March 4th excerpt:

Dean hoisted himself out of the pocket, giving Sam an ‘accidental’ bump in the head with his boot and making him almost tumble back into the pocket. It was child’s play to avoid Sam’s lunge, trying to swipe at his legs.

From there Dean just crawled up to the shoulder, smirking at the disgruntled brother he’d left behind. At least for the moment, Sam wouldn’t risk climbing out after him. He was home free and out of reach.

“Second star to the right, and straight on till morning!” Dean declared, jabbing an arm straight out.

March 3rd excerpt:

“Whoa!” Dean was caught off guard by the slope that developed beneath his feet. With the way he was crouched on the hand, it tilted his balance out from under him and sent him rolling down the outstretched fingers. The hand vanished from under him and he hit the bottom of the pocket, landing in a surprised heap.

Dean popped back into sight, a predictably annoyed glare on his face at the unexpected tumble. “You can’t tilt your hand like that with Sam,” he griped. 

March 1st excerpt:

The Winchesters will raise questions if anyone sees them and realizes who they are.

There was a click, then a dial tone filled the air. Dean stomped on the END button with his boot, for once having nothing to say to the last statement. Even Sam was quiet where he was sitting on the edge of the laptop.

Jacob pursed his lips, letting Bobby’s words sink in. He hadn’t considered other humans, especially hunters, finding out about Sam and Dean if they went to Bobby’s again.

neonthewrite:

Oh, I love this prompt! It’s adorable and it is something I’ve mused about here and there but not nearly enough.

To answer the question, no, Jacob doesn’t play any instruments. He’s definitely more of a sporty guy, and he is on his high school’s boxing team. The guy’s definitely not one to tussle with. Though now that you mention it, I could see him toting around one of those huge sousaphones. XD

Note: Long-ish post. A little over 1000 words of drabble.


Human Music

Canon: Yes

Taking place the spring after the events of Bowman of Wellwood


The calm afternoon brought a feeling of peace that Jacob rarely experienced back home. It wasn’t that home was stressful or hectic. But out in the woods, with the sun shining on the clearing and the leaves rustling in the breeze, Jacob knew an entirely different sort of serenity.

For the most part. A shifting around on his head reminded him that normally, someone might be scolding his ear right off right now. He was careful not to tilt his head while he read the book in his lap. It could make Bowman fall off, and then he’d have to take out the earbuds connected to his iPod to hear him gripe.

The wood sprite was stretched out on his hair, basking in the warm sunlight that shone down on them. Wide, leafy green wings spread out and draped partially over the side of Jacob’s head, and the sensation nearly tickled him. Not enough to complain, but enough to know his tiny, four inch tall friend was there.

Many of his visits ended up like this. He would come out to the forest to see Bowman, and they’d mill around in the woods for a time. Bowman would tell Jacob about goings-on in the village, and Jacob would explain some new human thing to Bowman. There was never an end to the questions Bowman threw his way.

Unless, of course, he decided to catch some sunlight and some Z’s while lounging on Jacob’s head.

Jacob didn’t mind these moments of quiet. He’d visited several times since the previous Summer and had become good friends with Bowman, despite all the griping and scolding. Theirs was an interesting friendship, one that had seen Bowman bop Jacob right on the forehead more than once. His reasons were many, and Jacob stopped trying to find a pattern long ago.

One pattern he knew for sure he could count on, though, was that Bowman’s stirring on his head meant that soon more questions would likely spring forth. Bowman was stretching his little arms and legs, and even his wings twitched and fluttered, signaling his battle with the sleepy, trance-like state that sunning always put him in.

Jacob found a stopping point and closed his book before pulling his earbuds out one at a time and reaching for his hoodie pocket to shut off the music player.

“Waitasecond,” Bowman interrupted. Jacob turned his eyes upwards, but didn’t move his head. Of course, he still couldn’t see the sprite sitting up there, but he was paying as much attention as he could, all things considered.

“What? I didn’t move,” Jacob said, a smile leaking onto his face despite the indignant protest.

“No, giant, you’re always moving, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Bowman scooted forward. Jacob could feel him army-crawling closer to his forehead and waited.

