Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jacob woke with a painful bump on the back of his head and winced. He lay on his back on a hard, wavy-textured surface that he didn’t recognize from anywhere. Uneven ridges dug into his shoulders. The air was stuffy and warm, but he shivered as though retaining that warmth was beyond him. He missed his hoodie sweatshirt as that cold seeped slowly past his skin.

He opened his eyes and stared in blank confusion at what looked like the thick fabric of a tent.

“What the fuck,” he mumbled, pushing his hands onto the ground beneath him so he could sit up and tenderly rub the back of his head. There was definitely a bump there, but he didn’t remember what he’d done to hurt himself. He patted his hands over the rest of his body, checking for injuries. His clothes were slightly bedraggled but he was unharmed. His only bruise was pounding at the back of his skull.

He recounted what he did know. His name was Jacob Andris. He was eighteen years old. He was staying at his mother’s home for a break “between jobs,” at least as far as she knew. It was lucky that she was so happy to have him home that she’d never ask him to elaborate.

The truth was he was giving his friends and travel companions, the Winchester brothers, time to recover. Sam was coming along just fine in the last few weeks, but he still had more healing to do after Jacob’s former friend, Bobby Loran, got his greedy hands on the brothers.

Any untrustworthy human finding out about the Winchesters was a recipe for disaster, and they could not afford disasters. Sam was only four inches tall, and Dean even smaller. They were too vulnerable in hands that they couldn’t trust. Sam got hurt because of that.

At first, staying around the house was relaxing for all three of them, providing a safe, calm place for much-needed healing. Dean was building a home within the walls of Jacob’s bedroom, a place for the brothers to live when they all visited, so they could remain secret.

Peace had its perks, but, like a siren song, the job they’d all taken upon themselves had called to them. Sam and Dean had spent more than half of their lives unable to fulfill what they felt they should be doing.

Saving people, hunting things. Things being vampires, werewolves, vengeful ghosts, and other supernatural monsters. Jacob was still catching up to the long list of things that existed that shouldn’t, but he had a few hunts under his belt. He understood the cause. It wasn’t just the brothers that felt the stir-crazy drive to get out there again.

While they laid low, Jacob had found a hunt. He went out that day just to scope out the scene. Dean had given him very specific instructions to not touch anything, dammit, and Jacob had driven less than an hour out to check it out. If it was worth their time, they could figure out a plan for the next step.

He frowned as a haze clouded over the memories. He remembered searching the place, but the drive home and walking in was fuzzy. He guessed the growing bump on his head had something to do with it. He needed to find out where he was now, and get back to Sam and Dean to--

That was when he noticed a shaking in the ground and stared down. It rattled through his bones. Then there was another mini-earthquake, and Jacob was parched. He reached out a tentative hand to feel the surface beneath him again, willing it to not be what he thought it was.

Jacob shot to his feet, pausing when lightheadedness and a dull, fiery pain spread from the back of his head and nearly sent him toppling again. He pushed the way-too-heavy fabric up and sought out the edge, all while the tremors in the ground continued.

When he found the light again, squinting at the sudden, bright onslaught, Jacob thought he was hallucinating. There was a cabinet in front of him, or what looked like a cabinet. It was several stories tall. The space underneath it was higher than his head.

ShitfuckDAMMIT, this is not happening, it can’t--

More tremors came, ever closer, and everything fell into place as Jacob recognized the living room of his mother’s home. The fabric he had been trapped under was the dark blue fabric of his jacket hood, shrugged off when he got in the house. It was one of the last things he remembered.

Of course, he also distinctly remembered not being tiny when he was last awake, too.

Jacob threw the hood fabric the rest of the way off of himself and dashed forward. The open room stretched above him and his heart pounded from the exposure. The room was so big. No, he reminded himself. He was so fucking small.

He dove under the cabinet just as the source of the tremors all but stomped around the corner. Jacob was alarmed to see that the shoes making those enormous earthquakes were nothing more than his mother’s flat slip-on shoes. His mother, more than a foot shorter than him, strolled into the room and paused, and Jacob could feel the shaking from every step.

It was no wonder Dean griped that he stomped all the time.

