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Chapter Text

Jacob woke with a quiet groan, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes with a sluggish hand. His dreamless sleep had ended sooner than he expected, and for a long moment he couldn't figure out why. He slowly catalogued the sensations around him in search of the answer.

The nest of fabric he lay on was comfortable and warm, and he hadn’t rolled off of it in sleep. There wasn't a sharp pain in his eyes to indicate the presence of an errant ray of sunlight. He could feel without even looking that some of his hair was sticking up at an odd angle thanks to the way he'd buried himself in the covers, but that wasn’t it either.

Slowly coming to, Jacob dragged his hand down his face and opened bleary brown eyes. He blinked at the ceiling above him for several seconds before finally the details of it began to slide into place and he glanced around. Cheap wood formed three solid walls along with the floor and the high ceiling of the room. The last wall was formed by gigantic, thick books stacked strategically, leaving an opening wide enough for someone his size to slip out.

The bed he lay on was actually a huge flannel shirt, stuffed into the corner opposite the opening and as far back as it would fit. Jacob had squirreled himself away in it to capitalize on the warmth it offered, making his sleep peaceful and comfortable. On the other side of the huge flannel nest, Sam was still out cold, flopped onto the fabric in his haphazard sprawl that Jacob recognized from years of sharing the same room with the guy.

Right. Under the nightstand.

The memories finally began to come back to him. He was sleeping in the "room" cleverly created under the nightstand by a human named Dean Winchester, Sam's older brother by birth. A little over a week had passed since Dean had accepted Jacob as a member of his family. That made him Jacob's older brother, too.

Jacob had yet to get used to that fact.

Three years back, when he'd first been struck by the curse that left him standing under four inches tall, Sam had been there. A previous victim of the same exact witch, Sam lost his own height over half his life ago. He showed Jacob the ropes and helped him learn how to survive in the world at his new size while providing a sense of solidarity in their shared experiences. Even Sam hadn’t had someone around who went through the same thing, not until Jacob came along.

All those years back, Sam had adopted Jacob as his own little brother. They'd never anticipated that Sam's long lost older brother would show up in the motel where they lived and capture Jacob.

Sam was the only reason Jacob was traveling with Dean by choice rather than trapped against his will. Once again he'd saved his life. And now, Jacob was traveling with both of his adoptive brothers. With Dean's help, he'd tried to find his own family, just like Sam had found his. That didn't work as they'd planned, and Dean had taken Jacob in instead.

So here they were. With the sleep gone from his eyes, Jacob realized what woke him. The nightstand was in a motel room, and Dean was walking around to complete his morning routine. Every step he took shook the floor, and if Jacob really listened he could hear the rush of air as he sighed. The man was over six feet tall, which made him quite a sight to take in for someone Jacob's size of close to four inches.

Jacob glanced over at Sam. He was dead to the world. Probably up all night on the laptop again, Jacob realized with a roll of his eyes while he got out of bed. Sam had wasted no time in trying out Dean’s laptop from the first day they ran into the hunter, and his curiosity carried on. He had a lot of the world to catch up on, and the laptop gave him that chance.

Splashing some water on his face from the small cup they had in their makeshift room, Jacob pulled his satchel over his shoulder. He hesitated by the "doorway," getting a glimpse of an enormous bed from a low angle.

Dean's family now. I should just ... go out there and say hi.

Jacob sighed. The hesitation came from the fact that he hadn't been alone with Dean since they first met. Then, Dean had stomped over to Jacob and snatched him off the floor, suspicious that he might be some kind of threat. Even if he wasn’t shrunk, that disinterested glare would have sent chills up Jacob’s spine. He ended up spending a few hours trapped under a vase before Sam came back and sorted things out with Dean.

Squaring his shoulders, Jacob huffed and crept up to the doorway… the small ‘entrance' between the books Dean had left them. He peeked out cautiously, still remembering all the advice he'd heard since shrinking. He had to stay alert, even if he wasn't nervous around Dean. His life could depend on those instincts, as he’d been told countless times before.

Hopping down from the shelf below the nightstand, Jacob didn't even make a thump on the carpet. It was now more obvious than ever when Dean took a step as he felt the aftershocks under his feet. Jacob didn't look for where the human was. Instead, he retrieved a length of braided twine from his bag and gripped the metal hook at the end. He took aim and threw the hook upwards, and it sailed through the air before catching with a faint noise on the edge of the nightstand. Jacob gave the twine a sharp tug to make sure the hook would hold in place, ever cautious when it came to putting himself several stories in the air.

And then, he began the steady climb to the top of the furniture to face the day on his own terms.

For himself, Dean Winchester was having a rare slow and peaceful morning.

He’d started out the day by popping out of the room really fast in the early hours to grab a copy of the local paper. It never hurt to see what was going on in town, and it wouldn’t suit to pass through a town and miss a hunt sitting under his nose. The morning paper was a must. Practically a tradition of his own. While most people made a tradition of finding the corniest local tourist trap, Dean checked the obituaries.

When he got back in, he started up the coffee maker that sat in the room’s small kitchenette. It was hard to focus on anything, even a hunt, until he’d had his daily dose of caffeine.

While it brewed, he aimlessly wandered around the room. Checking to make sure everything was stowed in his duffel bag, running to the bathroom to make sure his hair was straight and to wash his face off… Seeking distractions. At least until the coffee was ready and he could focus on just the newspaper instead.

After all, he wasn’t alone in the room like he was used to, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't keep his thoughts from straying towards the nightstand.

Thirteen years ago, he’d lost his brother. Sam had vanished before Dean’s very eyes, going up in a flash of light while the older boy was taunted mercilessly by the witch that cast the spell. He’d come to find out that Sam hadn’t been killed that day, he’d been shrunk. All the way down to under four inches, all those years ago.

Now, Sam stood at exactly four inches tall, and was asleep under the nightstand with his own adopted brother. Jacob had been taken in by Sam and then by Dean. Unlike Sam, he’d only been small a few years, so a lot of his life standing so small was still new and fresh. He was only just learning how to get by when Dean had caught him in his room.

That moment still smarted in Dean’s memory. Having no idea what Jacob was, trapping him under a vase… He’d come to realize that whoever had sent that text message had picked the right person, whether it was what they’d planned or not. Unlike the majority of hunters, Dean had taken the time to find out more about the strange little guy, and had discovered that instead of being a supernatural menace, Jacob was merely a victim.

Just like Sam.

If Dean had caused either of them harm, he’d never forgive himself. They needed someone to help them, not capture and threaten them. He’d just started to come around to Jacob being innocent when Sam had appeared out of the blue, shocking everyone with his brave stance against the hunter. Jacob had called out Sam’s name, and that, coupled with the terrifyingly small yet familiar knife…

The rest was history.

The coffee machine beeped. With a grin, Dean went over to fetch himself a cup of the heavenly-smelling concoction. Hands down, one of the best drinks around. As his hand closed around one of the paper cups that the motel provided, a small movement caught Dean’s attention out of the corner of his eye.

Jacob.

Sure enough, a small hook was attached to the edge of the nightstand. Dean watched the small guy climb up, allowing himself a moment to appreciate the skill that went into such an action. He could climb as well as the next guy, but he was nowhere near Sam or Jacob’s level. None of the surfaces he’d ever climbed were close to the relative size that Sam and Jacob dealt with on just normal furniture. Jacob’s methodical movements suggested a lot more practice than Dean could have gotten, even after only three years.

Dean scooped up the coffee, pouring himself a cup. His eyes flashed to the table, spotting one of the bottlecaps that he kept on hand. It was easier for Sam and Jacob to use those to drink out of, even though they both had small leather canteens that Dean had discovered their adopted father, Walt, made himself.

Pinching the bottlecap between two fingers, he cautiously approached the nightstand, stopping a few feet away to avoid startling Jacob. He was trying his best to make amends for the mistakes he’d made back at the beginning. Hopefully it helped.

“Joining the land of the living so early?” Dean joked haltingly. “I’m surprised to see you awake before Sleeping Beauty down there. Usually he’s up at the crack of dawn.” He took a careful seat on the bed.

Jacob's eyes widened and drew in the faintest gasp, just from the volume of the voice. Dean was holding back, and there was still no chance of Jacob missing a word. He was getting used to it, slowly and steadily, but sometimes it still struck him. Dean was huge and powerful. He could reach out and grab Jacob right off the climbing rope, surround him in a fist, and Jacob couldn't do a thing to stop him.

But Dean had proven he wouldn't do anything like that. At least, not without a reason. Jacob climbed the last few inches up to the nightstand so he wouldn't keep Dean waiting on a reply, thinking about the one time he'd been completely engulfed in a hand.

It was right after Jacob's own mother had rejected him. Dean brought her the news that Jacob didn't disappear those few years ago, that he merely shrank, but she wasn't convinced even for a second that magic was real and she'd abandoned her son. The only reason Jacob was alive now was because Dean grabbed him to get him out of the way of her angry, swatting hand.

Jacob sat on the edge of the nightstand once he reached the top, leaving his hook secured to the edge, and turned his face up to look at the massive human sitting nearby on the bed. With his hands resting on the edge of the nightstand and his legs dangling over the side, Jacob shrugged and offered a faint smile. "Guess that's what we get for letting him have free reign over the laptop."

A grin formed on Dean’s face. He busied himself pouring out a portion of his coffee into the bottlecap for Jacob while he talked. It was hot and black, just the way Dean liked it. He’d never seen Jacob try coffee, and Sam liked his sugared and creamed until it wasn’t even recognizable as ‘coffee.’ Dean could almost see Sam relaxing at a coffee shop, ordering the sweetest concoction they made and calling it good, along with claiming Dean's laptop for his own and taking over the table with his notes on their latest case. It was an image Dean held close to his heart, wishing that one day they could find a way to break the curse on the two smaller brothers.

Somehow, Dean succeeded in filling up the small cap without spilling it all over his fingers. He put it down on the nightstand an inch away from where Jacob was sitting and quickly moved his hand out of Jacob's way to give the kid some space.

“It’s good to see some things never change with him,” Dean admitted. “He always used to be up all night trying to sneak a peek at whatever books our dad had around the room. I swear Dad thought the kid slept 24/7 from the way Sam was conked out on some of our car rides.” Not that John had been around to actually know why Sam was always so tired. There were times it felt like Dean could count on one hand the nights John had actually spent in the room with them, and none of that changed after Sam's mysterious disappearance. If anything, it got worse until Dean was able to join him on more hunts.

Dean had spent so many nights alone from then on, his gun under his pillow and sometimes his hand underneath, clutching to it like a life raft.

Jacob nodded in complete agreement. He was certain that if it was safer back at Trails West, Sam would have gone after more books left lying around in the rooms. The laptop was the perfect way for him to make up a lot of lost ground. "Eventually I'll have to kick him off so I can have a try," Jacob quipped.

Even Jacob had occasionally missed being able to just pick up a book and read it. He was strangely strong for his size and could probably lift the covers of bigger books, but it was a lot more of a task than before. Combine that with being small enough for the books' owners to grab them in a hand, and it had been pretty much impossible for Sam or Jacob to indulge in a thirst for knowledge. Dean was changing all that for them.

Jacob glanced aside to the bottlecap full of coffee that Dean had poured for him so carefully. He'd never had the strong-smelling drink before. When he picked the cap up in both hands, he could feel the lingering warmth from the liquid seeping right into his fingertips. The aroma was stronger than ever from this close.

Sam and Dean both drank the stuff. Dean practically swore by it in the mornings, and Sam had taken to enjoying his own since they started traveling with the hunter. Jacob glanced up and thanked Dean for the drink before taking a tentative sip, expecting the warmth to nearly burn him.

The temperature didn't surprise him, but the flavor certainly did. Jacob pulled a face at how bitter the drink was and set the cap aside again hastily. "Augh, Jesus," he said, covering his mouth with a hand out of sheer surprise. He looked up at Dean, bemused, and asked "Were you gonna warn me that stuff is bitter as hell?!" Already there were traces of exasperated amusement on Jacob's face.

Dean practically choked on his own sip of coffee and had to cover his mouth to hide the snort of amusement. “Sam never warned you?” he asked with a laugh. “I figured he’d tell you how much cream and sugar he puts in it. Stuff practically isn’t coffee by the time he’s done with it.”

Figuring he’d make it easier for Jacob, Dean briefly dropped his own cup of coffee on the nightstand. Standing, he made his way back over to the kitchenette and got one of the little packs of cream and one of sugar. The real sugar, not the processed Sweet ‘n Low crap in the pink packages.

“This should help a little if you can’t take the real coffee,” Dean said with a smirk as he left them on the nightstand and took his own cup back. He took a long draught now that the liquid was cooling and didn’t scald his mouth, showing off his tolerance for the bitter flavor of black coffee.

Jacob rolled his eyes. He was certain he could list off a few Greek foods that would be tough for anyone to try, but the smirk on Dean's face told him that a challenge like that wasn't likely to get him anywhere. He grabbed the sugar packet. "Sam never did mention what it was like, no," he replied instead. He didn't have any difficulty tearing the paper, despite how thick it was in his hands.

After adding in plenty of the sugar, Jacob set aside the packet to avoid spilling it everywhere. He knew how easy it was to attract ants after a few years living in the walls. The bugs could be a real problem if they came in large numbers. His next sip of coffee was more cautious, but the sugar took the edge off and made the drink tolerable. A glance at Dean showed the human drinking the bitter, unmodified coffee like water. How he could stand it, Jacob might never know.

"I just kind of assumed it couldn't be that bad if you both drink it so easily," Jacob admitted.

Dean smirked. “I have no idea what you two are complaining about. It tastes fine to me.” As though to prove it, he finished off the rest of his cup. There was still more brewing, so he could have another cup in a few minutes. And Sam might not have to miss out if he manages to wake up in time. It was entertaining how grouchy Sam was if he didn’t get any of the coffee in the morning. It made Dean wonder how he’d survived all those years without.

Chapter Text

Dean eyed up the sugar packet, reminded of something from the week before by how easily Jacob tore it open. “You’re pretty strong,” he noted. Jacob had lifted up a vase that was heavier than him by far, and the only thing that had stopped him from escaping out from under it had been Dean himself. Caught off guard by the unexpected show of strength, Dean had knocked it back down to the table with a reactionary attack that he regretted to this day.

If the vase had slammed down to the table with Jacob’s hand or foot caught underneath it, Dean would have crushed the small limbs without ever meaning too. Jacob could have been crippled and his life could have been made tougher than it already was, just because of an escape attempt gone wrong.

“Is Sam as strong as you?” Dean asked curiously. “I haven’t seen him do anything like picking up that vase yet.” A thought that had occurred to him was that maybe everyone their size was stronger, relatively, than a human. It didn’t help them out as much as they could hope - even with the extra strength, Dean had easily trapped Jacob in a fist when he first caught him. All of those tiny, valiant struggles had meant nothing compared to the fingers sealed around his body in an unforgiving grip.

Jacob followed Dean's gaze to the sugar packet. "Nah, he probably couldn't pick up the vase," he replied quickly, absently drumming his fingers on the bottlecap in his lap. In truth, Jacob wasn't sure where his strength came from, any more than they knew where Sam's ability came from. Their best guess was that the curse had some leftover effect, because though Walt and Mallory had their individual strengths, they weren't on par with super strength or the ability to know when someone was watching.

"I dunno anyone else who can lift stuff like that. That vase was the heaviest thing I ever tried."

Dean listened intently, his brow furrowing in curiosity. Sam couldn’t do the same thing as Jacob… which left him wondering if there were hidden secrets about Sam he didn’t know. The more he found out about his two little brothers, both blood-related and adopted, the more he realized they had secrets even they might not suspect.

Jacob let himself smirk pridefully. The vase was very heavy compared to his own maximum weight of a few ounces. Setting aside his bottlecap, he retrieved the hook from where he'd left it on the edge of the nightstand. He remembered finding the broken bag clip that held the wire. He'd strained against the metal to get it into the shape he needed, his strength outstripping Sam’s when his adopted brother tried to help.

"Made this hook myself. I don't go around practicing vase-lifting but the extra strength does help a lot with stuff like this, or carrying supplies." After a beat of hesitation, Jacob held out the hook for Dean to check it out, the twine climbing rope still dangling from it.

Dean couldn’t stop from sliding closer to the nightstand and leaning over to give it his avid attention. Hesitantly, he held out a hand. “Mind if I take a closer look?” he asked. It was intricate enough to be hard for him to see from a distance.

Jacob glanced over the hand Dean held out. It was so huge compared to him, with fingers longer than he was tall. He knew well enough that there was plenty of power in that hand. More than enough to simply take the hook from Jacob whether he offered it or not. He briefly thought back to that first meeting with Dean, when Jacob had been forced to watch the human go through his bag, unable to stop him.

Everything looked so small in Dean's hand. Jacob hadn't wanted his few possessions to break in the careless grip of someone so huge. This time, Dean would be looking over the all-important tool by his choice. He knew that if he handed over his hook, Dean wouldn't take it and keep it locked away in a pocket where Jacob couldn't reach it. In a show of trust, Jacob leaned over to place the hook on the waiting fingertips. "Knock yourself out."

Dean waited for Jacob to be clear of his hand, then lifted the hook and twine up to his eyes. Jacob wasn’t the only one remembering that first time he’d held the hook. It and the string had been pushed to the side after only a brief glance. At the time, Dean had been more concerned with if Jacob was a threat or not, and afraid he'd been sent on a hunt to kill a kid.

Small strain marks in the metal showed where Jacob had twisted it to his own ends, turning it into a hook instead of whatever its former shape had been. Out of curiosity, he tested the tensile strength of the metal with a thumb, impressed to see how strong it was. There was almost no give under the pressure, making it unlikely the hook would ever fail Jacob while he was climbing. “Not bad,” Dean said earnestly.

He let the twine run through his fingers. “Sam’s got some fishing line, right?” Dean asked. “Where did your string come from? I haven’t seen anything like this one.”

