling voice. "Everyone alright?"

Sam gave the others a quick glance. "We're all good," he called up to the huge human leaning over them with nothing but concern painted on his face.

Dean smiled at that. "Well, we're almost home free. Motel's not ten miles down the street from here. Then it's up to you guys where we go from there."

Christian arched his eyebrows at that, speaking up for all of them. "Up to us? How's any of this up to us? "

Sam caught his eyes. "You don't have to stay with us. You can leave as soon as we get back to the motel, I promise." His eyes flicked over to Bree. "But we can take Bree back to her old motel, where there's others like you still living. It'll be safer, and if you want, we can take everyone."

Christian fell silent at that, thoughtful. Kara was practically glowing at the idea. "Daddy, we can be with others again, we can be safe! "

Christian knelt down next to her, giving her a hug. "We'll talk about it, kiddo." He glanced over towards Mikael and Bree. "We'll do what's best for everyone."

Something huge shifted behind them while they were talking. Dean was digging through his duffel, tossing all the stuff that was in it into the back seat. "Uh, Dean. What are you doing?" Sam called out, curious.

The huge green eyes settled on Sam, making him stiffen before he could push the instinct away. It was harder after what he'd been through to act normal around Dean. "Can't let you guys stay on the seat while I'm driving," Dean said. "Too dangerous. I hit the brakes once and you all go flying."

Sitting up once he was done, he showed them the duffel. "You'll all be safe in here, I promise. I won't zip it up so you can get out if you have to. You have my word, I'll never trap you against your will. Any of you."

The huge duffel was placed behind them on the seat. Figuring he'd go first and let everyone know it was safe, Sam went to climb up the bag. He found himself stopped by a huge hand.

Sam flinched away nervously. "Dean, what the hell?"

"Sorry, Sam. You're not going in there with your arm in that condition."

"You have a better idea? I can't exactly sit on your shoulder like this!" Sam held his arm protectively by his side.

"Sam, he's right," Christian's voice came from the side. Sam twisted towards him, surprised to hear anyone on Dean's side. "Your arm needs to be kept straight and a bumpy ride in there with us won't help. If you aren't careful it's going to heal crooked and at the very least it'll need to be rebroken to heal straight."

Sam scowled, hating that he knew Christian was right. "What's your plan?" he asked Dean.

Dean didn't say anything, just shifted his hand so it was palm up next to Sam. His eyes bored straight into Sam, begging for his trust. Sam felt his built-up defenses start to crumble. Dean deserved his trust more than anyone else.

He cast his eyes at Christian. "We'll be fine, Sam," Kara's father said. "Worry about yourself for once."

With that, Sam let Dean scoop him into his grasp. The huge hand cupped protectively against that massive chest, holding Sam with gentle insistence. From his new point of view, Sam watched Dean open the top of the duffel for the others, giving them a place to climb in.

Dean got surreptitious looks from Bree and Mikael, but they trusted him enough to climb in. One by one they slipped out of sight. Dean closed the flap, but kept it unzipped just like he'd promised.

He glanced down at Sam once everyone was all set. "You okay down there, Sam?"

Sam met his gaze, unable to stop himself from flinching again at the way Dean was staring down at him. It was far too close to the way those people had stared at him over the last few days. 

Sam pushed it from his mind. Dean was no more dangerous to him than a loyal puppy. He knew  that, it was just so hard to get the impressions left by the other humans to leave. "I'm fine," Sam said. He rubbed his arm. "Just been a long few days."

The huge fingers curled closer to him, supporting his small frame as gently as they could. "You just sit back and relax. Once we get you back to the room we'll take care of your injuries." The huge voice rumbled behind him, vibrating through the hand.

Sam leaned back, letting himself rest against Dean's chest. No... it's his stomach. I’m too far down to be against his chest. Sam was level with the bottom of the steering wheel, low enough down that no one could see him if they peered in the window. For some reason, his mind was clinging to anything it could, desperately searching for distractions.

It didn't matter where he was, anyway. It was soft, and warm, and comfortable. He wasn't in danger of getting hurt again, or sold off to strangers for God-knows-why, for cash. His life was again in his hands. Or Dean's, rather, he thought fondly. He couldn't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.

His breathing slowed as he drifted into sleep. Even the roar of the engine couldn't keep him awake as Dean turned on the car above him. The steady motion of Dean's breathing behind him and the strong thumb that settled itself protectively over his small form gave Sam a content feeling. 

He was safe.

Dean watched his tiny brother slump back in his grip, giving in to exhaustion. He smiled at that, knowing the amount of trust it would take for someone that small to fall asleep in a hand. At least there was some trust left after everything Sam had gone through. Dean would hate it if those people had crushed every bit of trust and spirit in his brother. Sam's trust in Dean was more rare and precious than any gem and he would do anything to keep it in one piece.

He cupped the hand closer against his stomach, keeping Sam safely down, out of the way of the steering wheel. The Impala started up with a rumbling purr.

Dean glanced over at the duffel bag. "Everyone hold on in there, alright? It'll only be a few minutes till we're back at the motel."

He heard muffled noises like someone was talking, but couldn't make out the words. Since his hands were full, Dean chose to take it as a sign they were ready and switched the car into drive. He had to get his brother back and look at that arm, anyway. No time to waste.

Curling his thumb around Sam as a make-shift seatbelt, Dean glanced at him one last time before driving off. Sam was slumped down, completely out. 

What had they put him through that he was in such bad shape? First thing he'd do when he got back was take care of Sam. Then they had to ditch this town, fast as possible. If there was any chance of the family getting out of the police raid, they knew where Dean was. He couldn't take any chances.

The trip to the motel crawled by. Dean was still on edge after everything that had happened that night. Feeling Sam's slight body in his hand made it all worse. Sam moved on occasion, fragile arms or legs shifting under Dean's gentle thumb. Dean kept his hold as light as possible, just enough to keep Sam from slipping off. The slightest pressure in the wrong place could hurt Sam even more, and never had Dean been more aware of that fact.

What really made the drive awkward was the duffel sitting nearby. There were four people sitting inside, out of sight and trusting him with their lives. They didn't even really know him. Aside from Kara, that is.

He arrived at the motel at last. Dean stuck his gun back in his pants and reached for the duffel. Realizing how strange it must feel to be in something so easily lifted, he spoke to them, wanting to explain what was happening. "I'm gonna carry you all into the motel room. You can decide what to do once we're in there."

He grabbed the strap, lifting it easily into the air. Past the sound of small bodies shifting in there, there was no response. He got out of the car, cradling Sam against his chest the entire time.

A few steps was all it took to get to the motel room and he was opening the door at last. Sam would be safe in moments. Dean could take care of him, the way a big brother should.

The door creaked open, a beam of light slicing into the dark motel room. The shades were shut tight. Dean paused. He couldn't remember closing them.

Then something moved in the darkness past the light of the door.

"Who's there?" Dean demanded angrily. A small cry of fear came from down by his knees in the duffel bag, and he felt Sam shift in his hand, drawn from sleep by his loud voice.

Shit, thought Dean. Sam in one hand, injured and barely conscious, and a duffel full of frightened people in the other. This was no time for a fight. 

How did he get himself into these situations?

How was he going to get them out of this situation?

Dean lowered the duffel to the floor slowly, going for his gun the moment his hand was free.

The light snapped on.

Dean's fingers curled protectively around Sam when the dark figure was illuminated.

"Dad?! "

Chapter Text

Sam woke up to a tall doorway in front of Dean, leading into darkness. He couldn't figure out what had woken him up at first. Everything was so quiet, and the hand he was on was comfortable and warm. Then, without warning the fingers around him stiffened, closing in on him a bit.

Dean was tense. Sam grew nervous at the realization. Dean had sharper instincts than almost all humans. They'd kept him alive as a hunter and served to alert him to the smallest things - including Sam. If Dean was nervous, things were bad. Sam would trust his life to those instincts any day.

The world moved around him as Dean started to lower himself. Sam pushed himself up twitchily in the hand with his good arm so he could see what was happening. If he was in danger he wanted see so he could know if he should react or leave it to Dean. Dean was putting the duffel bag down... and going for his gun. That was when Sam realized there was someone else in the motel room. His neck was tingling, a sensation that had almost gone unnoticed in the surprise of his waking. There was movement in the darkness, beyond Sam's line of sight. A creeping sensation went up his neck, the feeling of eyes on him growing more powerful.

The light flicked on.

Dean's voice echoed around Sam, full of surprise. "Dad?! "

And it was.

John Winchester stood there, next to the light switch in the room. Older than the last time Sam had seen him, far more worn and ragged. But it was him. For the first time in over thirteen years, Sam was in the same room as his father.

"Dean? And... Sam?" John stepped towards Dean, tears in his eyes. "It's good to see you boys."

Sam twitched back in surprise, suddenly realizing he was about to be trapped between two very large, very intimidating hunters. 

Dean noticed immediately. His thumb touched Sam's arm supportively, barely moving so John couldn't see the motion. Sam used it to his advantage, going to a stand in Dean's hand. The last thing he wanted was to be sprawled out with his dad around.

"Dad..." Sam's voice choked up. John was here. He was alive. Sam didn't have to wonder and fear anymore with no way to know if his dad was alive or dead. He was here. That was all that mattered. "You're alright..."

"Yeah," John said with a smile, barely able to speak with the amazement from seeing Sam for the first time in thirteen years. "Yeah, I am." He came even closer, unconsciously reaching out for Sam.

He probably didn't mean anything by it, just a natural reflex for a human to want to hold their child. But Sam tensed at the sight, nerves skyrocketing. His body was bruised and abused. The last thing he wanted was to be held by someone he didn't know very well, even if that someone was his father. Even Dean's gentle touch was causing him pain from time to time. He might be free of those people, but they'd left their mark on him.

Thinking fast, Dean stepped back, keeping distance between Sam and the unfamiliar hands. He knew all too well how much Sam hated the ease with which a human could grab him with.

"Dean? Whatcha doing?" John's voice was full of surprise at the unexpected movement. 

"Sorry Dad. He's hurt. He shouldn't be moved around much." Dean turned his hand so John could see the splint around Sam's arm. 

John reached out much slower, letting a finger brush Sam's small hand. Sam blinked away tears of his own as his father went on. "I heard. Sam - I'm so sorry for what you've had to go through. All this time, we never..."

Sam cut him off. He put his hand on the finger near him. For some reason, being between the two hunters suddenly didn't bother him at all. It was his Dad. And Dean. There should be no one else safer to be around for him. "Dad, it wasn't your fault I got cursed. I know that. You did what you could - hell, you saved Dean from the same fate. So stop blaming yourself for the past. It's over and done with."

At that moment, Sam's sharp ears caught sound from behind Dean. The duffel bag. The others had been stuck in there for far too long and probably didn't want to come out with not one, but two humans in the room. Sam fretted at the realization. Poor Bree and Christian and Kara and Mikael... they'd only just started to adjust to Dean, now another hunter was thrown into the mix.

Unfortunately, John heard the noise at the same time. His eyes darted over to the bag, then up to Dean's face. His hand lowered from Sam. "Dean," he started, voice full of suspicion. "What's in the bag?"

Dean hesitated for a long moment. But at this point, there was no avoiding it. "Friends..." he said slowly. He pushed by John, walking past the dresser he'd found Kara on. Sam was gently lowered to the table in the room. "Few more minutes, Sammy. I'm gonna take care of that arm for you, promise."

Dean knelt down next to the bag, acutely aware his father was leaning over him curiously. He opened the top of the bag, revealing the tiny figures within. "Hey guys," he said softly. "Everyone alright?"

Christian had his arms wrapped around Kara in a protective embrace, Mikael hovering over them both. Bree's eyes were wide as she stared up at the pair of giants, fear Dean had thought gone back in her stance at the sight of John.

Mikael straightened when Dean addressed them. "We're fine. We've discussed your... offer." His eyes faltered when he spotted the second giant behind Dean, staring down at the bag under him. "There's nothing for us here but loss and death. If you are still willing to take us, we would like to go with Bree."