“Jacob?” his mother’s voice called above, a thunderous noise that warped her familiar cadence into something eerie and wrong. It was too big, too loud, and too much. He crept forward, chancing the barest peek out from under his hiding place.

Mariana Andris loomed overhead, her eyes fixed downward. Jacob almost felt his heart leaping up into his throat, but he realized she was staring in confusion at his jacket, which somehow hadn’t shrunk down with him.

He lost his nerve and backed up when his mother took a few more steps. The ground shook beneath Jacob’s feet and he stumbled back until he was under the center of the cabinet. A hand bigger than him fell into view, grasping the absolutely enormous circus tent of a hoodie and lifting it off the floor.

“Jacob, what have I told you about just leaving your stuff everywhere?! This isn’t a motel!” Mariana yelled across the house, while turning on her heel and stalking off. Jacob had to close his eyes and breathe slowly, deeply.

What the hell happened?

“Dean, someone’s coming!”

Dean jolted up in surprise from where he was bent over the shelves in their home, trying to straighten them for the fifteenth time. For some reason, the middle one just wouldn’t cooperate with him from start to finish. One side had started out bowed down, now the other side was slanting upwards just to spite him for trying to fix it.

With an annoyed curse, he straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow. Sam was in the passage that connected to their home to the opening to Jacob’s room. To give him something to do, and mostly to keep him out of the way hovering, Dean had him acting as lookout.

Sam would watch for when Jacob got back from checking out the new case. Dean didn’t want him to go alone, but he also wouldn’t leave Sam on his own with one arm still out of commission, so it left him stuck with no options. A message of don’t touch anything, dammit! was the last thing he’d shouted to Jacob as he left, and now they were both fretting over how long it had been since Jacob had gone to investigate. They were eager to hear from him, but they also wanted to make sure their trustworthy human was okay.

Which was the real reason why Dean was straightening that one damn shelf and Sam was acting as a sentinel.

Tossing aside the small screwdriver he’d borrowed from Jacob (it was for fixing eyeglasses, he’d found, and was only about half his size), Dean darted out the front door to their home, pushing the block of wood that served as a door aside.

Sam was waiting at the entrance to the walls, the wallpaper pushed outwards no more than half a centimeter. It wouldn’t be a big enough hole for anyone to notice unless they knew it was there.

Like Jacob.

No knocks came as the footsteps outside halted. The door was shoved open, sweeping effortlessly across the carpeted floor with enough effort to knock over either small brother with no hesitation.

Mariana Andris, the petite mother of Jacob Andris, leaned into the room. She was a full foot shorter than her tall son, and smaller around than him despite a rounder frame. It was hard to believe that a guy who stood 6’5” tall could come from a delicate woman like her. Jacob had gotten her smile, but definitely not her size.

Of course, her size didn’t make much of a difference with the brothers. She was still a human, and could still sweep them off the ground in a hand. So they remained in the wall, warily watching as she tossed in a huge, hooded jacket. It fell to the ground in a heap, a rush of air hitting the wall where they were standing and knocking the wallpaper closed.

They were silent as the door to the room shut and her footsteps receded, the shaking in the ground slowly dying off.

“Jacob was wearing that,” Sam said.

Dean’s eyes were hooded. “There’s no way he wouldn’t come right back after checking out a case.” Worry flooded him for letting the teen go off on his own.

“Something’s wrong.”

They were cautious as they approached the hoodie, knowing that without Jacob, they were vulnerable.

Sam plucked at a sleeve with his good arm, rubbing the fabric between two fingers. The threads were large enough for him to thread his fingers between, and he had on occasion before. “Dean, why would his hoodie be here if he left with it on?” His brows pinched in concern. “We’ve gotta find him.”

“How, Sam? If he’s out of the house…”

Sam cut him right off. “Dean, remember that knack you have? Finding things?”

It was Dean’s turn for his brow to furrow. “What’s that have to do with Jacob? I thought we discovered it didn’t work on people.”

Sam gave him a huge grin. “Not for Jacob. He doesn’t go anywhere without that necklace, so if you focus on it…”

“I can figure out if he’s in the house!” Dean finished without missing a beat. He stepped back. “Okay, lemme focus. This isn’t easy if I don’t need something.”

