Tag: prompt

No Cheese?

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AU: Brothers Apart

Timeline: After The Schism of Fire and Water

The tip of Dean’s tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated all of his efforts down on the tiny ball of ground beef he was forming into the world’s smallest and most perfect hamburger patty.

It was the first opportunity he’d been able to get into the kitchen on his own, Bobby out to pick up more supplies for his crowded household, not used to entertaining guests at all, and certainly not sure what to do when one of those guests was smaller than a finger.

Sam was off exploring, and Dean hoped he stayed gone until he figured this thing out.

Tiny beef patties were harder than they looked.

His first attempt was too large. When Dean finished frying it, he’d realized that it was the size of Sam’s torso. No good. The entire point of this was making food Sam could eat like Bobby and Dean, not Sam-sized food. Dean had eaten it himself as he started his next attempt.

The next one had turned out smaller, but ended up looking like a tiny meatball. It wouldn’t sit on a bun. Another snack for Dean.

Now, he finally finished pressing the patty into shape and smirked. Perfect.

Dropping it onto one of Bobby’s smallest frying pans with the heat set on low, Dean went to turn his attention to the bun and fixings only to find Sam standing on the counter, curiously looking over the remains of Dean’s former attempts.

“Having some trouble?” Sam asked, his face open and innocent.

Caught in the act, Dean forced himself to unfreeze. Sam couldn’t see into the pan from where he was standing. There was still hope of it remaining a secret until it was ready. He reached for the fridge, leaning over to look inside while he talked. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to not sneak up on a hunter?”

Sam took a few steps towards Dean, and away from the stovetop. “That same person once said he was always alert,” Sam joked, his grin widening. “So I guess this means you could work on those instincts of yours.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the amusement in them. “And I know just the pint-size hunter who’s up to the challenge,” he snarked back.

“Do you?” Sam pretended like he had no idea what they were talking about. “You’ll have to introduce us. I could use some support the next time we go head to head.”

Dean snorted, sitting at the kitchen table with everything he needed. Tomato, onion, lettuce to shred and ketchup. He started to slice everything down to the size needed for Sam’s hamburger. The cherry tomato was perfect as soon as he had a slice, and he wondered why he hadn’t used that to judge how much ground meat for Sam’s burger.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked as Dean reached over to the pan, his arm long enough to reach the pan from his seat at the table and flipping over the mini patty to keep it from burning.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dean said, trying to buy himself time and blinking away the fumes of the onion. There wasn’t much hope of hiding it from Sam much longer, but all he needed was a few more seconds.

The last part was the bun, and Dean only had the buns he and Bobby ate from. He flattened one, cutting it down to the same circular dimensions of the tomato. That was it, and now it was time to assemble.

With the tiny patty cooked, Dean placed that first on the bun, followed by the onion, tomato, shreds of lettuce and the smallest drop of ketchup before holding it out for Sam. “Hungry?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. The hamburger was small enough for Sam to hold between two hands, and actually take a bite of normally instead of picking it apart.

Sam looked dumbfounded, and a grin crept onto his face as he reached out for it. His tiny hands took the mini-burger from Dean, folding around the flattened bun. Then he smirked and looked up at Dean.

“What, no cheese?”

Dean froze again, thinking he’d done it wrong before spotting the smirk. Sam was kidding around with him. He flicked his fingers in Sam’s direction. “Special orders not accepted,” he said primly.

Sam took a bite, closing his eyes at the flavors, all together at once instead of separate like normal. “Thanks, Dean.”

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A Good Hunter

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(Jacob, Mouse)

AU: Brothers Lost

Timeline: After The Water’s Fine

The old house creaked and groaned, constantly settling as the wind outside tested its strength. Jacob crept through the main hall, his boots muffled by a dusty rug that had been traversed many times over the years. The house truly was old, so much so that its wiring was shaky at best, and anything electronic didn’t fit in with the decor.

