Dean was exasperated, still rambling about the dog. “He’s the size of a freakin’ house! At least when Sam brought home a mouse, it couldn’t try and eat me!”
Sam snorted at him, rolling his eyes. “Dean. He’s not going to do anything.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Dean said, one hand clutching the fabric behind them, “and I’ll be up high. Where it’s safer.”
With a careful finger, Bobby nudged Dean in the side to check if he was hiding any injuries the way John was prone to do. Dean had always tried to be more like his father, no matter how different they were in reality. Sam wouldn’t get away with hiding any injuries at all with his older brother around, so at least he could rest easy on that front.
Dean tried to bat the hand away. “Watch it! You’ll ruin the leather!” he complained.
Thanks to careful aim, Dean managed to land on Sam’s head when he reached the bottom of the hood. Both brothers went tumbling into the folds, and Dean considered his vengeance for the surprise elbow attack complete.
Sam gave him a shove back as they both tried to right themselves in the dim interior. The grey folds of fabric didn’t let much light in, but it wasn’t a problem for them. Compared to the dark walls of the motel, the hood was a well-lit hammock. They could see each other without a problem.
“Leave him alone!” Sam cried out, his mind clearing instantly at the sight of the imminent threat. He tossed himself at the huge hand and slashed down with his knife. All he knew was Dean needed help, and it didn’t matter how big his enemy was.
His aim true, the silver knife bit into the thick skin.
“Dean! ” Sam hissed from his station next to the hook. “He’s back!”
Dean’s blood chilled as he turned around. The sound of immense feet scuffing against the ground outside sent daggers of fear up his back. Shoes big enough to crush Dean and Sam from existence at the same time without their owner even noticing crunched against gravel and crumbling asphalt.
Jacob’s been downsized, and Sam rescued him from the witch along with the help of Walt and Mallory! After helping raise the teen as his own little brother, Sam is ready to take Jacob out to the rooms to help gather supplies. Without Walt for a chaperone.
What could go wrong?
The table itself had the standard motel pamphlets sitting on it in the center and a pen that was longer than Sam or Jacob was tall, along with a listing of the channels for the TV. Everything was haphazardly left lying about in a heap, making it hard to tell if there was anything that might not be missed, or anything that could be useful.
When Jacob reached the top, Sam offered him a hand to help him over the edge. He eyed the immense door at the other end of the room while he did so, narrowing his eyes at the serene sunlight that filtered its way into the room.
Deceptively calm.
“Thanks,” Jacob muttered, brushing his hands off on his jeans. He took a second to let himself be in awe of the view this time. The table was barely half the height of an average human. But Jacob might as well be standing on a building a few stories tall. It was still bizarre to him. Sam seemed like he’d gotten used to it, and Jacob was never sure how.
There were some water spots near the edge of the table that suggested a wet cloth had been wiped over it hastily. But that didn’t rule out the possibility of there being crumbs of something left behind on the table. The maids were hasty, most of the time.
Jacob started towards some of the pamphlets left on the table, thinking he’d take a quick glance under them. He shot one look back at where his hook was secure on the edge of the table. It felt weird to leave it behind like that, though he remembered Walt telling him why they did that. Even so, he hated the thought of losing the simple length of twine, since a lot of his lifestyle depended on it now.
Jacob paused and scuffed his boot over a nick in the table, a gouge the length of his arm. He raised an eyebrow at it. “Looks like someone got pissed,” he mused. The solid wood of the table seemed beyond sturdy, considering it was thicker than his body. The thought of someone marring its surface like that (probably by accident even) was almost unsettling. Humans were powerful.
“See anything?”
Sam pushed aside a few pamphlets of his own on the other side of the table, even going as far as to check between the pages. “No,” he sighed, “nothing.” Standing, he kicked a few to the side, making one sheaf of paper float down and slide over close to Jacob. “At least we still have the dresser and the nightstand to check. Stuff falls behind the nightstands here all the time and nobody ever checks them.”
Sam made his way over to Jacob, stepping on the papers cautiously so that they didn’t go sliding and send him flying. He ignored how big the letters were compared to his boots, used to seeing the scale difference after thirteen years spent this size. At 23 years of age, he’d been downsized longer than he’d been human. Compared to the scant 3 years that Jacob had under his belt, Sam was a seasoned veteran at this new life.
He had only reached the edge when he heard it.
The thundering growl of an engine right outside the door.
Sam’s heart froze. They were far away from any way out of the room. Far from the vent, and up high on a table. “Fuck,” he cursed. “We’ve gotta go.”