( Thought of this yesterday. Since all the flashbacks in BA are scattered around, I wanted to put them up here so they’re easy to find. I may even add a never-before-seen flashback at the end if I can finish writing it! )
Sam creeps silently along the wall, trying to remember everything he’s ever been taught about remaining unnoticed and unseen. He glances out from under the dresser he is hiding under, staring at the immense beds in the room. It has been the hours since the lights have shut off and everyone in the room should be fast asleep.
He takes his first careful steps into the room. There is a small bag of chips dropped on the floor by the child in the room earlier on in the day. It is freshly opened, a far cry from the stale crackers his family had been eating for the last week. He is desperate for food, and his father has refused to get fresh food from the kitchens. One of the other families in the motel has had to get food from there earlier that same week. If Sam’s family goes there again so soon, it will risk exposing everyone living in the motel.
The room opens up around him. Five years at this size and he is still not used to the way the world towers above him. It brings back a familiar ache, thinking how things might be different if the witch had gone for Dean. If their Dad had returned to the room a little sooner, or they had never come to this God-forsaken motel in the first place.
He wonders how Dean is. If their father is even still alive. Though it would be frightening to see them while he is so small, he wishes they were nearby. That they could help him. He can imagine, for a few wishful moments, being held by safe, familiar hands. Hands that will protect him instead of capture him. Dean would never let anything bad happen, Sam knew.
Deep inside, he knows it isn’t ever meant to be, but it’s a nice fantasy. Thinking of them is a comfort he rarely indulges in anymore, but a comfort he needs.
It is these distracted thoughts that get him in trouble.
He is so lost in his own mind that he stumbles right into that bag of chips. It crinkles around him as he falls forward into the leftovers.
A few choice curses he learned from Dean growing up slip from his lips. Standing up in the bag, he freezes.
There is movement in the room.
A small voice calls out. “Mommy? There’s something in our room.”
The voice is quiet and scared, but almost a death sentence for Sam, small and stranded as he is in the middle of the room. He is only three and a half inches tall, he’s just started to hit a growth spurt.
There is a rustling from the other bed. A feminine voice fills the room now. “Go to sleep, baby. There’s nothing there.”
“You were just imagining it sweetie. Close your eyes and relax.”
There is silence, and Sam starts to feel a little better. Cautiously, he picks up a chip, and starts to make his way out of the bag as silent as he could.
Finally out, he freezes.
Something feels wrong.
It takes him a moment to figure it out. A shadowy figure is sitting up on the bed, slowly scanning the room. The child is still awake, trying to find what was making the noise on the floor.
Sam tenses. The second the child looks away from his direction, he bolts for the wall. A cry sounds behind him, waking the mother again. While she is trying to calm the boy down, Sam makes it to the dresser and dives under. He wastes no time making his way to the wall, heart in his throat when he hears footsteps behind. They shake the ground under him, giving his flight a desperate spurt of energy.
He makes it to the hidden door and out of the room seconds before a light shines down, lighting up the area. He collapses in relief, still clutching his chip as he hears the mother again. She is right outside his hiding place. “See hun? Nothing there.”
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