Jacob kept his flashlight trained on the ground as he walked, and his eyes flickered from side to side. He normally had two small companions on either shoulder, giving him input on where he should go.

They’d led him to this house, this old old place, and that was as far as he’d gotten with their guidance. Old floorboards and walls meant lots of passages within the woodwork of the home to explore. As the only ones that could fit in there, Sam and Dean were the best choice. Sam was only four inches tall, and Dean was a little smaller, but that had yet to slow them down.

Sam and Dean Winchester were hunters, and it ran in the family. After so long thinking their lives had crashed into a dead end in a little motel in Kansas, they were back on the job with a determination to rival anyone. While helping them look for their dad, a hunter who had dropped of the map a couple years back, Jacob was learning the trade as well.

They would scope out the inside of the walls and see if they could find any evidence of what might be causing the strange activity reported from that house. Jacob, being much taller and bulkier, would venture the halls and rooms, scoping out what he could.

Despite knowing how capable they were and how fiercely the brothers defended their independence, Jacob couldn’t help but worry about them in the back of his mind. This was an entirely new place. He didn’t even know the normal dangers they might face in the walls, and this house would probably have new ones. Old, unstable framework would shift and crush them, or a resident rat, used to having the place to itself, could sneak up on them.

Jacob had to remind himself often of how long they’d been living at their size. They were cursed as kids, and he’d only known them for a month or so at the most. Of their group, he was the least experienced with hunting.

The thoughts quieted as he wandered into what looked like a living room. He needed to focus. They were there to find signs of a vengeful spirit or even a poltergeist.

A flicker of motion in one corner drew Jacob’s gaze like a beacon. Normally, he’d never notice something like that, but after hanging around with people the size of his fingers around, he could never be too careful. He had to keep his eyes open for them.

The risks if he didn’t were far too great.

“Sam? Dean?” he called, his voice low but still shattering the silence. He always felt huge and loud when he was dealing with them, and when they were all on a hunt. After the case with Melanie, he’d tried to learn better stealth, with Dean giving him pointers, but he didn’t think it was working very quickly.

Even so, he crossed the room to where he’d seen the motion, next to a heavy cabinet. He knelt down next to it and shone his flashlight in the corner, expecting to find one of the Winchesters snooping around. He could expect a scold or a harsh complaint if it was Dean.

Instead, there was a surprised little squeak.

Jacob’s eyebrows shot up and he gasped at the sight of a tiny mouse. It was curled up with its back to the corner, and a little pink tail wrapped around the tiny paws. Round ears and a whiskered nose quivered in time with the rapid breaths seen in the tiny curled up body.

“Oh,” Jacob muttered. He’d cornered a mouse. “Uh. Sorry, little guy.”  He remembered thinking that the brothers were so close to mice in size when he first started hanging around them. Now, he was seeing, they were definitely bigger than a mouse, or this one was exceptionally small. It might be young.

Jacob didn’t have much time to think about the fact that he’d cornered a tiny little mouse in his search for his friends before a crash sounded elsewhere in the house. It sounded like it came from upstairs, and recognition lit in his eyes. The attic had been cited in the stories about the house several times.

“If you see my friends when you get back in the walls, let them know I went upstairs,” he murmured with a smirk, wondering if Sam and Dean could already hear what he said. Him, their so-called Godzilla, talking to a mouse.

Then, he stood back to his full height, letting his flashlight beam drift away from the mouse. He didn’t watch where its shadowy shape darted to next.

He had to find out what caused that noise. It’s what a good hunter would do.

You’re A Giant Now

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( Putting these together since the one without a character came in first and I had already planned to throw Jacob at that one )

AU: Giant Jacob AU

Timeline: Before the story begins

Twigs and leaves crunched under a heavy boot as Jacob hiked among the trees, staring around avidly. The pines, straight and tall, stretched high overhead, deep green needles hiding the darkening sky from sight. The air was filled with the fresh scent of those pines, as well as distant maples, and the crisp aroma of a mountain lake. Even as the day came to a close, birds and squirrels bustled about on the branches, chasing each other or holding conversations in their squeaks and chirps. There was a slant to the world that came as an unfamiliar obstacle to Jacob, a native of the flat lands of Iowa.