He held a hand to his forehead, scrunching his eyes shut. All that filled his mind was the jade green glass bead that was the centerpiece to Jacob’s necklace. Like Dean’s amulet, it was a connection to his family. Only, unlike Dean, that family had passed away a long time before. Moving on, and leaving Jacob and his mother behind.

Jacob would never take it off.

A chill ran up Dean’s neck, and he knew he had it. Jacob’s location.

Gasping in a deep breath, he shared a look of surprise with Sam. “He’s still in the house.”

Chapter Text

Dean made his way downstairs, using the passages that he’d learned during the last few weeks while Sam was recovering. One day, he’d help his little brother learn those same passages, just like the way he’d helped Sam learn at the Trails West. This house was a new maze that they needed to learn.

The feeling on the back of his neck grew stronger as he reached the ground floor. Dean slipped out of the walls when the tingle was as powerful as it ever was. He was close.

A cabinet stretched up along the wall a few feet away, and he had to frown. There was no way a guy like Jacob would fit under that, yet the sense that told Dean where the necklace was pointed him right at it.

Caution in every pore, Dean darted across the wood flooring, hoping his brief time in the open wouldn’t get him spotted. He held a hand over his knife in his leather jacket, ready for anything. He couldn’t afford to be spotted by Mariana the way Chase had spotted him those weeks back, and without Sam backing him up he had no advance warning.

The crack between the wall and the cabinet was dark and welcoming. He slid inside like it was natural, frowning at the sight of something huddled in the center. Had Jacob lost his necklace? How had it possibly ended up this far underneath the cabinet? Dean would have to grab it to get it back to the kid, there was no way they’d let him lose it…

His thought process trailed off as he realized what he was looking at, and he skid to a halt.

It wasn't a necklace.

“What the hell did you touch?!”

Jacob whirled, pivoting around and nearly toppling himself over while at the same time his arms lifted in defense. His hands were curled into fists and he was in a guard stance in a second, but the sight that greeted him drew a quick sigh of relief from him and his arms dropped just as quickly.

It was Dean. Standing there at the same scale as Jacob.

Jacob could see all the details in Dean's face, the angle of his jaw and the resolved set in his eyes. He could see the seams of the leather jacket he wore, and notice that it was handmade and not store bought. The leather boots were of the same quality.

There were so many details that Jacob had never noticed before, because normally Dean was the size of a finger.

Or, more accurately, Jacob was big enough that one finger was enough to match Dean's height. Jacob really was small right now; he couldn't have dreamed up this accurate of a hallucination of Dean. There were worry lines on the man's face that Jacob would never see at his regular scale. He really was standing there, the same size. Jacob was taller, but he knew well enough that if Dean was human-sized, he'd be tall himself. Six feet at least, easy.

He couldn't help but think back to when he'd first met Dean. When he'd first caught Dean, captured him right off of his climbing thread. Jacob's hand could close easily around the small hunter, restraining his every move and keeping him in place.

No matter how hard Dean tried, he couldn't get away.

Jacob was small enough for that now. His own mother could pick him up in one hand and keep him in place if she found him.

Jacob finally found his speech again after a few seconds of staring. "I, I, uh," he stammered out again, his voice slowly gaining strength. "I seriously don't know what happened," he admitted, his brow furrowing.

Jacob was out of his element. If he were honest with himself, he was on the other side of the world from anything that closely resembled 'his element.' He was small. For someone who'd been considered tall since he was fourteen, it was a huge shock.

"I knocked my head. I don't know what's going on."

“That makes two of us,” Dean breathed in shock. Jacob, normally towering above their heads without even trying, was small. Hell, the kid could usually rest his chin flat on the ground and still be on a higher eye level than Dean or Sam. Dean had used his face as a ladder more than once when they were fixing up the Impala, and now he was looking at it on the same scale.

A few parts caught him off guard about the entire thing. Jacob’s voice no longer rumbled through the air. The fact that this guy would never shake the ground while he was walking. Dean had figured that would be a ‘when hell freezes over’ scenario. How strange he looked without at least his hooded jacket on.

Jacob looked vulnerable, and that just wasn’t right. He was supposed to be huge.