Dean cracked a smile at the small man's forwardness. "Glad to have you along for the trip."

Christian's hands tightened protectively around Kara. Dean was one thing, but this new giant... "Is-is there any way we can go home... and get our things? At least whatever's left?"

"Of course." Dean lowered his hand into the bag next to them.

They stared at it, wide-eyed. Not that Dean could blame them. His hand was huge next to them. All four could stand on it without a problem. It had taken his own brother months to get used to being around him, whereas these little guys had only known him for less than an hour. It was a lot to take in. "You'll be safe with me, I promise," Dean swore.

Slowly, the four of them climbed on. Kara was first, of course. She slipped out of Christian's arms to climb on her huge friend's hand. To Dean's surprise, Bree was second. Her slight weight joined Kara's, tightening a microscopic hand on the young girl's shoulder for support. Christian and Mikael had nothing else to do but join the two girls, stepping unsteadily onto the callused palm.

Once they were settled, Dean lifted his hand off the ground. The moment it was out of the duffel he brought his other hand up to guard the edge, protecting them from slipping off. "Dresser or floor?" he asked. A brief glance at his dad confirmed John wasn't moving, stunned at the sight of all the small people held within his son's careful grip.

Mikael glanced off the edge of the hand, face ashen at the height. "F-floor please," he managed to stutter out. "T-there's a passage home behind the dresser."

Dean lowered his hand slowly, letting them off near his boots. Bree didn't move, watching the others get off as fast as they could. Her little blue eyes considered Dean, most of the fear gone now. "I'd like to stay with Sam." She shifted in place, holding her hands against her arms. "I don't have a place here."

"No problem." Once Dean was sure the others were fine, he stood back up. "Make sure to be back here within the hour. We can't risk staying here too long." His boots took a cautious step away from the people standing down on the floor.

"We will," Mikael called over his shoulder. He blanched when he saw that Dean was standing straight again. None of them stood higher than Dean's boot. In fact, they were all a good few inches smaller. Hell, none of them were as tall as Sammy. His brother was big compared to the other people like him.

Once they'd vanished behind the dresser, Dean turned to the table. Sam had slumped against one of the books, trying to hold his arm weakly in place. Lowering Bree down to the table, Dean let her off next to his brother. She huddled down next to Sam, talking to him in a soft voice.

Dean gave his dad one last glance before going to get supplies to help out Sam. His brother had to come first today.

No matter what John thought of them.

"Are you okay?" Bree said in a soft whisper to Sam the moment she was next to him.

His cocky smile only lasted a second before it fled from his face. The pain in his arm was worse than ever after the trip from the house. But at least it was all over. Those people were gone, Dean was here, and he even had his father back at last.

Yet Sam was sitting here, hurt. His dad was a dark figure towering over them. There was no way to read his face and know what he truly thought of Sam and the others like him. Bree was afraid of both humans despite every attempt to hide it.

Why does nothing ever turn out the way it should...

Dean came over to the table, his shadow falling on them both. Bree froze up apprehensively the moment he was there. His hands put down some first aid supplies near Sam and Bree before he sat heavily in the chair closest to them. "Ready, Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam gasped out. "Ready."

Stripping off his jacket was the hardest part. With it on, he felt more secure. The moment he took it off his vulnerability set in. The two humans at the table unconsciously leaned forward, eyes locked on the dark marks covering his arms. 

Sam couldn’t help holding his arms close, trying to cover up the damage. It was a lost cause of course. Even Bree, as frozen in fear as she was, gave a gasp of shock. "Oh, Sam..."

Dean leaned forward. He understood how hard it was for Sam to let himself be this vulnerable around the two humans after what he'd been through. He understood all too well what he was asking of Sam. “Sammy,” he said gently. “I need to see how bad it is. Please.”

John put a hand flat on the table, leaning forward so he could see better. Dean sent him a dark glare, warning him off. It was already hard enough for him to ask this of Sam. After everything Sam had been through, the last thing he needed was people staring down at him like he was a sideshow freak. Dean didn't want their father making it harder on the little guy, but he had to do this. Had to help Sammy.

Hesitantly, Sam pulled his grey tee over his head. His ribs ached at the motion, burning pain traveling up his side. With effort, he managed to slip it over his head without hurting his arm more.

Bree and Dean both sucked in a gasp at the sight. Even John's face went cold when he saw. Sam's entire torso was mottled with bruises and contusions. There was no part of him that wasn't covered in the splotches. All were clearly the mark of enormous fingers. Sam tossed his shirt on the jacket by his feet. He took a moment to gather himself before turning to face his brother. 

Sam shivered in the cool motel room air, partly from the cold and partly at the sight of the human looming over him and Bree. Even now she refused to leave his side. Sam was eternally grateful for that. Family or not, he didn't want to face this alone. He could feel his father's eyes on his back even now, his skin tingling.

Intellectually Sam knew they were both perfectly safe here. Dean would never hurt them. Standing in front of him like this, between those huge, muscled arms that dwarfed the pair of them, they were both safer than they'd been in days. Years, for Bree. But after the events of the last few days, he had a much harder time bringing himself to believe it. No matter how hard he tried, his heart jumped in his throat every time Dean made the slightest move.

“I’m starting to think we’re lucky you survived at all,” Dean said in an angry growl, making Sam and Bree jump in fear at the sound.

Recovering swiftly, Sam rubbed his broken arm, holding it close. “Yeah, me too.”

Dean leaned down, reaching a hand to Sam. Sam couldn’t stop a flinch at the movement. Dean didn’t seem surprised, but he didn’t stop, either. 

“You gotta let me take care of you, man,” he said softly, insistently.

Sam tried to relax. He knew better than anyone how much Dean needed to help. Couldn't just sit there and let his little brother suffer, especially after... Sam brought himself to the present, forcing himself to stay still.

Dean himself couldn't imagine the pain Sam had been through the last few days. It hurt just to see the damage. Hell, Sam's injuries were close to what Dean had received himself on hunts, only these were caused by humans, not monsters. 

Once his finger brushed against Sam's small torso, Dean felt his throat choke up. Sam seemed smaller than normal - thinner, frailer, like he hadn't had a good meal the last few days. Sam shook slightly whenever Dean touched him, clenching his fist to keep steady. Seeing that fear directed at him, Dean felt a surge of anger at the people who'd taken Sam against his will. He held his breath, afraid that he himself would hurt Sam more trying help.

For the next few minutes, Dean gently checked Sam’s ribs, making sure none of them were broken underneath the dark, bruised skin. Sam let him, squeezing his eyes shut whenever a finger brushed against the tender skin. The sheer size of Dean's finger against Sam’s torso made both brothers wince. It was painful to see that Dean’s finger could easily have caused the damage on him.

Once Dean was done checking his ribs, Sam turned around, letting Dean see his back. Something huge brushed reverently down his spine, tracing the dark marks careless fingers had left on his skin. Sam shuddered under his brother’s touch, knowing how easy it would be for Dean to do the same. Almost effortless. He hated how weak and vulnerable he felt, standing there.

The difference between them had never been more pronounced. Standing near to people his own size, Sam was toned and well-muscled, built up by years of climbing and exercise on a daily basis. He was one of the tallest, easily standing a head over most of the people he'd met. But now, compared to Dean, he was fragile. Easily broken. 

Weak.

Self-loathing rose up in Sam as his brother finished checking for fractures and breaks as best he could. If Sam was normal, they never would have gone through any of this. Dean wouldn’t have to worry so much, Sam wouldn’t be hurt so easy. Life would be simpler.

His distressing train of thought derailed when his eyes were drawn to Bree.

She was standing near him, but had backed away from Dean’s hands while he was so close. As afraid of the hunters as she was, she still wouldn’t leave Sam’s side. Her only link to her past life. The last real friend she had left.

Bree.

The lost daughter of Walt and Mallory Watch. Lost years ago, because of humans.

If Sam had never been taken, if Dean had never found them, Bree would still be a captive.

Worse.

She’d have been sold off to Mina, her fate left to the whims of humans she’d never met. People who could do anything they wanted to her. Her helpless the entire time.

So maybe, in this whole shitty situation, there was a glimmer of light. No matter what Sam had gone through, no matter how hurt he’d been, he’d helped. His suffering had a reason. It hadn’t been for nothing.

Sam put a smile on his face as he stared at her, hiding the pain he felt. She smiled hesitantly back, ignoring the humans towering over them for a brief moment.

His suffering had a point. A purpose.

Sam felt a weight lift off his heart unexpectedly from the realization.

Dean’s voice pulled them both away from each other. “Do I even want to ask about your legs?” Dean asked, his voice hushed with respect for what Sam had gone through after seeing the injuries so close. He put his hand down flat on the table near Sam, steadying himself.

Sam gave a gasping laugh, turning back around to face Dean. “Probably not,” he admitted. “They’re about the same. But I can already tell you nothing's broken there."

Dean gave him a ghost of a smile. He stretched out a hand. “Here, let me see your hands.”

Sam held out both his hands, resting them on the tip of Dean’s finger so his brother could take a close look. The friction burns from falling off the table down his fishing line all those days ago were still bright against his skin. Leaning down closer, Dean squinted so he could make out the almost invisible marks against Sam's skin. Once he had a clear view of the damage, Dean took a small amount of burn gel with his other hand and held it out to Sam. Sam took enough to cover both hands, rubbing them gingerly together. 

Dean glanced up, catching Bree in his intense gaze. She froze, barely breathing. “I need your help,” he said to her softly. "Please." She twitched at the question. Dean held out small strips of gauze he’d cut down to size earlier. “I’m too big to wrap Sammy’s hands. Can you…?” Dean's voice trailed off. The truth in this statement and the plea in his voice made Sam duck his head down unhappily. Ashamed.

Torn, she glanced between Sam and his brother. Sam had managed to reign in his fear of his brother at long last, no longer shaking every time Dean moved near him. His Dad was another matter. John continued to watch everything with a keen eye, content for the moment to merely observe Dean with the two tiny people.

Pulling herself together, she took a few brave steps towards Dean’s huge hand. He stayed still, holding out the two strips on one of his fingers for her. Tremulously, she took them off, flinching when her hand accidentally brushed against the ridged skin of the finger. Dean didn’t move, keeping his hand motionless while she was near. He understood all too well how alarming he could be by accident after so long spent with Sam.

A few more quick steps and she was at Sam’s side. “Here,” she said softly. With careful motions, she wrapped the thick gauze around each hand, securing them with the burn cream inside. Sam flinched at the pain when she tied a knot to keep the hands wrapped. 

“Thanks,” he said softly. He caught her hands in his, ignoring the brief flicker of pain. The memory of first time she'd helped him with his hands was bright in his mind. His eyes flicked over to his father, a dark, intimidating figure in the best times. At four inches tall, almost terrifying. Especially the way he was sizing them both up. “For everything.”

She smiled at him, carefully squeezing his hands back.

A dark shadow fell over the two of them, making Bree drop Sam's hands and back away fearfully. Dean leaned in, meeting Sam’s eyes. “Well, the good news is you shouldn’t have any scarring, past your hands.” Sam gave his hands a quick glance as Dean went on. “Everything else should heal up nice.”

Sam let out a derisive laugh. “Yeah. That sounds about right. They didn’t want to permanently damage their prize. Just make me pliable and compliant. The perfect pet. Isabelle's little snack. Even the broken arm was an accident. That woman got too caught up in disciplining me."

Dean couldn’t stop a scowl from crossing his face. "You won't have to worry about them ever again." He softened, staring down at Sam's arm. “I’m gonna make a sling for that arm,” he said. “Try and get yourself back together, kiddo.”

Sam slipped back into his grey tee without a problem, thankful to be able to cover up his body. Bare chested, he felt exposed, weak with the sturdy giants so near. Bree had to help him ease his jacket back on. His arm throbbed in pain from all the motion he was putting it through.