Jacob smirked faintly. Sam's fishing line and hook were enviable finds. The fisherman who left them in the motel probably wouldn't have missed them when he packed up and continued on his trip to some lake where he could drink a lot of beer and pretend he was fishing. But Sam had made use of them for years even before Jacob showed up.

"It came from one of those woven twine necklace things," Jacob replied, gesturing towards his neck as he explained. The necklace in question had been his when he was still human. It had fallen behind the nightstand in his motel room sometime after being hit by the curse, and Sam had helped him retrieve it. It was one of the last things he had that tied him to his old life, and it looked nothing like it used to.

The green glass bead that had been woven into the twine was in the bottom of Jacob's satchel. He kept it with him always, even though it took up valuable supply space, being the size of a softball to him now. Jacob paused, wondering at the fact that he was more hesitant to reveal the bead, something of no practical use to him, than he was to hand over his climbing hook. His grip squeezed the edge of the flap of his bag before he drew it back and fished around for the bead. "This was part of it." He chuckled faintly. "I guess if I'd been wearing the damn thing when I got cursed, it'd be too small for you to even see it."

Dean nodded in reply, glancing over the small bead and remembering Jacob’s reaction to him taking it and pocketing it out of reach. “Sam said that it was… all you had left of your family, right?” He could remember both of them staring up at him, afraid he wouldn’t give it back. They couldn’t stop him if he wanted to keep it, and the knowledge of that control he held was there in every glance that first night. Now that Jacob’s family was lost to him by more than just the curse, that small bead really was the only thing he had to hold onto.

“Maybe I couldn’t see it, but that wouldn’t make it any less important,” Dean informed Jacob. He fished in his own shirt, pulling out his amulet. He gave a dry swallow as he looked at it, dangling from his grip. The small bronze face was now almost the length of one of Sam’s arms. Small in Dean’s hand and heavy and clunky in Sam or Jacob’s grasp. “This, uh… Sam gave me this, not long before he got cursed. It’s all I had to hang on to all those years. It felt like he was still with me, even after my dad left and I had no one to rely on.”

The faint glimmer on the amulet drew Jacob's eyes like a beacon. The face turned back and forth, swinging slightly as it dangled from Dean's grasp. Some of the edges of the metal that might have been sharper once upon a time were worn smooth now. It wasn't hard at all to believe that Dean had had the amulet for such a long time. And now ... he had his brother back. Like he should have all along.

Jacob looked down at the bead in his hands. Ever since shrinking, he'd had a number of opportunities to stare at the glass, find the imperfections on its surface or within the glass itself. The tiniest bubbles might have been seen as flaws in it, but he wouldn't have it any other way. "My dad bought the necklace the one time he managed to go home and visit Greece," Jacob explained, looking up with a faint smile at the memory. "It was probably just one of those cheap tourist things you can get, but I swear I thought it was the coolest thing."

Jacob shifted where he sat, noticing the lingering pain on Dean's face. He had no idea if he'd be able to get anything out of Dean, but he was concerned and curious. "When ... after your dad took off, did it take long before you found us at Trails West? "

Dean’s eyes were distant as he lowered the amulet. “Not long. A few months… maybe half a year…” He could remember that message he’d gotten from his dad, the last time he’d heard from him since. Dean… something big is starting to happen… I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.

No explanation had been forthcoming since then, no reason aside from some invisible danger for why John had taken off. Bobby had no answers for him, no matter how many times he tried the older hunter.

No answers, no John. He was alone until he rediscovered Sam and took Jacob in.

Dean shrugged self-deprecatingly. “S’not like it really mattered,” he muttered. “He had me hunting on my own for years before that. I only saw him when he checked in from time to time. Now I can’t even get the man to answer his phone. For a few months it was disconnected completely.” He didn’t even know if he’d be able to get John to answer over the news that Sam was alive. Dean tucked the amulet back into his shirt and held Jacob’s hook and twine out to take back.

Jacob hastily tucked away his bead so he wouldn't drop it before taking the hook and twine in his hands gratefully. Even so, his brow was pinched with concern. He looped up the twine with practiced motions, thinking that it very much did matter that Dean had been on his own for so much of his life. Isolation like that could really change a person. Even Sam and Jacob had other people around them when they were cursed.

It was remarkable that Dean hadn't become so hardened that he wouldn't have thought to give Jacob a chance. Jacob lived because Dean had stuck to his principles. And now, here he was, having coffee with the guy. Jacob set aside his twine and hook to take another drink of the sweetened brew, which was still pleasantly warm.

"Well," he began carefully, determined not to push Dean even further into the melancholy he'd brought up. "Sam an' me will just have to learn the ropes quick so you're not 'hunting on your own' anymore, right? Everyone needs some backup."

Dean felt the smile returning. “Right,” he agreed. “I’ll have to train you two up. Next time someone tries to mess with you, they’re gonna regret it.” It didn’t matter to him that he was the last person to mess with Jacob. He’d make sure no one else got the chance. “If you’ve got some crazy strength, we’ll have to see if we can hone it so you can put it to good use.”

He gestured slightly towards the nail that was attached to Jacob’s satchel. “Sam might have a knife, but with that thing you’ll be able to do plenty of damage if you want to. We could even see if sharpening it up helps. I’ve got a smaller whetstone you could always borrow.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully, remembering the scale difference. The small stone was about five inches long… making it handsized for Dean, but larger than Jacob’s entire body. “It’s a little big, but it should get the job done.”

Jacob glanced thoughtfully at the nail. It so rarely left its loop on his satchel, and he always felt lucky for that fact. It meant he hadn't run into many situations where he'd need it. When Dean had caught him, one of the first things the hunter did was discard the small weapon, thinking he'd grabbed it by mistake.

Knowing what he knew now about hunters, Jacob was glad that hadn't gone any other way. If he'd had a chance to use that weapon on Dean, his strength might have put it right through Dean's hand, but the cost would have been steep. Even getting a chance to brandish the weapon would have pegged him as a threat to the hyper-aware hunter. Threats weren’t allowed to persist when someone like Dean was around, always ready to fight danger in hopes of protecting people who were none the wiser.

Drawing the nail out experimentally, Jacob noted how light it was despite being made of dense metal. He could poke his palm with the point of it without suffering even the slightest injury. "I guess maybe it could use it," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Honestly half the reason I keep it around is just to know I have it, y'know? I've never been much of a fighter." Jacob would have a lot to learn if he wanted to keep up with Sam and Dean.

“Hey, having it on hand is a good place to start,” Dean said. “A lot of what I’ve got in the Impala isn’t much use unless the right case comes along… and then we’ll all be thankful it’s there.” He’d built his arsenal from the ground up, starting with weapons he’d made himself back when he was with his dad and slowly expanding to encompass weapons from other hunters, standard shops. Even a sniper rifle his dad had taught him to use. It wasn’t something he’d ever needed before on a case, but it was always there waiting for the day it could be put to use saving people. “And everyone starts learning somewhere.”

Dean peered down at the nightstand. “Think I should get some coffee and wake up Sam?” he asked curiously. “At the rate he’s going, half the day will be gone.” So far there hadn’t been a sound from the third member of their group. Dean held himself back from peering under the nightstand. Of all the places in the room, it was the one place Sam and Jacob could get their own privacy without a giant looming overhead, and he wanted to keep it that way. He only checked underneath it when he had to.

Jacob glanced down, stowing away his nail in the leather loop. It was a simple sheath, but being Walt's craftsmanship, it worked perfectly for the intended purpose. Jacob picked up his neat pile of twine and a grin slowly formed on his face. Talk of waking Sam reminded him that he owed his brother for throwing things at his face to wake him up. It wasn't a constant competition between them, by any means, but Sam had slept in plenty to invite it.

"I'll get him out of bed," Jacob assured Dean, unable to hide the mischievous tone of voice or the glint in his eye. He shifted where he sat, easily fixing his hook into the edge of the nightstand again. After making sure he had a solid grip on his rope, he dropped over the side in a controlled fall. It was nowhere near as fast as Sam tended to do them, but all the same he reached the shelf under the nightstand in seconds.

Sam was still flopped on the bed when Jacob arrived in their makeshift room. He smirked and cautiously stepped around to kneel at Sam's side. Jacob got his hands full of the thick flannel and, without further ceremony, lifted it up to roll Sam over.

Chapter Text

Curious, Dean went to kneel down as Jacob touched down on the bottom of the nightstand. There was no way he could miss the glint of mischief that edged Jacob’s voice. I gotta see this, he thought, wondering what his pint-sized brothers got up to when making trouble. He knew so little about them after only a week together.

Jacob was intent on his goal as he slipped between the books under the nightstand, ignoring the giant that was marking his progress. Once he vanished, Dean nudged the books aside with a knuckle, opening the small room to the open air and giving him a bird’s eye view of the shenanigans.

Sam was still sprawled out on the flannel shirt that they used for a bed. Jacob grabbed the edge, easily hauling the fabric into the air, Sam and all, and Sam rolled right off. If Jacob could lift a vase, he could certainly move his adopted brother around without any issue.

Halfway through the motion, Sam flailed as the tilting woke him up. One bare foot clipped the edge of the cup of water Dean had left them. It wasn’t enough to knock the dixie cup over, but it was plenty of force to make a small splash, soaking Sam’s leg even as he crashed into the back of the nightstand.

Sam scrambled to his feet, gasping in surprise as he went for his knife, which was nowhere to be found. As his vision cleared from sleep, he saw Jacob only a few inches away, and Dean blocking most of the view of the motel room, with a hand over his mouth to try and muffle the snickers.

“What. The. Hell!?” Sam finally managed to piece together.

Jacob's cheshire cat grin wasn't hidden, since his hands were still full of fabric. Sam’s reaction was just as good as he expected, though the cup of water was an added bonus. Jacob snickered and dropped the fabric pointedly, an air of victory in the action. He knew he was asking for retaliation, but he couldn't help it.

"Good to see you're awake," he quipped, a laugh coloring his voice. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, where he knew Dean was doing his best to not just burst out laughing. "We wanted to make sure you didn't miss out on the coffee before noon." He glanced over at the dixie cup, letting another chuckle escape at the sight of the spilled drops of water around it.

Sam groaned, tossing aside the rest of the fabric that had gone flying with him. He brushed his messy bed head out of the way of his face, glaring up at Jacob all the while. “So glad to see you so peppy this early in the morning,” he said snippily.

Dean smirked at the grouchy reaction. “Aww, Sammy. Even you have to admit you were asking for it.” He glanced overtop the nightstand, peering at the alarm clock that sat on top. Big, red numbers told him the time. “Jesus, you slept past ten in the morning. That’s almost unnatural for you.”

He leaned back down, giving Jacob a huge grin. “He’s just mad he didn’t think of it first,” he laughed, holding up a fist to Jacob. “Give it here.”

At first, Jacob stiffened to see that massive fist coming his way. It was jarring to watch such a large limb effortlessly moving around. A truck might as well have come to a stop right in front of him. He distinctly remembered what it felt like to be stuck in that fist and to know that he wouldn't get out unless Dean wanted him to.

And then Jacob remembered, during his time under the vase, Dean taking on a playful demeanor. There was a moment when he'd punched the vase in pure frustration only to have Dean tap back with a cheeky comment. It had confused the hell out of Jacob just as much as it had amused Dean.

After spending a little time with the stern hunter, having his first drink of coffee and discovering that it was a lot stronger than he expected, Jacob realized that the playful side was just as much a part of Dean as was his undeniable skill in hunting. It was hidden deeper down but there were ways to catch a glimpse of it.

With that in mind, Jacob gamely tapped his fist against one of Dean's knuckles, inwardly proud that his joke had gone over so well. With Dean at least. He could see from the pout on Sam's face that he wasn't getting off light for this one. He knelt to pick up Sam's jacket from where it was discarded the night before. He felt the heft of the knife inside and held it out to Sam while he tried to rein in his smirk. "Oh, come on, you know you've gotten me just as good before."

Sam snatched the jacket away from Jacob, pointedly putting it on. He didn’t deign to reply to Jacob’s smart-ass remark, and tried to ignore Dean’s shit-eating grin. Of everything that he remembered about Dean, that was definitely the most aggravating. Just you wait, he thought in annoyance. I’ll get you both back. He had no idea how, especially as far as Dean was concerned, but he’d figure out something.

Sam stood, and stuck his hand in the cup of water to try and straighten his hair. “It’s not like we had anywhere to go,” he snipped. “I’ll remember this next time you two decide to sleep the day away.”

Sam gave his arms a stretch, groaning. “Didn’t someone say ‘coffee?’ ” he grumbled up at Dean. He grabbed his boots from the side, putting them on with sharp motions.

Dean failed at hiding his smirk. “Maybe. Or maybe we already finished it all on you.” He let out a laugh at the look Sam shot him. If looks could kill… For being only four inches tall, Sam certainly managed to pull off world-class death glares.

The hand that was in a fist moments before flipped over and he offered it to his two smaller brothers. “It’s just over by the table. You, ah… up for a lift, or would you rather hike yourselves over?” Dean didn't want to pressure them, but it didn't feel right unless he offered.

Sam and Jacob shared a long look before Sam shrugged. “Only because you’re too much of a pain in the ass to deal with without coffee,” he shot up at Dean. He reached over and grabbed his own satchel from the side before stepping on the broad palm, noting that Dean was doing his best to keep it steady. It still shook slightly beneath Sam’s booted foot, a slight wavering in the arm that Dean might not even realize was present. The last week spent with his older brother had helped Sam to adjust to movements like that.

Jacob followed suit after only a second's pause. It still felt strange that he and Sam, two entire people, could stand on just one of Dean's hands with room to spare. Jacob kept his eyes fixed on the palm beneath his boots, watching the lifeline and feeling Dean's steady pulse. A heart bigger than Sam and Jacob together was working away to keep Dean's blood flowing.

Jacob tightened his grip on his satchel when the hand lifted. His muscles all tensed as the ground left them behind but gravity insisted they stay. He'd hardly realized Dean grabbed his hook from the nightstand for him in his singular focus on not falling over on his ass. He'd already done that before, hitching a ride on Dean's hand. It was the last mistake he wanted to make now, so soon after pranking Sam. He'd never hear the end of it.

Once Dean stood at his full height, Jacob couldn't help but to peer curiously around the room, not even paying attention to the climbing rope as he coiled it up on his arm. It was a rare perspective. Usually, if he or Sam were up high like this, they were near the edges of the room (or not even in it, if they hid in the vents). Here, while Dean took long, steady strides through the middle of the room, they could almost get a sense of a size closer to what they should be, if not for the curse.

When they reached the table, Jacob waved a hand at the amount of coffee left for Sam. There was more than he'd ever need, though it might make a good coffee bath. "There's your coffee, sleeping beauty," he quipped, unable to resist one final jab.

"What were you up researching this time?" This question, at least, was genuinely curious. Sam had a lot more than Jacob to catch up on, after all. He’d been out of the world for ten years longer than Jacob had, and a lot had happened in that time. Until now, neither of them had any real way to know what news might be spreading across the continent.

Sam took the bottlecap from Dean once the older hunter had finished pouring it, taking himself and his cap over to the few condiments the room service had provided before they’d arrived. It was lucky Dean didn’t need to use any of them, especially with the way the hunter didn’t allow anyone else in the room. The DO NOT DISTURB sign remained on the door handle at all times, resulting in no refills of their towels or condiments unless the hunter hiked his ass down to the front desk to fetch them.

Even when Dean came and went, he was certain to knock twice before entering, signaling to Sam and Jacob who was outside the room. If those knocks weren’t present, they were to take cover, even if it looked like Dean coming into the room.

After all, more than one creature out in the world could take Dean’s form, or steal his body. A single moment of inattention on Sam and Jacob’s part, if they didn’t realize it wasn’t Dean…

Nothing good would ever come of that. They all already had enough proof that Dean’s hands alone were too powerful for them to resist.

Dean settled in his own seat, pouring himself the last dregs from the coffee pot. He grabbed the newspaper he’d left to the side, unfolding it to read over the headlines while the others talked. Sam intently added the cream and the sugar to his drink, taking a long draught of the lukewarm coffee before even considering Jacob’s question.

Sam frowned, his brow furrowing as he remembered the night before. It was probably past two in the morning when he’d finally turned in, giving up on the laptop for the night. He smiled sheepishly. “New computers,” he admitted. “And what new phones they have in development. Even some phones that have built in maps so we wouldn’t need to drag around Dean’s collection.” The entire front seat of the Impala was covered in maps and atlases, enough that Sam or Jacob would be picking their way over roadways and rivers no matter where they stood the few times they were down on the seat.

Jacob raised his eyebrows, definitely intrigued by the revelation. He'd known about some websites that performed that function, but having all the maps on a phone was way easier. Dean might be able to carry around that bulky laptop everywhere, but it would be pretty useless for navigating if it couldn't hook up to the web. Growing up without a TV, Jacob hadn't been completely caught up on technology when he shrank, either. He distinctly remembered the iPod being the most popular development at the time.

"Tech was moving pretty fast, last I checked," he mused. He hadn't bothered to try keeping up with half of it, but it was entertaining to watch some of his friends get all puffed up about the latest and greatest technology. "Guess we'll have to keep an eye out for those ones. Maybe Dean can add one to his fleet."

Jacob was referring, of course, to the several phones Dean kept stashed away for cases. All of them were more sophisticated than any of the ones Jacob had seen before getting hit by the curse, but none of them had entire maps in them.

“At this rate I’ll have to get you two your own phone,” Dean grumbled from the side as he flipped through the paper. “Otherwise if I get a phone with a map in it, I’ll never see it again. Sam will keep running off with it. Or trying to bribe you to run off with it if it’s too heavy.”

Sam threw a look up at Dean. He was torn between annoyance over the joking prods, and surprise at the thought of a phone of his own. Despite the fact that Dean had at least five different phones he switched between, all with the same ringtone, it had never occurred to Sam that he or Jacob would ever own anything like that. It wasn’t a part of the life they were used to.