It was the perfect terrain for hiking. Despite Colorado coming with more chill than he was used to, and thinner air than he usually breathed, it was well worth the trip.

Back at the campsite, his friends were less enthusiastic about the wild outdoors themselves. Camping was a time of relaxation, they’d say. To Jacob, hiking in the trees was relaxing. A chance to get away, take it all in, and live in his own thoughts.

A faint twinge on his back, little more than an itch, prompted Jacob to stop in his tracks. He shifted his backpack around, and then glanced up once more. The evening was getting darker. Knowing his friends, they’d need help getting a fire started.

He turned back towards the campsite, using the slope of the earth and a natural sense of direction to point him in the right direction. He didn’t want to be caught out here when it grew too dark to find his way between the trees.

He didn’t make it three steps before a strange tugging sensation clenched in his middle. With a wince, Jacob stopped again and shut his eyes tight. The thin air around him became thinner and his heart pounded in his ears as though he was suddenly underwater. There was a prickling at his arms and chest, and the sound of more twigs breaking.

Did I fall down a hill?

He opened his eyes, and then closed them again in confusion. When he opened them once more, the scene before him was just as confusing. Jacob stared around him, with the waning sky a canopy overhead, ringed by the mountain range that created a wall across the country.

He could see the sky.

He was taller than the trees.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, his face a mask of shock. His voice, quiet to him, rumbled out of his now-massive chest and made the tips of the trees quiver. They didn’t rise past his shoulders.

The prickling on his arms came from the branches that now poked into him like twigs. Now, an entire pine branch felt like what a pine needle should feel like. He brushed a hand over one branch with his brow furrowed, and flinched when the spindly wood creaked and then snapped from his touch.

“I need help,” he murmured, and now bird and squirrels could be heard scolding him from safely below the tree level where he couldn’t see them. He looked straight down. Past a chest broader than a house and jean-clad legs that towered over some apartment buildings, his boots were planted on the ground, crushing undergrowth that moments ago he’d need to push aside or navigate around.

If Jacob were to guess with his severely-confused senses, he was over a hundred feet tall.

It wasn’t possible. He had to have hit his head on something. It was a hallucination, taking the sensations of the forest around and warping them. He could still smell the maple and the pine, and the mountain lake, he could still feel the chill in the air, but it all took a backseat.

Jacob’s heart did flips as the confusion grew, and he took a lurching, dizzy step. It was clumsy, and he nearly dropped down to his knees in the confusion and vertigo. He was up to high. Jacob had to blink lightheadedness away that could be from the thin air or from the soaring sensation that came with just one step.

People didn’t just grow like this all of a sudden.

He needed to find someone. He took another step with a grimace, and the strange height didn’t go away. If he could just get back to the others, he might be able to find out what had happened to make him grow.

Small dots of flickering orange led him back. Jacob didn’t need his sense of direction as much, now that he stood taller than the trees. He walked towards the campgrounds, glancing down with every step. If there was another hiker down there …

He didn’t want to think about that.

The trees shook as he walked, and many branches snapped against him before he even noticed he was brushing against them. He was too big, the fabric of his hoodie and jeans too thick.

As he walked, more lights flickered to life in the treeless patch that was the main campground park. Jacob could just make out the tiny squares of light that came out of RV windows, and the tiny stars that wavered to and fro near the campfires. Flashlights. He’d probably barely be able to hold one in his fingers if he really was big.

He just needed to find his friends and their tent. They’d get a park ranger to use a phone with signal on it and call for help or something. Then he’d be fine.

Since he was in a hurry and he could hear people talking ahead, Jacob took longer strides to get back. His boots crushed more saplings and left huge indents in the ground, and he didn’t realize until it was too late that a lot of those voices were screaming.