While Dean was across the room going through his things to find a thin cloth he could use, John leaned forward at last. He glared daggers into Dean’s back, ignoring Sam and Bree completely. “How long was Sam gone for?”

Dean ignored him, pulling out a clean handkerchief. He cut it down in size while he was still kneeling on the floor, guesstimating the size he’d need for Sam’s tiny arm.

Once it was set, he came back over to the table, motioning Sam to come closer. Pushing down the trepidation he felt at the thought, Sam went over to him. He let his brother surround him with his huge hands, burying himself in the thought he was safe. This was safety. Dean carefully slipped Sam’s arm into the fabric, lifting it up an infinitesimal amount. He couldn’t stop a hiss of pain from escaping him.

Dean froze. “Too much?”

“No. Sorry.” Sam shifted between Dean’s hands. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

Dean went back to work. As careful as he could, he finished wrapping the fabric. Sam flinched when one of the fingertips brushed over the bruises on his back.

“Hold still,” Dean muttered down at him. His tongue stuck out of the edge of his mouth in concentration while his huge fingers struggled clumsily to tie the knot in the makeshift sling.

Sam didn’t respond, staring at John. His father.

The longer Dean ignored him, the angrier John grew. It hung around him like a thunderstorm. He stared at Dean with a dark look, ignoring the fear on his younger son’s face. “You didn’t think to call me when Sam was taken?”

Dean gave a tiny hiss of victory, finishing the sling. He continued to ignore John, giving Sam all his focus. He checked the tiny sling to make sure he hadn’t tightened it too much. Sam froze as a huge finger came at his arm…

Sam gives a cry of alarm as he tries to turn and run from the approaching hand. His sore legs stumble, throwing off his balance. The moment he falls, huge fingers curl around and catch him. He is encased in a fist. Sam curls into a ball as the fingers press harshly against his body. He grits his teeth, determined to not show weakness to the giant holding him.

He can’t see out, but he feels the air rushing by. Vertigo strikes as the human lifts his hand off the ground. The click of the lock comes and Sam feels the hand soar into the air as the human stands fully. He squirms, trying to get in a position where he can use his legs to kick against the fingers. If he has even the slightest chance of escaping, he has to take it.

Feeling him squirm, the human closes his fist even tighter around Sam's little body. Sam can’t breathe as the pressure increases. A little more pressure, and Sam is certain his back will break....

...but Dean merely brushed against it, checking how secure the injured limb was held in place. He was gentle enough that Sam barely even felt the movement. Sam relaxed at the care being taken, thankful. His flashback faded back into the hidden recesses of his mind.

“There,” Dean said quietly as he finished up the sling, satisfied. He leaned back, giving Sam space. “It should heal straight like that. Try not to move it too much.”

“Dean, I’m talking to you,” John interrupted, his voice and demeanor authoritative. Both brothers gave a small jump of surprise. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Dean didn’t turn around at first. He shared a knowing glance with Sam, who couldn't help twitching every time John spoke up. His father’s voice was far harsher than Dean’s, louder. It hurt his ears every time the man spoke up. Too close for comfort. He was starting to think he’d taken everything about Dean for granted.

Sam was afraid to look over at Bree and see how the humans’ conversation overhead was affecting her. She still hated being close to Dean. He couldn't imagine her reaction to John.

Standing up, Dean faced their father down. For the first time in his life, he actually argued with John.

“Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you. I called you when I found Sam. Thirteen years we thought he was dead. Thirteen. Years. And you couldn’t pick up the phone and return one call. How’n hell was I supposed to think you’d care he’d been kidnapped when you didn’t care enough to call us back!”

"Care? Of course I care! Yet I have to find out through other hunters that you've lost him... that someone took him from you?" John shook his head angrily. "If only you'd just called me this could have ended sooner..."

Dean growled at that, against his own wishes. The only way John could have found out about Sam's kidnapping was through Bobby's network, after he'd put the words out for Dean. All the hunter network knew was Dean had lost something small and precious and to keep an eye out for anything suddenly being sold in the area. John himself would have made the leap to it being Sam.

"Yeah? And how's that, huh? Did you have some magical way of finding where Sam was? He's four inches tall, dad! I don't even think I could have found him without Kara's help! He's too small, too easy to hide. All they had to do was stick him in a pocket or a purse and he was out of sight!"

Bree buried her head against Sam's chest, scrunching tearful eyes shut with the thundering voices surrounding them. It was close to watching angry mountains argue. John was still sitting down, with Dean standing over him, glaring down. With the light behind them, they became immense, shadowed shapes, dark and foreboding.

Sam wrapped his arm around her. "Don't worry," he whispered into her hair, ignoring his brother and father’s shouting match for a brief moment as they continued on like there was no one else around. "We're safe here. Dean would never let anything happen to us."

She shuddered against him. "How can you believe that? They're both so angry..."

John stood up. Sam couldn't help a jolt when he saw Dean was the shorter of the pair. It was one thing to know but another to see. Dean always seemed so big it was hard to remember there were humans out there that towered over even him.

"Because he's my brother, and I know how much he cares," Sam whispered to her, knowing the truth in his heart.

Straightening, Sam pushed Bree behind him. He took a few steps towards Dean and John, interrupting their continuing argument with his own personal brand of stubbornness. He couldn’t take seeing his family fight after everything else he'd been through this week. "Don't I get a say in any of this?" 

Silence fell.

Chapter Text

In the sudden silence that overtook the room, Sam shoved aside any thought of how huge both his family members were. This is your normal now... deal with it. Same as you always do. They're both your family and they both care about you in their own way. 

Of course, Dean's way just happens to be a lot more reassuring... 

Both of them stared down at him from so high above even as he started. "Dad, it's not Dean's fault any of this happened. I'm the one that's to blame. I was overconfident. I forgot how easy things could go wrong. That's on me."

Dean's expression flattened as he stared down at his miniature brother. "Sam, this is not your fault."

Sam glared up at Dean, unintimidated by the intense expression staring back at him. "Well it's not yours, either! Because let's face it, everything that happens must be Dean's fault, right?" Sam held out his good arm, gesturing at Dean. "I don't blame you for what happened any more than I blame dad for getting me cursed in the first place! Yet you both insist on taking the blame for things you have no control over."

"Sam, please," Dean started.

"No." Sam's voice was full of resolve. "Just because I'm smaller than you doesn't mean I can't watch out for myself. I'm not a child. It's my responsibility." He turned his glare on John. "Not Dean's, and not yours." 

Sam softened his face with a smile and turned to his brother. His eyes shone. "Dean, I appreciate you lookin' out for me, man, I really do. But I'm not gonna let you shoulder all the blame for this. If anything, it's both our faults. And now it's over, so can't we just be a family for once?"

The tension in the room broke at that. John quirked an eyebrow at Dean. "Is the little guy always this stubborn?"

A scowl crossed Dean's face. "Yeah, Sam is." Emphasis was put on Sam's name, which Sam was grateful for.

Sam went over to his dad's hand, resting on the table. He put his own small hand on it, not caring about the difference in size for once. "Dad... thanks. For everything you did when I was a kid. But I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle myself. No one understands living at this size better than me. Not you, not Dean. You can’t understand what it’s like for me."

John's hand lifted up, briefly brushing Sam's hair. "I just wish I could have protected you better. Kept you safe from... this."

Sam made his way back over to Bree. He put a hand on her shoulder and felt her trembling. It was a little better now that the giants weren't having a face-off, but still present. Sam's steady hand on her back started to help calm her down a bit. "Not everything's bad about this size. Trust me, there are worse things in the world than being small. Plus, I have Dean. There's no one I rely on more."

John merely frowned at Sam's reassurance, clearly unconvinced. But, Sam didn't need to convince him. This was his life, not theirs.

Trying to put his father's doubt out of his mind, Sam turned back to Dean. He called up to his brother, "Is... do you think I could check my stuff? The last time I saw it, it all got knocked around, and..." Sam looked down at himself, brushing a hand against his broken arm. His face went red, knowing this went against everything he’d just argued. "I can't really get down there on my own until this heals."

Dean's eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "Of course!" he stuttered, sounding shocked. "I can't believe I forgot..."

Sam and Bree both backed away as Dean knelt nearby, putting himself on their level. He dug in his pocket with Sam watching curiously. Understanding dawned when Sam caught sight of the tiny bag pinched between his brother's fingers. "My satchel..." he said, taking a step forward. Of all the things he owned, it was one of his only keepsakes from Walt. His adopted father. He was very thankful it hadn't been lost or destroyed when he'd been taken.

"I found it on the floor... meant to get it back to you sooner, honestly. Just got caught up in events." Dean rubbed the back of his neck while his small brother walked up to his hand, taking his bag back. Dean smiled at the sight of the bag back where it belonged with Sam. "Your knife and journal are on your bed..." he went on. His hand flipped around so it was palm up once Sam had his bag back in his arms.

"Sam..." the soft voice came from behind. He turned, meeting Bree's eyes. "Can I come with you?" Her eyes skated nervously over John's dark figure, more distant from the table now.

He nodded his understanding. "Of course you can. Dean won't mind." To demonstrate, he stepped on his brother's hand. It twitched slightly under his boot but remained motionless for the most part. Sam smiled at that, knowing how hard Dean worked to make Sam feel comfortable, especially in his hands.

Bree inched over slowly, coming up to Dean's hand. Her eyes flicked from brother to brother before she took that step, standing next to Sam.

Once they were both settled, the hand lifted smoothly into the air, the other hand guarding the edge. Nervously, Bree backed into Sam. "It's okay," he said to her, quiet enough that not even Dean could hear them. "You're alright."

"I - I know. It's just, hard, you know? All those years the only person who ever held me was Beth and she wasn't exactly big and intimidating like your brother. I... I trusted her. Despite everything else." She turned her face up to Sam. "But I trust you, so I'll trust him."

Sam smiled. The hand came to a rest at last, flattening against the ground as best it could. He stepped off, offering Bree a hand. Once they were both down Dean stood back up, straightening with a wink in Sam's direction to reassure his smaller brother.

They both climbed into the space under the nightstand. Bree walked in, surprise on her face. "This is all... yours?" she asked, amazement clear in her voice.

"Uh, yeah," Sam came in after her, walking into the darker area. "Every bit of it. Home sweet home." 

Spotting his knife over on the bed, he went straight over to it with a grin. Dean must have cleaned it for me, he mused, turning it over in his hand. The last he'd seen of it, he'd bloodied it against the ever-charming Isabelle. I hope it leaves a scar, he thought viciously. After all the time separated from it, it was good to have it back. The weight of his weapon, back in his own hands, was reassuring.

Bree blinked at what he had in his hands. Her voice was full of awe as she spoke, "Sam, that's amazing. Where'd you get it from?"

He sat down on the bed. She came over, taking a quiet seat. "It's... my brother. Dean. He made it himself. Before I got cursed like this." He turned it over a few times. "The only thing I have left of my human life now."

"May I?" she asked reverently.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Sam handed it over to her. She rubbed a hand over the silver blade. "In all my years with humans, I've never seen anything close to this. It's so well-made."

Sam gave a proud smile as he took it back. "Dean would be thrilled to hear that." It was a huge compliment, coming from someone who'd have to make all her own things to survive, especially if she couldn't scrounge supplies. He slipped it into his jacket, back where it belonged. Damn it felt good to do that.

She stared out of the nightstand, growing quiet. "What's the matter?" Sam asked, keeping his voice down. He had an inkling she wouldn't want anyone overhearing them. Dean he wasn't concerned about, but John... he had no idea what was going through that man's head.

She took a few moments to pull herself back together. "So, you really used to be that big?"

Sam followed her gaze to the massive pair of boots standing outside the nightstand. They shifted in place, brushing against the ground impatiently as Dean continued talking with John. He was a few feet away from them to give them privacy, but close enough to keep an eye on Sam. He had a feeling that after the last week, letting him out of sight, even down here, would be killing Dean. Especially with their father around. John was still an unknown, at least when it came to Sam.