Jacob had been given less time to adjust to his new size than Sam, resulting in the odd fact that while he had a harder time adjusting to Dean’s size, he had an easier time adjusting to other things. The availability of food and the ability to choose didn’t come as near as much of a shock to Jacob, while Sam still couldn’t bring himself to actually ask for anything. It went wholly against how he’d lived for over half his life.

Sam shifted the bottlecap sitting down on the table next to him, staring at the creamy, distorted reflection of himself. “That’d be nice,” he said quietly.

Jacob perked up at the idea. He'd never had a phone of his own. The fact that any phone Dean might get would probably outweigh him didn't factor into his musings on the subject. They wouldn't be able to call anyone except Dean with it, but even that would prove useful.

It was the concept of having something that was theirs that they didn't have to scavenge, like Jacob's nail, or fight for, like the leather in their satchels, that stood out. Jacob still remembered clearly how much easier it was to get the things he needed as a human. He had never been wealthy, but he'd gotten by comfortably with just him and his mom.

Three years removed from that meant that Jacob accepted that he wouldn’t have all the things that made life easier. Now that he and Sam could actually experience some of the world again, he barely even knew what he'd ask for. Jacob had made some requests for different food since being taken in by Dean, but beyond that he barely knew what they'd need. Sleeping on a shirt may not seem like much, but Sam's deep sleep had demonstrated that it was more than comfortable enough. They could get themselves around easily enough even without occasionally having Dean's help.

Seeing that Sam had fallen into a thoughtful quiet, Jacob tilted his head to try to catch his eye, ignoring a rustle of the paper that cast a stretching shadow across the table. "Hey, if we do end up with one I'll let you pick the ringtone," he quipped. He had a feeling Sam would go for something other than the guitar riff Dean favored.

Sam glanced up from his coffee, a slowly-spreading smile taking over his face. “Yeah? So I guess that means you won’t be changing any settings in it on me then, like the volume or if it vibrates.” The one time Dean’s phone had gone off near them, it had vibrated the entire nightstand. Sam still wanted to get Dean back for that one, even though he hadn’t done it on purpose. It was something he never thought of, a slight vibration against his side. By contrast, for Sam and Jacob it sounded close to an earthquake going off overhead and sent Sam diving for cover by instinct.

Which was embarrassing.

He had to try and get used to things like that. If Dean saw him diving for cover from a cell phone, of all things, he’d never hear the end of it. Sam took one last sip of the cooling coffee, letting himself grin at Jacob. “Star Wars ringtone it is.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, his smirk widening. He liked the Star Wars movies as much as anyone, but he was aware of Sam's liking of them. They'd even managed to catch the tail end of one from the vents back at Trails West in Jacob's second year living with the curse. It was a nice reprieve from constantly scavenging and warily looking out for threats. The occupants of the room had fallen asleep with the movie going, and the two miniaturized humans could see the screen from the higher vent.

"Alright, geek, it'll have a Star Wars ringtone," he quipped with a chuckle. He didn't have a comment for Sam's insinuation that he'd change the settings. Jacob might go for a trick like that, if he wouldn't be just as affected by it. The speakers on Dean's phones could only get so loud, but it was loud enough for both smaller brothers to flinch from the loud volume.

Even after three years, he wasn't used to everything being so much bigger and louder. Being able to remember how things were before meant that Jacob had some of his most precious memories crisp in his mind, but it also meant that the world around him looked warped and surreal. The looming height of the furniture, the rumbling in the floor from a single human footstep, the rustling of the newspaper in Dean's hands ...

"Finding anything interesting in there?" Jacob asked, taking a few steps around to get a glimpse of the back page of whatever Dean was reading. The paper loomed over him like a building as he tilted his neck back. If Dean let the paper drop, it probably wouldn't be heavy enough to do more than annoy Jacob when he got caught underneath it.

Dean folded down the paper so he could see the other two standing on the table. “Y’know. The usual. ‘Attorney Accidentally Sues Himself.’ That has to be one of my new favorites. Oh, and I found us a case, too.” He grinned proudly, noting the way Sam instantly looked up towards the paper.

Flattening the paper on the table, Dean pointed out the article he’d been reading over while they argued about their own future cell phone. Which, as far as he was concerned, was a definite. A way to keep in touch with the two vulnerable brothers he’d taken under his wing was important.

“ ‘Man killed in his own house, inside of a locked room,’ ” Dean read out loud as Sam pushed himself to his feet to walk over. “Not only did he die within the last week, his daughter went missing just a few days ago. Something’s up with this family, that’s for sure.”

Jacob sidled around, tilting his head to read the text Dean pointed out. The lettering was easy enough to see at an angle, since it was almost as tall as his hands. It wasn't the sort of story that made Jacob immediately jump to the conclusion of something supernatural going on. The locked room bit was a little weird, but before learning more about the hunting lifestyle, Jacob wouldn't have given the story much thought.

Now, though, he knew better. He knew to at least try to read between the lines of the sparse statements from the police and the remaining family members in the bizarre case. Since the daughter's boyfriend also hadn't been seen in awhile, there was suspicion that the young couple eloped when they couldn't get the father's blessing. Neither foul play nor suicide had been ruled out yet in the investigation.

"So, we know what they think about it," Jacob said aloud, absently shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. "Are we thinking ... some kinda spirit?" he asked, glancing between his two brothers. They both knew far more about what was out there than he did. Jacob's only guess for what could kill a man in a locked room was a ghost, but he knew he could easily be wrong.

Dean bobbed his head. "Spirits are possible. So are demons and demonic possession." Both could slip behind closed doors to do their dirty work. Without a solid form of their own, there was no need for open doors when they made their escape. The last demon he'd dealt with had been on an airplane, and that was one of his least favorite memories ever, as far as cases went. Having to deal with his own fear of flying while trying to exorcise a demon from some poor bastard and the plane was trying to shake itself apart... Dean hid a shudder.

"If it's a demon, we might not find anything there," Sam reminded him. "They might move on once they killed off the father."

Dean poked part of the article that highlighted the other disappearance that had happened in the same family. "Except the daughter's still missing. I'm betting that if a demon's involved, she's either next or already on the menu. There's a chance we can find her before anything else bad happens."

He arched his eyebrows at the other two. "So, you guys in or do I go it alone?" He had a knowing grin on his face. There was no way Sam would ever say no, and it was unlikely Jacob would want to be left out. The kid didn’t have their confidence in hunting yet, but he clearly looked up to Sam and followed along with what he did.

Sure enough, Sam gave him a miffed glare. "What, and let you get yourself into trouble without us?"

Jacob smirked, though inwardly he was thinking Demons exist. Holy shit. He glanced over the article again. "Yup, it looks like a tricky one. You'll definitely want some backup," he quipped, shelving his reservations. Jacob had no idea if he'd be of any help on this case. Sam at least knew the facts going in. Jacob may be completely new to the life, but he couldn't just sit things out.

He doubted the nail fixed to his satchel would be of any use if they were dealing with something like a demon. He didn't even know how they'd be able to tell. At least if Dean and Sam told him what he was supposed to look for, at least Jacob could help with that.

"So how could we tell just from the scene?" he asked, curiosity and intrigue roused in him. He may have a lot of catching up to do compared to even Sam, but that by itself wasn't enough to discourage him.

Dean shrugged as he put the newspaper away. "Sometimes. With demons, you can find sulfur around the scene. It's leftover from their time in hell, and a residue lingers wherever they go. With spirits, and especially poltergeists, there might be ectoplasm found nearby. And both can be detected with the handy EMF reader that all hunters - and 'ghost hunters' on TV - swear by."

He reached into his jacket, pulling out a clunky device that had an assortment of knobs across the top, and various buttons to control it. A meter covered the front and an antennae poked up at the side.

Sam arched his eyebrows as Dean flipped it on, making one of the knobs flash red. He scrunched up his face. "Why’s this one look like a busted-up Walkman?"

Dean grinned proudly. " 'Cause that's what I made it out of. If there's any spirits lurking around that house or any demon residue, this baby will find it."

Jacob took a few hesitant steps towards the device in Dean's hand. Pieced together out of other bits of technology, it looked like it could be a kid's walkie-talkie. The one lit bulb on it gave away nothing about its real purpose. And yet, from the wear on it, Dean had clearly used the thing numerous times before. Maybe even enough that he'd had to repair it once or twice. Jacob found himself curious to see it in action, if nothing else for more proof that they were actually about to go hunt a ghost or a demon or whatever this was.

Jacob glanced over at Sam. "Well, I guess if there's anything left around, we're a good option to find it. Our whole deal is finding things left around." Jacob may not be as good at the lifestyle of the smaller folk as Sam, but he still had plenty of practice getting the details of a room before even entering it.

“That’s the plan,” Dean said. “We’ll head out in a bit. I just gotta finish grabbing the last of our stuff and hit the road. You two try and stay out of trouble for more than five minutes, you hear me?” All the words were said in a lighthearted tone.

He had a case and he had family. What more did he need?

Chapter Text

Sam watched Dean push himself away from the table to stand. The hunter briefly glanced down at them before moving away, a flash of regret glancing over his face while he did so. Sam understood; when Dean stood to his full height, they were all reminded of how different they were. It was difficult to adjust to such a sheer difference in size, and Dean could loom without meaning to.

Even though Sam had been small for most of his life, he’d still spent most of his time around people his own size. Humans were to be avoided. Now, he was back with his giant brother, and every time Dean glanced their way, the slight tingle of danger crawled up his neck. It wasn’t as poignant as it was around other humans, but it was always there, a constant reminder of their differences.

Sam could only suspect the reasons for why the tingle wasn’t as strong as it was with other humans. It could be because he knew it was his brother, and so the effect was lessened. Another possibility could be that it wasn’t as strong because Dean truly didn’t mean them any harm. They weren’t in danger, they were safe.

Sam was hoping for the latter to be true. If it was, he’d be able to harness his unique ability to tell if a person was dangerous or hostile before they ever came close.

Taking a few steps onto the newspaper, Sam stared down at the palm-sized letters underfoot. He committed every detail to memory as he went, determined not to let Dean down on the case. He and Jacob needed to prove that they could be an asset despite their size.

In the background, Dean busied himself with packing up the last items around the room. Sam and Jacob’s small room, along with the few toiletries the hunter owned were packed away in his well-worn duffel bag.

Since Sam was reading over the story about their case and Dean was gathering his belongings, Jacob found himself glancing over the article Dean had mentioned about an attorney accidentally suing himself. It turned out Dean wasn't joking; someone had actually done that in the area. It was a good thing Dean was better at his job than that poor sap.

On one hand, that meant that Dean had been able to spot and capture Jacob with frightening ease as he desperately tried to escape the human's motel room. The average person might not have noticed Jacob except as a bare motion in the peripheral vision, gone as soon as they looked his way. It was the way things were supposed to go for the little people that lived in the walls. Dean was too fast and too well-trained, and he couldn’t let even the movements of shadows go without some investigation.

On the other hand, Dean wasn't so numb that he would assume Jacob was a threat just because he wasn't human. Dean had trapped Jacob, but they all knew that some other hunters might not have even given Jacob that long. Dean was very good at his job, which meant helping people as well as fighting off the monsters.

Jacob double and triple-checked that all of his belongings were with him. He had no idea what he could contribute to the case, and lingering doubts filled his mind. Jacob was immensely glad to be accepted into the family, and he didn't want to be dead weight. It'd be poor payment for everything both brothers had done for him.

He stepped tentatively onto the paper, noting the dry rustling under his boots. The smell of the newsprint permeated the air all around him and Sam. Jacob peered around Sam to skim the article one last time. "Finding everything between the lines?" he asked.

Sam glanced back. "The smallest detail might save our lives," he reminded Jacob. He smiled at how curious his adopted younger brother was and took a step back from the information so he could read it over. "Any hunters out there who don't appreciate research won't last long in the real world. It would be like trying to take down a werewolf without silver bullets - the monster might be taken off guard by your enthusiasm, but it won't slow them down when they rip your heart out."

The table shook slightly under them, and Sam looked up to find Dean standing close by. "That's what I've got my resident geek-boy for, right?" he joked. He stretched out a welcoming hand. "You two only have to stay in the pocket until we're all in the car,” he reassured them. “It's getting later on in the day, there's a good chance there'll be people in the parking lot." That was met with no disagreement; Jacob and Sam knew they didn’t want to be seen any more than Dean wanted them revealed.

Dean waited patiently for them both to check over their stuff and make sure they had everything before they stepped onto his hand. It was always an eerie sensation, to feel small boots stepping on like mere prickles against his skin. It was hard to believe that two people could fit so easily in his palm.

Lifting them away from the table, Dean took a second to glance over both small brothers. "Sit tight, alright?" he said as he held them next to the pocket. The darkness inside was almost taunting as first Sam, then Jacob slid down and vanished inside. The pocket flap closed over them and Dean found himself shaking his head in amazement. There was almost no sign past a slight bulge in the pocket that they were even in there.

He brushed a hand over the pocket as he walked to the door, making sure both brothers were settled. The duffel was already packed with everything Dean owned that wasn’t already in the Impala waiting for them, so he was ready to go. The news article was shoved in an outside pocket of the bag so he could check it out later for additional clues he or Sam might have missed. Just a brief glance around the room revealed no sign that two people smaller than Dean’s ring finger had stayed there, and that was for the best. None of them wanted to put others their size at risk.

A glare of blinding sunlight shone in Dean’s eyes as he left the room behind. He squinted in the bright light to see where the Impala was parked. He nodded at one of the nearby motel guests, standing out in the parking lot to smoke with the door to her room wide open behind her. Wondering what was the point of coming outside only to let all the smoke in, Dean shook his head one more time and casually strode to the car.

Tossing his duffel in the back, Dean climbed into the front. A brief glance towards the smoking woman showed her to have vanished back into her room, so he deemed it safe to take out his hidden passengers. They might not be able to call shotgun, but they definitely wouldn't want to sit the entire ride out inside a pocket. Dean slipped two fingers into his pocket, waiting for them to signal him to lift them out. The first time he'd plucked them out and got himself scolded over it, and now he simply avoided scooping them up unless he was in a hurry.

Once they were on Dean’s hand, Jacob shared a glance with Sam and nodded. He held his bag tucked close as Sam gave Dean the go-ahead. The two fingers propping the pocket open were joined by two more as Dean, given permission, reached into the pocket to retrieve the diminutive pair. The sight still made Jacob stiffen, though he was working on adjusting.

Everything he'd been taught for three years told him that this was the worst situation to be caught in. That human hands were one of the biggest threats to people their size. And yet, even though the fingers curling under them didn't make for the most graceful transportation, Jacob knew he'd be fine. He and Sam rolled onto Dean's palm like they had a number of times already, perhaps disoriented but unharmed. Dean wouldn’t let them be jostled around too much.

It only took seconds for Dean to bring his hand to his shoulder, whereas the climb from his pocket would have taken Jacob a minute or two. Sam settled closer to Dean's neck, like always. Jacob sat a little farther out, away from the steady pulse that thrummed near Sam's perch. There wasn't room for both of them to sit that close to the collar, though Jacob thought he was improving at keeping his balance farther out.

"What'll you do while resident geek-boy and I check the details, Dean?" he asked, appreciating that on Dean’s shoulder, there was no need for them to raise their voices. Dean could hear just fine from that close.

Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname he’d acquired, trying to nudge the shirt under Jacob with a boot to knock him off balance. Lucky for Jacob, it was snug enough around the broad shoulder under them to not give into Sam’s motions and jostle him. He wouldn’t have to haul himself back up … this time.

Dean grinned, not realizing the trouble Sam was trying to get into on his shoulder. He was too busy with the car to have time to glance in the rearview mirror. He kept it set up so that his shoulder was in view at all times, along with the back window for while he was on the road.

Leaning forward slightly, Dean shoved the key in the ignition, making both smaller brothers grab onto the fabric they were sitting on so they weren’t jarred by the swaying motion. The engine roared to life and Jacob flinched slightly, still unaccustomed to the noise.

“I’ll be doing what I always do,” Dean said as he backed up the car from the spot in front of their room. “Someone’s got to scan the place for EMF, and unless you’ve got a truck hidden somewhere in those bags of yours, it won’t be the two of you.” Jacob might actually be able to lift up the meter with his enhanced strength, but he wouldn’t be able to cart it around the entire house in a timely manner.

“Not to mention, I’ve got to keep an eye out for you guys. Y’know, show you the ropes. I can’t have you getting in trouble when I’m not around.” Dean tried to see Jacob from the corner of his eye, smirking. There was no hope of spotting Sam, not with him leaning against his neck, but Jacob was just barely in view.

Jacob caught the look and met it with a smirk of his own and an exaggerated roll of his eyes. He would have waved a hand, but he had to keep a grip on the fabric beneath him to avoid feeling like he'd tumble to the bench seat. "Eh, how much trouble could two upstanding guys like us really get into?" he quipped. Considering they all remembered his prank on Sam just a short time ago, he didn't bother trying to sound serious. He was a terrible liar.

Jacob's gaze drifted past the mirror to the windshield, giving a wide view of the town as it slipped by. Sitting up on a shoulder like that meant that Jacob could pretend he was riding in a car at normal size again. But in reality, the wide storefront windows passing in the distance would be several baseball fields to him, the license plates of the cars parked on the street like billboards. Sometimes, Jacob felt like the world had grown around him, rather than the opposite.

Jokes aside, Jacob was keenly aware of the kind of trouble they could get into. If a human other than Dean got their hands on them, it was all over. Anything could happen. It was lucky Sam had his ability to tell if someone was glancing their way. It'd suit them perfectly in something like this.

“How much trouble did you two get in the last time you were in a room with people that didn’t know you were there?” Dean shot easily back. Of course, he’d been the person in that room, and he’d managed to not only terrify, but catch Jacob in a fist before he was able to escape. That could have been anyone that caught him, and he’d be just as powerless to stop it.

“Not that I’m planning on you two being around any other humans, but shit happens. And on a hunt, you might want a little backup when you’re searching around a spirit’s hunting grounds. Some won’t respond to anyone but their chosen type of victim, but others lash out at everyone.”