He reached out to push at one tall pine tree, leaning it aside with a prolonged creak, and found the campgrounds in chaos. The fires weren’t surrounded by happy people talking and laughing. The flashlight beams wavered because people were running, shouting to each other.

While he was so preoccupied with how confused he was, Jacob had never considered how frightened they’d be.

“Wait, wait,” he said, his voice booming over the campers that now stood no taller than his fingers. Fuck. I did this wrong. “Please!”

His words didn’t reach them. No one stopped their panic. Tents collapsed as people tore themselves out of them, and belongings were scattered in the pandemonium. Already, some of the fastest runners had reached their cars and the engines roared to life with an urgency that mimicked the shouts from the people.

“No, no, please,” Jacob said again. He let go of the tree and shuffled forward only a step, then lowered himself down. One hand reached for the ground to brace himself, and he hoped that making himself less towering might help.

A boom echoed over the chaos, a loud one, and suddenly a spray of stinging pain lit up in his arm. Jacob jerked his hand back and, in one fluid motion, pushed his sleeve up in surprise. His arm sported several tiny pinpricks of red.

Another shot rang out, and the spray of buckshot from the gun hit his other arm this time. “Ow!” Jacob yelped, falling backwards to a seat. The forest shook, pine needles fell, and more people screamed.

They’re terrified of me, he realized. There was another shot, and he flinched. This one missed him somehow. Despite being the size of one of the nearby hills, someone had missed him.

Because they were so scared they couldn’t see straight.

Jacob’s heart sank and he scrambled back with his hands until he could stumble to his feet. His backpack, now giant along with him, broke the top half off of a younger tree as he whirled around and ran. He couldn’t stay there while everyone was in a panic. Not while he could barely see the ground. Not while they were shooting at him.

He could try again later. Someone had to be able to help him.

To Protect a Family

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AU: Brothers Apart

Timeline: Before Bree is taken

Walt nearly held his breath, his eyes locked on his target.

Sitting not one foot from where he was crouched in hiding, the dustbunnies looming over his head, a gleam of metal could be seen sticking out from underneath a bag casually dropped there by the room’s resident human.

Soon that man would leave, and Walt was banking on that man leaving behind the forgotten razor, a discard from his exacto-knife that meant nothing to the human but could mean the difference between life or death to the much smaller man.

Slow breath out, careful breath in.

Use the silence as a cloak. Walt’s hair, normally so vibrantly blond, was dark and dirty, coated in dust and dirt from the walls. His fair skin was the same, making him hard to spot in his black and brown clothing. Mallory had just made it, his darkest set for his supply runs. He was just a shadow in the dark, able to see his surroundings better than any human ever could in the shadows.

The creak of the floorboards under the human’s gargantuan weight heralded the man coming back over to the beds. A shadow fell over Walt’s surroundings, making him fade even more into the darkness. He shut his mouth tight, holding his breath.

The man never spotted Walt hiding there, or the discarded razor left behind. He merely grabbed his backpack off the ground, slinging it onto his arms with quick motions that would sent Walt flying, and headed for the door.

And that was it.

Walt remained in hiding for another ten minutes, waiting out the human. The roar of an engine was heard outside the door, and that quickly faded into the distance. Another human, off on another day of unimaginable activities and actions. Walt didn’t know what humans did with their time, but he knew what they did in the motel. It all seemed so calm compared to the fight he lived each and every day to keep his Mallory and Bree safe and sound.

Darting into the open, he scooped up the razor and tucked it into his jacket. Tonight he could check how sharp the edges were, and use the sharpening stones he’d slowly gathered to hone it into a weapon. Rats always tried to encroach on their home, and with this he now had a worthy weapon, ready to fight them off and protect his family.

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Almost

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The word is Flowerpot.