“Okay.” Dean dragged a hand down his face, trying to focus his thoughts. It wasn’t easy, considering that he was inches from a guy he’d nicknamed Godzilla when they’d first met. “Whatever happened, we need to get you under cover first. It ain’t safe here. Once we get you to me an’ Sam’s place, we can take some time to think things through. You’ll be safe there.”

Striding forward the last inches, Dean latched a hand on Jacob’s arm. “No matter what, just do what I say.” He didn’t want to come right out and say it, but telling Mariana or Mike about Jacob’s predicament would be a terrible plan. Aside from the possibility of revealing Sam or Dean, the teen’s parents wouldn’t know what to do for their son. They’d be better off trying to get in contact with someone that was already in the know.

He started to haul Jacob along the floor, determinedly striking out for the edge of the cabinet he’d entered through. They needed to get into the walls, then they could focus on the crazy ass turn their lives had taken.

At first, Jacob stared at the hand latched on his arm, his brow pinching in confusion over the solid grip. He didn't expect it out of Dean, though he supposed he should have. The guy hauled himself up sheer cliffs, he had to have a strong grip.

Of course, stumbling along after him like a child surprised him a thousand times more. Dean was strong. Jacob was no weakling; he was built from long hours lifting heavy things for jobs before he took up hunting with the Winchesters. All of that was easily outdone by Dean's casual show of strength, and Jacob stared at the back of the leaner man's head in pure shock.

When the light of the room got closer, Jacob realized Dean's path. He'd be leading them out from under the cabinet, at least for a short distance. Jacob's heart pounded.

If Dean noticed him trying to lean back and dig his heels in, he didn't show it. Jacob just stumbled again. His eyes widened and trailed upwards when they left the shelter of the cabinet.

"Holy shit," he hissed, once again staring in wide-eyed awe at the other furniture, the walls, the distant ceiling. The scale bombarded him, settled around him like a physical weight. His smallness taunted him, and suddenly he felt a whole new empathy for Dean’s restless nature.

Jacob couldn't hold back a shudder. Is this what the world looked like to Sam and Dean? "Wha ... how do you guys stand to hang out with me all the damn time?" he muttered, letting Dean drag him along the wall.

Dean didn’t respond at first, too concerned with watching all directions. Without Sam, he felt naked out in the open. The entire time he’d been at Jacob’s, scouting and finding supplies without his backup, he felt exposed anytime he came out into the open. Sam could tell him if people were even thinking of glancing in their direction.

So long as his little brother’s arm wasn’t fully healed, though, he wouldn’t let Sam anywhere close to being exposed. Which meant he had to figure things out on his own.

With no humans nearby, and no tell-tale ground quakes to point to them coming, Dean almost yanked Jacob the last foot to the wall, pushing their way into the welcoming darkness beyond. He let out a sigh of relief when they were finally out of sight, surprised to discover he’d been holding his breath since leaving the cabinet behind. Jacob didn’t have any of the survival skills he and Sam prized so highly, he didn’t need them with his size normally being so friggin’ huge. Bigger than almost all humans.

And still taller than either brother, Dean was annoyed to realize as he looked up at his downsized friend.

“Jacob,” he started, finally addressing his concerns from before, “everything’s that big for us. Maybe you were a little extra tall that first time I met you, but c’mon. It’s not like we ever wanted you to be short. How else can you fill in Godzilla’s shoes?”

Jacob paused in the wake of Dean's decisive answer. He couldn't see much of anything inside the walls, aside from Dean's side, dimly lit by the light leaking in. He could somehow imagine the intense look on his face. Dean always had a degree of intensity in his expression that Jacob could see even at his Godzilla size. Now, he imagined, he’d have many opportunities to see that scowl at an equal level.

The walls, Jacob realized, actually did offer comfort. He couldn't see the looming rooms beyond them, and couldn't be repeatedly reminded of his scale. The dusty air and the dark around him was surprisingly nice.

The fact that Sam and Dean faced this reality every single day, and had done so for well over a decade, astounded Jacob. Even more astounding was the way Dean simply accepted that Jacob was normally actually Godzilla-sized. The brothers confronted his size every time they stepped onto his hands, and now Jacob understood how much courage that actually took. He could trap them, but they trusted him not to.