"Well, not quite Dean's size. I was just a kid when it happened, plus Dean's really big for a human." Sam stared off into the distance.

"And... you're really a human?"

He blinked, considering. "I used to be..." he admitted. "Now... I don't know. Human or not, I don't really fit in anywhere. I have to hide if I'm around other humans with Dean, but when I'm around people like you and me, they're suspicious of me because of what Dean is, even though he'd never hurt anyone, or catch them." He slumped down, sagging onto his bed. 

"Sam..." she said softly. "It doesn't matter what you are. You're Sam and that's enough for me." A real smile edged onto her face and she rested a supportive hand on his shoulder. Her eyes flicked to the opening between the books, where they could still make out Dean's massive boots, tapping against the ground. He was facing away from them now, towards John. Voices rumbled overhead as the hunters talked. Sam would be willing to bet Dean had his arms crossed, giving John his most intense glare. "And I'm sure your brother would agree."

Sam clasped her hand with a hesitant grin. It felt strange after all this time to have a hand resting on his shoulder and not a supportive finger. Dean tried so hard to be there for Sam but it was always disconcerting to see a finger half as thick as his body sitting so innocently on his shoulder. So big he could see the individual ridges of the skin without a problem.

They came out from underneath the nightstand to John arguing with Dean (again). "You boys aren't safe here. You need to leave as soon as you can."

From behind the dresser, the other three appeared. Christian had Kara hitched up on his shoulders, still joyful about their reunion. Mikael had a keen set to his face, eyes flashing to the humans in the room. An air of caution surrounded him like a thick fog. They met up with Sam and Bree right outside the nightstand, carefully picking their way across the room. Wary eyes were directed towards both humans. Packs and hastily thrown together supplies filled the men's hands.

Sam tried to tune into the conversation happening above them as Dean gave John an inquisitive stare, refusing to be baited by his father's demeanor this time. "What makes you say that?"

"I've been trailing the demon as much as I can. Never been able to catch it so far, but the signs led me here. It knows where you boys are." He took a seat at the table again, steepling his fingers. "This demon... it's one bad mother. I haven't found a way to take it on yet. But I will."

Spotting movement down on the floor, Dean took a step away from the table. "Why's it after us?" he demanded as he knelt down next to Sam and the others. 

"Don't know yet. But I think it has something with that witch. I've found traces of her in three different places the demon's been." John exhaled, sitting back. "One of these days I'm gonna find it, and kill it."

Sam sucked in a breath. "But... it's a demon. You can't kill a demon," he called up from his place on the floor. The others stiffened at his words, knowing he was calling attention to them all.

John leaned down so he could see them better. "There are ways. As soon as I find one, that's the first thing I'll do." John shared a glance with Sam, empathy showing in his eyes this time. "That bastard's gonna die for what it's done."

Dean held his hand out to the small people standing down on the ground. "Time for us to get out of here, anyway." He stood with them in his hand. "It's not safe for anyone anymore."

Sam reclined in Dean’s hand, cupped against the massive chest. He was watching the scenery pass by the Impala as time ticked by slowly. They were heading back to the motel he'd grown up in. He'd spent years there, living off whatever his family could find. Scraps, for the most part. Years of his life in one place while Dean moved from motel to motel, wherever the case brought him.

Coming back here was difficult for him. Losing his adopted parents had hit him hard. The blame for their deaths continued to hang over his head to this day. Having Bree so near was making it worse, in a way. Her entire family was gone and she'd need to face that head-on. Sam needed to push aside his own trepidation. For Bree. She deserved that much.

He doubted his family would have been able to recognize him anymore. He was a far cry from the Sam that had embarked with his brother all those months ago, shuddering on Dean's shoulder. He'd been afraid of everything back then. He was still afraid, but that dread had come from his recent experiences. Being crushed in a hand would do that to you.

Aside from that lingering anxiety, he realized he was adjusted to this life. Dean would always be there for him, come what may. Sam had a place. And that's all that mattered.

Spotting the time on the clock, Sam pushed himself up in Dean's hand. They had to be nearly there... he tried to see out the driver's side window, desperately curious. The last time he'd been here in the car he hadn't seen anything. He'd spent the entire trip fast asleep on Dean's shoulder. He smiled at that memory. Dean had certainly taken work to get used to, but it wasn't his fault. Sam was the one that was different...

Sam wakes as the Impala comes to a stop outside of a new motel. He mumbles to himself, sitting up on the weird surface he was resting on. Wait... It isn't just any surface he's sitting on, it's a shoulder. A human's shoulder. 

He freezes for a few seconds of fear before he remembers everything that happened... losing his family... agreeing - no, asking - to go with Dean to get the bastard that had killed them.

He is sleeping on his brother's shoulder. 

With this realization, Sam glances above his head. He can see the profile of Dean's face staring out of the car as he turns the Impala off. From where he is sitting, Sam can only make out the corner of his brother's eye, and the underside of his jaw. Sam sighs briefly at the reminder of his situation.

For years, he's been used to living this way, smaller than a mouse, with a family that cared for him. Living like that, he’s only been occasionally reminded of what he’s lost. His daily supply runs into the motel they lived in had been the only reminders back then. But here he is, forced to confront everything he'd lost. His own brother serving as a constant reminder of his curse.

Sam is shaken from his thoughts when Dean suddenly opens up the car door and stands to his full height without warning. Sam clutches the collar of Dean's shirt to avoid falling. He really isn't going to get used to his brother's immense height. It was like trying to sit on Godzilla's shoulder. "Dean, wait!" he shouts up, surprised. 

At least this Godzilla would listen to him.

Dean tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam. "Sorry 'bout that, Sammy. Forgot you were there."

Sam's breath hitches with fear at the accidental reminder of his insignificance. A huge hand reaches up, stopping right next to the shoulder. Sam stares at it for a few moments before Dean tries to get another look at him. "You're not planning on sitting there while I check into the motel, are you?" Dean asks jokingly. His deep voice rumbles kindly around Sam, reminding him that he's safe.

"No, no of course not!" Sam manages. That would mean other humans seeing him. Tremulously, he steps onto the huge palm, feeling the muscles twitch under his weight. It is going to be hard to adjust to sitting in a hand bigger than his entire body. As he sits there, he brushes a hand over Dean’s silver ring, wondering at the size. He can remember rings fitting in the palm of his  hand, but this one is huge and thick, reflecting his image back at him. He imagines it must be wide enough for him to use as a belt now. And it fits around Dean’s finger.

The fingers shift around Sam as Dean brings the hand in front of his face. Sam freezes as soon as the big green eyes fall on him, not prepared for such an intense stare. "You mind hanging out in the pocket while I check in?" Dean asks.

“Uuhh…” Sam says nervously. “Sure, I guess.” His eyes snap down to the pocket, resting innocently against Dean’s chest. It was unreal to actually consider going in there. Humans were dangerous to people like him, yet here Sam was, perfectly safe... even welcomed.

The hand lowers down, coming to a rest right next to the pocket. Sam gives a slight jump when Dean’s other hand rises up, but all it does is pinch open the pocket so he can jump right in. Which he does without delay, coming to a stop at the bottom. 

His head jerks up the second he lands. The pocket is almost the same height as him. If he stands he'd just barely be able to peek out.

While he gets settled, the light from above disappears. Sam glances up to see the flap of the pocket as it drops down, blocking the outside world from sight. Something huge brushes against him from the outside, making Sam jolt away in surprise until he realizes it’s just Dean’s hand. You're safe.... it's just Dean. He's not gonna hurt you… he’d never hurt you...

“You alright in there, Sammy?” comes Dean’s deep voice, even more intense from how close Sam was sitting to his vocal cords.

Sam takes a second to calm himself before answering Dean. “Y-yeah, I’m good!” he calls up. He presses his hand against the outside of the pocket and touches Dean’s hand to reassure himself. And to reassure Dean.

“Well then, sit tight, kiddo. Try not to move around too much. I don’t want anyone picking up on you in here. We need to keep you off the radar.”

“Got it.” Sam pulls his legs against his chest to make himself as small as possible. Without warning, Dean’s ambling stride starts up. The swaying steps swing the pocket gently, rocking the small Winchester like a hammock. Sam isn't bothered when it bumps into the broad chest behind him. It's reassuring to be with Dean now. Reassuring to be with his family.

Sam slowly relaxes. He's safe and that's all that matters. This is where he's meant to be.

This is home.

It had taken time and work but Sam was at peace with his life.

Noticing the exertion down on his hand as Sam tried to sit up, Dean lifted it up higher. "You okay, there, Sammy?" They were the first words he'd said to Sam since leaving the motel. Both had sat in silence, mindful of the duffel bag situated next to Dean. Bree and the others had decided it was for the best to sit tight in there. The less chances for other humans to see them, the better. And it would be dangerous for them to be on the seat at their size. All it would take would be Dean hitting the brakes once to send them flying, and even if his reflexes were fast enough to catch them he couldn't catch them all.

Sam struggled to sit up in the hand. Dean adjusted his hand so Sam was propped up against the fingers. "I was hoping to see... what it all looks like. You know... the town I lived in all those years."

Dean gave him a small smile. "All you ever gotta do is ask." He shifted until the hand was cupped against his chest. Sam relaxed, watching the scenery pass by.

All those years in the motel, he'd had no memory of what the rest of the town was like. When John had rolled in with Dean and Sam in the Impala, Sam's nose was buried in a book. Haven, Kansas... a name for his home in another life. Where he'd found a haven from the dangers of the world for years before his brother came back into his life and changed it forever. And the name of the motel itself was ingrained in his mind... Trails West Motel... an old fashioned name for an old fashioned life. But he'd had a loving home there for years.

It hadn't mattered to them what he was, or where he was from. All that mattered to Walt and Mallory was he was alone and abandoned. A boy who'd lost everything. His entire family, his world...

Everything.

And now he had it all back, but had lost his adopted family instead.

Sam pulled himself out of the past as he saw the motel appear in the windshield. He straightened as he tried to catch every detail. Feeling his movement down below, Dean's fingers adjusted to his new position.

At long last the Impala parked in the lot at Trails West. Dean checked into the motel, requesting a specific pair of rooms for himself and John. A very specific room for Dean, one they both remembered well from the time after they'd saved little Sean. He paid up front with one of his fake credit cards, getting the room for him and Sam for at least a week. Sam would need time to recover, that was for sure.

Sam waited in the Impala, fretting as their father's truck parked alongside the car. He shivered at the sight of the immense vehicle. Was everything their father had oversized? That truck could eat the Impala for lunch, and the Impala was big enough.

John stood outside the two cars, keeping a watch so no one got near the little refugees until Dean came back. Dean handed off the key for John's room before he gathered Sam and the duffel bag up out of the car. The hand with Sam sitting in it was blocked from sight in Dean's jacket as they went into the room. Even now, he wouldn't put Sam down, not risking even a pocket with that injured arm.

Once in the room Sam took a deep breath as the hand holding him moved back into the light. Dean and John were intently staring around the room, as though they thought they could spot the people living there so easily. Sam hid a laugh at the sight. His father and brother were good, but he doubted they could see Sam's people so easy. Not to mention the arrival of two enormous, intense men would send anyone in their right mind running for cover.

Even just the loud thumping from the two hunters' boots would be nerve-wracking. Sam flinched at the thought of how Krissy and her family would be reacting this second. This room was almost never used by the motel, so two humans staying, two huge, intimidating humans staying there, would be an eye-opener.

While Dean walked into the room, Sam surveyed it all from his perch on Dean's hand, taking note of where he remembered the entrances to Krissy's were. Nothing seemed to have changed in the time he'd been gone.

"Dean!" he called up, calling Dean and John's attention down on himself.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean held him to eye level while they spoke.

"I should... I should go make sure it's safe. Before we let the others leave. I don't want anything else happening to them now that they're finally safe."