AU: Brothers Together

Timeline: Oscar is about thirteen or fourteen

Reading time: 5-10 minutes

Oscar didn’t have anyone to admit it to, but he wouldn’t be ashamed to say he liked when the decorations changed in the motel’s main office. There was hardly room for anything in there among the papers and the coffee machine and the outdated, clunky computer, but somehow the elderly woman in charge found places to mark the season.

From paper bats and pumpkins on the bulletin boards for Halloween to a Christmas tree barely two times Oscar’s size on the counter next to the worn bell, she did her best to make the place cozy. The motel wasn’t new and shiny like places depicted on the motel’s many mismatched TVs, but she did her best.

Oscar, whose life was monotonous to a fault, loved it.

It had been a long winter. The walls were frigid, especially at night, and Oscar had spent more time out of his little home than he usually dared. He had to lean against the metal air ducts that ran through the motel, just to borrow some warmth at times.

The tiny flowerpots with colorful pipe-cleaner-and-paper flowers stuck in them signalled that the world outside must be thawing. Oscar knew flowers meant Spring, and he couldn’t be more relieved.

The lady who ran the motel had brought in a shoebox that morning, filled with the tiny, cheap crafts. The flowerpots were half Oscar’s height, and the flowers were just taller than he. They brought a splash of color to the drab office of the motel.

They wouldn’t erase the dustiness, or the water damage on some of the ceiling tiles, or the squeaky sounds from the vents creaking, but they cheered the space and one hidden watcher immensely. Oscar lingered by the vent near the floor and watched her bustle around to find places for her little crafts. He didn’t need to stay; he’d already made sure there were no whispers of pest control or remodeling in the motel. And yet, with every flowerpot that found its home in the office, Oscar’s spirits lifted just a little more.

The bell over the door released a weak jingle as someone entered. The manager’s shoes stopped in their tracks, and then with speed that always surprised Oscar, turned to face the newcomer. Oscar glanced across the floor, past the underside of the desk, and recognized the sensible shoes of one of the maids.

“Señora,” the maid greeted. “Room thirteen, I didn’t do it, I swear.” She sounded flustered and Oscar frowned.

The manager, who always looked more severe than she really was, interrupted before the frazzled maid could talk herself out of breath like she sounded like she wanted to. “Marie, what is it?”

“A-a hole in the wall, miss. I went to clean, and it was there already,” the maid answered.

“Oh, dear,” the manager muttered. There was a rustling of paper as she made space to set down her box of decorations and stepped around the desk. Unbeknownst to her, one of the mini flowerpots plummeted to the floor and landed on the carpet with a faint thump that only Oscar heard.

His lips parted as the two humans left the room to assess the damage in one of the rooms (he thought he’d heard someone getting angry in thirteen the other night) and left the office empty. Oscar stared out at that fallen flowerpot, the paper face of the flower angled forlornly towards the ceiling, and chewed his bottom lip.

Several long minutes stretched out with no change, before Oscar finally slipped out of the vent, dropping the inch to the floor in a deft crouch. He might only be a kid, but he was good at staying quiet and moving like a shadow in and out of the motel rooms.

He ignored the looming furniture and the cluttered papers that hung partway over the edge of the desk far overhead. Oscar darted out as quickly as he could to where the flowerpot had fallen, his lungs working fast in time with his accelerated heartbeat. He might be good at this, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t primed for danger.

Oscar wasn’t sure why he decided this, but when he reached the quickly-made little craft, he hardly paused to look it over. As soon as he got to it, he walked around to one side and placed his hands on the gritty orange side of the little clay pot to roll it along. The paper flower rustled against the floor as he went.

It was slower going, but Oscar pushed that craft across the floor towards his vent. He’d bring it home, and put it to use. He could take the pipe cleaner and the pot for something, he was sure, and he could keep the paper flower as it was. There wasn’t much in his home to decorate it, nothing but ratty curtains hiding the pantry and his bedroom.

He was less than a foot away from the vent, pushing the cumbersome flowerpot along as quickly as he could, when tremors in the floor sent his heartrate up again. Oscar glanced over his shoulder for only an instant before hurrying around the flowerpot and dashing back towards the vent.