"Alright," he managed to reply, before taking a slow breath to try to calm his nerves. He could figure this out. He wasn't on his own.

He brushed a hand back through his hair, flinching only a little when he brushed over the bruise on his head. Collecting his thoughts, he nodded. "Okay. We'll just have to figure this one out somehow. Who knew the case would get this interesting?" He chuckled dryly.

“Interestin’s one way to put it,” Dean said dryly. The darkness wasn’t so dark for him. After years of living inside of dim walls and finding his way around the almost pitch black interiors, he had better night vision than any human that grew up like Jacob. His pupils were wide, making the green iris a slim corona behind an eclipse.

He took in Jacob for a second, then put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Make sure to stick close to me until we make it upstairs,” he told the kid seriously. “We need to get you up to Sam. We can regroup once we’re all in the house, and figure this out. I can guarantee that Sam will have plenty of questions.”

Letting his hand fall, Dean took a step back. “You ready for this?” he asked, a confident grin back in place. Jacob was about to see what they went through every day, and discover how much there was to explore just in one house.

Jacob shrugged and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, knowing that it could take him way more time than they had to actually be prepared for anything at this size. Sam and Dean might be used to it, but Jacob had barely been this size for an hour.

He thought he was doing pretty well by not breaking down and curling up on the floor.

Following after Dean presented its own challenge. It didn't take them long to leave the one source of light behind, and after that Jacob's eyes were wide and blind. His own pupils dilated wide, but he wasn't used to the dark like Dean was. It didn't matter how much his eyes adjusted, he could still barely make out shapes, and even then he wasn't wholly convinced he was actually seeing things in the dark. His brain tried its best to fill in the vast blanks with what he might expect to be there.

He followed by the sound of Dean's leather boots in the dust. His shoulder bumped a vertical support beam once and Jacob let out a whuff of air, surprised by the sudden obstacle.

"Can you guys actually see in here?" he whispered, more awe than disbelief in his voice.

Dean paused, glancing over his shoulder and spotting Jacob next to the building support. “Uh, yeah,” he shot back. “The motel was about this dark all the time. Walt can see even better than either of us. I swear that man had night vision goggles for eyes.”

Taking pity on Jacob, he made his way back over to the teenager. “It’ll be lighter once we get to where me an’ Sam picked for our house,” he promised. “Until then… here.”

Grabbing where Jacob was blindly reaching out with a hand, Dean took it in his own and put it on his arm. “Just follow me and I’ll get you through it. You can do this. Just think of it like any other walk. You just have your eyes closed.”

"Oh, that makes sense," Jacob replied glibly, following along with more confident steps now that he actually had a guide and not his own muffled senses to figure out where to go. His nerves, still higher than he was used to, made him feel a little cheeky anyway. "I do that all the time."

Still, having the leather sleeve to anchor onto sped his progress through the dark. Jacob's eyes remained wide, trying to see more than they possibly could, and he quietly marveled that not only did Dean know where he was going, he never broke stride to get there.

Jacob was quiet for most of the journey, amazed at just how much space there was in the walls of his home. Occasionally, they'd pass a point where the barest crack in the drywall and wallpaper allowed some light in. Enough to see how wide their "corridor" was, and nearly blind him with contrast.

It was like Jacob had been dropped into a different world. When those slivers of light illuminated them, he blinked rapidly and stared around before Dean dragged him further along into more all-encompassing dark.

"So, um," he began when it felt like they had to be nearing the destination. "How're we gonna find the cause? Do you think it's ..." Jacob trailed off, willing himself not to worry about the answer. If this size was permanent, he'd figure it out. As he'd noted before, he wasn't alone.

Dean’s lips thinned at the question as they started the final slant to the second floor. He and Sam were the worst people to answer that question.

Fourteen years ago, they’d been two normal kids. Their lives might not be normal, with their father being a hunter. Being dragged from town to town, motel to motel. The Impala became their home more than any house could.

And then they went to Haven, Kansas.

Ever since that fateful trip, their lives had been flipped upside down. Reduced to almost a twentieth of their original size, their father had given them up for dead. They’d been abandoned at that motel, and the only reason they still lived was because of Walt and Mallory Watch, who’d taken in two helpless kids and raised them as their own.

