“What the hell do you think we are?” Dean growled up at the human towering over them. This guy certainly had looming down. The Winchesters were both tense and prepared, ready to act the second they saw an opening. Sam didn’t need a hook or thread to climb down from most surfaces, though shimmying down was much more dangerous. Desperate times.
Dean shoved Sam in the opposite direction. “Now!” he shouted.
Sam would know what to do.
In unison, the two brothers tossed themselves forward with their knives. Almost at the same time, twin silver blades cut into the hands, one on each side. They needed to get the hands out of their way. If they couldn’t manage that, they wouldn’t have a ghost of a chance at escaping.
Jacob grinned at a sudden thought. “Hey, maybe we’ll get you back in California sometime. Hollywood’s bound to see a few ghosts now and then, right?”
Dean sat down next to the sausage as Jacob talked, taking a whiff of his ouzo. The bittersweet fragrance gave him a shock of nostalgia, the tint of licorice in the air another smell he’d never expected to experience again.
“We could always get a tour on set in Hollywood,” Dean said, going along with Jacob. “I mean, I’m sure Sammy’s always wanted to meet a star from the Gilmore Girls.”
My gosh yes. His glare is hard to take for Sam, imagine having that glare leveled at you when you’re only a little bigger than one of his eyes! Jacob will need nerves of steel in this story, that’s for sure. Dean is close to 300 feet tall by comparison, a huge leap from the ~117 feet tall he is next to Sam.
Dean held his face expressionless as he listened to Jacob’s words, checking out his own cards. For him, it was a more involved process. Sam stood half an inch higher than the cards, but Dean wasn’t even a third of an inch taller. They were lightweight, but bulky in his hands. The thick, coated paper was coarse as he lifted it, spotting the red letters that told him his card.
Dropping that card down, he lifted up the second. “Maybe that’ll have to be your incentive,” he told Jacob dryly. “You’ll have to come to us if you want to do your laundry.”
We can’t say toooo much without giving it all away, but it actually isn’t a big Sam! That is our beloved four inch tall Sammy, and his extra downsized Jacob! Or, as Dean calls him, half-pint.
Dean, you are always such a shit with the nicknames.
This will all take place in one of the future stories of the AU’s. Which AU won’t be disclosed until right before the story posts.
This attempt to find himself space to breathe and think was interrupted when a pair of hands appeared under his arms and his shocked staring contest with Dean shattered.
Bowman hoisted Jacob up under the arms the way one might hold a child, lifting him to eye level. Jacob squirmed a little and kicked his small legs, but Bowman ignored that to look him over. For what, he wasn’t sure. Some kind of trace of what happened? Perhaps something that’d help them fix him. But, just the fact that Bowman would actually lift Jacob was perplexing.
He looked over at Sam, and then up at Dean, still holding the extra miniaturized human up and hoisting him in the air for all to see. He didn’t notice the tiny hands clutching desperately at his sleeves or the more intense kicking in those tiny legs as Jacob’s eyes widened in shock. “Well now what?!”
Sam practically sputtered at Bowman’s movements. “Bowman! Put him down!”
Sam got on Jacob’s hand, planting his boots so he wouldn’t lose balance when it started moving. He gestured for the teen to lift it up. “We won’t let you down. Oh, and Dean?” He pulled out the rest of his salt, tossing the pouch to his older brother. “Just in case.”
Dean gave a jaunty salute with the salt, his trademark smirk in place.
Brothers Apart 