He made it into the safe darkness just as that bell jingled again. Oscar whirled around to make sure no one was rushing towards the wall where he hid, his eyes wide.

His abandoned flowerpot still lay on the floor where he left it. Out away from the desk, it would be easier to spot, but the shoes that walked into view across the room didn’t belong to anyone familiar. They strode along and then the harsh ring of the call bell filled the room several times, echoing around weirdly. A guest.

The management spotting him would be bad, but a guest would be worse. Guests could raise more hell than anyone, and the apparent hole in the wall in room thirteen was proof.

Oscar sighed, then turned away from the room. It wouldn’t do to linger on the flowerpot. He’d missed his chance at it, but at least he’d be able to see the nice springtime decorations if he came to spy on the office again.

A Minty Haven

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AU: Brothers Apart

Timeline: Three years before Dean discovers Sam at Trails West

Lost, alone. A crack running up one side like a crevice in the earth’s crust, slowly crumpling to dust as the roots within wormed their way through, pushing aside the clay in search of fertile ground.

Alyssa didn’t know when the flowerpots had come to be, and had no way of knowing that years back, Bobby Singer’s wife had planted seedlings in them in the hopes of cultivating her own future garden. What she know was that the shade offered by the leafy fronds of the plant that was all-but-busting out of the earthen clay pot was cool, and it was far from the bustle to be found within the burrow.

More and more these days, she found herself wishing for her own space. The tunnels were dark and peaceful, but the children could always find her, her father always had more chores for her, and the others would wait for her to join in the weaving.

Breathing deeply, she leaned against the stalk of the mint plant. One woman’s dreams of raising her own herb garden had become Alyssa’s refuge. Before returning home, she would pack her small sling bag full of the aromatic leaves, and they would wrap minnow in them as they cooked, imbuing the flavor into the meat. It was a favorite of Alyssa’s, and she reached a hand up to stroke a fuzzy leaf that dangled over her head. So much that could be done with one little plant.

A shadow fell over her hiding place, and Alyssa grinned. She pushed a leaf out of her way, peering up to see a familiar face looking down at her plant.

The large dog that had adopted her home and family as his family, known as Rumsfeld to Bobby but only as ‘the dog’ to Alyssa’s people, not only knew about her hiding place in the crumpling flower pot tucked in a back corner of the junkyard, but also would lay out there with her, watching the grass wave in the breeze. He grumbled and settled down with a whuff, resting his head on his paws.

She had no idea how much time passed like that between them, but was startled out of her calm daydreams by a loud, harsh voice.

“Rumsfeld!”

Alyssa stumbled to her feet as Rumsfeld glanced over his shoulder. He yowled, the whine dying off his his throat as he looked back down at her. His large, wet nose pushed at her shoulder but she needed no further urging. She tore off a few leaves, and then grabbed the roots crawling out of the crack of the clay pot to scramble down.

“Rumsfeld! ”

The voice was growing louder. Alyssa whimpered and her face went pale, her small legs dashing as fast as she could muster towards the safety of the field. Human. Big, huge, stomping. So much more dangerous than the animals that made the field their home along with the small community of littles.

At least against animals they could defend themselves.

A low growl came from behind her, cutting off the human’s exclamation.

“What’re you doin’ out here, boy–”

The dog barked angrily, and Alyssa heard the scratch of his nails against the blacktop. The human shouted in surprise, and she couldn’t see what happened, but it sounded like the dog was chasing him off.

Reaching the grass at last, Alyssa disappeared into the field.

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Dislocated Brothers

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AU: Brothers Consulted

Timeline: Eighth day after being cursed

“You dislocated his shoulder!”

The shouts might as well have fallen on deaf ears for all the good they did. Dean glared out the bars of the cage he and Sam were trapped in, wanting nothing more than to sink his silver dagger into something.

Anything.