“Whatever happens, you’ve got us,” Dean reaffirmed as they finally reached the level of the second floor. “Whatever this is… when we got hit with this curse, we were both out for a week. So it’s not the same thing. Nothing Walt and Mallory did could wake us up, just like a coma. But you, you got hit by it and not long after you’re standing on two feet. We’ll have to backtrack what you did during the day, and Sam’s the best at putting the pieces together.”

Jacob took a slow breath and nodded, even though Dean was looking away from him and couldn't have seen it. It helped him try to calm his thoughts just a little more, enough to be able to focus. For now.

Sam and Dean had put a lot of trust in Jacob. Now it was his turn to trust them to help him out. Even if this size was permanent, he knew they'd look out for him.

"Yeah, that's right," he answered, keeping his voice down in the dark. The shadows themselves seemed to disapprove of his voice, closing in to shush him.

"Guess it's a good thing I finally got that laptop," he mused, thinking of the computer that the brothers had convinced him to get, in order to make seeking out hunts a little easier. Considering he'd paid for it with a credit card that Dean had taught him how to scam with, it was more theirs than his anyway.

Soon, they passed a small bar of light leaking into the walls that Jacob thought had a familiar shape to it. It looked like it could be the wallpaper that pulled away to form the entrance to his room, but Dean led him past too quickly to find out for sure.

It finally sank in that he'd be able to actually see (for the most part) the house that Dean had spent so much time building in his wall. Jacob looked around with a more curious interest. He never thought he'd be able to see the brothers' home; he was normally far too large to have a chance.

He squinted at what looked like a circular symbol painted on part of the inside of the wall. His eyes filled in the blanks that were too hidden by shadows, and Jacob realized that, in red paint, the wall was adorned with a devil's trap.

They had to be close. Jacob let himself smile despite the situation. "I'll actually get to see what you've been working on this whole time," he pointed out. "See the art of Dean Winchester. What an honor."

Dean gave him a flat look as they came up to a dead end in the passage. A block of wood sat placidly in front of them, forming the front ‘door’ of the home he and Sam had taken and built for themselves, with help from Jacob.

“You should be thankful,” he said before pushing the block aside. “I even took the time to paint those symbols around your entire room. Next up is your parents room, just to make sure everyone stays safe in this house.”

With no further ado, Dean shoved open the door to his house.

Chapter Text

The room beyond was better lit than the passageway. Careful placement of a select few slits in the wall, too small for a human to see, gave the light in Jacob’s room beyond the opportunity to pass within. Dean’s abandoned shelves sat on their own, the middle crooked as always with the discarded screwdriver not far. The bucket of paint he was using was in a corner nearby, along with the paintbrush that Jacob had cut down in size for them.

Jacob's eyes were drawn in every direction, settling briefly on one thing before finding another object to fascinate him. Dean's shelves, the propped up bits of plywood, even the supplies piled here and there were on a scale Jacob had never quite managed to imagine. The screwdriver for a pair of eyeglasses was nearly half his length now. Even a paperclip was longer than his arm and thicker than his thumb.

While Jacob was caught in the pure fascination of the new environment, Sam came around the corner, his arm braced firmly in place with the sling. He still had a few weeks of healing before they could remove it. “Dean, did you find out what happened to J--” He trailed off, his eyes going wide as he spotted who was standing behind Dean.

“Jacob!”

Jacob's gaze went immediately to the third person in the room, and he nearly balked again. Seeing Dean at a close scale, at a proper scale, had been one thing. Now, Jacob was in a room with both Winchesters. Sam was even taller, standing just shy of Jacob's own height.

The thick cloth of his sling, cut from a handkerchief, had a few loose threads that revealed its makeshift nature; otherwise, it was well made. In fact, a lot of the items in the home looked so seamlessly integrated into their new uses that Jacob could hardly tell they were meant for something else.

This, Jacob realized, was what 'normal' meant for Sam and Dean.

After a second of staring back at the surprised hazel eyes, Jacob shrugged lamely and offered Sam a sheepish smile. "Hey, Sam," he greeted.