Sure enough, a leafy green wing reached into view, the outermost finger pointing vaguely towards the earbuds in Jacob’s hand. “What’re those things? Why do you stick them in your ears? Are they just supposed to block things out so you can concentrate?”

The curiosity had returned. Jacob smiled and drew out his iPod, pausing the music, and held it up to show Bowman. “I listen to music with them. They’re connected to this thing, and it sends the music to these earbuds here, and they play music.”

Bowman scoffed. “How does that thing play music? It doesn’t even look like it’d make a good drum!”

Jacob had to chuckle, which of course caused his head to shake. Bowman grumbled one of his choice sprite swears and pushed himself to a stand before fluttering off of Jacob’s head. He landed on the hand that held the iPod, and Jacob angled it so that he wouldn’t throw the little guy off balance.

“You’re telling me that this thing plays music,” Bowman said skeptically. The older model iPod was almost as tall as he was, and much wider. It was definitely heavier. “No way.”

Jacob smirked. “It’s not an instrument itself. It just stores the music as a recording. You remember when I explained recordings to you, right?” Bowman paused, then nodded. “So this thing is just full of recordings of music. I like to listen while I read.”

Bowman paused to take it all in before nodding and deciding that it was acceptable. His wings twitched and he looked back at the music player curiously. “Lemme hear some of your human music!” he demanded, an almost excited curiosity overtaking his expression. He twisted around to look at Jacob eagerly.

Jacob grinned. Bowman’s reaction to the music should be entertaining. “Alright. Just hold these,” he replied, placing the earbuds in Bowman’s arms.

It was a show all on its own to watch Bowman fumble them before tentatively holding them up to his ears. He frowned skeptically. “I don’t hear anything!”

“I haven’t started anything, you dork,” Jacob shot back, reaching past Bowman with his thumb to press Play on the iPod.

Bowman jolted as the brass instruments of a ska band blared out of the earbuds, and his eyes were wide as he listened. Jacob didn’t have the volume up high enough to hear it himself, but he could follow along well enough just knowing what song was playing. Bowman’s bright green eyes were wide and his wings flexed open and closed ceaselessly.

“How do they make those noises?! Why is he singing so fast? I can’t understand … this music makes no sense at all!” Bowman’s assessment made Jacob chuckle and he paused the music. Bowman sighed.

“Maybe I have something a bit more chill,” Jacob suggested. He got an exasperated look from Bowman, but noticed that the sprite hadn’t put down the earbuds yet, so he must be curious. He scrolled through his song list for a soft rock song instead.

This one seemed to go over much better with Bowman. Instead of getting agitated almost immediately, he looked confused, no doubt trying to identify the sounds of a guitar while he listened. He swayed a little in time with the song before glancing up at Jacob.

“All the words humans put to their music are so stupid. But otherwise it sounds interesting,” he determined. Jacob paused the song, increasingly amused by the way Bowman yelled his opinions to be heard over the music blaring in his little ears.

“Glad you approve,” Jacob answered wryly.

“I wanna hear more,” Bowman blurted, staring expectantly up at Jacob. That wide eyed curiosity was free of his usual snark, and Jacob only saw a will to learn more despite the complaints. He couldn’t say no to that.

“Okay, lemme see if I have something orchestral, we’ll see what you think of that…”

Flashback

( Presenting a never before seen flashback all the way from the first week after Dean discovering Sam in Brothers Apart! )


There is a flash of boots coming straight at him, and Sam dives out of the way.

It is an instinctive, unthinking reaction to the sight of those massive leather structures that move under the control of the humans that share the world with people his size. “Borrowers,” Dean calls them, no matter how many times Sam argues against it.

He has only been traveling with his brother for two days and so is not adjusted to having a person so large around.

Sam hits the ground and rolls under the bed. It is an area that gives him more safety than the wide open area of the rest of the motel room. Dean doesn’t understand this yet, because he can’t see things the way Sam does.

He can’t see the way he towers over the entire room. He doesn’t understand the fear lurking in Sam that one of those massive hands will shoot towards the smaller hunter-in-training and trap him against his will.