But no. They stayed stuck, with no way out and no way to find help. The woman whose rough handling had injured Sam casually thumbed through a magazine, waiting with her captives and ignoring them as though they didn’t exist.

Dean supposed he should be grateful they still even had their knives. After escaping that hexbag and finding their way to other humans, the brothers had tried to find help to reunite them with their father. Instead, they’d found capture. It had happened so fast that he never got a chance to draw his blade before he was tossed in a cage next to Sam.

Sam, who was out cold, one arm hanging unnaturally.

“Okay, Sammy,” Dean said, lowering his voice and trying to hide his desperation. “I’m gonna take care of this for you. Nice and easy, just like dad always says, right?”

Sam didn’t respond, his breathing ragged. Dean prayed the woman hadn’t hurt his brother when grabbing him from the ground. She was so big. There was no telling what kind of damage she could do to them.

Dean took hold of Sam’s arm and said a quick prayer under his breath. “One, two–“

Before saying “Three,” he quickly pulled, the arm shifting back into the socket. Sam shrieked, the ten year old’s body writhing in place as the arm took its rightful place. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, trying to comfort the younger child while glaring at the woman outside, tears clinging to his eyelashes.

In that moment, he made a promise to Sam.

One way or the other, they’d find a way out.

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Grateful for Something (BT Canon)

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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.

Wakeup Call

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neonthewrite:

Another one from this post and sent in to @brothersapart. This one is most likely Fairy Tales canon, though I don’t have a specific time for it to be set.

Reading Time less than 5 minutes

Camping had a rugged charm to it that couldn’t be replaced. Jacob always enjoyed a chance to hike out to the middle of the woods where he could relax and ignore the outside world for a while. He could sit in his clearing and watch the blue sky give way to yellows and purples before finally allowing a black stage for the stars.

Sleeping under those stars, glancing up before he drifted off to spot a shooting star streaking across the sky. Dozing off at last to the gentle sound of the breeze in the canopy. Dreaming peacefully and hoping the following day would bring a visit from his best friend.

Waking up with a small green shape right in front of his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Jesus-fuck!” Jacob stammered, flinching back while still wrapped up in his sleeping bag. The small shape fluttered backwards, just as startled as he was, and Jacob squirmed to free his arm from the sleeping back.

“Thanks for deafening me!” Bowman complained, his snarky voice reaching Jacob as he freed a hand to drag it down his face.

“Thanks for … you were like an inch in front of my face, dude,” Jacob pointed out exasperatedly.

Bowman fluttered into the air and flew in a lazy circle around Jacob’s head now that the human was awake. “You must have walked up after I finished my patrols for the day yesterday,” he pointed out. His tone suggested that he was perfectly aware of the rapid subject change, and didn’t care.

Jacob sluggishly swatted a hand at Bowman in mock annoyance, aiming to miss. “Yeah, didn’t expect a wake up call is all.”

“I’m just generous like that,” Bowman shot back, a chuckle in his voice.

It Just Takes One

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image

I had to double check because I was certain I put Please on the list, but then it doesn’t really matter. I got an idea anyway.

AU: None of the current ones

A nightmare. This was a nightmare.

The sound of the worn plastic ice bucket slamming to the floor echoed in Oscar’s ears, and his eyes were wide with terror. A bruise was already forming on his forehead from slamming into a wall that hadn’t been there seconds before.

He was trapped. A human had spotted him while he ran desperately for cover in the motel room. They’d grabbed the ice bucket without a second thought, and in a few steps that covered distances Oscar would have to sprint for several seconds, stomped over to him.

The ground was still shaking. No, he realized, that’s just my knees.

Tears welled up in his eyes and raced down his cheeks. Oscar stood in carpet fibers that reached past his ankles, with almost no light leaking under the rim of the bucket. A circle of dim light ringed him in, an outline for how utterly trapped he was.

He hadn’t made it. After years of getting by on his own, keeping out of sight and collecting what he needed to survive, he hadn’t made it. It only took one failure to ruin everything, and the one failure had finally arrived.

