Moira stood and took a few steps towards the strangers on the table. Her family didn’t entertain guests very often, but she knew how to offer hospitality. And maybe she could help reassure them, considering the way Sherlock and John could loom. Sherlock especially with that focused look in his eyes.
Moira spared him one last glance before opening up her bag, a smaller version of Sam’s. “Is anyone hungry?” she asked in a small voice. “I don’t have much, but my mother made some cakes,” she offered shyly, pulling one out and unwrapping it from the fabric coiled around it.
The detective groped blindly at a lock of some kind, and he focused on that. It was a combination lock, one he couldn’t simply pick open and would take far too long to figure out the code for.
“Dean,” he rumbled, eyes darting around the room. It was a wide space, nothing jumped out at him in the shapes he could make out, nothing important, anyway. “I need something to break this off.”
Dean scanned the room, all of his focus concentrated on the task. “Okay, there’s a box in the corner. It’s full of old tools, some wrenches, a pretty hefty hammer–” hefty being so big that Sam and Dean together would never budge it, “–and a drill that looks like it hasn’t been used since I lived in America. Turn right, about three steps. Watch out for the table, don’t want to go knocking that copy of Harry Potter onto the floor.”
“You’re improving,” Sherlock commented as he followed Dean’s directions. Whether it was the stress of the situation or the urgency, it certainly seemed like Dean was showing off at this point. Not that Sherlock was complaining.
John reached toward Dean and tapped the counter with his knuckle, just outside of reach of the smaller man’s reach.
Contrary to John’s hopes, the light rap against the countertop did not yield the desired results. After living over a decade in the walls, Dean was used to the feeling of vibrations or booming voices in his sleep, though normally sound was more muffled.
Dean shifted in place, rolling on his side with a brief “Quit it, Sammy,” thrown over his shoulder before settling back down.
Bobby stared down at the floorboard he’d torn up seconds before, startled by what he was looking at.
Nestled between two supports, there was a small room, swept clear of any remaining sawdust from the construction of the house, and with a fine layer of dust spread over a few pieces of furniture.
Knowing about people the size of his finger living nearby and seeing proof of their existence were two completely different things.
He worried his lip. The floorboard needed replacing, and it didn’t look like anyone had lived there in a long time. He recalled the place Rumsfeld had chased him from months before, a fleeting glimpse of bright red hair running from him clear in his memory. They must have once lived in his house, before relocating. He wondered why they might have left, and decided it didn’t matter.
Carefully gathering up a cradle and two makeshift chairs, Bobby pushed himself to his feet. He could find a place to leave them, and hope their former owners found them. They deserved to have all of their possessions, no matter what had driven them from the house.
Timeline: Before the first story, after the brothers move into 221B Baker Street
It was just another supply run.
There was no reason for either brother to think this morning would be any different from any other.
It was becoming their regular routine; wake up early, grab some food from the cabinets, keep an eye on Sherlock and John while they were up and about. Midafternoon to evening was a good time to catch some sleep with the humans at their most active, and during the night the brothers would pick through the main room of the flat, reading up on the materials Sherlock scattered about his latest cases and grabbing extra supplies for the supply room they were building across the fireplace from their home.
It had only been a week since officially moving in, but so far the schedule was holding out. There were a few hiccups along the way while learning and they had to have chosen the most erratic humans around, but the brothers remained hidden against all odds.
“Anythin?’ “ Dean hissed at Sam as he hesitantly pushed at the entrance into the cupboard.
Sam paused, his eyes unfocused as he concentrated on the strange knack he had. Without that ability, moving into this particular flat would be ill-advised. Between the two of them and their unusual abilities, it became worth the risk.
“Nothing,” Sam confirmed, and Dean climbed into the cupboard to begin their raid.
Throughout the last week, Dean had begun the lengthy process of creating entrances where they were most needed. It was a skill he’d picked up like a natural, mechanically inclined the way he was. Mapping out the walls was accomplished the first few days, and Sam had created an intricate diagram using some scrap paper and the broken tip of a pencil Dean had tracked down for them to use. On that diagram he had marked off the most desired entrances into the main area where the humans lived, and was slowly checking them off as they were completed.
The entrance into the cupboards for food being one of the most important ones to make.
Now, they could slip right in under the humans’ noses and get what they needed to survive. It wasn’t much compared to what someone normal sized might eat, but they’d learned harsh lessons early in life that they weren’t seen as people. No handouts would ever come their way.
Sam brightened up at the sight of a new box of cereal, the top already opened. “It’s fresh!” he chirped brightly, letting his hand fall to his hook in preparation.
Dean nodded. “I’ll keep watch,” he said, stationing himself between the teabags and the cereal so he could see the front of the cabinet in case it was opened.
Sam tossed his hook into the air. His aim was not as good as his older brother’s, but the three prongs made it easier to get a catch, and the sturdy weight of the hook wasn’t a deterrent with his natural strength. It caught on a flap, and Sam tugged it questioningly. With it holding fast, he started to climb up the side of the box with his boots braced against the side and his grip tight on the black thread, the weight of the cereal inside preventing it from tipping over on him.
