@torchmlp replied to your post:
Oh, Blast from the Past?
blast from the past?
Blast from the Past?
Hey, BFTP isn’t Blast From The Past is it? Also it’s really neat that you guys are doing an AU with a smol Dean and Jacob, and tol Sam 🙂 Thank you so much for sharing these stories!
(Thanks nonnie! This is a ton of fun and we love to share >w>)
That’s the one! Sam’s staying at familiar motel and it’s going to be a Blast from the Past!
Once they get past introductions.
From his angle under the dresser, Jacob could almost see the glaring red numbers on the alarm clock across the room. Whatever hour they broadcast to the room, all he knew was that it was late afternoon. The sun was already setting outside, leaving just an orange glow peeking around the shabby curtains on the window.
Late for humans, perhaps, but for people like him, it was nearing the perfect time to be out and about. Standing at less than three and three-quarter inches tall, Jacob would be lucky to stand taller than someone’s shoe. His caution under the dresser was born of how true and serious that truth was. It would only take one mistake, one moment of inattention, to land him in trouble.
He’d been taught that lesson every day since he woke up in a world too big for him. Only fourteen years old, and he’d had to accept a new life.
His old one was literally out of reach. Furniture towered overhead and people were powerful giants with the power to lock him away for good.
He shifted from one foot to the other, his handmade leather boots pressing into the dusty carpet fibers. Walt, a man his size who had taken him on as a pupil of sorts, had made the boots for him, along with the satchel that rested against his side and comforted him with its presence. Everything he owned was in there, and he drummed his fingers silently against the top flap. Hopefully he would come away from this room with a little extra.
It wasn’t his greatest plan, coming out to check out the room by himself. An inner voice that sounded a lot like Walt scolded him for it. He reassured it that he wouldn’t take long. Then he could resume looking for wherever Dean had already wandered in his own search for supplies. He was always better at finding exactly what he needed.
Dean was like Jacob. Small, and trapped in the harsh living they had to make for themselves in the walls of the Trails West. He’d been shrunk down for ten years by the time Jacob arrived. It had hardened him in ways Jacob doubted he’d ever fully understand. Whenever Walt finished with a lecture, it seemed like Dean was there with another one just to remind him.
Stuck here forever. Gotta take care of yourself. No one out there will.
He took a slow breath and eyed the table in the room. The lamp on the dresser directly above him provided some extra light for the cluttered surface. Luckily, no one sat in the rickety chair next to it.
He wasn’t out of the woods. There was a human in the room, the only reason Jacob hadn’t come any farther out than the dresser. The man was milling by the bed and rummaging through his duffel bag. Jacob wasn’t sure, but the guy had to be nearly as tall as his dad had been, so many years ago. His heart did a flip as he leaned out just enough to assess the man’s height before ducking back out of sight.
Definitely a big guy. Easily over six feet tall, one of the tallest people he’d seen since shrinking down. Jacob was supposed to grow that tall one day. That promise was long gone by now. Now he’d have to hope for four inches of height.
He heaved a slow breath. The duffel bag on the bed was a sign of a road tripper. Maybe someone on his way to a new job, or visiting friends far away. Whatever he was there for, the motel was only serving to keep him from nodding off on the long drive.
These kinds of folks tended to have snacks, so he’d learned. Quick and easily accessible food that, if they could take off with some, would be great for them.
Getting ahead of himself, Jacob wondered what the guy might have hidden away in that bag. It had been a while since he’d had trail mix.
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