It is these thoughts that Sam always has in mind. They plague him every day. After all, within the week Dean has grabbed him against his will not once, but twice.

The first time was no one’s fault. Dean hadn’t known it was Sam he was stalking in his motel room any more than Sam had known Dean was the human stalking him.

The second time was on purpose for Dean, but unexpected once more for Sam. It was a demonstration of why Sam couldn’t let his guard down, even with Dean.

It saddens him to think how dangerous his own older brother could be, just because of a curse that struck when they were children. They were so close back then.

Sometimes Sam wonders what would have happened to them if Dean had been struck by the curse as well. Or if the witch had chosen to strike at the older Winchester in the moment before their dad busted down the door.

The boots hesitate where they’d stopped. The weight on them shifts, and Sam sees a huge knee drop down from above to press into the ground.

Dean is kneeling.

It awes Sam to consider just how much power his older brother has grown into as an adult. And not just in comparison to Sam. The older Winchester goes head to head with monsters on a regular basis and always comes out on top. There are scars from these fights, scars that Sam can see better than anyone else, but still Dean lives to fight on.

Sam scrambles to his feet as kind green eyes dip down into view and Dean peers under the bed to look for him. Guilt covers the hunter’s face at the way his little brother has run from him.

Sam’s chest continues to heave from the brief scare when the green eyes land on him at last, and this makes Dean’s face soften even more. There aren’t many things that can break the stern facade that Dean Winchester keeps around him, but his little brother so afraid is one of them.

“Sammy,” he says, his voice a soft thunder of concern. “You know…” He has to pause and clear his throat. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he switches track smoothly. “You know I can see you on the ground, right? I’m not about to step on my baby brother.

The desperate apology in those eyes surprises Sam. He never means to make Dean feel that way. It was simply a reaction, one that was instinctive when dealing with people that towered over his head and he was small enough to get pinned to the ground by a single finger.

Compared to a human, he is small and weak.

Sam wishes he can make Dean understand it isn’t his fault. It never will be. And so he tries.

First, he steps out from under cover. The safety of the bed is deceptive, anyway. The mattress can be lifted by a human like Dean without a problem. One of those hands can shoot out to grab him where he hides. More vulnerability for Sam.

Dean’s eyes track Sam’s movements, but he doesn’t make a move. It doesn’t help that whenever Dean moves, Sam flinches. Because of this, the hunter is already learning to restrain unnecessary movements.

The necessity saddens Sam.

His brother shouldn’t have to change who he is if he wants to be around his little brother without getting flinches or fear in return.

“I-I know you’re not,” Sam manages to get out as he stares up at Dean. The older hunter has flattened himself against the dusty rug so they can talk and his eyes are still above Sam’s head. Dean could put his chin against the ground and it would be the same.

Sam was too small.

“It’s just…” Sam waves his hand at the open area between the beds, trying to ignore how small it looks in comparison to his surroundings. For so long, he lived in the walls and with people his own size. Now, he is with Dean constantly, and reminded of his curse every single moment.

“You’re really big,” Sam finishes lamely, wishing he had the words.

Dean’s lips thin to a line, and Sam feels tension start to wind up his back. The sight of a giant with an intense glare like that on his face is not easy to take in at four inches in height. Dean doesn’t mean it, but his size gets in the way of an innocent look.

“Sam,” Dean said, “I know you have to be careful. I just want you to know… I won’t forget you’re here. You deserve to be able to live without being afraid all the time. I… I want to help.

This time, it is Sam’s face that softens. He takes another step out into the open, this time completely away from the cover of the bed. “I know you do.”

He rests his small arm on one of Dean’s massive hands and uses it to lean on. That huge hand could spring up at any time and coil completely around his body.

But it doesn’t, and it won’t, and Sam knows this.

“Just watch where you toss your dirty socks,” Sam snarks up at his brother, feeling the last of the tension sloughing off at the return of their normal banter. Moments like this were when he barely even felt the size difference, and it was good. “I don’t need the nightstand smelling like dirty feet all night.” He wrinkles his nose and is rewarded with a chuckle from Dean.