Reaching the top quickly, Sam balanced uncertainly on the uneven ground. It took some doing, but he was able to work one hand under the top flap and tug it open, revealing the food inside. With his satchel empty, there was plenty of room to stash the food, and no way for John or Sherlock to know some was missing unless they weighed the cereal by gram as they ate.
The humans in the flat were odd, but not quite that odd.
Sam balanced with one boot on either side of the box and started to scoop up the cereal one piece at a time, filling them into his bag as he went, his position precarious.
John was especially groggy as he entered the kitchen. Not only had the night out with his friend Mike Stamford gone on for longer than he’d meant it to, but the storm that followed made John’s old bullet wound act up, disrupting his sleep for the rest of the night.
The doctor rubbed absently at his left shoulder, the gloomy morning still giving him an ache there. Ordinarily he’d get something for breakfast started before getting his tea, but ever since he’d moved in with Sherlock Holmes not so long ago, John found his schedule being arbitrarily changed– mostly his sleep schedule; John was certain he still hadn’t recovered from that late night filing through a pair of dead men’s books– and his habits shifting. Right now, he was in dire need of caffeine.
There was water left in the kettle, so all he had to do was plug it in and push down the little switch to get the heat started. Rubbing his eyes in attempt to get rid of that heavy feeling in his lids, John fumbled at the cupboard door and groped blindly for a teabag.
The footsteps weren’t unexpected, but what was unexpected was the lack of reaction in Sam’s knack. Light washed over the tiny pair as the wide door swung open.
Both brothers’ froze.
Unbelievably, considering how Sam was perched on top of the cereal box, one boot braced on either side, and how Dean was frozen right out in the open, John Watson didn’t notice them.
The oblivious human wasn’t even looking in their direction as his hand stretched out, blindly groping past the box Sam was stuck on.
Dean snapped out of his shock, stumbling away from the grasping fingers that were longer than he was tall. As he backed away, his hand fell on another of the boxes shoved in there by Sherlock.
Teabags.
Saying a prayer under his breath, Dean grabbed a teabag from the box and shoved it in the direction of John’s huge hand. All he could do was hope that if John got what he was looking for, the human doctor wouldn’t glance into the cupboard and spot Sam, who had no fast way down from the box unless he fell inside with the cereal.
John’s fingers latched onto the thin material of the teabag, curling into a loose fist around it as the hand retreated. With a half-yawn, half-groan, John let the cupboard door fall closed and dropped heavily into a chair while he waited for the kettle to boil.
As the door slammed shut, Sam sucked in a breath. John hadn’t noticed. Sam was right there, perched on a box of cereal, and he hadn’t seen a thing.
How?
While the sounds of John peacefully preparing his cup of tea filtered into the cupboard, Dean tilted his head back and waved for Sam’s attention. Catching Dean’s meaning, Sam inched his way backwards until he reached where his hook was lodged, and scaled down the box.
Time to get out of the cupboard before their luck ran short.
While Sam climbed his way back up Jacob’s arm, Dean paused and pulled Melanie into one last hug. He held her against his chest. “If we ever pass by this way, maybe I’ll have Jacob drop me off in the area,” he said with a wink. “I can check up and make sure you didn’t get into any trouble.”
Melanie’s smile was shy again and there was some pink in her cheeks. “I’d like that,” she told him, her fingers curling slowly around the lapel of his leather jacket. She had to push herself up on her tiptoes to claim one more kiss before he had to leave.
The small pair on the floor drew out their last kiss, enjoying one final embrace. Melanie’s slight form fit into Dean’s arms perfectly, filling in the emptiness in his center that had been there for a decade. He pulled away from her slightly so he could drink in her beauty one last time, brushing a thumb that was callused from years of climbing over her bottom lip.
“See you around, sweetheart,” he said softly as he straightened. It put him out of easy reach for her, his own natural height showing up for one of the first times in years.
Something ancient is stalking people in town, and now it has its sights set on a certain pair of hunters in town. Sam and Dean find more to handle than they ever expected, and an evil that sets them against each other.
“Raise,” Dean said confidently, pushing his chips to the center.
The man across from him fidgeted at that, staring out at the five cards aligned on the table. Out there sat two aces… he knew that if Dean had the other two, it was all over for him. Even if Dean only had one ace, the guy risked going up against a full house.
Dean stared solidly back, his years of hunting serving him well and hiding his own tells. Out of everyone watching the game, the only person that could call his bluff was currently concealed in his chest pocket.
Sam, barely four inches tall, was adept at reading facial expressions. His small size meant that every little twitch and uncertain flicker that passed over Dean’s face, or any other human’s face, was easy for the small hunter to read.
Normally, Sam never came out to a bar like this. A rowdy bar scene wasn’t a safe place for him to relax and hang out with Dean. Plus, there was no way for him to enjoy a drink with his older brother, since he couldn’t risk coming out of the pocket. But this trip wasn’t just for relaxing and building up their stack of emergency cash.
Originally prompted from this post. This is another update on what Oscar’s up to in the Brothers Together AU. In this short, he’s about 18 years old.