As he pulled onto the street, he continued on. They might not need the information, but then again, it might come in handy. He couldn’t see it, but Sam already had his small journal out, carefully transcribing his words onto paper. Reciting the knowledge gave Dean a feeling he’d missed from so long ago, of being a big brother again with people to look out for and show the ropes. “There was this one case, right when dad went missing. The spirit was a ‘Woman in White.’ She’d prowl up and down the highway she’d killed herself on. Any men who picked up the hitchhiking ghost were never seen again.”

Dean held up a hand. “But there was a connection between all these random men. She wasn’t just goin’ after any guys that drove down the road. She was targeting men that cheated on their girlfriends or wives. Now, she tried to come after me, but she couldn’t do anything. All her rage was reserved for assholes like the man she married. I, on the other hand, don’t have a girlfriend waiting for me or a wife. So I found her bones and salted and burned the corpse. End of story.”

Jacob listened with rapt attention. His eyes were wide to hear that Dean had nearly been targeted by the rage of a restless ghost. How could someone fight against that? Dean had all his weapons and tricks, but all it would take was one second caught unawares for something like that to make its mark.

"Lucky you weren't her type," Jacob muttered. The thought of ghosts having a fixation on a certain kind of person reminded Jacob of what they said about serial killers. That's really what they were, if all they did was try to kill any target, like it might give them the release they needed. It made him wonder about their current case. Did the ghost, if it really was a ghost, have a type? Would one of them fall into its category and become a target?

"She did manage to possess the Impala for a hot second," Dean mused. "I think that's the closest she got to actually taking me out. I had to jump off a bridge and everything. That was a fun dive." And messy. He'd been covered in mud up until going to get a room... and discovering that his father already had a room in town.

Before skipping town, Dean pulled through a Biggerson's drive-thru. Sam and Jacob both huddled close to his neck to keep out of sight of the window while he grabbed some breakfast for them all. Sam still refused to actually ask for what he wanted, so Dean ended up grabbing a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich. At least with that, there were different options for them to both try. One day he’d figure out what Sam liked to eat.

He parked the car in a corner of the lot briefly. With the sandwich unwrapped, he pinched off two corners, trying to get a bit of everything for them to try in their own mini-sandwiches. It was at least a start, after everything they'd missed growing up.

"Do me a favor, and try not to get crumbs on my jacket," Dean grumbled, hiding a smile of his own at the look on their faces. It still shocked him how much they'd missed out on. It was like he'd handed them the holy grail when they took the small sandwiches. Like they hadn't seen food like that in years.

And they haven't, Dean reminded himself sternly. He needed to keep in mind their separate upbringings. Warm food wasn't something they ever got to eat when they lived back at that motel. It did explain exactly why Jacob had been so possessive of his tiny bite of pizza while he was trapped, going so far as to wrap it up in a shred of napkin. Their entire family could eat well from what was barely a bite for Dean.

If only he could do more.

Of course, their adopted parents, Walt and Mallory, wouldn't want much to do with a human. Sam had shaken his head 'no' when Dean offered his help. He'd have to find a way to thank them one day for what they'd saved for him. His little brother's life. It was everything for Dean, and now he not only had Sam back, but he had Jacob. An adopted brother that had been rejected by his family and actually wanted to come with Dean, the guy that had trapped and come close to simply leaving the motel with him in tow.

"Thanks," Jacob said appreciatively, while he moved back to his place on the broad shoulder. He'd huddled closer to Dean's collar only to avoid the window clerk spotting him. He worried that if he and Sam crowded each other like that all the time, one of them might fall. The voice of the cashier, an unfamiliar and big human, still lingered. Hearing human voices from outside the muffling of motel walls was so different from what he'd grown used to. Even Dean, who was learning to speak quieter for their benefit, had a voice that could shake Sam and Jacob to the core.

Despite that, it was comforting to know they had someone so powerful looking out for them. Jacob knew Dean wasn't kidding when he worried about some other human getting a hold on them. They might be completely helpless in an enormous grasp, but Dean sure as hell wouldn't be helpless.

Despite having been caught himself by the human he now traveled with, Jacob knew without a doubt that Dean would help them in a heartbeat if they needed it. After all, he'd saved Jacob from the frustrated wrath of his parents when they rejected him.

Jacob took a bite of the sandwich Dean had managed to cobble together, squished bread and all. Holy shit. Real bacon. He closed his eyes to savor it. Flavors he hadn't enjoyed for years assaulted his senses like a tide. No one at the motel tended to have bacon or eggs. Nothing since leaving the motel with Dean had hit him as hard as the flavor of his first pizza in three years, but it all came close. Sam had gone a full decade longer without such things.

"Good choice for the most important meal of the day," Jacob mused, managing to find his balance enough to hold onto the food with both hands. No way he'd risk dropping it.

"Hey, we gotta make sure you two have plenty of food in you for your first case," Dean managed to mumble around his sandwich, wasting no time with it. “Just in case it gets exciting.”

He wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible. The presumed spirit was only a few towns over so it would be a quick drive in the car before they arrived at the house. With any luck, there would be no family around and they could get in and get out with no one the wiser.

Interviews with family members would be another step they might need to take if there were no clues to what had happened. Being able to tell when someone was lying was a skill Dean had picked up from the poker games he'd play at various bars around the country, and it was a definite asset.

His sandwich was relatively smaller, so he was the first to finish in the car. Dean tossed the wrapper on the seat next to him. He could clean it once he didn't have the other two chilling out with their food on his shoulder. So while they ate through one of their best meals in years, he started up the car again and drove towards their next case.

Chapter Text

Sam watched the fields pass by outside the car. Waves of cornstalks and wheat stood tall, wafting in the breeze as the Impala darted past. A ripple followed behind them, bowing to the wake of the car’s speedy passage. It was like watching a boat slice through the water.

Sighing, Sam sat back and leaned against the warm neck behind him. He wouldn't say it to Jacob or Dean, but feeling the steady pulse behind his back helped reassure him. Leaving the dark tunnels that he'd lived in for more than half of his life gave him a strange insecurity. Open air, so much light, a human nearby all the time, all new sensations that he’d thought for so much of his life that he needed to avoid. It wasn't anything Sam had been prepared to deal with in years.

Long ago, Sam had given up on ever seeing his brother again.

Now, here he was. Actually sitting on a human's shoulder. He and Jacob were equals to Dean, not pets like they might be with other humans. It kind of felt like riding shotgun in the car. Dean would crack his jokes like everything was perfectly normal. Everything was great, aside from the flickers of regret that passed over his face from time to time, a remnant of the guilt that he’d escaped the fate that had been meant for him, too. Sam and Jacob weren't the witch's only targets.

The houses outside started to change from the occasional farmhouse at the end of a long, winding driveway to tidier yards and impeccably-clean sidewalks. Sam straightened a little. They were getting close.

Jacob watched with absent attention as the cornfields slowly gave way to little lawns and chain link fences. He sat up straighter when he saw a kid chasing a puppy around one yard, realizing they were in town. He hadn't seen a dog in three years other than glimpses from the hideaway on top of the Trails West. Even this one was far behind them in a matter of several seconds, but seeing animals like that always reminded him of what he was now. It was enough to jolt him out of his quiet daze.

They were nearly there. Dean just had to find the house where the mysterious death had happened. Jacob remembered the plan and went over it again in his head. If no one was home, they were going to break in to check the scene. A crime scene. It was just another of the things Dean had to do, the rules he had to bend (or shatter) in order to help people in a fight against things they didn't understand.

Jacob only hoped he could offer the hunter some actual help without holding him back. He fidgeted absently with the clasp on his bag, closing it and opening it in a slow rhythm as tidy suburban houses passed them by. All he could do was try.

The roads were clear for the entire trip through the neighborhoods and they made decent time. They rolled up to the house sometime in the early afternoon. Anyone who lived in the home should be at work or school, leaving the brothers plenty of time to check the premises. Jacob turned his head this way and that, checking every nearby porch for other humans. "It's a nice neighborhood. Porch swings, ghost murder ... great place to be," he quipped, already hoping they wouldn’t have a run in with said ghost.

“Right,” Dean said distractedly. He double-checked the area one last time. No cars were parked out front, and yellow crime scene tape stretched out across the doorway and around the porch.

CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS

“Looks like this is the place,” Dean announced unnecessarily. “Three bedrooms, two bathrooms and one dead owner.”

Taking precaution, Dean gently gathered both of his miniscule brothers from his shoulder. Until they were in the house, the two of them would have to stay in his pocket. “If you want to keep an eye out, feel free. Just make sure no one else can see you,” he warned as he climbed out of the car, his hand dropping away from the pocket and leaving it unbuttoned. The intent wasn’t to lock them away from the world. So long as they were careful, it was their choice.

Sam pushed up the flap as Dean came around to the trunk. The moment Dean leaned over to grab his sawed-off from the trunk and extra salt rounds, Sam and Jacob had to hang on so they didn’t slide around with the quick movements.

With the gun hidden in his jacket, Dean strode for the entrance. He glanced around the neighborhood briefly before getting out his knife to slice through the crime scene tape, then got out his lockpick. A tense minute passed while he fiddled with the tumblers and the door clicked open.

Like he’d done countless times before, the hunter slipped inside the house.

With Dean now behind closed doors, Jacob felt safer about pushing the pocket flap further up, Sam working in tandem with him so they could get a better view. Jacob’s other hand was clamped securely over the edge of the pocket. He was still getting used to the pitch and sway of the shirt pockets they spent so much time in lately. With Dean's particular swagger and how pronounced it was, it really took some practice.

The front room of the house didn't give much away. A table near one wall held stacks of mail that looked like it had been ignored for some time, as well as a random assortment of receipts and pocket change. While Dean made his way through the house, searching for the room where the death happened, Jacob couldn't help but notice how eerie it all was.

Life in the household had come to a standstill; the family probably wouldn’t come back while the investigation was ongoing. If they even continued to live in the house at all after the case closed.

It was chilling, and Jacob could feel the adrenaline taking a tentative run through his system. He had to stay aware. He found himself repeating Walt's lessons, of all things, to himself. Patience. Caution. The details don't matter if you get caught.

It gave Jacob some familiar ground to prepare for their search for clues, even if Dean was the only human in the house with them. Just another supply run. Jacob had learned a lot about those, how to make sure everything went according to plan. He ignored the fact that, last time he went on a supply run, he wound up trapped under a vase and nearly got taken away for good.

When Dean found the office, Jacob winced at the sight of the room. The body was gone, but rust colored stains covered almost every surface. A well-loved armchair got the worst of it. Jacob made a face as he noticed that the faintest smell of iron still lingered in the room. "Holy shit," he muttered, unable to think of anything else to add.

With the house silent and them alone, Dean slipped a hand into his pocket. “Okay, you two are up,” he said quietly. Once Sam punched against his finger, he lifted them out. It was surreal to hold them like this, in a loose fist. They were so lightweight it was almost like they weren’t there.

He could feel small limbs shifting between his fingers as he knelt down, signs of the tiny pair trying to right themselves while the entire world shifted around them. The sheer amount of trust held in his hand astounded him. Their lives, literally between his fingers. Two entire people, disoriented by his movements. Movements that Dean always thought weren’t that fast, but to Sam and Jacob had the effect of being lowered from over eighty feet in the air in a matter of seconds.

Dean’s hand reached the floor and his fingers unfurled, releasing Sam and Jacob to the floor a foot away from his boot. Sam wavered as he hopped down and Jacob stumbled at first, landing on the wooden surface with thuds inaudible to Dean. Sam wrinkled his nose as he glanced over at the scene of the crime, taking in the mess for himself.

“Unfortunately, that part of the job almost never changes,” Dean said as he spotted what drew their gazes. “It’s a messy job, but with any luck we can stop any other victims from being taken.”

From the floor, the room took on what had become a familiar perspective for the two smaller brothers. Terrifying and surreal, maybe, but familiar. Except for the human kneeling behind them as the giant hand moved away to give them space, Jacob found things looking just as he'd expect them to. Looming, immovable furniture stood all around, a broad expanse of floor stretched out in front of them, and hundreds of possible dangers lurked in the back of his mind. His hand gripped the strap of his bag as he and Sam scanned everything.

Trying to ignore the shadow that was over them, and the fact that they could hear Dean's breathing, the two smaller brothers took their first steps in the grisly crime scene. Sam took the lead and Jacob kept up with him; he’d decided on the spot that he didn't want to split up. The blood covering so much of the floor like a spilled can of paint made going off alone seem incredibly stupid. There was more blood splattered around the room than either small brother had in their bodies, several times over. Jacob had to fight the urge to cover his face with his sleeve so he could breathe without inhaling the grisly smell.

Muscles and joints complained as, behind them, Dean rose to his full height once they were far enough away from him. Jacob clenched his jaw briefly and didn't look back. He already knew what Dean looked like from this angle.

Sam led the way towards the desk. It was the closest piece of furniture for them to check under, but it was still several feet off. Lots of open space. Jacob caught himself peering up as the cliff-like side of the furniture loomed a little closer with each step. He scanned his surroundings, determined not to let anything slip past his notice despite the tension in the air.

As the distance from Dean increased, the hunter found himself growing curious on top of not feeling safe having them too far out of reach on their first case. Searching for a distraction, he dug the EMF meter out of his jacket.

The warm metal of the device was familiar in his hand, much more than two tiny people. He switched it on and the first red light at the top lit up. A low, sweeping motion over his immediate vicinity revealed nothing more than a simple buzz.

Before he could focus on the armchair in the room, the movement down on the floor caught his eye again. They had almost reached the desk. Curious again, and still antsy about having them so far away in an unknown house, Dean decided on a whim he’d follow them. Check out the desk from above while they scouted below. He wanted to know how they worked. It would be important in working together in future cases, and would give him an excuse to keep a close eye on them today.

Dean took a careful step towards the pair, continuing to scan with the EMF reader. Sam was still leading the way with a determined gait. His shoulders were stiff with a human nearby, the feel of a distant gaze weighing them down.

Another step rattled the floor beneath them, no matter how lightly Dean might try to set his boot down. Jacob kept up the pace following Sam, still glancing around as he went. Other than the occasional unsettling spatter of blood, there was little of interest on the open floor. The cops had probably checked that over already.

Jacob may not have Sam's extra sense, but even he could practically feel the presence behind him. The unmistakable presence of a very large, very real person, casually taking a step while it took Jacob and Sam several steps to cover the same ground.

Several hurried steps.

Temptation finally became too much, and Jacob glanced behind once. He caught sight of one of those enormous boots planting on the floor, pressing into the boards as Dean settled his weight on it. Jacob couldn't help but let his gaze shoot upwards, quickly taking in the sheer height of the man in the room with them. Jacob's head was tilted at a sharp angle just to see Dean's face.

He was huge. Jacob had been traveling with Dean for a little over a week now, and he hadn't completely come to terms with the fact. This man could easily stoop over and sweep both Jacob and Sam off the floor if he wanted to. Jacob knew all too well how fast he was. Most humans would be too quick for the pocket-sized pair on the floor, but Dean was a trained hunter. His reflexes were like lightning.

Seeing Dean at that angle was yet another reminder of what Jacob's life had become. He didn't have to scavenge for food anymore, and there was someone making sure he and Sam could see the world in safety, but they were still too small for it. Jacob couldn't help but think of the first time he saw things at his new scale.

2002

Jacob had a headache. The worst he'd ever felt. Groaning quietly, he drifted back to awareness only to discover that his throat ached too. Everything ached.

He tried to collect his thoughts and recall the last thing he saw. Waiting in the motel room. His mom going out to get them some supplies she forgot to pack and food for the night. They were just stopping so she didn't have to drive on an unfamiliar route and get stuck in the middle of nowhere while it was dark out.

Jacob had offered to take the wheel for a while, but he didn't even have a learner's permit yet, so his strictly law-abiding mother had nixed the idea quickly. There was a knock at the door, and Jacob, assuming she had returned with her arms too full, had gone to open it.

There was a bright flash and ... that was it. His memories ended.

Jacob sat bolt upright, and then immediately flopped back down with a grimace. He felt like he hadn't moved in ages. His stomach gave a confused pang of either hunger or nausea, and he couldn't tell which was more prevalent. Hesitantly, Jacob opened his eyes.

Why is it so dim? He took stock of things. His hands closed into fists around the raggedy blanket on the bed he rested on. He was still in his clothes that he wore when he saw the flash. The thick wooden ceiling above, however, was unfamiliar, as was the dusty smell permeating the air.

His neck was still too stiff to look around. Jacob opened his mouth to ask if anyone was around, but found he had no voice yet. He coughed instead.

A man sitting next to the bed blinked his eyes open at the sound of the cough. Sam Winchester, twenty years old and barely four inches tall, had dozed off in his seat, acting a silent sentinel next to the young teen he’d found cursed in the motel.

Just like him, all those years ago.

This time, Sam had been in the room where the kid was cursed, trying to snatch some food for his family while the kid was away, and caught off guard by his return. He’d been stuck in there, under the dresser while the human relaxed on the bed and forced to wait it out until the human drifted off to sleep or left the room again. It wasn’t the first time Sam was trapped like that, and in this life, it wouldn’t be the last.

It wasn’t every day he saw someone shrunk down to almost a twentieth of their size. Sam had seen it all, helpless to stop any of it. The moment he could, he’d dragged the kid into the walls, tossing him over his shoulder to take him back to his home, and safety.

As much as Sam wanted it to be different, as much as he wanted this kid to be with his family again, he understood how dangerous it would be to just leave him there and hope that his mother saw him when she returned. If she didn’t, the kid could have been crushed beyond recognition.

It was strange, though. When Sam had shrunk down, he remembered Walt telling him how hard it was to get him out of that room. How the fight between the witch and Sam’s father had nearly claimed his life as collateral damage. Dean had crumpled bonelessly to the side, well away from Sam, but his father had fought directly overhead, nearly stepping on Walt and Sam both. With this kid, it was like the witch wanted him to be saved.