Dean's eyes softened at that. "Good idea. But you take care of yourself, you hear me? Remember, you're not up to speed yet, either." He knelt down, lowering the hand to the floor to let Sam off.

Sam stepped back as Dean straightened, glancing at his father and brother from his true height. It was a strange sensation. He spent most of his time on Dean's shoulder, or standing on a table that was at least at waist height. It made him feel like their equal, no matter his size. But now he saw them as they truly were to anyone his size. Huge, foreboding, intimidating... the two most important people in his life were so big they could easily overlook Sam.

Dean leaned over the bed, peering into the duffel. Sam could hear him explaining the situation to them, giving them a choice of waiting in the bag or somewhere else, like on the table or bed. Turning his back on the two intense hunters, Sam walked behind the nightstand as he heard Mikael's answer to Dean. They would stay in the bag until Sam gave the motel the all-clear.

A loud creaking overhead signaled Dean taking a seat on the bed next to the duffel bag. John followed suit on the second bed. Sam paused for a moment as he remembered the last time the three of them had been in this motel together. John leaving him and Dean alone in the room... the witch breaking in. Shrinking Sam.

Losing his family.

A deep breath calmed his nerves before he turned to the wall. It was time. He needed to stop wallowing in memories of what was.

He set off down the pathway. It was a roundabout way to reach Krissy's but it would get him there eventually. This was technically her escape path, much like the one he'd used to get away from Dean all that time ago. It would be easy to replace if needed. The true path to her house was right next to the dresser. Sam had never given away its existence to Dean yet and he wasn't planning on it unless the family living there wanted to let Dean know. It wasn't his place, and it never would be.

Less than five fast-paced minutes later, he stood outside her door.

His heart pounded in anticipation. So long ago he'd left here... thinking to never return. Turning his back on thirteen years of his life. Leaving his childhood friend behind, afraid of him.

One of the hardest days of his life.

His hand raised up, ready to knock. He paused, staring at the wood blocking the entrance. It was thicker than he remembered, harder to knock down. So he wasn't the only one that had changed that day...

He knocked twice, then waited with his hands tucked behind his back. He didn't have long to wait. Within a minute there was a familiar voice from inside. "Coming!"

Sam smiled. Krissy...

The wood was pushed out of the way quickly. "Sorry for the wait! We weren't expecting..." her voice trailed off. "Company..." she finished weakly. "Sam."

He gave her a weak smile in return. He wondered if she had put his arrival together with the humans above yet. If she hadn't, she soon would. "Hi Krissy."

"You... you've been gone so long... we thought you were..." she grew quiet, bright eyes landing on his arm. She stared. "Sam, your arm..."

"What, this?" He put on a confident grin, shrugging it off. "This is nothing."

Some noise came from behind Krissy. Sam heard a kid running through the house and someone chasing them. "Is that Sean?" he asked, hopeful. He'd worried for the boy, being forced to live through the same nightmare as Sam. It would be good to see him, alive and well, hopefully adjusting to his new size.

Krissy paused. "It is..." she met him in the eyes. "Sam, there's something you need to know."

He tilted his head curiously. "What?"

A shadow walked up behind Krissy. A voice asked who had come to visit.

Sam froze in shock. His heart stopped.

Without a word, Krissy stepped out of the way. Sam and the man behind Krissy stood there in a silent staring contest, the moment stretching an uncomfortable amount of time.

Sam tried to talk, but found his mouth was dry.

He felt himself choke up, but managed to get one word out. Just one. Suddenly the most important word in the world to him.

"Walt."

A/N

They never found a body.

So, Sam officially grew up in Haven, Kansas. His motel was the Trails West Motel.

This chapter may or may not be why I got yelled at by my editor.

More to come July 24th

Chapter Text

Walt stared in shock at the son he'd thought he'd lost months ago.

"Walt," Sam said. His voice choked up, unable to get past that one word. He blinked, and his eyes shone with unshed tears.

Walt walked up to him with deliberate footsteps. He couldn't quite credit the sight before him. Sam stood there in the same clothes Mallory had made him before her death. A little more worn and rumpled than the last time Walt had seen them, but still good. Still in one piece. His heart twisted at the reminder of what he'd lost.

She'd be so happy to know Sam was safe.

Unable to stop himself, Walt gathered his tall son into a gentle hug. He was careful to avoid the broken arm Sam was favoring, spotting the clumsy splint holding it in place. Sam hugged him back with a desperate relief. Walt was surprised to find that Sam was actually sturdier than he'd been when he'd vanished, those months ago. His thin frame had filled in with solid muscle, broadening his shape. Even after years of climbing, Walt was far leaner than his adopted son.

The second they pulled away from each other, Sam gripped his shoulder, meeting him straight in the eyes. "Dad, how did... what happened? How are you still alive?" He blinked back glassy eyes. "I saw the house... Mom..."

Walt nodded. He asked himself the same thing every day, from when he woke up to when he went to bed. "Whatever it was just wanted her." He closed his eyes in painful remembrance. "I heard a crash, and something snapping. The ceiling must have come down on me or something - I woke up days later with Krissy by my side."

Krissy nodded. "We found him buried under debris when we went back to empty the house. He collapsed just outside of the post that was burned. A few inches to the side..."

Walt looked away from Sam. "When I came to, she told me you left... left with a human." His voice was flat, upset. "Mallory, dead... my son in the wind... there was nothing left for me."

Sam gulped nervously. "Dad... if we'd known... we would have..."

"Would've what? Stayed?" 

Sam's eyes flashed with anger at Walt's tone.

Walt softened his tone. He'd realized in the end how much Sam's family meant to him. How much it had torn him up to know Walt and Mallory feared them... an instinctive reaction, born from years of avoiding humans.

Humans, after all, were what had taken his beloved daughter away.

But Sam was a human, no matter that his size was the same as theirs now. He'd always have that tie to his brother, no matter what happened to him or how many years they were apart.

"Sam, do me a favor. Don't lie. To yourself, to me... we both knew you'd leave the moment you knew it was your brother."

Sam responded after a long moment of silence. He rubbed his face. "Still... if we'd known you were alive, we could've dug you out, gotten you safe, at least. Dean could've..."

Something inside Walt froze up at the casual mention of the hunter. Being picked up by a human while unconscious... Sam sounded far too comfortable with the idea. "Dean... that's your brother, right?" he asked slowly. It had been a long time since Walt had sat with Sam, sharing stories. Almost another life now.

He found himself missing those times. Things were simpler back then, before death had torn his family to pieces, taken away his son. Before there was a human in the room above that knew they were there. 

Dean.

"That's him." Sam quieted, eyes sad. He blinked up at everyone around him, marking the fear in their eyes. Krissy pushed Sean away, trying to shelter him. For all the good it would do. Sean was as human as Sam. It's hard to protect someone from what they are.

Krissy spoke up next. "Is that who we heard... up there?" she asked quietly.

Sam hesitated. Walt realized then... there's two voices up there. Not just one.

Dean's not alone.

The rumbles of the human voices was a constant background noise where they lived. It was something that could be ignored when everyone was safe at home, as long as they kept their voices down so they went unnoticed under the floorboards. Like now. But...

"Sam," Walt said urgently. "Do those humans... do they know we're here?"

Dean leaned slightly back on the bed, stretching out his legs. He had no idea how long it would be before Sam made it back up. The awkward silence stretched out between him and John.

The bed creaked at his movement. Dean heard movement from the duffel bag laying next him, small scuffles. Guilt filled his chest. The last thing he wanted to do was scare them more after everything they'd been through. His eyes flicked over it, wondering what it was like for them inside. The bag only stood a little over half a foot tall, and a few feet long. For them that made a room that stretched over their heads. One that he could lift effortlessly, and had. With them all inside. He could remember their nervous reaction to him asking if they wanted to come out of the duffel with his dad around.

"Hey," Dean stares down into the duffel bag guiltily. "Sam's gonna make sure the motel's safe for you guys. Do you want to come out here with us while we wait?"

They shift uncomfortably under his gaze. One of them - the older man named Mikael - speaks up for the rest of them. "If it's all the same to you, we'll stay in here, sir."

Dean gives a half smile at the small man's formality. "Okay. No problem. And you can call me Dean, alright? I don't mind, really." He sits back up, leaving the bag unzipped. They aren't prisoners anymore... If he and Sam have their way they'll never be prisoners again.

"Dean," John said, startling Dean from his thoughts.

Dean silenced him with a brief glance, cocking his head at the bag next to him. He didn't want his dad making them nervous with his loud voice. He'd seen Sam's reactions to John's loud growls, and Sam was used to being around a human all the time. The people next to him had only been around people who wanted to use them, sell them for a profit. Not exactly a good first impression with humans.

John softened his voice, to Dean's surprise. "Dean, tell me. Is he always that stubborn?" Surprisingly, there was a small smile in his voice. Maybe even pride.

"Uh, yeah. Sam's always pretty stubborn and independent." Dean snorted at the thought. "His size sure hasn't changed anything there."

"All that aside, do you really think it's a good idea, letting him go charging off on his own like that?"

Dean cocked his head at John in confusion. "I'm not 'letting' him do anything. Sam's a grown man. If he wants to make sure it's safe, I'm not going to stand in his way. He makes his own decisions, Dad. He's not some kind of pet, he's my brother."

John shook his head back. "That's not what I mean, Dean. It's dangerous out there for someone his size normally, and now he's hurt. What if something happens or he gets hurt and we can't get to him?"

Dean held out a hand, quelling John's quiet tirade. He glanced over at the duffel. There hadn't been any sound from inside ever since John had started talking. He worried that they might be frightened, subjected to hunters conversation. "Dad, he knows that better than anyone, trust me. He's been dealing with this for years," he arched his eyebrows. "Plus, this is the same motel he grew up in. If there's anywhere he knows the ins and outs of better than anyone, it's here."

That shut John right up. Guilt crept onto his face, a guilt that was all too familiar to Dean. But it was all true. This was the place they'd left Sam all those years ago, abandoned by his own family to be raised by strangers. Sam was lucky the other small people had been there. They'd pulled him right out from under the witch’s nose when they'd rescued Sam. If only he could thank them...

Hearing a sound from behind the alarm clock on the nightstand, Dean turned with a smile. It had to be Sammy.

Sam didn't answer for a long moment. He stared down at the thick wood grain under his feet, frowning. The tension in the room thickened as the silence stretched out between them.

He looked up at last, meeting first Walt's, then Krissy's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never wanted to come back here... put you in danger again. But Dean's up there, with... with my dad."

Walt blanched. "Your dad? The hunter?! " For some reason thought of Sam's father - his real father - put a spark of fear in Walt that ran deeper than his fear of Sam's brother. He could remember seeing Sam's father that one time, right when he and Mallory saved Sam from the witch. It was hard to forget someone who almost stepped on your entire family without ever noticing.

"Him. He came with us..." Sam's lips thinned. "Dad, there's something I need to tell you. Something important."

"More important than two hunters knowing where we live?"

Sam waved that off with his good arm. "They don't know exactly where you live. I would never do that to you. It's not my place. And they don't know where the main entrance is. I made sure to take the emergency tunnel. They think you'd need to get here from behind the bed." He took a deep breath. "No, this is far more important." He cradled his broken arm supportively. "A few days ago, I... I was captured. By other humans."

"Captured?" Krissy sounded out of breath. Even the thought of being caught by a human caused fear in any of Walt's people. The helplessness that came from being locked up.... Walt remembered it well. 

From both sides of the cage.

Looking out at a human staring down at him. Looking in at his sweet, barely nine-year-old daughter and knowing there was nothing, nothing, he could do to save her. Forced to watch her taken from the motel by a disgusting family that thought she'd make a good pet for their daughter. He'd almost thrown up from disgust that day. The day he'd started to lose everything important to him, all because of humans.