No matter how different, they will always be brothers.

Which is probably why Sam finds a dirty sock lurking outside of the nightstand the next morning.

February 28th excerpt:

Before his hands even cleared the screen, Sam was on the keyboard, pacing back and forth as he tapped in the password they’d helped Jacob pick. The password was chosen specifically to be hard to crack, and so that two guys that couldn’t reach from one end of the keyboard to the other could type it in without help.

In other words, Jacob and Dean let Sam come up with the passwords.

Flashback

Sam wakes as the Impala comes to a stop outside of a new motel. He mumbles to himself, sitting up on the weird surface he was resting on. Wait… It isn’t just any surface he’s sitting on, it’s a shoulder. A human’s shoulder. 

He freezes for a few seconds of fear before he remembers everything that happened… losing his family… agreeing – no, asking – to go with Dean to get the bastard that had killed them.

He is sleeping on his brother’s shoulder. 

With this realization, Sam glances above his head. He can see the profile of Dean’s face staring out of the car as he turns the Impala off. From where he is sitting, Sam can only make out the corner of his brother’s eye, and the underside of his jaw. Sam sighs briefly at the reminder of his situation.

For years, he’s been used to living this way, smaller than a mouse, with a family that cared for him. Living like that, he’s only been occasionally reminded of what he’s lost. His daily supply runs into the motel they lived in had been the only reminders back then. But here he is, forced to confront everything he’d lost. His own brother serving as a constant reminder of his curse.

Sam is shaken from his thoughts when Dean suddenly opens up the car door and stands to his full height without warning. Sam clutches the collar of Dean’s shirt to avoid falling. He really isn’t going to get used to his brother’s immense height. It was like trying to sit on Godzilla’s shoulder. “Dean, wait!” he shouts up, surprised. 

At least this Godzilla would listen to him.

Dean tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Sam. “Sorry ‘bout that, Sammy. Forgot you were there.”

Sam’s breath hitches with fear at the accidental reminder of his insignificance. A huge hand reaches up, stopping right next to the shoulder. Sam stares at it for a few moments before Dean tries to get another look at him. “You’re not planning on sitting there while I check into the motel, are you?” Dean asks jokingly. His deep voice rumbles kindly around Sam, reminding him that he’s safe.

“No, no of course not!” Sam manages. That would mean other humans seeing him. Tremulously, he steps onto the huge palm, feeling the muscles twitch under his weight. It is going to be hard to adjust to sitting in a hand bigger than his entire body. As he sits there, he brushes a hand over Dean’s silver ring, wondering at the size. He can remember rings fitting in the palm of his  hand, but this one is huge and thick, reflecting his image back at him. He imagines it must be wide enough for him to use as a belt now. And it fits around Dean’s finger.

The fingers shift around Sam as Dean brings the hand in front of his face. Sam freezes as soon as the big green eyes fall on him, not prepared for such an intense stare. “You mind hanging out in the pocket while I check in?” Dean asks.

“Uuhh…” Sam says nervously. “Sure, I guess.” His eyes snap down to the pocket, resting innocently against Dean’s chest. It was unreal to actually consider going in there. Humans were dangerous to people like him, yet here Sam was, perfectly safe… 

Even welcomed.

The hand lowers down, coming to a rest right next to the pocket. Sam gives a slight jump when Dean’s other hand rises up, but all it does is pinch open the pocket so he can jump right in. Which he does without delay, coming to a stop at the bottom. 

His head jerks up the second he lands. The pocket is almost the same height as him. If he stands he’d just barely be able to peek out.

While he gets settled, the light from above disappears. Sam glances up to see the flap of the pocket as it drops down, blocking the outside world from sight. Something huge brushes against him from the outside, making Sam jolt away in surprise until he realizes it’s just Dean’s hand. You’re safe…. it’s just Dean. He’s not gonna hurt you… he’d never hurt you…

“You alright in there, Sammy?” comes Dean’s deep voice, even more intense from how close Sam was sitting to his vocal cords.