Like she knew they were out there.

Whether it was because Sam's family had been hunters, and this kid's clearly wasn't, Sam might never know. All he knew was she’d hit this guy with a chillingly familiar white light, and laughed gleefully.

Then left.

A wracking cough struck the kid again, and Sam got up from his chair. It was the one that had come with the dollhouse desk, and one of the few 'normal' items in the house. He'd been sitting in it for what felt like days, watching over the prostrate form of the teen. Mallory had told Sam it had been over six days before he'd come around after being cursed, and this kid was waking up after only five.

It was strange to think that only a week ago, he was a person that Sam would have avoided at all costs. Big, huge, easily able to grab Sam's entire family in a single hand, now he was smaller than everyone but Mallory (who barely reached Sam's chest, and he didn't think anyone smaller could exist unless they were a child). The guy had lost his world, just as much as Sam had all that time ago.

Sam came over to the bed. "Hey, hey, hey," he said, trying to catch the kid’s attention. He was sprawled out in Sam's bed, another find from the dollhouse. Ever since giving up the bed to the comatose teen, Sam and Mallory had gathered up all her extra fabric to make him a small, comfortable nest on the other side of his room. From there, he could watch and wait and make sure that the teen was alright, and nothing else happened to him.

"You're alright. Here. I've got some water. You need to drink, it's been a while since we could get anything in you." Sam picked up the aluminum foil cup he had waiting next to his bed, proffering it towards the teen.

Jacob's heart rate jumped up for a few seconds at the sound of an unfamiliar voice in the dim lighting. He had to squint a little to find the man's face as he sluggishly pushed himself up to lean against the backboard of the bed. Jacob shivered; he didn't remember it being so cold before. He rubbed his eyes before looking at the silvery cup offered to him.

He couldn't resist taking it and drinking down its contents quickly to soothe his parched throat. With that done, he looked around some more, letting his eyes adjust (as much as they could) to the light. The only source that he could see was the ceiling, where long cracks between the thick beams let light in in dusty golden bars. A part of him wondered why they didn’t just put a lamp in this room.

"Where ..." Jacob managed to rasp, before he noticed the pile of huge blankets in one corner. He glanced across at the desk and chair, and the curtain blocking the rest of wherever the hell this was from view. There was a shoulder bag next to the chair and Jacob raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sight of a three-pronged hook sticking out of it. The barbs alone had to be the length of his fingers.

It inevitably drew him back to the man in the room with him. He wore jeans and a plain grey t-shirt, covered by a jacket with numerous pockets. There was something off about him, but Jacob couldn't quite place it in the lack of light. After a moment, he found his voice, a list of questions all crowding into his mind at once.

"Who are you? Is this a basement? Where's my mom?"

Sam took the cup back from him, absently bending the top between two fingers. The foil moved easily to the motion. These days he didn't even think about how odd that was. He barely remembered what it felt like to hold a regular glass in his hands after using aluminum foil for every dish for so long.

"My name's Sam," he started gently. He remembered exactly how hard it had been for him to take the news about his curse, and he had a head start. Learning about what hunters dealt with from day to day had at least given him an understanding of the monsters that existed out there.

Of course, he'd had no idea that something like this could happen, leaving him to spend his life avoiding humans and stranded from his only family.

For the moment, Sam avoided explaining that the kid's mother was most likely long gone from the motel. He focused on the other questions. "You could call it a basement," he said instead. "We found you a few days ago, and couldn't get you to wake up. I was getting worried we wouldn't be able to get you awake to take a drink."

Sam gave the kid a hesitant smile, hoping his mild manner was calming. More than Walt's intensity when Sam had first woken up, at least. "There's more water in the main room for when you're ready. What's your name?"

An unsettling feeling crept up Jacob’s spine. There was definitely something weird about this place, not the least of which was that nasty looking hook. What it could be for, he didn't want to imagine. He noticed the way the mystery man named Sam had casually bent the edge of the silvery cup with just two fingers, though he tried to pretend he didn’t. What the hell?! He looked back at Sam's face, his nerves showing despite himself.

"I'm Jacob," he answered cautiously. The thought of getting more water appealed to him, but suddenly Jacob wondered what the catch was. He remained sitting up on the bed for the moment, while his hands clutched the blanket with white knuckles.

"What do you mean you found me?" he asked. All Jacob remembered was a bright light at the motel room door. He didn't even remember hitting the ground. No faces arrived in his memory though he tried to remember what his assailant looked like. The fact that he didn't know only made his skin crawl more.

What if Sam and the 'we' he mentioned were really bad people? What if they were the ones that attacked him and brought him here against his will?

"If you found me hurt or whatever, why did you bring me here?! You could have just called an ambulance or something," he pointed out, realizing as he spoke what it meant. They hadn't done that, so something was definitely up. "Where are we?"

Sam had known he'd need to explain the truth to Jacob soon enough. He'd asked almost the same questions, demanding to be taken back to his brother and father. For a short amount of time he'd been convinced he was a pawn to be used against John Winchester.

The truth was far more painful.

Jacob would have to face that same pain. The pain of losing his world and his family. There was no way back for them and no possibility of changing things. Jacob's mom was sealed off to him as much as though she were dead.

Just like Dean and John. Lost family, gone forever. It didn't matter that they were out there at that very moment, probably sitting in the Impala on their way to another case. Sam would never see them again.

"Look, you're going to find this hard to believe," Sam said, "but there's no hospital that can help me or you out there. We don't fit into their patient type. In fact, if we tried, we'd get ourselves into more trouble."

Sam took a deep breath. He needed to get it over with, otherwise he might never be able to explain. Walt was far more brisk with bad news, and Sam hoped to spare this kid that much, at least. If only he could do more. "Jacob, you're in my home. My adopted family and I found you after you got attacked five days ago. We're still at Trails West, and..."

Sam glanced up at the ceiling above, where the golden rays of day were leaking in. Between gaps in the floorboards that humans didn't even notice unless they got on their hands and knees with a magnifying glass.

"You're under four inches tall."

Chapter Text

The silence after Sam's statement felt like the room filled with water. It was a suffocating, heavy silence that made it easy for Jacob to hear his own heartbeat.

It's been five days. I was attacked. Did he just say ...?!

"What?" Jacob's voice, though low out of nerves and confusion, shattered the silence all the same. He let out a breath like he'd had it knocked from his lungs by a surprise impact. Sam couldn't be telling the truth. There was just no way. People didn't just suddenly shrink to under four inches tall. Sam was crazy and Jacob was alone in the room with a crazy person. That was all there was to it.

"You think you're a laugh riot, don't you?" Jacob asked, his voice wound up tight with a growing fear of the man who just told him he was miniaturized. "That or you're insane."

With short, halting movements, Jacob got to his feet, sticking close to the wall as he sidled away from Sam. Now that he was standing, Jacob realized that Sam was very tall. Well over six feet tall, just on first glance. Jacob, only fourteen, still had a lot of growing to do despite being tall for his age.

Some gigantic guy with a hook had "found" Jacob after his attack and brought him to this weird basement place. His life was turning into the kind of story that got people’s faces on milk cartons. Fear crept into every break in his armor and flooded into his senses. Jacob hardly dared blink.

If this “Sam” was some kind of kidnapper, Jacob was in serious trouble. The man was clearly well built, and had enough confidence that Jacob wasn’t going anywhere that he hadn’t even bothered securing the room. There were a million things they told kids Jacob's age about how to avoid some creep taking them. Jacob was completely blank on what to do when he was already taken, and to what could be anywhere.

His imagination running wild and his pulse quickening, Jacob didn't want to spend another second stuck in the same room. He glanced around once more, finding the curtain in the doorway. Jacob dashed for it, adrenaline encouraging him forward and into the other room, away from Sam.

He only made it a few steps before freezing in his tracks. The unsettling sense of wrongness permeated this new room even more than the previous, if that was possible. Unlike the other room, which housed a normal-looking bed and desk and chair, this one had almost nothing so familiar. There was a bucket that looked like a thimble - a thimble the size of a bucket, and the walls were decorated with scraps of colorful fabric. Another scrap of fabric was laid over a block of wood to act as a counter.

A cheap table and plates with clumsily-printed patterns on them sat in the middle of the floor with more of those weird silvery cups. One wall appeared to be made of an enormous block of wood the thickness of an entire tree. A container in one corner, circular with a mostly-evenly cut rim, was full of a heap of clothes. Jacob saw all of this in more of those bars of hazy golden light because there wasn't a lamp of any kind in here either.

Jacob stiffened when he belatedly registered that he wasn't alone in the room.

Mallory glanced up from her place on their ‘couch,’ lowering her hands. Bright blue eyes stared out at the young teen as he burst from Sam’s room. The fabric she held had just been cleaned, and she was working on breaking it down. Later, she’d be able to make new clothing for the teen they’d found. The poor boy didn’t have anything more than the clothes on his back.

“Sam?” Mallory called out hesitantly as she saw her adopted son sidle out of the bedroom with a wary look, his satchel on his back. Sam never went anywhere without that bag, years of caution teaching him to be prepared for anything.

The look on the young teen’s face was pure panic at the sight of the room around them. Mallory’s heart went out to him, remembering that same reaction from Sam so many years ago.

Sam’s face was unreadable. The memories of his own past were rushing back to him. Waking up in this same home ten years back… There hadn’t even been any dollhouse furniture back then to soften the blow.

He put himself between Jacob and Mallory. It wasn’t likely Jacob would try anything, but she was small. Barely three inches tall and willowy, there were times where she seemed as delicate as the golden wisps of hair that framed her face like a halo. She always claimed to like her boys tall, and Sam and Walt certainly fit the bill. Jacob might only stand a half inch shorter than Sam, but that put him much larger than her.

“Everything’s alright, Mom,” Sam said to Mallory. His eyes didn’t leave Jacob’s face. The rest of his words were directed towards the frightened teen. “It’s a lot to take in, I know. Believe me, I know. Sometimes I wish I was crazy. Everything would be easier if I was.” Sam’s eyes were wide and expressive, an understanding expression on his face. “But I’m not joking, and I’m not crazy. Please. We just want to help.”

Jacob couldn't help but notice that Sam had carried his bag out of the room with him. That hook hung at his side, the dangerous points as menacing as ever for their size. Jacob had no idea who the petite woman was or how she played into this whole thing, but she wasn't denying anything Sam said. Whatever all this was, she was in on it too.

Jacob could see things here and there in the room that would support Sam's claim. The thimble, the thick pieces of wood, and the thick cloth on the woman's lap all had a surreal level of detail. More than just ridiculous props in an elaborate ruse. Jacob could feel a small part of him fretting that it was all true.

And yet his brain wouldn't let him. It was impossible. Indeed, it was laughable that someone as big as Sam was trying to pass it off as true. Jacob shook his head and looked around for another way out. "No," he said, spotting a wooden block that was stacked up to block off someplace beyond. "You can't be telling the truth."

Without further words, Jacob bolted for the block. Adrenaline helped him shove the heavy thing away with greater ease than he expected, and he dashed out into the hall beyond.

His shoes, his completely normal shoes that definitely weren't made for someone less than four inches tall, immediately scraped in a layer of dust as he bolted away. His eyes were wide because out here, the world was even darker than in that strange place. Jacob had no idea how high up or how far around this bizarre hall reached, but he could only see a few feet in any direction before his eyes simply couldn't pick up anything beyond. Even that was a generous guess.

Something told him that the space stretched out farther than any warehouse he’d ever seen.

No, no, no, I am not tiny, it isn't true. I'm just freaking out and need to get out of here. Probably underground. That’s it. I’m just underground and I’ve gotta find my way out.

Jacob's frantic reasoning drew him further into the dark, though he couldn't really see where he was going. He passed a huge wooden pillar and shortly afterwards tripped, disoriented by the height of it. His hands scraped on the ground, the stinging pain letting him know he was awake.

Jacob was back on his feet only half a second later. He didn’t hear if anyone was following him, but then again he couldn't hear much of anything past his own panicked breathing. He had to find someplace brighter. He had to find a phone or something and call for help before something worse happened.

“Shit,” Sam hissed as Jacob darted out their front ‘door.’ He twisted around to Mallory. “I’ll get him back, don’t worry.”

Before she could answer, he was darting out the door. He stopped only to push the thick block against the opening to their house. It wasn’t perfect, but it served their needs.

Nothing was perfect in his life anymore.

With the opening sealed behind him, he knew that Mallory would be safe while she waited. Walt would be back home soon, and if Sam and Jacob were missing by then, he’d track them down himself.

Sam darted off. Jacob wasn’t difficult to track. The dust floating in the passage was disturbed by his flight. Fresh footsteps on the floor were visible in the gloomy light. Sam glanced around to make sure they were the only ones, then gave chase.

Up ahead, he could vaguely tell that Jacob had found the incline leading from their space under the floorboards and into the passages within the walls. Remembering Jacob’s guess that they were in a basement, Sam added more speed and dashed after him. He couldn’t let the kid get himself into trouble before he fully understood how much Sam wasn’t lying.

Relatively long legs cleared the ground swiftly. Sam might only be four inches tall, but he was larger than Jacob. He’d spent years in this motel. He knew it as though it was his own backyard. A terrifyingly immense, dangerous backyard that had creatures his size or bigger lurking in the shadows. If he ventured beyond those shadows, there was the possibility of being captured by massive giants. People that could trap him with a single hand. Treat him like a toy, a pet.

People like Jacob, a few days ago. Sam had seen Jacob’s huge shoes scrape over the ground, watching from under the dresser and almost holding his breath with the hope that Jacob wouldn’t come searching for him. The tell-tale feeling of eyes on the back of Sam’s neck let him know he’d been spotted in those panicked seconds.

But now Jacob was afraid, and in trouble, and Sam needed to help him, no matter what.

The fleeing figure of the teen came into sight. Sam’s legs might only be two inches long, but they were more than long enough to catch up to the terrified kid.

Sam had to get him before he found an exit into the motel rooms beyond. Even running like this was dangerous. If humans heard their shuffling footsteps in the walls, it was more than possible they’d think there were rats or spiders crawling around and call the front desk to ‘take care’ of them.

“Jacob! Stop! I just want to help!” Sam managed to say when he was close enough. Even running and worried, he had to keep his voice down.

"No ..." Jacob managed to force out while he ran, putting most of his focus on simply getting away. It wasn't working. Sam was nearly apace with him. He knew the taller guy could grab him at any second, but fear and denial drove Jacob forward. He needed some answers, and not from some guy who carried around a giant hook.

There was a glimpse of light ahead.

An opening in the strange walls around them let in shining light that was almost blinding after so much time in the dim halls. Jacob raced for it. He despaired when it became clear that it was much too small of an opening for him to actually climb through, but maybe he could get some answers. Maybe he'd find something he could use to debunk Sam's crazy words and get him to let Jacob go home.

Jacob came to an ungraceful halt, his hands on either side of the opening. He leaned towards it and peered out, expecting to see some random countryside out of town or something. Maybe some hick farm or a glimpse of a highway far away or something to tell him that things were still normal.

His breathing all but stopped when he beheld what was really there. The opening was too small as it was, but a portion of the edge could be pushed aside to admit someone. Then the material thicker than his hand, the wallpaper, could be pushed back into place to hide the opening into the room.

The room where enormous beds loomed on either side of a massive nightstand. Where Jacob couldn't even see the ceiling from this angle because it was so high up. Where the shadow of what had to be the dresser kept the opening from easy view of any occupants. A window larger than several fields was letting in sunlight, and that was what leaked past the opening and into ...

"The walls," Jacob breathed. They were in the walls. Of a building. His hands shook as reality really sank in. The curtains on that massive window that he could barely see from there billowed in a breeze from an AC unit the size of a warehouse. That enormous tower of fabric would be heavy enough to crush a house if it fell.

Jacob turned his head to look at Sam, mortified by what he was seeing. Because it meant it was all true. He was so small now that he'd fit in someone's hand. A memory returned to him belatedly, dismissed at first as something too insignificant to dwell on. A tiny shape, diving under a dresser like the one out there, when he returned to his room.

He’d thought it was a mouse. Now, he wondered if he was looking at the real source of that fleeting shadow.

Sam.

Jacob’s face was lit from the side, giving a half view of the shock on his face. There was a quiet kind of pleading in his expression, asking Sam to tell him it really was a joke. To tell him anything that meant the giant furniture outside that opening was just an elaborate ruse or an optical illusion.

Sam caught up at last, sadness permeating the air around him. Nothing he could say would make this better for Jacob. There were no words that would reassure him.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I would never wish this on anyone else.”

The light fell across his own face. He came to a halt a few inches away from Jacob, ready to dart forward and grab the kid if he went to run into the room. The last thing either of them needed was a human added into the mix, and Sam didn’t know if there was anyone staying in the room that day. It was better safe than sorry.

Sam sighed, blinking. “You’re not the only one that this happened to,” he said quietly. “I know how you feel.”

Sam used to be bigger too?

Suddenly Sam's demeanor made more sense. Jacob was looking at a kindred spirit, someone who went through exactly what he was going through right now. His entire world had just shifted in a terrifying way, leaving him woefully unprepared for anything it might dish out. A bug could bruise him if it flew at him too fast.

And he's still here...

Sam had to have had a family before. Like Jacob had his mom. But Sam was still in the motel. A lot taller than Jacob, but still incredibly small compared to everything else. "H-how long?" Jacob asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. Something told him that Sam's demeanor was not promising. He was in this for the long haul.

Sam’s hand tightened on his satchel. “I was ten,” he said. “A lot younger than you. I barely knew what was happening. It was bright, there was a light… The last thing I saw was my brother, shouting for me. Our attacker held him back while she finished me off. And then nothing.”

He stared up into the dark recesses of the walls. Closed, confining… He used to like the open air and exploring the outside world. Now, the mere thought of it terrified him. There were so many dangers that he’d never even dreamed of before lurking outside the walls. Even the dangers inside didn’t bother him as much as the thought of being swept off the ground by a bird of prey. No humans would even bat an eye if they saw a hawk swoop down on him. He was so small. What else could he be aside from a rodent?