Sam’s mouth hung open in his shock, his eyes going from Jacob, to Dean, back to Jacob in his disbelief.

“Catching flies, Sammy?” Dean supplied helpfully from where he was next to the door.

Sam’s focus fell back on his brother. “What did you do?!” he sputtered in his surprise, finally coming out of his brain freeze to level an accusation in Dean’s direction.

“Me? I found him like this!” Dean protested. “I tracked him downstairs to a cabinet; he was underneath it.”

Sam waved Jacob forward, gesturing towards one of the makeshift chairs they’d made out of the combination of blocks, fabric and a little bit of stuffing. Leaning against the wall, it was the closest they had to an armchair.

“Jacob, you need to tell me everything you remember up until Dean found you. Don’t leave a single detail out.” Sam had to run back to the bedrooms, which finally had a small wall dividing it up into individual separate rooms for the pair. When he came out, his journal was in hand, and the lead pencil tip ready to go as he sat in another seat.

Jacob settled into the chair, staring down at it for a few seconds. The stuffing and stacked up blocks of wood didn't make a half-bad chair. The fact that the whole thing should fit in his palm was what held his attention.

He glanced up and met Sam's expectant gaze, before his mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown. It wasn't any easier to calm his racing thoughts than it was before, but there was a little more coming back to him now.

"I left to check out that farmhouse that we found on the news," he began, thinking of the long list of rules he'd been given before even leaving the house. He went all on his own, and Dean had to make sure he didn't screw anything up. "I didn't find any sign of the missing people other than footprints in the dust, but it was like the article said, no signs of a struggle. I snooped around a little bit and ..."

Jacob trailed off, blinking as he remembered what had happened next. His cheeks heated up and he knew the color in his face no doubt showed it, and they'd catch on immediately. He was a terrible liar, so it was best to just come out with the truth.

"And I found a hexbag. I think." Jacob turned his gaze away, waiting for the words to sink in. If he was right and it was a hexbag, the thing was in his jacket pocket still, and it'd be clear that he'd broken Dean's biggest rule. "Wasn't sure, so ... I grabbed it. I figured we could check it out here."

Naturally, Dean latched right onto that. “You touched it. Sam, what’s the most important rule of scoping out a scene when you don’t know what caused it?”

Sam hid his smile in his bangs, staring straight down at his journal. It was spread open on his lap as he sat at the other seat in the room. Since they’d never expected to have company, they’d seen no need to expend effort for extra chairs. “Don’t touch a damn thing,” he parroted back innocently, for once the last person on Dean’s list of people to yell at. Ever since they joined up with Jacob, he’d been granted reprieves just like this, and sometimes it was amusing to be on the outside looking in at the scolding.

“See?” Dean jabbed a hand at Sam, ignoring the cheeky delivery. “Even he knows. Don’t touch anything, and don’t take it with you! Not until we have a chance to look at it!” He paced back and forth in the small home, only enough space open for a few strides before he had to turn on his heel.

While Dean was running himself around in circles, Sam took advantage. He leaned forward, trying to meet Jacob’s eyes. “Okay. So you found a hexbag. Do you remember actually touching it before you found yourself small?”

Jacob glanced over at Dean's angry pacing before looking back at Sam. There was a faint slump in his shoulders, the clear look of a scolded puppy. He knew he shouldn't have touched the hexbag, but what was he supposed to do? He had no other way to show it to Sam and Dean other than bringing them to the farmhouse, and they had stayed behind for a reason in the first place.

“I didn't mess with it at all," he assured them. "All I did was pick it up by the edge and stick it in my jacket pocket. I was just gonna bring it back to you guys, it wasn't like I was gonna juggle it or something."

“Okay, well,” Sam went on, but found himself cut off by Dean before he could go further.

“That means we’ve got the hexbag here, so maybe we can figure out what makes it tick,” Dean said. “Burning it could reverse the effects, right?”

Sam held up a hand to forestall that idea. “I think we should research it first. It’s our only link to whoever did this, and might be our only chance to find the other missing people. Burning might not do anything, after all. And then we’re stuck with a pile of ashes and a bunch of missing people, and Jacob still too short to ride the roller coaster.”

“Fine.” Dean closed his eyes for a second. “I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time to call some backup in. Otherwise we won’t even be able to open up the laptop.”