Oscar was almost ready to doze off, but he forced himself to stay alert. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down in such a precarious spot. Even now, the shadows on the nearest wall shifted and moved with the humans in the room, humans that were only steps away from his hiding place at the most.
He stood behind the TV, feeling the constant buzz of electricity while someone on the other side of it reported the weather for the afternoon. Dust piled up there, on the surface of the dresser where no one usually bothered to look. It gave Oscar a better view of the table nearby, but it wasn’t as safe.
He usually waited down on the floor, underneath the dresser. In all of the motel rooms, under the dresser was the safest place. He was out of sight, and even the maids never had occasion to look down there.
Today, though, was special. Even the humans kept it marked on all of their calendars.
Oscar didn’t understand what it meant or why they celebrated it, but Thanksgiving came without fail every late fall, and he’d learned to capitalize on it as much as he could. With winter looming close and snow on the ground outside already, he needed to stock up on as much food as he could. Thanksgiving and the holiday close on its heels, Christmas, were the best opportunities for Oscar to gather supplies for the cold months.
They meant food and lots of it.
Food like the arrangement sitting barely a foot away from him, a salad tray crammed onto what little space the TV left on the dresser. Cheese, crackers, cucumbers, and carrots were within view just from there, and he could have sworn he saw tomatoes.
Fresh things were a rarity in the Knight’s Inn. Oscar would have to eat them quicker if he managed to snag some, but they would be worth it. He could store almost everything but the cheese to make it last.
Of course, he couldn’t make it out there just yet. There was a pair of humans across the room, watching the weather report absently. They had yet to return the lid to the food tray after sampling from it, but they hadn’t left the food unattended either. If Oscar tried for it now, he’d be in their line of sight.
A shudder ran down his spine. Oscar had only ever been caught once, and he couldn’t afford to risk letting it happen again. Next time, he might not find himself in the grasp of the one friendly human he’d ever meet.
Dean Winchester was long gone. Oscar hadn’t seen him or his younger brother Sam in ten years. Back then, they’d been torn away from him before he had a chance to even try to follow. They were unique, and he’d let them slip away by sleeping in one morning.
He was grateful for one thing. Oscar had made it to eighteen years of age, and he still had a spark of hope in his heart. Ten years hadn’t quite erased them from his memory, and when he found himself in need of cheering up, he could imagine Sam wandering into the walls to visit him in his house. Talking to him while he worked on his sewing, or coaxing him out into the open to visit Dean.
They were his only friends in the whole world. Oscar couldn’t remember what they sounded like, and their faces had become hazier in his memory every year, but they were still there. They’d always be there.
The bed creaked somewhere beyond the TV and Oscar flinched. He almost missed one human voice asking “You almost ready to go?” as one of the humans stood up.
A sleepy mumble was the only reply, and Oscar took a moment to calm his startled heart while there was a rustle of bedcovers and another creak. From the look of the shadows on the wall, one human had stood. The other had flopped over on the bed entirely, too comfortable to go.
There was a heavy sigh, a voice tinged with annoyance that sounded so much scarier from a giant human. “Fine, a few more minutes, but once I get out of the bathroom we’re going. Your aunt hasn’t seen you since last year.”
Oscar waited for a reply, but none came. The human that spoke walked across the room, his shadow stalking along the wall. When the bathroom door clicked shut, Oscar took his cue.
He edged towards the side of the TV hastily. One surreptitious glance around it showed that another human had indeed buried themselves in the covers on the bed, an ornery stand against going anywhere for Thanksgiving. Why they’d want to avoid such a feast was beyond him, but Oscar didn’t question it. Instead, he darted out into the open.
Leaving a hiding place always came with a burst of adrenaline that threatened to steal his balance away. Oscar had to fight to keep focused, and he did by fixing his eyes on the food arrayed in front of him. He’d waited for the day all year.
He skidded to a halt at the edge of the sampler tray and immediately grabbed an entire cracker from the top of the pile. He knew the routine; they never missed stuff like this. His other hand was already dragging a baby carrot closer before he set his bag down to start loading it up.
He had a spare bag that he used for days like this. It was larger than his usual cloth sling, but not as easy to carry. He had more room to stuff the cracker and carrot inside, and then stand up for a small piece of cheese to go along with it. Oscar worked fast, never taking more than one of any kind of food on the tray from what he could reach. He even managed to tug free a few small sprouts from a tuft of broccoli.
Next, he threw the flap over the top of his hoard of food and hoisted it up. His cloth shoes scrambled against the dusty dresser top as he turned and darted back to his hiding place in time for the bathroom door to swing open once more. He’d made it.
Oscar grinned and imagined showing off his haul to his friends. Sharing Thanksgiving with someone would be nice for once, but Oscar only had his memories to join him at his table once again. Despite the loneliness that stretched out behind him and on forever in front of him, he was grateful at least for that.
The design of knitting needles is actually a much easier design to create at that size, so it’s a popular way to make warm clothing if they can find or create the right kind of thread. You’ll find it to be a more common practice in cooler climates, where they’ll need warm clothing even indoors.
Brothers Apart 