Sam let out a laugh as he looked back down. It was jaded and harsh compared to how he’d been once upon a time. His entire world had been ripped away, just like Jacob’s had. “The woman you saw, Mallory… She and her husband saved me. My dad came back to the room. He got there in time to save Dean. Not me. Walt and Mallory got me away from the fight, before anyone stepped on me… I didn’t wake up for over six days. And when I did…” Sam held out his arms.

“I guess what you see is what you get. My own family wouldn’t recognize me anymore. My own brother would be dangerous.” And that thought was the most painful of all.

Jacob clenched his own fists while the truth slapped him in the face with each word Sam spoke. The bitter, jaded feeling just oozed off the man now that the explanation was out there. Sam was ten ... That had to be at least a decade ago, judging by his apparent age now. Jacob, being fourteen, had had longer to be ... Human. Because I guess I'm not anymore, am I?

He glanced back at the opening to the room. He could see the bottom of one of the bedcovers, hanging over the side of the massive, hangar-sized furniture. It was right there, so familiar, and yet Jacob was a world apart now. Just like Sam.

Sam, whose family wouldn't recognize him. Jacob's heart hammered again. Would his mom recognize him? She wouldn't turn him away just because he was different now, would she?

"Uhm," he began quietly, unsure if he should speak again so soon after Sam laid bare his own thoughts on the matter. "Does that mean ... my mom ..."

Sam drummed his fingers on his strap. “I don’t know,” he admitted, answering the unspoken questions. There were so many. Would she recognize Jacob? Had she left the motel? What did she think happened to Jacob?

Sam shook his head, clearing out those thoughts along with the cobwebs. “I haven’t left the house since we found you. I… wanted to make sure you’d be okay. Walt’s been running out for supplies, but he wouldn’t go near a room when he knew a human was in it. He’s more cautious than me. For good reason.”

He hesitated for a long moment. Walt and Mallory would want them to go back to their home as soon as possible. It wasn’t safe for Jacob to be out in the open.

But there was a chance Jacob’s mom was around.

There was no other choice.

“We can try and go back to your old room…” Sam offered. His hesitation was obvious. “I… wouldn’t be able to go out in the open,” near a human, “but if there’s a chance you can find her before she leaves… I would have done the same to find Dean.”

Jacob felt two conflicting emotions in his chest, practically tearing his heart apart. Part of him wanted to go back there immediately. Find out if his mom was still around and go see her. He could figure something out if he just went with his family.

The other half of him was terrified of what he'd find. Either she'd be there and she'd be colossal to him now, or she'd be gone, with no way to get in touch.

Morbid curiosity won out fairly quickly. "I gotta know," he said earnestly. He could tell Sam didn't want to go close to someone who still stood so tall. Years of ingrained instincts showed in the wary cast of Sam’s face. Jacob could relate to it one hundred percent. He didn't even want to be near the giant furniture out there. His heart was pounding just thinking about it.  

But he had to be sure.

"I just wanna see if she's still here," he added in a quieter voice. "I don't even know what I'd do if she was, but ... " Jacob clenched his jaw and tried to swallow the lump that appeared in his throat. His eyes stung. "She's all I have left."

Sam let himself offer Jacob a smile. "If she's there, we'll find her," he said confidently. "I know where the room is." He ducked his head down. "I was the one to get you out of sight once I saw what happened. I didn't want you to get hurt out there. All it takes is one simple wrong move to get injured, especially the size we are now."

He put a hand on Jacob's shoulder, gently guiding him away from the motel room. The wallpaper slipped closed, sealing their world off from view of the outside. The darkness closed in. Sam's eyes adjusted so he could see the towering depths of the 'corridor' they stood in. "But you have to stick close to me."

Sam swallowed dryly. "Believe it or not, this life isn't an easy one. It's dangerous to go out in the walls alone. Especially without a weapon or a way to get around. So if you want me to take you to her old room, you need to do what I say. I've had a few too many years to get used to this."

Jacob tried to keep his eyes on Sam's face, but the darkness inside the walls was so pervasive and complete it felt like it was pressing in on his eyes. He saw a tall silhouette and little more. He had to remind himself that in the grand scheme of things, Sam wasn't really that tall. He was small and vulnerable, and without the skills he had picked up, Jacob was even more so.

"I'll listen," he promised. The warnings about needing a weapon made Jacob suddenly realize how stupid it was of him to run off. With no idea of the environment he'd found himself in, he could have run into a rat or even dashed right over a mousetrap or something. Jacob found himself suppressing a shudder, from that gruesome thought and from how cold the air felt.

He had no idea how much he'd have to get used to, but Jacob could only guess the list was as long as the ceilings of the motel were tall.

With Jacob's assurance, they were on their way. Jacob could barely tell Sam was there. He kept his eyes fixed on the sneaking silhouette ahead of him, and tried his best to avoid making any sound in the thick layer of dust on the floor. He felt like he had a beacon on him, making it more obvious how much he didn't fit in here, but he tried anyway. His survival suddenly became something he had to fight for.

Regardless of what they found in that room, everything Jacob knew was changing for good. The world had been big before, but it was colossal now. The inside of a wall became a corridor itself. He wasn't ready for this.

After walking for what seemed like hours, they reached a crack in the wallpaper similar to the one Jacob had found earlier. Sam stood back to let him view it, but kept close by. Jacob had to squint when he tentatively leaned forward and pushed the wallpaper just a little bit. He glimpsed that this entrance was between one of the beds and the nightstand before a ray of light hit him right in the face. After that much time in the dark, it stung.

The sight that greeted him stung a thousand times worse. The room was empty of any sign of his mother. Her luggage, which he remembered was leaning against the dresser, was gone. The beds were made. The coffee machine, which Jacob could barely see from this low angle across the room, was stocked. The room was ready for a new tenant.

Jacob's mother, his only family, was gone, and he didn't know how he'd ever get her back. He leaned forward just a little more to try to get a better angle, but his shoulders had already slumped in melancholy defeat.

Chapter Text

Sam stood back, out of the way, while Jacob took it all in. His brow was furrowed in sympathy, remembering the days when hewas the one realizing his family was gone. Gone, and never coming back. He and Jacob might as well be dead as far as their families were concerned.

Sometimes Sam let himself have the luxury of wondering what had happened to Dean. How he'd taken the loss of his little brother. For years, Dean had been the only constant in Sam's life. The one who protected him, no matter what. The guy that stood up for him in school when bullies were picking on him, and the guy that had taught Sam self-defence. Eventually, instead of being the one to protect Sam, Dean would be the one to tell him to stand up for himself. Let them know he wasn't someone they could mess with.

Of course, Sam would never be able to use those skills to defend himself against those bullies now. He was too small, too fragile. One hand closing around him was all it would take, and he'd be helpless. His knife would only go so far, and even that would be more of an annoyance than a threat to a human. Even with that knowledge, Sam would never give up if he was captured.

Sam came up to Jacob and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever happens, you've still got people to count on," he said truthfully. "You have a place with our family if you want it." He squeezed the teen's shoulder to close his promise of solidarity.

Jacob looked up at Sam, searching what he could see of his face. The melancholy kindness there was a comfort to Jacob, though he really wanted to run until he was out of energy. His entire life had been ripped away from him, but at least he wasn't on his own in the monstrous version of the world he'd landed in. Jacob blinked slowly a few times to reduce the stinging blur of tears in his eyes and nodded. A lump formed in his throat.

He looked back out at the room one last time. A room that looked perfectly normal to him the last time he saw it. A room that he'd take hours just to explore now. It looked so surreal. He was still waiting for Sam to laugh and say Just kidding! but that moment never came. Something in Jacob knew it wouldn't.

He was about to look away when something caught his eye. Something achingly familiar was lying in the shadows under the nightstand. Jacob's hand immediately went to his neck, and found nothing hanging from it.

"That's ...!" he blurted in pure surprise. It's so big now...

Jacob shoved the wallpaper aside and slipped out into the room. There was no one in here anyway; he could just run and grab his necklace and be back in the relative safety of the wall in less than a minute.

The furniture on either side loomed, and the wall stretched high towards the faraway ceiling. Before the disorientation could overtake him, Jacob turned and dashed towards his goal, ducking behind the nightstand with a pounding heart. One end of the necklace was sticking out from under the furniture, and Jacob immediately grabbed it to drag it out. The familiar woven twine was so thick in his hands; his heart gave a flutter at the size of what was once an accessory he wore around his neck. Now it was heavy and cumbersome.

But he had to get it back.

“Dammit, Jacob!”

There was no sign Jacob even heard Sam’s exclamation when he darted out of the walls and into open air. Sam cursed under his breath. If anything happened to the kid, Walt would kill him. He was Sam’s responsibility. Sam had rescued him, Sam would watch out for him. It was already bad enough Jacob had left the relative safety of their home behind without any sort of training for the world out there. Now he was out in the open where anyone could see him.

For them, there was no way to know if that room was truly empty.

Patience was the first lesson Sam had learned. It was always worth the time to scope out a room, double check and triple check that there was no one inside. They could never be assured of safety. They could scout out the room from every angle and then, as soon as they were inside, a human could open up that immense door and stride right in. There was nothing stopping a human, nothing holding them back.

With Jacob in possible danger, Sam only paused long enough for a cursory glance at his surroundings, taking everything in. His sixth sense, the ability to know if someone’s eyes were on him, would have to make up for the time Sam didn’t have.

Then he darted after the impulsive teenager.

Jacob was pulling on a length of twine, trying to pull it out from under the nightstand. Sam’s hand latched onto his shoulder the second he was close, his grip too solid for Jacob to break even with a surprised flinch. “Jacob, what were you thinking? ” Sam hissed out. “It’s not safe.”

Jacob looked up at Sam in surprise, almost dropping his necklace. His fingers were able to easily grip the weave of the twine, something he hadn't been able to do before. The worry on Sam's face only made Jacob glance around them in the shadows of the nightstand. Of a nightstand, one that stood as high as an apartment building. Jacob swallowed thickly as he remembered himself.

Remembered what he was now.

The tops of the beds to either side were so tall, he couldn’t see anything on them. Underneath them was a warzone of dustbunnies and old plastic food wrappers. The wall behind the nightstand had an outlet panel in it, and Jacob realized with a growing heat in his face that the outlet was taller than him. He’d run into a room meant for people that towered over him, people like he used to be, but wasn’t anymore.

"I-I thought it'd be okay," Jacob muttered, barely audible. His eyes trailed over to the bed that obscured their entrance to the room. He realized with a jolt of fear that he had never considered the possibility of someone lying on that bed, because he couldn't see up there. Someone could have rolled over and grabbed him in hands so huge that he could scarcely imagine the scale. Movements that would only take seconds could end his life.

Jacob shivered with sudden intimidation. His shoes were outsized by the fibers of the carpet, like he was standing in thick, scratchy grass. His own necklace in his hands was a huge woven rope, with a green glass bead the size of a softball. He tugged it the rest of the way out from under the nightstand, holding the part with the bead with shaking hands.

It was obvious how unnerved Sam was. Jacob could see the way his eyes flashed from side to side and his gaze wouldn’t stop and settle on anything in particular. Something about that drove home just how dangerous things were now. If even a calm and obviously capable guy like Sam was nervous, things were bad. Jacob could have sworn he heard someone stomping by the door outside, and his eyes widened.

Even someone stomping would be deadly if he got in the way. The person would keep walking without ever knowing.

"This was mine, and I ..." he trailed off weakly, looking almost ashamed for his oversight.

Sam sighed. He took a moment, now that Jacob was next to him and in reach, to assess the room. There was no other sounds that reached him from their massive surroundings, aside from what leaked into the room from the outside world. “Okay. Lesson one. Never assume you’re safe.”

Sam gestured towards the door into the room. “I could be one hundred percent certain that there’s no one in this room and spend an hour looking at it from all angles. None of that stops someone from walking right in the front door, and there’s a possibility you get stranded from any safe exits like that.” He pursed his lips, and gave a yank of his own on the necklace. It slid out from under the nightstand with Sam’s help.

“Lesson two, if you really want to go into a room, listen. If there’s someone in the room out of sight, you’ll hear them. The chair creaking, the water running in the bathroom… hell, we’re both small enough to hear them breathing if we try.”

Sam held up a hand as he held the necklace out to Jacob. “If Walt hears about this, he’s going to have my hide. The next time you want to go into a room, no matter what for, you come to me first. I know what I’m doing. I haven’t gotten caught yet, right? So don’t take any risks you don’t have to, and never go it alone. If you get caught and none of us know where you are, we might not be able to find you in time.” Sam didn’t mention that it was unlikely they’d be able to free him if they did manage to find him. He didn’t want to take what little hope Jacob might have away from him.

Jacob tried to imagine getting caught. His mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the idea. All he saw was the image of cages he'd seen in pet shops. He thought about how he'd fit easily in one of them, with no way to get out. The latches and clasps would be too big for him to budge them. He’d be on display, consigned to entertaining his captors for the rest of his days.

The thought of becoming a pet scared him more than the size of the furniture around them.

Jacob tried to bundle up his necklace so he'd be able to carry it back without dragging it along. His face burned a little, showing how he was both ashamed and humbled by the situation. He couldn't be so reckless anymore. It didn't matter when he was bigger, but now ... now it could mean losing his life, or what little freedom he had in the world.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his shoulders down and his mouth tilted in a frown. He looked every bit the scared kid that he was, with no idea what to do or how to really cope with the change that had overcome him. Standing in the shadow of a piece of furniture that didn't even come up to his waist six days ago was making it so real. Holding his necklace as a huge bundle in his arms was illustrating the gravity of it.

Sam clearly knew what he was doing after years of living like this. He understood what Jacob was going through and he’d offered to help. Jacob would be a fool to ignore him.

"I'll do better. I'll listen. Whatever you say," Jacob promised.

Sam gave him a reassuring smile back. “We’ll just call this a learning experience then. And not mention it to Walt.” He clapped a hand on Jacob’s back, directing him towards the bed again. “I’ll show you everything you need to know. And maybe you can tell me about the things I’ve missed in the last ten years. It’s been so long since I had someone to talk to about that stuff. Not since Dean…”

2005

Still staring straight up at Dean with wide eyes, Jacob had to turn his face away before he unbalanced himself with the angle. Dean looked over 100 feet tall from down on the floor, though Jacob had no idea what the actual measure would be. He knew Dean was over six feet tall. To someone less than four inches, he was absolutely massive.

And he’d opened his life to the two tiny guys walking down on the floor, letting them come with him on hunts and sharing what little he had in the world. The man lived out of the trunk of his car more often than not. With his family found again, he didn’t hesitate to share with them.

As Sam led them under the desk, all Jacob or Sam could see of Dean as he took another slow step was the massive boots, shifting to a new stance as the hunter continued his own sweep of the room. Jacob found himself relieved that the open air wasn’t yawning above him. The feeling of exposure out there always crept into him slowly, making him feel more vulnerable by the second. Adjusting to everything being huge was a long process that the last few years had only just begun.

Jacob let out a sigh and peered around under the desk as he kept close to Sam. "I know I shouldn't be surprised, since he warned us and all, but ... holy shit," he whispered, nodding in the direction of the bloodied armchair.

“I know what you mean,” Sam whispered back. He’d only ever heard of hunting from Dean and John. In all his life, he’d never had the chance to actually go on a hunt until now. The grisly sight turned his stomach, and the smell didn’t help.

This was the kind of thing that Dean dealt with on a day-to-day basis, in his own private mission to save as many people as he could, and Sam was determined to help out in that mission. With any luck, he and Jacob could help save other kids from their fate. Cursed, and given up for dead. Unable to even reach out and contact their families.

The whining sound of the EMF meter echoed from above, and Sam could hear the older hunter going through the blood-splattered documents on the desk above their heads. The shifting papers rustled impatiently in a huge hand as they were moved aside. The boots right outside the desk shifted as Dean leaned his weight to the side.

“I guess we’ll have to get used to more than we thought,” Sam mumbled quietly to Jacob. There was no sign that Dean could hear their voices from down on the ground. At least not without them directing the conversation in his direction. From this distance, they’d have to shout to talk to their much larger brother.

Past the legs of the desk chair, Sam spotted something near the wall. He frowned, and darted that way. “What the…” he trailed off as he saw the strange black ooze that clung against the very corner, just barely visible. The smell of ozone hit Sam, a strange metallic sensation that brought back the memory of a battery sparking as it shorted out. He covered up his mouth with the edge of his sleeve, trying not to hack at the pungent odor, far more powerful at their smaller stature.

Jacob ran up behind Sam with quiet steps, but faltered when the smell hit him too. It was like running into a spiderweb in the dark. He balked and made a face, sucking in a surprised gasp that didn't help at all. His hands almost automatically went to the edge of his hoodie, a pullover jacket made by hand by Mallory. The fabric protected him a little from the odor when he pulled the collar up over his mouth and nose.

In the shadow of the desk, Jacob could creep towards the strange ooze without worrying about a human looking over his shoulder. If it turned out to be acidic, he'd be able to jump back, but Jacob could swear there was something in it.

"What the hell is this stuff?" Jacob muttered as he got to it. Carefully reaching out a hand, Jacob got his hands on the edge of what appeared to be a photograph. It was wedged tightly in the seam between the kickboard and the wall, but it was no problem at all for Jacob to tug it free. Plenty of the strange black gunk came with it with a wet schulk.

Near as he could tell, it was just a picture of a smiling young woman. Half of the photo looked like it had been clumsily ripped off, but Jacob guessed the man whose arm was around the girl's shoulder had left most of his blood on the armchair in the room. The poster-sized photo rested mostly on the ground, with the only unmarred corner clutched in Jacob's hands as he squinted at it.

“I’m not sure,” Sam replied. He glanced at the opening of the desk, towards the two massive boots standing out in the open room. Dean would know. He had worked vengeful spirit cases since he was sixteen. That was over a decade of experience, almost as much experience as Sam had with being small.