Sam went on. "Dean got me out, with a little help, as you can see. But... Dad, Krissy, there were others there. Other people like us." Sam gave Walt a soul-searching stare with his wide, hazel eyes. Walt had forgotten how potent those eyes could be. "Dad, one of the others that was there... was Bree. Briella. Your daughter that was lost."

A rushing filled Walt's ears. He was aware of people talking but couldn't make out the words. Briella... his daughter lost so long ago to humans. For a moment, he could see her beautiful smile, as radiant as her mother's while she bragged about her findings to him. He'd been so proud of her. "Bree..." he mumbled to himself.

Eventually he realized Sam was standing in front of him, trying to get him to stand up. Sam's voice came from far off, echoing down a long dark tunnel. "Dad, Dad are you alright?"

Walt realized he'd just sat down right where he was on the floor. He stared disbelievingly up at Sam. "Bree... she's alive? "

He let Sam help him to his feet as he answered. "She's alive. She's fine. And a few others with her. Dean saved us all from the bastards."

"Where --" Walt licked dry lips. "Where is she?" he managed to get out.

A smile quirked at Sam's lips. "They're with Dean." He held up his hand at the outrage directed at him from all corners, leaving people with a hunter. "They'll be safe, I promise. I didn't want to risk them getting hurt if it wasn't safe, so I went ahead to scout out the place. Make sure there are no traps, make sure that everyone here’s okay. The works. Once I'm done, I go back and they come home. For good."

"Bree..." Walt said softly. "She's with hunters? " He couldn't get past that thought. He licked his lips. His mind raced with thoughts of what she could be going through, even now. His daughter, in the care of immensely dangerous hunters, gigantic, unstoppable... something they could never hope to fight against.

"Dad." The tone in Sam's voice pulled Walt's attention back. "She's safe," he repeated, "I promise. I trust Dean more than anyone else in the world. He won't let anything happen to her."

"And your dad? What about him?"

Sam's lips thinned a little at the mention of John. "She's safe," he said again. "Look, I should go tell them it's safe. That way they can all get in the wall, out of sight. They've been through a lot the last few weeks."

Walt gathered himself. "I'm coming with you," he decided abruptly.

Krissy's eyes flashed with surprise. "Walt, no. You can't. There's humans up there."

"Yes, and they have my daughter. I need to see her. I'm not just going to wait down here for Sam to bring her home." His own eyes flashed with stubborn determination. "I failed her once. I'm not failing her again."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked softly.

Walt blinked, digging up every ounce of stubbornness he had. 

"Yes." 

Walt refused to wait any longer now that he knew who was waiting for him in that room above. He left together with Sam against Krissy's protests, going out the same entrance Sam had come in. No use letting the humans know there was more than one way in. Bad enough they knew about the first. Walt knew he'd have to seal the entrance up and make another one. It was too dangerous for anyone else to know about, especially hunters.

The long tunnel passed by far too fast. Walt could hear the voices of the two humans thundering above them. It sounded like they were arguing with each other. He shivered at the power in the voices, yet Sam didn't flinch once.

Walt still couldn't wrap his mind around how casual Sam seemed about everything. He didn't even seem nervous about the two humans up there. Two humans they would be face-to-face with in a few minutes, a thought that sent a vicious chill up Walt's back.

They exchanged a few words on their way. Not much - Walt didn't want the hunters to realize they were there yet. Bad enough they knew about his people to begin with. But Walt asked after Sam, how he'd been the last few months. Sam didn't say much, explaining it was a lot to talk about. He promised to give Walt the full story later.

From where they came out under the bed, all they could make out was dark shadows and two pairs of massive boots. Long legs stretching out of sight. Walt cringed back instinctively. He'd spent years avoiding humans, an entire lifetime, and here he was. About to confront two of the most dangerous type of humans head on. Huge voices rumbled overhead as the two humans - the two hunters that had his daughter captive - carried on their argument, unaware they had company underfoot. Their loud voices alone drowned out the sounds from Sam and Walt's entry.

Sam glanced back at Walt, meeting his nervous gaze. “You gonna be alright, Dad?”

His adopted title made his stomach churn, knowing the man who the title belonged to was sitting in the same room as them. Close enough to reach out and grab them both if he knew they were there. It was a strident reminder of what Sam truly was, facing down his family. Hell, for all they knew Sam would be taller than the two humans in the room. He was certainly taller than anyone else Walt had ever seen at their size. If he'd remained human he would be a terrifying sight to behold.

But Sam was Sam. Walt knew even if the boy shot back to his normal height that second, he'd always be safe to be around. No matter what he was or what size he was, he was family. Always would be. The two hunters, on the other hand...

Pushing away those disturbing thoughts, Walt focused. “I’m fine,” he declared.

Sam gave him another of his soulful, knowing looks in response. “I can do this alone,” he reassured Walt softly. “They’re my family. I trust them.”

Walt couldn’t help jerking his gaze at the humans again. One of the boots close to them shifted, scraping across the ground as the human adjusted his position above. Dean. Sam had taken a moment to point out the closer hunter as Dean, the 'safer' of the pair according to Sam. If safer was ever possible with hunters.

The sheer size and power of humans would always alarm him. He could never be as calm about this as Sam was. “N-no,” he said. He couldn’t stop his voice from shaking at what he was agreeing to. At what he was insisting on. “If Bree’s up there…” he trailed off. Nothing was more important than her. Not anymore. 

Not since losing Mallory.

And right now Bree was the captive of two immense, dangerous hunters. Men who killed supernatural beings like them for a living.

Defenseless. 

He had to do this. She needed him.

Sam hesitated for a long moment. Walt didn't move, determination filling every ounce of his body. Eventually the boy turned, leading the way to the back of the nightstand.

"Will you be okay?" Walt asked when they got back there. The nightstand towered overhead. A thick black cord trailed down the back, past where they were standing to a plug in the wall.

Sam's eyes followed the cord up the cliff-like wood. He cocked his head in contemplation. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Piece of cake. I can do this."

He grabbed the cord with his good arm, flashing Walt a confident grin. Standing at the top of the nightstand would give them a more equal footing with the hunters. Not that it would make much of a difference, but as outmatched as he was right now Walt would take every bit of footing he could gain. For what little it counted, Sam agreed. Not for Dean, but for John.

The climb up the alarm clock cord was slow, hampered as they were by Sam’s broken arm. He managed it well, expertly using splinters on the back of the stand to catch his balance when he needed to. Walt was proud of Sam's skill with climbing. He'd always been one of the best. And it wasn't the first time he, or any of them had climbed with an injury. Walt's people didn't have the luxury of waiting for injuries to heal the way humans did. If you needed food, you needed food. There were no stores to be had at this size. No easy living or friendly handouts. Asking a human for help could turn into the last thing you ever did. Worse, it could put your family and friends in danger.

By the time they made it to the top, ducking behind the alarm clock to catch their breaths, the room had grown still and quiet. Full of expectation. Walt froze the moment he realized it, instincts gone haywire. The hunters knew. They must have heard something, or seen movement behind the nightstand. The hair on the back of his neck rose.

It was just another reason he hated being near hunters. They were far more attuned to the world around them than normal humans. That sixth sense they had that kept them alive on hunts served to alert them to the smallest movements, no matter how harmless. Being around a hunter was almost a death sentence for any of Walt's people, and now here he was, in a room with two of the largest hunters he’d ever seen.

Sam went to walk out from behind the clock without another word. Walt grabbed his shoulder, wheeling him around. “What are you doing?” he hissed. 

Sam stared at him for a second, then gently pushed Walt’s hand down. “I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just… stay here, okay?”

Before Walt could grab him again, Sam jogged out from behind the alarm clock. “Dean!” he yelled up, waving his good arm to catch the hunter's attention.

The loud sound of fabric shifting filled Walt’s ears as the closest human moved closer. Flattening himself against the back of the alarm clock, he listened carefully. He found himself torn between the instincts that told him to get as far away from the humans as possible and the thought of his adopted son out there all alone, willingly putting himself within the human's clutches. Walt leaned around the clock, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening in the motel room.

His breath caught in his throat. Sam was standing on the nightstand, his small form overshadowed by the immense silhouette of the hunter. Intense green eyes held Walt’s son in their steady gaze. A huge hand rested casually on the surface of the nightstand near Sam, who didn't seem at all alarmed that he was standing next to something - someone - that could snatch him up without warning. There was complete trust in the way Sam was standing, so vulnerable and so close.

This hunter was clearly Sam's brother. Walt hadn't seen much of him that fateful day, while he'd been a patron at the motel. But he could remember that dark, dirty blond hair sticking out of the bed when Walt had come to get Sam. Sam, alone and helpless in a room with a human. Walt should have known he wouldn't give in so easily that day. All he'd wanted to do was keep his family safe, but there were some things you couldn't protect a person from.

And chances were, Sam being out of their home when they'd been attacked had been the only thing that had saved his life. 

Whatever else had happened that day, Walt was grateful his son had lived.

The second, older hunter Walt recognized as Sam's father was sitting on the opposite bed. Older and more worn than the last time Walt had seen him but definitely the same man. He slid closer the moment his eyes landed on his small son. Walt swallowed nervously. To let himself be surrounded by not one but two hunters, family or not... Sam was one of the bravest people he'd ever met, hands down. If anything went wrong, he was helpless out there.

Sam’s brother - Dean - leaned down closer to Sam. “Hey Sammy,” he said in a soft voice, smiling gently. It was close to the distant rumble of a thunderstorm - a deep, welcoming tone that caught Walt off guard with its sincerity.

For a human, a hunter even, Sam’s brother didn’t seem so bad. Walt hadn't expected that. His voice was low and soft, he wasn't leaning too close over Sam, and he hadn’t reached for or grabbed Sam at all. Not once - even with his hand resting mere inches away. The second Dean had laid eyes on Sam, his entire demeanor had changed, softening somewhat. He was far less threatening than he'd been a few minutes ago, during the argument they'd heard over their heads. It gave Walt sudden hope that Sam was right - these humans could be trusted, could help.

And then the second hunter spoke up before Dean could go any further.

Sam’s father. John.

“You shouldn’t have climbed up there on your own, Sam," he said authoritatively. “Ask me or Dean for help next time.” The commanding tone in his voice clearly expected Sam to do what he said without argument. Walt bristled at the thought of his son being forced to be held in those massive, dangerous hands, completely at the mercy of the hunters. John leaned down, brushing a broad finger casually against the sling Sam’s arm was in. It wasn’t enough to hurt the little limb, but a flicker of alarm crossed Sam’s face at the unexpected contact. “You’ll just make this worse than it already is.”

A few things happened simultaneously.

Sam’s brother Dean shot an enormous hand out, tightly gripping John’s wrist and freezing him in place. Any trace of warmth left Dean's face at the unwelcome breach of Sam's personal space, giving his father a cold glare.

Sam took a nervous step away from the two immense hunters, cradling his broken arm with a protective hand. Fear flashed over his face.

And Walt… 

Walt felt a surge of self-righteous anger fill him. Seeing Sam’s injury treated so casually and disrespectfully by the man claiming to be his father…

His vision hazed over with red.

Everything after that went a little fuzzy.

“WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?! ” He stormed out from behind the alarm clock, straight past a flabbergasted Sam. The two hunters froze in place, towering over the nightstand with identical expressions of shock as they beheld the miniature man.

“This boy almost died because of you! You left him here all alone, barely over two inches tall! If we hadn’t been able to get to him in time, he’d be nothing more than a memory! So you don’t get to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do! He did fine on his own for years without your help.” Walt glared up at John angrily. He ignored Sam’s brother completely, his subconscious dismissing Dean as a threat after the way Walt had seen him treat Sam. Like an equal.

Sam and Dean’s eyes went round with disbelief at the sight of John Winchester getting yelled at by someone who didn’t even top four inches. As Walt went on, Dean’s hand fell away from John’s wrist, mouth hanging open. John’s face darkened the entire time, his eyes locked onto Walt. His body language itself grew menacing. 

Walt didn’t notice any of this happening above him, too caught up in the moment. Caught up with the memory of his son being disrespected. 