Now, he was at the mercy of a human.

Light burst in from the opposite side of the container as it suddenly tilted upwards. Oscar whirled around, his cloth bag swinging with him and slamming into his side, heavy with the spoils he’d taken from the room. A breath caught in his throat and his shoulders hitched up with a new wave of adrenaline crashing through him like stormy waves on a rocky shore.

A hand with fingers bigger than his body slipped under the opening, blocking his escape route and inching towards him. Oscar could only watch, knees still shaking, as it came closer.

The first fingertip brushed against his chest and Oscar froze. Not an instant later, the hand lurched forward and that finger pressed into one side while a giant thumb closed in on the other, pinching around him and forcing the breath from his tiny, frail lungs. Oscar grimaced with pain.

More light washed over him now that he was secure in a pinch grip. The bucket was set aside and Oscar, stuck hopelessly in the casual strength of a single hand, shot into the air at the human’s whim. Air whipped at his messy brown hair and he closed his eyes, curling into himself as much as he could.

When he came to a stop, Oscar had his hands over his face. The human hummed thoughtfully, a deep, loud voice rumbling through his entire being. It was too much, too fast, too scary. Oscar sobbed and more tears came.

“Quit that,” the human ordered gruffly. Before Oscar could parse the words enough to understand that the order was for him, another pinch grip found him. Fingertips bigger than his head pinched roughly around one of his arms and tugged it away from his face.

He yelped in pain, and his other hand automatically braced against the pinch grip to try to free his arm. It was already bruising, he could tell. The human was too strong.

The human hummed again while Oscar sobbed, and then let go at last. Oscar held his hurt arm close to his chest, resisting the urge to cover his face again. Doing it once had gotten him hurt. He didn’t want to risk even worse consequences.

He dangled in the air like that for several seconds while the human looked him over, a cold and appraising look in those eyes. One fingertip nudged at one of his legs, propping it up to stare in disapproval at the cloth wraps he used for shoes. Then, it lifted up and mussed his mousey brown hair. Oscar squeaked in pain as it strained his neck.

“You’ll take some cleaning up,” the human noted, lifting Oscar higher. Oscar squealed with vertigo, finding himself now looking down at a huge human face, one that frowned at him like he was an interesting stone found on the ground.

Suddenly, a smirk appeared on the human’s lips. Oscar trembled at the sight of it and more tears coated his cheeks. He had never been seen by a human before, and now he understood why the idea scared him so much.

He was nothing to this man. He was just an object to pick up and observe, a toy. Nothing more.

Please …

A startled cry choked in his throat when the hand pinched around him dropped suddenly. Freefall wormed into his gut for a heartstopping second, and Oscar clung to the fingers around him despite the pain they caused in his ribs. His eyes shut tight for the brief moment.

Then it was over. The hand stopped moving, and then the grip around him relented.

Oscar landed in a heap on something hard and cold. The air escaped his lungs and he rolled over as motion assaulted him again. He looked upwards at a circular view of the ceiling, partially blocked by a human face peering in at him. The smell of cheap plastic surrounded him and he hiccuped.

He was in the ice bucket. Smooth sides that would resist any attempt to scramble up, the edge was over his head. With the human looking right at him, he wouldn’t have a chance to use his climbing thread to escape.

Not that it mattered. Once the human was finished walking, the bucket was dropped harshly onto what Oscar had to assume was the table. He jolted and then scrambled back, pressing against the wall of the container.

He didn’t know what the man had planned for him. It took him a second or two to find his voice.

“Please,” he managed to squeak out. Fear and despair coiled together in his tone, a hopeful appeal to the giant’s better nature.

All he got was another smirk. “Oh, you’ll be one of Mina’s favorites, I guarantee it,” he said, the cryptic words soaring over Oscar’s head.

Then, another circle loomed into view, and Oscar recognized the lid of the ice bucket just before it slammed into place overhead, echoing loudly in his ears and shutting him into total darkness.