“We’ve got to show Dean,” he decided. Any clue, no matter how small or how random, might be the clue they needed to figure out what was going on. “He’ll know what to do with it.” Sam had never seen anything like that black goo before. The strange smell of ozone leeched off, surrounding both brothers.

Sam let Jacob take the lead this time, hefting up the photograph so the goop wouldn’t rub off. Dean would need to see that, too. The return trip only took them a few seconds, a bit of caution shed in their hurry to get back to the human.

At the edge of the desk, they peered up at the towering human. “Dean!” Sam hissed. It went against his nature to call attention to them. Years of instincts screeched indignantly at his rash move.

One of the boots nearby moved away, Dean caught off guard by Sam’s voice. “Sammy?” He must have spotted the paper in Jacob’s hands. With a motion that was faster than either of the smaller brothers could ever hope to equal, his knee crashed to the ground, shaking them where they stood. “What did you two find?”

Jacob wavered and almost stumbled backwards in the wake of Dean's rapid kneel. The displaced air alone was enough to create a noticeable gust on them, and the floor might as well have just experienced an earthquake. He had to hold back his intimidation for the way Dean's knee slammed into the floor, a casual motion for the human that'd be fatal to Sam or Jacob.

"We found this black stuff under the desk," he answered as he recovered, his heart beating a fast tempo in his chest. He held the photo up carefully to display the side of it covered in the stuff. He was being careful not to get it on his hands, since he had no idea what it was. Even Sam, who'd spent over a decade living in the walls, didn't seem like he knew what it was. "This a picture of the missing girl, I'm guessing?"

Dean paused, wincing as he saw the reaction of the others to his quick kneel. It was so easy to forget how large his movements were to them. He needed to do better if he expected them to want to stay.

Leaning down, he squinted at the picture. “That’s the girl from the paper,” he confirmed. He stretched out a hand, brushing against the black ick that was caking the sides. Dean held it up to his eyes, sniffing cautiously. “Ectoplasm?” he murmured to himself.

Dean glanced back at Jacob. “Hold still,” he cautioned, holding out the EMF reader. The antenna hovered an inch away, and Jacob watched it with a mix of wariness and curiosity.

The reaction was instantaneous. The red lights on the top lit up and a triumphant buzzing noise filled the air, prompting Jacob to flinch in surprise. Dean grinned, slapping the meter off and tucking it into his jacket. “Well I’ll be dammed. You two just found your first spirit.”

Jacob's eyebrows shot up and he looked more critically at the picture in his hands. It was more of a poster to him and Sam, and as far as things went it was pretty easy for them to find. They had a better shot at noticing details.

The fact that they were the ones to find something for the case stood out to him. Their first hunt, and they'd actually helped out in their own way. Even having that EMF reader pointed right at him and making so much noise couldn't cancel out how cool Jacob felt. There was a tentative smile on his face.

"Alright, awesome," Jacob said. He couldn't help but notice the hint of pride in Dean's voice. He held the photo up higher for the human to take, and asked "So how can we stop it? Just need to find where they're buried, right?" He wasn't sure how exactly they'd do that, but at least they were making progress.

Dean took the photo, brushing the ectoplasm onto the floor. “Find them, and salt and burn the corpse. That should take care of the spirit so it doesn’t go killing anyone else.” He let out a breath, eyebrows going up when he saw the misty cold haze come out of his mouth.

That, and the fact that Sam on the floor had his tiny hands tucked into his pockets against the sudden chill, was the only warning that Dean got.

“She’s mine and you can’t have her! ” shouted a voice nearby.

Dean went for his sawed-off, pushing Sam and Jacob further under the desk with the back of his hand in a last minute attempt to get them out of danger.

It cost him precious seconds.

A figure was standing near the door, anger in his eyes as he glared at the photo in the hunter’s hands. “Her father couldn’t keep her away from me and neither will you,” he hissed. Before Dean got off his shot, the spirit slammed his hand forward.

An invisible block of cement hit Dean in the chest. It tossed him into the air, only to send him crashing down onto an end table that splintered into pieces under his weight. Dean groaned, his eyelids fluttering shut as the blow knocked him out.

Chapter Text

Jacob pushed himself up off the floor under the desk. Both he and Sam had collapsed there after Dean’s desperate shove. The floor shook from the massive hunter's fall all the way across the room. Jacob shivered, from the cold but in large part also from the fact that something had the strength to knock a fully grown human back so harshly. Until now, Dean had seemed like such an immovable thing; a constant, towering presence that had happened to take Jacob in as a brother.

And now that big brother was knocked out cold, arms and legs sprawled over the debris of a table that had smashed to pieces under his colossal weight, splinters flying outwards from the destruction. In one frightening attack, the vengeful spirit had taken out Sam and Jacob's only defender in the world. Without him, they'd be stuck living in the dark, eking out a sparse existence with survival as the only goal.

The temperature in the room fell so quickly, Jacob was practically numb in his fingers, but he offered Sam a hand to haul him up regardless. Looking out from where they'd been pushed under the desk, the spirit's shoes were visible. It seemed like it was taking its time walking over to Dean. Maybe it wanted to let more anger boil to the surface before it struck out and finished Dean off.

"No way," Jacob spat, sprinting out from cover. It was reckless, and dangerous, and he had no way to stop the ghost from doing more harm, but something drove him to get to Dean and to try to help. He needed to help. He and Sam were hunters now. They had to do something, even if it meant just getting Dean to wake up. They were the only ones who could.

Jacob remembered the first time he'd dashed out from cover after his curse. Towering furniture, looming angles, a carpet that stretched on for miles. Today his heart pounded more than it had back then, though, and Jacob hardly registered anything but the prone giant in the room.

Sam darted out after him. Caution was thrown to the wind by both of the smaller brothers. If that spirit got his hands on Dean, it wouldn’t be long until the hunter ended up in the same condition as the father of the household.

The spirit didn’t pay any mind to the motion down on the ground. His attention was wholly concentrated on the hunter collapsed in front of him. “She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine,” could be heard whispered under his breath, his eyes locked unrelentingly on Dean, the clear threat. The motion on the floor might as well be mice, too small to do anything and thus disregarded by the spirit.

The plodding footsteps were slow enough for Sam and Jacob to slip by. Their own flight wasn’t panicked, but it was desperate. Sam angled for Dean’s face. He needed to wake his brother. They needed the hunter. All of their lives depended on it. Even if the spirit ignored Sam and Jacob and just concentrated his rage on Dean, it would be all over. They’d be trapped in the house, with no way to get to the Impala, no one to help them, no one that would care.

Lost and stranded. This time with no hope or help. It wasn’t likely that anyone would even come back to the house after such grisly deaths, and that could spell their doom just as much.

“Dammit, Dean. This is the worst time to catch up on your beauty rest!”

Sam reached his face, skidding to a halt a second before he rammed into the hunter. He’d lost sight of Jacob in his rush. “Wake up,” Sam pleaded, kicking a boot against Dean’s cheek.

While Sam did his best to rouse Dean, Jacob was running up a muscled arm. He'd hopped past the hunter's limp hand where it had fallen without breaking stride in his desperate run, using the arm as a ramp to reach Dean's chest. The spirit had tossed Dean without touching him. There was no telling what kind of damage it had done in its ferocious attack.

When he reached the middle of Dean's chest, Jacob almost laughed in relief as he felt the tell-tale thud of a heartbeat under his boots. Dean's breathing lifted him slowly upwards and lowered him down as the terrain beneath him filled with air. Dean lived. If they could wake him, he could fight back.

Jacob was about to dart towards Dean's face to help Sam wake their brother together, but the muttering of the spirit grew closer and closer and drew Jacob’s attention upwards. He whirled around and saw that it was standing over Dean, a menacing leer fixed on his face.

"She is mine," it asserted before lurching downwards with a hand outstretched. Long fingers curled like claws, and Jacob got the impression that the spirit was ready to literally rip Dean's beating heart right out. It didn't even notice the four inch people standing in its way.

It would turn out to be a gross underestimation.

Jacob wasn't sure what made him do it, but he instinctively grabbed the nail that was fixed to his satchel by a loop of leather. Rushing forward a few steps, Jacob drew the weapon like a sword. Memories of what it was like to get snatched in a hand poised just like that one flashed through Jacob’s mind as he advanced. When Dean had grabbed him little more than a week ago, the nail was easily confiscated and tossed aside. If someone told Jacob he'd be fighting to defend the same man who had captured him with such ease, he'd have laughed in their face.

Knowing the nail was a pale weapon compared to such a gigantic menace, Jacob lunged at the approaching hand with a desperate jab.

Dean’s eyes flashed open when a small blow landed between his eyes. He sucked in a startled gasp, shocked to see Sam right there, standing so close that he couldn’t even focus on the tiny form.

Then he heard the angry muttering of the spirit, and his eyes were drawn upwards to it.

A clawed hand was diving at his chest. Before Dean could even think about defending himself, a small glint of metal pulled his gaze. Jacob was standing bravely on Dean’s chest, brandishing the small nail he used as his first line of defense. Against Dean, it had done no good.

Against the spirit, it was a whole different story.

The moment the metal passed through the clawed hand that was ready to rip into Dean’s chest, Jacob or no Jacob, the spirit gave a shriek of surprise. His form discorporated, vanishing on the breeze as though he’d never been. A whispering cry of She’s mine!hung around them until even that faded.

Dean let out a breath of air he’d never realized he was holding. “Holy crap.”

Jacob stood in frozen shock on Dean’s chest, his arm outstretched with the nail. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Yet here he was, not pulverized as collateral damage in the ghost's mission against Dean. Somehow, he'd actually done it.

He’d saved Dean.

Jacob was staring straight ahead as he lowered the weapon and tried to slip it back into its loop. The adrenaline shaking his hands made him miss the loop several times, and in the end he had to look at it in order to stow the weapon. His own breathing came in irregular bursts as the tension of the last several minutes caught up to him and washed over him like a tide.

"H-holy shit," he breathed, turning to look at Dean and search for Sam. He stumbled and fell to a seated position right on Dean's chest as it rose and fell. "That was crazy," he observed, disbelief encompassing every word.

Dean laughed and Jacob had to grip his shirt as the action bounced him up and down. Dean let his head drop back on the ground with a thunk. “You’re telling me,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. The last thing he could remember clearly was the ghost tossing him into the air, seconds after making sure the other two were safely out of sight. Now he was lying on… Is this a table? he thought distractedly, shifting so one of the wooden legs wasn’t sticking in his back.

Whatever it had been, it was nothing more than firewood now. Dean went to sit up, then paused. Sam was collapsed on the ground next to where his head was, breathing heavily, and Jacob didn’t look like he was going anywhere anytime soon.

“C’mon guys, let's get you off the floor,” Dean said. He scooped up Sam first, then sat up more and let Jacob fall into his hand next to Sam. They both fit easily with room to spare on his palm, and he cupped his fingers so they weren’t in danger of falling.

Dean arched his eyebrows at the sight of the nail and touched a thumb against it. “That’s an iron nail, Jacob. You’ve got a secret weapon against spirits, and you didn’t even tell me,” he joked.

Jacob shifted around, sitting up again after tumbling onto Dean's hand. He braced his hand against the massive thumb and then glanced at the nail strapped to his bag. The nondescript thing had been one of his earliest finds after the curse. It was abandoned in the walls of the motel, forgotten since its construction. He'd never given much thought to what it was made of. He just knew he needed a weapon, like Sam's knife or Walt's razor.

"I didn't know," he admitted. Saying it out loud made him realize just how reckless he'd actually been. He'd brandished a weapon at a ghost, with no idea that it was exactly the weapon he needed. If it wasn't made of iron, there'd be no more Jacob, and no more Dean, just like that. Holy shit. I might be an idiot.

Dean shrugged that off. “Your quick thinking kept all of us alive, and now we know what you’ve got. That’s what matters in the end.” He brushed his thumb reassuringly against Jacob’s shoulder.

With both of them safe in a hand, Dean grabbed his sawed-off from where it had landed and strode over to the desk. “So it’s the boyfriend…” he muttered to himself, rifling through the papers on the desk with one hand. He remembered reading about the girl who’d vanished. Before everything had gone down, she’d had a boyfriend who’d gone missing months beforehand.

Staring that spirit down, Dean could match up the distraught, angered face. He lifted up an article from the desk with an obituary in it that was all about the boy. He was a dead ringer for their spirit.

Sam leaned off of the hand, peering down at the paper Dean was holding. Worried for his balance, Dean cupped his hand even closer to his chest. “Watch it, pint-size,” he cautioned.

Sam shot him an annoyed glance. “I know what I’m doing,” he shot up.

Dean rolled his eyes and cupped the hand closer regardless. “You’ll live,” he said dryly. “Looks like something must have happened to the boyfriend, and he’s seeking some good ole’ fashioned revenge from beyond the grave.”

Jacob snickered at Sam’s annoyed pout. He hadn't even tried to lean over to read those papers, not trusting his shaking arms to hold him securely. After the mad sprint across the room and the short altercation with the spirit, Jacob was still coming down from an adrenaline high unlike anything he'd ever encountered before. The only time that came close was the moment Dean caught him, and that was already forgiven.

He couldn't believe he was still alive. His luck was incredible, though Jacob didn't try to tempt fate by looking over the side of Dean's hand. More likely than not he'd just get vertigo seeing the sheer drop. He was still getting used to being held up to Dean's full height, or resting on his shoulder.

Besides, it was entertaining enough watching Sam become grumpy over Dean's protective insistence. Sam, used to the independence he'd had before, wasn't ready for it by a long shot. Jacob, on the other hand, had always had Sam around. He was more accustomed to the protective nature of a big brother and he'd learned to just go with it.

He grinned at Sam, mouthing pint-size at him, pointing out that Sam appeared to have earned himself a nickname.

Dean was leaning over the desk, digging through the rest of the paperwork. If I killed a guy, where would I hide the body? he thought.

With that distraction, he didn’t notice the movement on his hand for about a minute. When one of the two bumped up against a thumb, he glanced down in surprise. To the look of things, Sam was attempting to put Jacob in a headlock. Both of them were hampered by the strange composition of the surface they were on, resulting in neither of them being able to catch the other off guard.

Dean pursed his lips to try and hide a smile at his brothers. “Do I need to separate you two?” he asked sternly, failing to hide his amusement at the entire situation and tempted to pinch one of them by the back of their jacket. “I’ve got enough pockets to keep you both in a time out if I need to.”

Since they were right next to his chest, Dean's voice resonated loudly enough to catch Jacob off guard. It was barely a lapse, but it was enough to give Sam the upper hand for a moment and succeed in getting his arm around Jacob's neck in a lock. Jacob paused, huffing in frustration and wishing he could turn his head to give Sam a flat look.

As it was, he glanced up at Dean and waved him off. "Nah, man, we're good. Do we have an idea on where to find the angry boyfriend?"

After asking the question, Jacob resumed his mock struggle with Sam, pushing his arm out of the way with unusual strength. It was enough to duck out of the lock and escape Sam's grasp. Ever since he'd started to notice that unusual strength, restraining him had become less and less of a possibility, at least among people their size. Sam was very strong, too, and could probably hold Jacob up by the back of his hoodie, but Jacob could lift even more.

Dean shook his head ruefully, watching Sam recover from Jacob’s escape and send one last shove in his direction. It ended with Jacob’s hair being ruffled. The sight of them goofing off on his hand was enough to bring a warm feeling to his chest, one he’d lacked for years with Sam presumed dead.

Now, not only did he have Sam back, he also had adopted Jacob, and they clearly weren’t bothered by the fact that he could hold them in one hand. They trusted him, and that’s all that mattered.

Dean cleared his head, focusing on the case instead to keep his mind off the past. He gestured with his free hand at a picture frame sitting on the desk. “Turns out daddy dearest has a hunting cabin not far from here. If I was going to hide a body, I know where I’d go.”

Chapter Text

Less than two hours later, Dean drove his shovel into the softened earth, breaking ground.

Sam and Jacob were safely standing behind a ring of salt, circled around the duffel and all of Dean’s supplies to keep them out of reach of the spirit and hopefully safe until he was done. The grave had only been dug a few months prior, so the ground hadn’t had time to harden. That would help make his job at least a little easier.

With the evening air turning cool, Sam had his hands shoved down in his pockets all over again. His shoulders were hunched in an attempt to keep as much body heat as he could to himself. He and Jacob had specific instructions to shout out a warning to Dean if they saw the spirit.

Next to the softened ground, Dean’s salt gun sat within reach. Both of the smaller brothers had weapons of their own. Jacob and his iron nail, and Sam with a small sack of salt, ready to toss at any threat he saw. Either weapon could buy Dean precious seconds if they saw an opening.

Sam paced back and forth, trying to keep warm in the open air. He caught sight of Jacob and sent him a grin. “So, is this life as glamorous as you hoped?”

Jacob stood in place, watching Dean absently. His own hands were shoved into his hoodie pocket, balled into fists to keep them warmer. Despite the chill trying to work its way deep into his bones, he was also on high alert for any more attacks. He would try to be ready to draw the nail again to ward off that ghost.

He looked away from the growing mountain of dirt that Dean was building by the grave to shrug at Sam. "Pretty glamorous," he quipped back, letting a smile on his face. "I just can't wait for our first corpse-burning." Jacob pulled his hands out of his pockets to cup them in front of his face and blow some warm air onto them. He couldn't help but think that, when there was finally a fire to warm them up, it'd be a dead person burning.

"I guess it's cool though," he admitted, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. He was almost tempted to put his hood up to retain more heat in the chilly night. "I mean, this guy won't go killing more people. Otherwise that chick might have had every boyfriend in her life after this get murdered."

Sam let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah. Talk about being a jinx. She probably ran away to get away from her overprotective father. It would just figure if she was stalked by her obsessed dead boyfriend instead.”