“This boy spent weeks trying to find you! Even though it could have cost him his life, he had to see. Had to be sure. I dragged him home, night after night, always trying to slip outside to see if he could find his family! See if your car was in the parking lot. And you never were. You never came back for him. I watched him lose hope. Slowly. Painfully. Day by day by day. Until he let himself accept his so-called family had abandoned him!”

Walt advanced a few more steps. If he had been the size of a human, he would have cut an intimidating figure in the room. “So you don’t get to tell him that he has to let himself be picked up by you." The derision in his voice was thick and vicious. "If he thinks he can climb up without help, he can damn well climb up without help! I've seen him do things you wouldn't think possible, through sheer determination. This boy is more of a man than you’ll ever be!”

Walt stopped there, taking in deep breaths to calm down. In the sudden, deafening silence, it sunk in what he’d just done. Who he'd just yelled at. The two hunters were staring almost straight down at him from their towering height, massive eyes locked unrelentingly on his small form. His body locked up, sudden terror hitting him at his helplessness. Walt took in the shock on Sam's face, the disbelief on Dean's and the anger on John's.

Sam's voice was small behind him, hushed so the hunters wouldn't hear. "Dad what are you doing..."

If only Walt knew.

Sam’s dad stared down at the nightstand with an angry glower.

“You think I didn’t care?” he asked softly. Dangerously. He pulled away from Dean, standing to his full height. “You think I wantedto leave Sam behind? That there wasn't anything I would have done for him to be safe and sound?"

He took a step forward. Walt felt his heart drop at the menace in the huge eyes above them.

“I would have given anything to have him back. Anything," he growled out each word. "We chased that witch for weeks. For weeks! Everything I did, I did for Sam. For both of them. I trained them, I taught them how to protect themselves and I still lost him!" 

John leaned down suddenly, face only a foot away from Walt. Dean dove between his father and the nightstand, spotting the beginning of danger. Walt and Sam stumbled away as Dean held John back, afraid his dad would do something he'd regret in the heat of the moment. Sam put himself between Walt and John as well, knowing his father wouldn't hurt him.

"I lost Mary and these boys were everything I had left! You don't think it hurt? You don't think I sat up every night, wondering what I could have done different?" 

John didn't even notice Dean's arms forcing him away from the nightstand. Sam relaxed slightly with distance between Walt and the massive hunter. Walt couldn't stop himself from shaking at the menace directed at him.

"You know what?" John straightened. "I don't have to listen to this from someone like you." He pushed Dean off him with a glare.

Walt felt the outage start to fill him again, dissipating any trace of intimidation. "What, I'm smaller than you so it doesn't matter what I say? My pain is less than yours?"

Sam closed his eyes at that, his voice still too soft for either hunter to hear. "You're insane. That's it, you're all crazy and I'm asleep and dreaming. I'm gonna wake up, still be trapped and this will just be a memory..."

Walt ignored him. "You think you're the only one who had to go through this pain?" he called up to John. "I went through life thinking my daughter was gone forever, and then I lost my son and wife on top of that. I had nothing left and no way to find out what happened. No way to know that my son was alive and well, that my daughter could be saved. No way to find out what killed my wife and almost killed me..." his voice trailed off. The outrage vanished at her memory. Her smile and happy blue eyes flashed through his mind.

Something in John changed at those words, like a switch had been flipped. A recognition shone in his eyes, an understanding he’d been lacking before. The anger faded from his face, replaced with... empathy? Was that even possible? "I... I'm sorry for your loss." He hesitated for a long moment, seeming as though he wanted to say something more.

Everyone in the room held their breath.

John stared down at the floor, shaking his head. "I can't be here." He grabbed his jacket from a chair, stalking out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him. Tension Walt hadn't known he had released from his shoulders. Sam, at that point, had his face buried in his hands.

Drawing himself up, Walt turned to the other hunter in the room. 

Dean.

Sam's brother was standing near the nightstand, shock covering his face from the unexpected turn of events. Walt watched him flex a massive hand as he watched his father's silhouette walk away. Walt couldn't help stiffening the moment Dean looked his way, huge green eyes focusing down on Walt and Sam. He pushed down his fear, meeting the eyes of Sam's brother for the first time in his life. 

No time for fear now. Not with Bree so close.

"I'd like to see my daughter now."

Chapter Text

Dean watched John's angry silhouette stalk away from the motel room, towards his truck in the parking lot. He'd never seen his dad get so upset over anything, aside from the falling out with Bobby a few years back. The little guy with Sam must have hit a nerve with his words. Dean ruminated on them for a moment, remembering what he'd said. The way he'd said it... it struck a chord in Dean's mind, fitting together like puzzle pieces with memories of the past Sam had shared with him.

It dawned on him who was standing there on that nightstand with his brother. Dean turned around, eyes locking on the small, blonde man. The moment Dean's gaze landed on him, the little guy stiffened, bravely meeting his eyes.

"I'd like to see my daughter now." The voice was soft, but definitely there.

Dean's mouth turned to ash at the confirmation of his suspicions. It was Walt. Sam's adopted father. Bree's father. The man they'd both thought dead months ago when the demon had killed off Sam's adopted mother, Mallory, the same way their own mother Mary had died. 

Dean caught a slight strain in the small voice. The same strain Sam got when he was surrounded by humans he didn't know too well, like Bobby and John. Admiration filled him at the realization of how much courage it had taken Walt to come out here and confront two hunters for his daughter. Even though Dean would die before letting anyone hurt Sam or his family, there was no way for Walt to know that. For someone smaller than a pencil, he had balls. Sam clearly hadn't gotten all his stubbornness from his Winchester genes.

Dean licked his lips, trying to wet his mouth so he could speak. He knelt down next to the nightstand, putting himself on their level. Walt took a few steps away from him, backing towards Sam. "You're... you're Walt, aren't you?" Dean asked. His eyes shone with a wetness he couldn't control. "You're the one who saved Sammy all those years ago."

"I - I, ah... I guess... yes..." Walt stuttered out, having a difficult time meeting Dean's eyes. He kept twitching away nervously, unable to stay still. Pure instinct wouldn't let him out of its thrall.

Sam put a hand supportively on Walt's arm, calming him down a bit with how steady he was. Dean couldn't help staring at how Sam seemed tall around Walt and the others. In fact, he was the tallest.... borrower? Are they borrowers? Dean had seen, making him wonder again how tall Sam would be if he was human still.

Dean let complete sincerity saturate his words, his green gaze warm and steady. This was something he wished he could have said a long, long time ago, when he'd first found Sam that fateful day, trying to hide from him in a motel room, smaller than a mouse. "Walt... I just wanted to thank you for what you did. Saving Sam all those years ago, even risking your own lives to do it. You and the others... you never have anything to fear from me. You have my word. Sam's family is my family. Size be damned."

Walt's shoulders relaxed a smidge at the welcoming words. "Y-you're welcome," he managed to get out, still nervous.

Dean smiled gently at him before standing back up. It was time. "I'll be right back," he let them know.

The duffel was completely silent when he came over to it, not a single sound escaping the cloth walls. Dean pulled it open, revealing the other little people standing huddled in a corner. "Hey guys," he rumbled, keeping his voice as soft as he could. He met Bree's tiny gaze, her little blues almost begging him to explain what she'd overheard in the room. Dean grinned as he said the best words he’d said all day, "Your father's come to take you home." Sam's small, adopted family could be reunited at long last.

His gaze expanded to encompass them all, meeting each set of eyes in turn. "To take you all home."

This time they didn't hesitate to step onto his hands. John was gone, a huge improvement for the small, nervous people Dean had saved. They might have started to trust Dean after he'd rescued them from that horrible house, but the same couldn't be said for John, not by a longshot. Sam was the only one willing to give his dad a chance - the rest just wanted to stay as far away from the dangerous unknown as they could.

Once Dean had all four of them standing on his hand, he curled the other around it, guarding the edges while he brought both hands up to his stomach. This way there would be no way for them to fall off while he was walking. Ignoring the ticklish feeling their feet made against his palm when they shifted in place, Dean walked over to the nightstand, lowering his hand against the edge. He held the hand steady and lifted his other hand out of their way.

For a few seconds, no one moved. Bree was frozen, staring at her father next to Sam in disbelief. Sam had a huge grin lighting up his face, while Walt had the same expression of disbelief as his daughter. He took a few steps towards Bree. "Is... is it really you, Bree?" he asked, his voice cracking.

That broke the tension in the air. Bree tossed herself off Dean's hand, slamming into Walt with all she had. He swept her into the air with a triumphant grin. "Bree! I never thought I'd see you again!"

Sam shifted on his feet, momentarily out of place in the reunion. Once Walt lowered his daughter back to the ground, they both embraced Sam and pulled him in, a beloved part of the family. Dean couldn't make out what they were saying from his vantage point, left out of the reunion. They were in a tiny, desperate hug with all three of them, words whispered to each other with how close they were. Dean smiled, tears in his eyes at how exuberant Sam was.

Christian, Mikael and Kara got down off Dean's hand during the happy family reunion, small feet stepping off his hand to join the other three. Once they were gone, Dean settled down into a squat, arms resting against his knees for balance as he watched.

There was happy expressions all around. Walt picked up little Kara with a grin, spinning around with her suspended over his head, squealing. Mikael and Christian smiled as they were introduced to Sam and Bree's father, as amazed as Bree was that he was still alive after hearing what Sam had said before.

Bree bounced on her toes, kissing Sam on the cheek. "That's for bringing me home," she said with a wink. 

Dean had to hide a smile at Sam's expense at the flustered expression he got on his face. He’d never seen Sam’s reaction to a girl before. "It... it was nothing," Sam managed to croak out.

To everyone's surprise, she turned to Dean as soon as she was done with Sam. With a wave of her arm, she motioned him down.

Trying to get over his surprise, Dean dropped to his knees. He hadn't been expecting anyone to say much to him after what had been done to them. After all they'd been put through by humans.

The moment he was close, a few of the others took nervous steps away. Dean was pleased when he saw that Kara, Walt and Bree didn't flinch back. Sam, of course, wasn't worried at all. He was beginning to regain his confidence now that Dean had him free of that damn family.

Bree waved him even closer, walking near the edge of the nightstand. Dean leaned in, keeping a few inches of space between him and the edge. He didn't want to risk crowding them.

A smile crossed her face. "Are you afraid I have cooties?" she called up. "Come here!" Her small voice was surprisingly commanding, confident he'd listen.

Afraid of being this close to any of Sam's people, never mind six of them, Dean found himself holding his breath as he leaned in the rest of the way. His chin hovered above the surface of the nightstand. With him like this, none of them, including Sam, who was easily the tallest, could stand eye to eye with him.

He could barely focus down on Bree now. With her only a bare inch away, her tiny body was blurry to Dean's eyes. They strained to try and see what she was doing. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously at her proximity. Standing on her tip toes, she leaned in to give Dean a peck on the cheek, same as she’d done with Sam for thanks. Dean let his breath out in a rush, shocked by the delicate sensation of her brushing against his cheek. The breeze he caused blew Sam's hair out of his face and almost knocked Kara off her feet next to Walt, making Dean's face flush red in embarrassment. Even his tiniest motion had huge consequences for any of them, no matter how much he wanted to will it otherwise.

When he was sure Bree was far enough away from him that he wouldn't knock her over, he sat up, looming over them once more.

He blinked down at her. "I... I thought you were afraid of me," he said with his voice so low it was hard to make out.

Her expression softened at his worried words. "Sure, I get nervous around you," she said with a shrug. "And I can't help but be afraid. Beth was nice, but I spent years at the mercy of humans. But... you gave me back my life. Brought me back to my family, my home. So yes, you're a little intimidating, but I trust you and Sam. Thank you."

Dean licked his lips, still nervous. "You're... you're welcome." He brought himself back to a squat, a bit further away from the nightstand this time to give them back some space. "Do you guys... did you want a hand getting down to the floor?"

