Sam’s head was on a swivel as he stepped towards the keys, taking it all in. He’d seen laptops operated before, but this was his first chance to see it all from up close. The screen loomed overhead, a search engine ready and waiting for him as he committed it all to memory. The powerful whirr of the hard drive came from underneath his boots, and Sam could swear his feet felt warmer than the rest of him.
Dropping his satchel down at the edge of the keyboard, Sam pulled out a blank sheet of paper and his pencil tip, just in case he needed to remember anything. He stuffed them both in his jacket pocket, pacing over to the trackpad. He knelt down, swiping his entire hand over the flat surface and was pleasantly surprised to see the mouse react to his touch the same way as it did for John or Sherlock’s fingers. It took him more work, but a few swipes moved the cursor over the entire screen, Sam slowly getting used to using it.
He clicked the search bar, then paused, realizing he had no idea what to search for first.
“I’ve always been curious about computers…” Sam said, always truthful with John. “If I’m not interrupting. I watched you work on it a few times during the last year, but I could never see what you were doing.” His eyes drifted to the yellow smiley face across the room from their seats. It was distant enough from John’s armchair to make it hard to read the laptop.
“Not interrupting me at all,” John assured. “I’m just finishing up, but… well here, have a look.”
The doctor shifted his weight to lean a little more toward the bookshelf, rotating his computer so that he and Sam could both have a good view of it.
It was unusual for Oscar to care about how much he overslept. His routine for his entire life had been to sleep when he was tired, and after helping Sam and Dean Winchester hunt down a demon, he’d gone to bed exhausted. The day before ran together in a long chain of scary events, many of which he’d witnessed from inside a pocket.
Oscar hadn’t yet had time to come to terms with everything, and he was already in the vents, wandering back toward that room. Back to the odd pair of brothers he’d befriended despite how crazy they could be.
If his memories were to be believed, their insanity had rubbed off on him.
In spite of himself, he was glad to hear a familiar gruff voice filtering into the air ducts. They were still there, even though he’d slept into the morning. He found that he wouldn’t even mind if breakfast was gone already. He could at least see them off before they left.
Sam usually ignores Dean while they’re getting ready in the morning. Being guys, they don’t think anything of walking around with their shirts off (for a while Sam was self conscious of how thin he was, but he’s gotten much better with a steady diet, and figured Dean’s seen it all ever since he was injured in Taken). He’s well acquainted with many of Dean’s scars, especially the ones in his hands. Many of these might even be too small for Dean to realize he has, nicks and scrapes from repairing the Impala for all those years.
Dean held Sam close to him, looking up at the woman with dried tears clinging to his eyelashes. Twenty-four hours. Just twenty-four hours since they’d woken up like this, and there was a small light in the dark.
He couldn’t quite remember everything. It was all a blur before waking up in the hot, humid darkness. A woman, breaking into their room and attacking them. Dean could do nothing to keep her from his little brother. She’d pinned him effortlessly to the wall, without once touching him, forcing him to watch his little brother vanish into a white light.
And then doing the same for him, the world going black as the white light surrounded him.
Now, they’d escaped from her, but nothing was the way they remembered.
Motel rooms were larger than sweeping cathedrals. A football stadium could fit on the two beds. People were giants, the remote for the TV was unmovable, and Dean was scared.
Nothing, not his dad’s training, not Bobby’s stories, nothing, could have prepared him for this.
The woman stared down at him, her eyes widening in slight surprise. Dean could see so much detail in her face, he knew the moment her pupils dilated. He could smell the sickly-sweet scent of wine on her breath when her mouth parted.
That was all the warning they got.
Her hand swept out, long fingers curling around the two tiny children. Sam cried out in surprise as Dean did his best to block her attack, but standing under four inches tall meant there was no way for him to stop her.
A fist closed harshly around them, and Sam’s cries went from surprised to pained, and then stopped.
Dean sucked in a breath as the motel room nightstand vanished under their feet, the height forgotten in the wake of worry for his brother.
What did she do to Sammy?
“Please,” Dean begged. “We just need help…”
She lifted them up, her hand opening when held in front of her eyes. There was no warmth in those eyes as she scanned every one of the brothers’ very few inches.
“Wonderful…” she breathed, that sickly smell hitting Dean in a wave. He almost retched.
Containing his reaction, Dean glared at the woman as he cradled his brother in his arms. “What did you do?” he shouted angrily, Sam’s arm limp and hanging from the socket in an unnatural position.
“Sweetie,” she said in a condescending voice, “you’re just a toy. A possession. You should remember that the next time you talk back.”
She turned from the nightstand, the long fingers curling around the two boys as she rifled through the pockets of a jacket and withdrew a phone. A red-painted fingernail winked in the light at them as it tapped out a message.
Keeping himself down below the level of the collar, Sam carefully put one foot in front of the other. The neckline of the shirt John was wearing under the jacket gave him a place to plant his boots, and all he had to do was not slip down the edge of the cliff John’s back became. Sam’s pulse quickened. Just like at home, he encouraged himself, calling to mind all the daredevil stunts he’d pulled on Dean over and over again.
After he reached the halfway point, Sam pushed himself off harder, clambering at last to John’s other shoulder.
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.”
They didn’t have a turkey meal, but they managed to snitch some quick Chinese while driving. They ended up having a vengeful spirit to go after that only strikes on Black Friday, a security guard lost during the insanity one year who’s haunting his old job.
Everyone be safe this weekend! Workers and shoppers alike!
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.
Brothers Apart 