And not even just boyfriends, Sam found himself musing. The guy had jumped Dean the second the hunter laid hands on the photograph of the girl. It was like Sam and Jacob didn’t even exist. The spirit hadn’t acknowledged their presence once, not when Jacob was holding onto the photo, not when Sam was darting by his foot, and not even when Jacob was desperately striking out with the nail. It was a blind spot that had done the spirit in.

Sam hoped the spirit wouldn’t return until the case was over. Without the photo, there might not be enough charged emotion for the spirit to summon up and reappear. The stronger the spirit was, the easier it was to come back from being dispersed. This guy had only been dead a few months. The psychic energy he’d been able to amass over that time might have been depleted by all the activity he’d shown in the last week. Spirits could go for years at a time unnoticed while they restored their strength, using it all up at once. If there wasn’t much energy, there wouldn’t be a way for the guy to attack Dean again.

The dirt pile eventually towered over everyone’s head, including Dean’s. He was only visible from the shoulders up when he stood straight. He hefted up his shovel, smashing it down on a box that was out of sight of both of the smaller brothers. It splintered open, dispelling a wave of rancid air that made even the hardened hunter gag.

Dean hauled himself out of the grave to get clear of the smell, then came back over to the duffel. “So, who wants to light this candle?” he asked with a wink as he dropped the matches between the other two. He didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing the lighter fluid and salt and going back over to the grave. “Time to torch this sonovabitch.”

Jacob was about to say something, but quickly lost his focus when he caught a whiff of the rotting body that was somewhere in that enormous canyon that Dean had dug into the earth. He had a feeling that if he and Sam stood on the edge and looked down, they wouldn't even be able to see the bottom in the dark. It would be a long drop; he tried not to think about it too much.

Instead, he picked up the book of matches, reading the name of some motel in some other city on the front. Jacob had caught a glimpse of it already, traveling with Dean in the last few days. There really was nowhere in the country that was immune to a case. Dean had been all over the place. Now Sam and Jacob might, too. Distances unfathomable to them on their own became easy to cross when they were in that hulking Impala.

Jacob looked over to Sam with a smile. "I'll hold this steady if you'll light it," he suggested. He could already smell the oily scent of the lighter fluid mixing with the odor of the dead guy. The smell wasn't likely to get better anytime soon, and they'd have to walk closer to it to do their part in finishing the spirit off. Despite that, they were about to complete their first hunt successfully. It was something to be excited for.

Sam grinned back. “Works for me.” Dean trusted them to put the final touches on the pyre, and that meant a lot. The fact that a man who’d spent years on his own with no one else to rely on was willing to give them that trust meant everything.

After losing Sam, Dean had spent years training to hunt on his own just like their father. After only a week of having them in his life, he was willing to let them participate in a hunt, to the extent of putting himself in danger to save them. When Dean had pushed the two of them under the desk for safety, he’d lost precious seconds to help himself. If he’d gone straight into an attack with his gun, he might not have been tossed across the room. Instead, he’d done what he could to keep them safe. Sam and Jacob had done the same for him, running out into the massive room with a vengeful spirit on the prowl to defend their older brother. They needed to make sure that his determination to keep them safe didn’t end badly for him.

Now, Dean was just finishing with the salt as Sam and Jacob made their way over to the edge of the grave. Dean’s boots sank into the soft earth only a foot away, compacting it under his heavier weight. Sam and Jacob wouldn’t be able to make as much of an impression on the ground, but with the matches they’d make a huge impression on the fire.

Jacob held out the book of matches, and Sam ripped one off. With teamwork, they lit it up. Dean took a step back, kneeling down nearby to watch over them as they worked. One hand hovered close by, and this time Sam didn’t mind those overprotective instincts. The sight of the massive canyon of the grave was enough to make them appreciate having someone close enough to grab them if they slipped.

Sam paused for a second with the match burning to size the grave up, then threw it for all he was worth. The little flicker of light dwindled away from them, until it dropped below the level of the ground.

Bright trails of flame burst into existence, roaring into life to consume the corpse below. Dean scooped them both into a hand, taking a step back from the heat. “Well,” he chuckled, “I’d call this a roaring success.”

Jacob rolled his eyes at the pun, but his focus was quickly back on the hole in the ground. The flames, helped along by the lighter fluid Dean had doused the grave with, reached a little higher. The pit glowed orange as the fire greedily consumed the body. The spirit, left vengeful after being murdered, could rest.

"Yeah, I guess that wasn't so bad," Jacob mused, leaning back where he was sitting on Dean's hand. He still had his hands tucked away in his pocket, but there was a lot of warmth coming up from the fire. Jacob tried to ignore the fact that it was a corpse providing the fuel for their bonfire. The oily tips of the flames didn't produce much smoke, but there was still enough in the air that the three of them would probably smell it on their clothes as soon as they left.

"Sam, I guess we're pretty good at this. We found some evidence, lit up the bones ... oh, and we completely saved Dean's ass. That actually happened." Jacob grinned, admittedly still amazed that it was true.

Dean smirked, nudging Jacob lightly with a finger. “Live it up, half-pint. I can still stick you both in a pocket.”

Despite his words, he could feel a definite swell of pride. He hadn’t been wrong, offering to let them come along on hunts with him. It was a dangerous offer, especially knowing what could lurk in the shadows.

But in a way, it was just as dangerous to hunt alone, if not more so. Bobby had scolded him time and again, telling him not to do it John’s way. He could get himself killed without a partner to back him up. And now here he was, with Sam and Jacob as backup. Without them to wake him up and stop the spirit in his tracks, Dean might not be living and breathing to watch the fire burn down. They’d more than earned their own names as hunters.

When the fire burned itself out, Dean put the other two back down by the duffel bag and involved himself with filling the gravesite back in. Justice had been served, in more way than one. The spirit had taken out his killer, and Dean had taken out the spirit. They would both rest in peace from now on.

Sam nudged Jacob in the side with an elbow. “Hear that, half-pint? I’m not the only one with a nickname, shorty.”

Jacob chuckled and held his hands up in defeat. "Okay, fine, fine," he conceded. He remembered having the same nickname when Dean had first caught him. It was amazing how much had changed. Hearing it now wasn't demeaning or a threat; it was just Dean being himself. There was a lot more to him than his intimidating facade he put on while he was hunting.

"But just you wait, Sam. I might still get taller than you," Jacob warned, a clear challenge in his voice. Sam had seemed so tall when he first met him. Jacob had since grown, and he thought he might actually surpass Walt.

Of course, Dean, standing nearby and knocking an entire mountain of dirt over the fire with a shovel that could easily carry everyone that had lived in Trails West, dwarfed them completely. Jacob was still thrown by the size of everything around him sometimes. It didn't seem like it should be possible for one person to be so big.

After the grave was filled in and they were certain the fire was out, Dean gathered all of their things and both of his brothers into a hand. They left the abandoned hunting cabin behind them and headed for the Impala.

That night, Sam and Jacob were sitting on the table, pondering the laptop screen that Dean had left open. To the side sat an opened box of pizza. Most of it, (what remained of it, at least) was smothered in sausage, pepperoni, ham and any other kind of meat that Dean had been able to get on it. Two slices were sitting there with different toppings; one with just cheese for Sam, and a slice of mushroom pizza for Jacob. Both had the tips cut off and those pieces were sitting nearby on a napkin along with two bottlecaps of soda.

From the bathroom came the sound of running water. Dean was finishing up a shower after a long day of hunting, glad to have the chance to get the dirt and grime off from digging up the grave. Sam and Jacob had both already had their turn using the sink of the motel to get clean.

They might not be a normal family, but they made their own normal.

Dean walked out of the bathroom, scrubbing his face with a hand towel. He tossed it into the corner, taking a deep breath in the cool air of the room. A hazy steam rose from the bathroom, showing how hot he’d had the water.

“Good water pressure,” he commented dryly as he came over to the table. He pushed the pizza box aside and sat down in front of the laptop. “So did you two pick a movie for the night?”

Jacob looked over his shoulder at Dean. He sat near the mousetrack of the laptop. He and Sam had worked out a decent system; Sam hopped around on the keys to type and Jacob handled all the point-and-click work. Between them, they could operate the laptop pretty quickly for people smaller than a pack of gum.

"Dude we found the entire original Star Wars trilogy," he announced with pride and some amazement. Youtube hadn't even existed yet when Jacob was first shrunk. The internet had progressed a lot even in just the three years he'd been unable to use it. It was no wonder Sam stayed up so late at night to mess around on the laptop.

Jacob glanced over at the bottlecaps of soda they had set aside. There was still some fizz bubbling off the surface of the sugary liquid, so he'd have to wait a little longer. Carbonated drinks could wreak havoc on small stomachs like Jacob's or Sam's, as they’d learned. The bubbles were a lot bigger by comparison.

Dean folded his arms down, resting his head on them. He’d grabbed a bite of pizza before diving in the shower. There was more for later if he wanted it.

Watching the other two work the laptop was almost entrancing sometimes. It became a workout for them, having to hop from key to key where he could span the entire keyboard with just his fingers. Sam certainly made it look easy, hopping around while Jacob controlled the mouse.

Between the two of them, they managed to pull up the movie and get it on full screen. He smirked at the sight of A New Hope. Sam must be working his magic on Jacob. That was the younger Winchester’s favorite movie from when he was a kid. And now they had the entire trilogy at their fingertips. He wondered briefly if they’d want to start on the newer movies by the time they finished the originals, then pushed it from his mind. Maybe they’d forget those existed.

Jacob maneuvered the mouse and started it up. A black screen took over, heralding the beginning messages.

Dean let himself relax as his head rested on his arm. “Hey!” he said jokingly, a quiet pretend yell since their hearing was fragile compared to his. “Down in front. This isn’t an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000.” The two small silhouettes were standing in front of the screen, blocking a small fraction of it.

Sam sent him a bitchface. “Oh, like you can’t see the entire screen whether we’re here or not. Guess we’ll just have to find somewhere to sit.”

He marched himself right off the laptop and over to Dean. Dean arched his eyebrows at the smaller man as he hauled himself onto the opposite arm from the one he was resting his head on. Using the crook of Dean’s elbow for a backrest, Sam pointedly put his feet up, giving his older brother a look that dared him to argue.

Jacob snickered at the staredown between the two of them. One that it certainly looked like Sam would win despite the fact that he was staring down a guy with eyes the size of his head. Dean didn't seem like he was about to knock Sam off his perch on his arm. The fact that Sam and Jacob could be cheeky and defiant with Dean like that and not face frightening consequences still shocked him from time to time.

Dean may be huge and a hunter, but he wasn't going to use either fact to bring harm to his pocket-sized brothers. In fact, the look on his face was quite comical, startled by Sam’s decision to use him as a seat.

Since Sam had already made his defiant stance, Jacob took care of carrying their pizza and soda over to Dean's arm. From the look of things, there was no way Sam was getting back up after making his point so soundly.

Jacob pulled himself up onto Dean's arm in time for the yellow text of the beginning messages to scroll onto the top of the screen. The perch was fairly high up since Dean's arms alone were thicker than Jacob or Sam was tall at their widest point. Covered in flannel and producing body heat of its own, it was a good place to sit for a movie. Especially when the movie was on a cinema-sized screen like the laptop was to Sam and Jacob.

"You do make a pretty good couch, Dean," Jacob teased, patting the firm arm beneath him before finally taking a sip of soda. The muscle tensed at his touch.

Dean took in their seating arrangement, a hopeful expression on his face despite Sam’s bossy attitude. It meant they actually weren’t afraid of him, and didn’t mind just hanging out with him. Even Jacob, after their tumultuous first meeting. “Hey, whatever floats your boat,” he shot back at Jacob goodnaturedly.

Sam dug into his pizza, watching the screen intently as the battle between the Star Destroyer and Princess Leia’s transport commenced. Out of everyone there, he’d had the longest time since being able to just sit and watch a movie like that. It was why Jacob had decided to go with the Star Wars series, after all. Sam wouldn’t say much, but it had been thirteen years since he’d had the same opportunity. Dean could always choose what he wanted to watch, and Jacob had only lost that ability three years ago.

The movie continued on. Once, Sam slipped off the arm to grab himself a sip from his drink and put the leftovers down from his pizza. Otherwise, he and Jacob both relaxed on a surprisingly comfortable and safe perch, and safety wasn’t easy to find in their lives.

Dean, the architect of that sense of security, started to fade about halfway through the movie as Han and Luke were on their way to rescue the princess. His eyes fluttered closed, heavy from exhaustion. Between the hunt and all the driving, it had been a long day. Especially since they didn’t want to stay in the same town after breaking into a crime scene. They’d hopped in the Impala and hauled ass across state lines before finding a place to stop for the night. Dean’s breathing slowed as he passed out.

Jacob was drawn in by the movie. He hadn't seen it in a long time, and he knew that for Sam the wait had been even longer. It was a good choice after all their hard work. He couldn't hold back a sense of pride as he watched the heroes on screen rescue the princess, feeling like the three of them had performed their own heroics that day.

Jacob turned to look over at Dean to ask a question, but he forgot what he was going to ask when he saw the huge face had gone slack. Dean looked so peaceful in his sleep. A lot of the worry lines that showed while he was awake simply disappeared. The huge hunter had definitely earned a rest.

"Sam," Jacob muttered, looking at Sam and nodding in Dean's direction with a faint smile. "Think we should wake him?" While it didn't particularly matter that Dean was missing the best parts of the movie, it was a wonder he was comfortable enough to actually drift off, leaning over the table like he was.

Sam jolted, then glanced where Jacob was indicating. He couldn’t help but smile in turn at the sight of his - of their older brother falling asleep like that. All the noise of the blasters on the screen did nothing to disturb Dean’s rest, his shoulders continuing to rise and fall peacefully in time with his breathing.

“Maybe,” Sam said. Cautiously, he hauled himself to his feet. He didn’t want to make Dean shift in sleep, causing the hunter to toss them off. He walked down the arm to the hand, staring up at Dean.

He frowned. Dean looked so peaceful. Even in the last week they’d been with him, Sam hadn’t seen him drift off without any sign of the stress he lived in showing. “Then again, maybe not,” Sam decided. A warm puff of air hit him as Dean exhaled slowly. Sam put a hand against the rough skin on Dean’s cheek. A strange protectiveness rose up in him for the giant hunter that had welcomed them both into his life. Because of him, they could have movie nights and chill and eat pizza. “I haven’t seen him sleep like this since we were kids.”

Jacob nodded, feeling the small gust of Dean's content sigh himself. Not as much as Sam, if the way his poofy hair waved about in the breeze was any indication, but enough. Dean was fine where he was. He might wake with a sore back later, but then again he’d dug up an entire grave just that day. He’d have a sore back no matter what.

"Before today I guess I never realized how much work it actually was," Jacob said absently as he shifted his position on the arm. He moved so he lay on his stomach with his chin propped on folded arms, still easily able to see the huge laptop screen.

"Glad he doesn't have to do everything by himself anymore." Even though Jacob couldn't do much to help dig a grave or provide the knowledge they needed, he'd still helped in his own way that day. He was proud, but at the same time he marveled at the fact that Dean had done this stuff alone for years. He'd had no backup at all in months, and he'd still lived to come and find Jacob and Sam.

“So am I,” Sam said as he came back over. “It might work for our dad, but I doubt Dean ever wanted to go it on his own. Everyone needs someone to watch their back, just like we did for each other all those years.”

He sat back down, settling to watch the end of the movie with Jacob. A fold of the flannel shirt beneath them was easily turned into a makeshift pillow, and Sam relaxed into the crook of Dean’s elbow again.

By the time the end of the movie rolled around and the credits were rolling, Dean wasn’t the only one that had slipped into sleep. Jacob was out cold, passed out on Dean’s arm. Sam glanced over the other two, wondering if he should wake Jacob up. Their makeshift bed was waiting for them under the nightstand, after all…

But it was far away, and they had a perfectly good place to sleep already.

Sam busied himself shutting down the computer. He dragged the napkin holding their pizza out of range of Dean’s arms in case he moved during the night, then brought the soda bottlecaps out of range as well.

With everything settled, Sam hauled himself back up onto Dean’s arm. He had to nudge Jacob slightly out of the way of his spot, then flopped down onto the warm, soft surface. In no time at all, the room had three slumbering brothers.

At some point past midnight, Dean’s eyes blinked open.

Confused, he rubbed his face with the hand he’d been resting his chin on, wondering why the hell he’d fallen asleep at the table.

A slight weight on his other arm came to his attention as his head started to clear, and Dean was glad he hadn’t gotten up yet. His lips turned up at the sight of Sam and Jacob flopped on his arm and fast asleep. The open laptop cleared the rest of his confusion, and he could remember drifting off to the backdrop of Star Wars.

Sam and Jacob still on his arm caught him off guard. Sam was curled up in the crook of his elbow, and Jacob was lying on his forearm. They were so relaxed and peaceful, Dean didn’t want to risk waking them. His movements were far more tender than normal as he cupped a hand next to them, slowly tilting the arm so they slid together into his protective palm. Jacob mumbled something unintelligible, but didn't even stir. One of Sam's small boots kicked against Dean's thumb, but he settled down as well.

Dean cupped his hand against his chest once they were fully on, then stood to go back over to the nightstand. He’d set it up earlier on in the night, so all he had to do was nudge the books out of the way. Jacob was closer to the edge of his hand, so with care, Dean tilted it and let their youngest brother slide off and land in the thick nest of flannel that made up their bed. Almost on autopilot, the teen burrowed a little into the soft bedding, a blind hand tugging some of it over himself as a blanket. Sam tried to curl deeper into Dean’s hand as though he knew he had it all to himself, but he joined Jacob under the nightstand in short order. Gentle nudges with a fingertip were enough to dissuade him from his claimed position.

With a warm smile, Dean put the books back in place. They’d be safest there, and that's what mattered. Keeping the two brothers he'd taken in safe and free the way he'd promised. He grabbed himself a slice of pizza to quickly devour, then hopped into his own bed. The light snapped off, and once again the room was silent.

FIN