Even Walt smiled at that, his body language more relaxed around Dean with the clear trust both his children had given the huge hunter. "W-we'll be fine," he managed to get out, addressing Dean directly.

Walt gestured the others to where he'd come out from, directing his little flock behind the alarm clock. Using the cord to climb up. Smart, Dean thought to himself, admiring their resourcefulness. Even though Sam probably had put himself at risk trying to climb with a broken arm, Dean would die before admitting it to John after the way he'd acted with Sam and Walt.

Sam was the only one who didn't move. The rest followed Walt's directions, slowly slipping out of sight. Dean realized then he might never see any of them again, the way they lived. He was a human after all, the exact thing they avoided. Regret welled up in him that these people - all kind and normal people - had to avoid interacting with humans for their own safety. If only the world could be different, for all their sakes.

Kara waved back at him with a grin, refusing to budge until Dean waved back at her with a hesitant hand. His heart warmed at her happy grin, glad he'd managed to not screw things up there.

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was watching the rest with something holding him back. Dean had a feeling he knew what it was. With a grin of his own, he let Sam know, "It's okay, Sam. Go. You know where to find me. I'm not going anywhere without you and I get the feeling you've got a lot of catching up to do with everyone."

Sam grinned back at him, happy to hear the reassurance. He turned, then hesitated. "Dean... you mind giving me a hand?" he asked. "I mean... I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have tried to climb up on my own the first time. Twice would be pushing luck I don't think I have."

Dean let out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're right. Don’t worry, I won't tell on you."

His hand extended next to Sam. The small hunter stepped on, giving Dean a thumbs up when he was ready. Dean easily lowered Sam to the ground, holding the hand near the back of the nightstand. Sam hopped down, the sling keeping his arm supported like it was made to. The way Dean had designed it. 

Sam turned to Dean.

"So... guess I'll see you around?" he asked, his small voice hesitant as he gazed up at his massive brother.

"You bet, Sammy." Dean brushed a finger lightly over Sam's little head, mussing up his fluffy hair. This time Sam didn't even flinch or act annoyed. He gave Dean a smile back instead, glad things were returning to normal. "I'll be here."

With that, Sam turned away from Dean, heading towards the back of the nightstand where the rest of his family waited. Dean watched Walt put an arm around his son's shoulders, talking all the way, telling Sam how much he'd been missed.

It was a night to rejoice.

It wasn't often that new people came to live in the motel. Kara, Christian and Mikael were treated as guests of honor, offered the best they had on hand. They were welcomed in as part of the family, given a place to stay at Krissy’s until a new home could be found.

Bree was welcomed in as the lost daughter she was. Walt and Bree had trouble meeting each other in the eyes without tearing up. That last time they'd seen each other - Walt on one side of the cage, Bree trapped on the other - was bright in their minds, the pain as fresh as yesterday. But now, with both of them home and safe, it could finally begin to heal. Even all those years raising Sam, the pain of losing Bree had tore him up each and every day. Thinking that there was something he could have done different, somehow he could have saved her from her fate... those thoughts had haunted him for years.

It was why he had never wanted to trust Sam's brother, Dean.

But now they were all here. Safe. And Dean knew exactly where they were. Walt didn't bother fooling himself that the hunter couldn't hear the faint sounds of celebration from under his dresser. But Sam trusted him, and after Dean had brought Bree home, Walt was just as willing. Dean had earned it, in a way no other human ever had in living history. 

Seeing how careful Sam's brother had been with everyone - even with them all contained within his two massive hands, completely at his mercy - gave Walt appreciation for what he was. Dean considered them family, and in his mind that was all that mattered. Not how big they were, not the fact that they weren't exactly 'human'... just that they were family. His family.

That other hunter, John, though... Walt found his thoughts turning to Sam's father. That man was nothing like Dean, nothing like Sam. It was hard to believe they were even related. Still... their first meeting hadn't exactly gone the way Walt had intended. With the sight of Sam's fragile arm at risk, he'd maybe gotten a little carried away...

Sam stood in the back of the celebration. It was clear he was as ecstatic as the rest, but after all he'd been through, he didn't feel he fit in anymore. Walt and Bree both had to pull him away from the wall more than once. He did smile, far more than he ever had as a child, and for that alone Walt was thankful.

Little Sean's reaction to the newcomers was heartwarming. When they all got back, he'd run up, wanting to know what was going on, why were there so many people, was there really a human up above them? Krissy's home was in an area that few humans stayed, giving them a bit more freedom to come and go as they pleased except on rare occasions when the motel was booked up.

Sam had laughed at the boy's wide-eyed curiosity. Kneeling down, he'd told Sean, "It's okay. That's my brother up there. You don't have to worry about any other humans with me and Dean around."

If anything, Sean's eyes had grown wider. "Dean? Isn't that...?" He’d been told the story of how he’d been rescued from the witch himself, carefully saved by Dean that fateful day so long ago. They might be afraid of the hunter, but no one would lie about a thing like that.

Kara had managed to squish her way through the other adults, finally getting into the home. "Dean's the coolest!" she exclaimed. "He saved my daddy from the bad people!"

She and Sean had ended up running off together, telling stories about everything they'd each been through. Walt smiled. The former human and a girl who was friends with another human... certainly a strange pairing. But fitting, with the way their lives were changing. Never before had a human known where any of the little people in the walls were. And here they were, as safe as ever. 

How strange their lives had become.

Later in the evening, John came back to the motel room. He paused outside the door, considering Dean's door alongside his. He should go in there... explain himself to Dean. Ask forgiveness, even. For leaving him and Sam on their own, for threatening the small man with Sam... even John recognized that had been a low blow. Neither of the people on the nightstand had any defense against him, and one of them had been his own son. Not to mention terrifying a bunch of innocents in Dean's duffel as collateral damage. He shook his head in bemusement. Dean's duffel... what a place to hide four people. What a strange world. He'd never thought he'd see the day his own son was rescuing non-humans. He was unsure whether he should be proud or ashamed.

In the end, he turned away, going into his own room. He could never explain himself to Dean. He wouldn't believe the words himself.

Sitting on the bed, he untied his boots, tossing them one after the other in a corner. Then paused.

"I know you're in here. There's no need to hide."

A moment of silence passed before a small man came out from behind the alarm clock. The same place he'd hidden in Dean's room. John and the man stared at each other in quiet contemplation.

"You're him," John said, breaking their moment of silence. It wasn't a question. "The man who saved my son's life all those years ago...”

Crossing his arms with a stern look on his face, the thin, blonde man nodded. "Walt. Sam's adopted father."

John found himself nodding in turn. "Well then, consider this a thank you. You saved the son I gave up on, and I can never repay you for that. For everything you've done... all I can see when I look at him is something that needs to be protected. But that's wrong, isn't it? Sam's been on his own a long time. Because of me." He sighed. "Looks like he grew up without me."

Walt snorted. "And I suppose all this makes up for you threatening me earlier?"

"You have gall for such a little guy," John said in slight disbelief. He reached for the remote control Walt was standing next to, making the small man flinch back from his hand. "You might want to work on that." Especially if he's afraid of such little things.

Walt frowned up at John, crossing his arms. "Because you're going to threaten your son's adopted father. Because after everything else that boy’s been through, you'd put him through losing yet another family member. He's already lost both mothers. He shouldn't have to go through more."

Walt raked his fingers through his sharp blonde hair. After the last year, a shock of grey hairs could be seen above his eye, giving him a more distinguished bearing that fit his natural, stern nature. "Look, I'm not here to fight with you. I just wanted to meet the man who raised Sam as a child. You know, without your children, both of them, I'd have never seen my daughter again. So... thank you. Whatever else happens, and whatever else you do, I thank you for that."

With that he turned to go. John said quickly, "Wait!"

Walt only spared him a brief, backwards glance. He grabbed onto the cord of the alarm clock. "What?" he asked as he turned away.

"I'm... I really am sorry for what you went through. For what you lost. One way or the other, I'm going to make that demon pay. For what it did to all of us. That I promise."

Walt never responded.

Laughing, Bree tugged Sam's good arm. "Come on already! You're so slow!"

He laughed. "Says the girl who couldn't keep up with the broken-arm guy climbing."

That elicited a roll of her bright eyes. She was almost glowing with the thought of where they were going. "I just let you have a head start, that's all. But it's been so long since I've been up here, I just don't want to wait anymore!"

Grinning, he followed her through the vents. It really had been too long. A few more turns and a straight passage following the line of rooms underneath and they were almost there. Sam's eyes sought the exit he knew was there, the exit he'd used so many times in the past.

There. "Come on, we're almost there!"

Sam pushed open the small, cracked siding. The exit led to the outside world, a small, hidden alcove that was just big enough to sit under and watch the parking lot of the motel. Sam had used it so many times in the past, just sitting there and watching for the Impala to come back. For the Impala to bring back his family. Now, that same Impala was parked right underneath them, gleaming black as the last light of day hit her, kept meticulously clean by Dean's care. Sam's home.

With a sense of happiness and a feeling that everything was right in the world for once, he sat under the overhang. From here no bird of prey would ever spot them, and the humans down below couldn't see into the darkness of the alcove. They were safe.

The sky was slowly turning orange, the sun sending the last light of the day over the motel. Bree settled down next to him, smiling at the sight of her home, the home she'd thought she'd lost for so long.

A door slammed underneath them.

Sitting there in the sunset, they watched Dean walk out to the Impala. He was off to a bar to relax after all the excitement. As uneasy as he was leaving Sam, with his brother securely hidden in the walls with the others he had decided to give Sam some space. From this distance, he almost seemed the same size as they were. His form wasn’t towering over them, casting a shadow that went on for what seemed like forever. Sam could pretend for a few minutes he and Dean were the same. Normal, whatever normal might be.

Sam watched Dean, unseen. For a moment, Dean paused, as though he could sense them watching him the way Sam could feel a human watching him. Who knows. Dean was a hunter. He might be able to feel their gazes on him, even from there.

After a moment, Dean seemed to shrug it off. He went to the Impala, his casual, bow-legged walk making Sam smile. He'd never seen anyone walk quite the same way as Dean. The hunter was one of a kind, in more ways than one.

“He’s really not that bad. For a human," Bree said thoughtfully.

Sam gave her a quick glance of surprise. It was the last thing he ever thought she’d admit, even after the surprising kiss she'd given the hunter. “Some of them aren’t,” Sam said. He thought about the last few days. His right arm went to his left unconsciously, gently rubbing against the broken limb. It was finally starting to heal. “But then again, some of them are.”

“Sam… do you… do you still think of it as a curse? Being one of us?”

His answer was a long time coming. The Impala’s engine roared to life in the distance, screeching out of the parking lot. Sam smiled to himself.

He’ll be back.

No matter what size he was, Sam had a family. People who cared about him. It didn’t matter if they were bigger or smaller than him. Not anymore. Dean, Bobby, Walt, Bree… they were everything to him. Even John, as obstinate and stubborn as he could be, was there for Sam. Little Kara and Sean. Krissy, as jumpy as she continued to be. She’d never turn him away.

He knew the answer in his heart.

“Bree… I wouldn’t change this for the world.”

His life, as strange as it was, was his. Being a human... that was what he used to be. It didn't matter that he couldn't do everything a human could. Dean couldn't do everything Sam could. They made a good team, mismatched as they were. Brothers, no matter what came.

He wrapped his arm around her slim waist, pulling her close. She leaned into him, her slight weight against his side a comfort. He rested his chin on her head, smiling at the scent of strawberries.

Soon enough he'd leave with Dean yet again, back on the road to their next case. Where he belonged. Where he'd always belong. Until then, he'd heal, spend time with the family he'd thought he'd lost all those months ago.

They sat under the overhang long into the night, watching the stars.

The sun goes down
The stars come out
And all that counts
Is here and now
My universe will never be the same
I'm glad you came…

I'm glad you came.

FIN