Sam takes a second to calm himself before answering Dean. “Y-yeah, I’m good!” he calls up. He presses his hand against the outside of the pocket and touches Dean’s hand to reassure himself. And to reassure Dean.

“Well then, sit tight, kiddo. Try not to move around too much. I don’t want anyone picking up on you in here. We need to keep you off the radar.”

“Got it.” Sam pulls his legs against his chest to make himself as small as possible. Without warning, Dean’s ambling stride starts up. The swaying steps swing the pocket gently, rocking the small Winchester like a hammock. Sam isn’t bothered when it bumps into the broad chest behind him. It’s reassuring to be with Dean now. Reassuring to be with his family.

Sam slowly relaxes. He’s safe and that’s all that matters. This is where he’s meant to be.

This is home.


Read more here

Flashback

“If I don’t knock on the door twice, no matter what, even if I’m alone, DO NOT come out from hiding. Not until I give you the signal. You need to stay safe, and if something happens to me, I could be just as dangerous to you as any monster.” In the memory, Dean lifts up a hand, holding it next to Sam for comparison. It stretches out almost twice Sam’s length. Each of the fingers is thick and strong, all more powerful than the smaller hunter. “I don’t ever want to hurt you with these, and if I get possessed by a demon, the first thing they’ll do is go for you.” The hand wraps around Sam unexpectedly, pinning his arms to his sides with unrelenting strength. There is no time for Sam to react to the hunter’s quick movements.

Sam has only been with his older brother for a day at this point, and he stares up at Dean from the clenched fist with fear in his eyes. The only thing that keeps him from freaking out from the way he’s trapped is the pain in Dean’s eyes… the worry, the self-loathing for what he’s doing. Dean clearly wants nothing more than to keep Sam safe, even as he closes his huge hand firmly around his little brother’s fragile body.

So even though Sam desperately wants to thrash and struggle, to try and escape, he stills himself in Dean’s overpowering grasp. As Sam is helplessly lifted up off the table, he gives his trust to Dean, hoping it isn’t misplaced. He can clearly remember how it had felt when Dean had no idea who he was, capturing him with ease in the same immense hand clenched around his body now.

The hand stops a few inches in front of Dean’s face, fingers opening up around Sam. He scrambles to a stand in the palm, small chest heaving from the unexpected scare. He can’t help but eye his brother’s fingers suspiciously from where he stands, still within their clutches. It is an unwanted reminder of how powerless he is next to his brother. 

Dean’s eyes stared at him with a kind expression. “Sam, the last thing I want is for you to EVER be afraid of me. But it’s more important that you understand that anything can happen, and if anything ever happens to you because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.” 

Sam frowns, but nods his understanding.

Dean’s other hand lifts up, gently rubbing Sam’s back to try and reassure him after the scare. Sam can’t stop a shiver, standing there helpless between those huge hands that can so easily trap or crush him. Which, after Dean’s demonstration he understands better than ever. Dean’s face falls when he sees this. He nods sadly at Sam as he lowers his hand back to his side, understanding and accepting his reaction.

But it still hurts him to see his brother afraid.


Read more here

February 24th excerpt:

Sam cut him right off. “Dean, remember that knack you have? Finding things?”

It was Dean’s turn for his brow to furrow. “What’s that have to do with Jacob? I thought we discovered it didn’t work on people.”

Sam gave him a huge grin. “Not for Jacob. He doesn’t go anywhere without that necklace, so if you focus on it…”

“I can figure out where he is!” Dean finished without missing a beat.

February 23rd excerpt:

Dean narrowed his eyes, then stalked towards Jacob’s side. “You all owe me some pie after that scare,” he griped as he started to scale up the human, digging his boots into Jacob more forcefully than normal. There was no way he was going to let Sam hang out in a hand all on his own after all that.

Jacob’s eyebrows shot up as he felt the little kicks in his side from Dean’s climb. He didn’t complain, however, letting the small hunter get his point across in his own way. Dean had been in worse moods before, after all. He kept an eye on Dean’s progress, making sure he wouldn’t accidentally knock him off balance and focusing on not twitching each time a tiny boot dug into his side.