Jacob jolted at the sight of that mean-looking little fishhook soaring into the air. His lips parted and he lowered his head so he could see the underbelly of the car easier. To his astonishment, the hook caught on a small, nondescript opening in the metal, and the line pulled taut in Sam’s grip.
Holy shit, Jacob thought, an amazed smile sneaking onto his face. He couldn’t help it. That was badass.
While Sam scurried up the climbing line like it was as easy as breathing, Jacob watched in awed silence. Bowman would never be able to do something like that. He had enough trouble climbing on the fabric of Jacob’s hoodie and had to be rescued if he fell into the hood itself. Jacob doubted Sam would have the same trouble with it.
The group was silent as they climbed down from the nightstand one after the other. Sam’s hook was the one that was lodged into the top, the sturdiest hook in the motel. Dean had once suggested replacing it now that Sam had access to more supplies than he could ever dream of back when he’d lived at Trails West, but nothing they found could equal the three prongs. It was sturdy, it was versatile, and it was lightweight enough for Sam to haul it around day in and day out, dangling from his satchel. If he was to come up against an enemy one-on-one with nothing more than his hook on hand, he would be a force to be reckoned with. That hook was nasty.
Sam was the only one able to wield it so easily. Lightweight to him was hefty to Walt, and tossing it up several feet in the air took effort. All in all, the perfect tool for Sam Winchester.
The last thing Jacob Andris ever expected was to find himself cursed by a witch to live out his life under half a foot tall. He never expected to find himself becoming part of a family that once would fit in his hand.
And he certainly never expected to find himself adopted by a hunter twenty times his size.
Jacob’s heart rate jumped up for a few seconds at the sound of an unfamiliar voice in the dim lighting. He had to squint a little to find the man’s face as he sluggishly pushed himself up to lean against the backboard of the bed. Jacob shivered; he didn’t remember it being so cold before. He rubbed his eyes before looking at the silvery cup offered to him.
He couldn’t resist taking it and drinking down its contents quickly to soothe his parched throat. With that done, he looked around some more, letting his eyes adjust (as much as they could) to the light. The only source that he could see was the ceiling, where long cracks between the thick beams let light in in dusty golden bars. A part of him wondered why they didn’t just put a lamp in this room.
“Where …” Jacob managed to rasp, before he noticed the pile of huge blankets in one corner. He glanced across at the desk and chair, and the curtain blocking the rest of wherever the hell this was from view. There was a shoulder bag next to the chair and Jacob raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sight of a three-pronged hook sticking out of it. The barbs alone had to be the length of his fingers.
It inevitably drew him back to the man in the room with him. He wore jeans and a plain grey t-shirt, covered by a jacket with numerous pockets. There was something off about him, but Jacob couldn’t quite place it in the lack of light. After a moment, he found his voice, a list of questions all crowding into his mind at once.
“Who are you? Is this a basement? Where’s my mom?”
They’ll pull it out. It is both lucky and unlucky that the hook is very sturdy; it won’t bend when it’s taken out of his finger but it’s sure gonna hurt a lot and probably take a chunk out of him.
Sam’s definitely got a back up weapon if anyone ever separates him from his knife.
Brothers Apart 