Jacob couldn't help but think back to his first moments awake at this alarming new scale. The tremors in the ground and the sound of his mother's voice booming overhead had drilled into him how vulnerable he was now. His mother was usually small. Especially compared to Jacob at his correct size.

Once they called help in, he'd have to confront someone that size yet again.

It's totally cool. Sam and Dean deal with me all the time. We just gotta find someone that can be trusted.

"Okay," Jacob said, pushing his nerves aside. He had to focus if they were to get anywhere. "Who were you thinking? Bobby's kinda too far away, and I doubt mom would let him in anyway ... " Jacob trailed off and realized that left them few options. He raised an eyebrow and added, "Chase?"

The thought of his best friend from high school seeing him like this didn't exactly scare Jacob. He knew, especially after Chase had met Sam and Dean, that the guy could be trusted not to do any harm. He'd just never let Jacob live it down. That much was certain, but Jacob had to begrudgingly admit that he really was one of the last options they had.

“He’s the closest,” Dean supplied helpfully. “Your mom might get suspicious when you don’t reappear. Bobby can always break in, but…” He trailed off.

“We can avoid all that.” Sam shut his journal. “Chase can come in without raising suspicion. If we still need Bobby, he can help us get there. No one needs to break in, your mom doesn’t have strangers near her house.”

“Which leaves us with only one obstacle in the way.” Dean was focused like a laser. He didn’t like seeing Jacob down at their size. He looked so out of place, and without his hooded jacket, he looked out of sorts.

It just wasn’t right.

“Alright, Godzilla. Where’d you leave that cell phone of yours?”

Jacob almost patted his jean pocket to check where he usually carried the phone. He was almost worried before he realized it was probably good that he'd forgotten to take it with him that day. He'd only had it for a month or so at this point, and Jacob wasn't yet used to carrying a phone around with him.

"I ... probably left it on the bed," he admitted. At least this time his shortsightedness would end up paying off. They had no way of knowing if his phone would still work if it had shrunk down with the rest of him.

He did wish that he still had his jacket with him. Jacob was realizing more and more that things were chilly at this size. He'd heard Sam and Dean mention once or twice that it was tougher for them to retain heat, but it was quite another thing to actually experience it firsthand. No wonder they practically buried themselves in fabric to sleep and always kept their jackets on.

“Good, we can deal with that,” Dean said, his mind already laying out a plan to retrieve Jacob’s phone. “Your mom dropped your jacket in here earlier. I can tug that closer to the bed and knock the phone onto it. Sam will be my lookout, and you…” He paused, sizing up the teenager. He didn’t want to risk Jacob at all, not when he was outsized and out of place. “... Will sit tight in here, at least until we’ve got Chase around. If you want a fast bite while we’re out, there’s plenty of food around. Just don’t mess with anything, alright?”

Sam grinned at that. “He means don’t mess with his mess,” he said helpfully, gesturing at the shelves Dean had been working on before their day was interrupted by Mariana.

“That’s a masterpiece in progress,” Dean griped in annoyance.

“Dean, you’ve been working on that same shelf for a week.” Sam met Dean stare for stare.

Dean held steady, then just turned away. “Let’s just get this show on the road, alright? Everyone’s a critic.”

Jacob sighed, but didn't argue about staying behind. A small part of him wanted to go and see what his room looked like from this scale, but he knew he'd see it later when Chase showed up. In the meantime, a larger part of him was still reeling and glad for the closed-off space offered by the little home Dean had built.

"I'll ... I'll hold down the fort for you guys, then," he agreed, relaxing into the chair.

It didn't take long for them to head out. The name of the game, as far as Dean was concerned, was prepare for anything. They didn't need any more than the leather bags their adopted dad had made for them. Jacob caught a glimpse of it before they left, marveling at the fact that it was rat leather, and yet looked like any cowhide he'd ever seen.

Jacob's eyes wandered over the small room while he waited. The furniture was all improvised out of scraps of wood or things Dean must have found forgotten in corners and under furniture around the house. Jacob tilted his head at the crooked shelf, wondering if such a warped piece of wood even could be made to fit straight.

The temptation was to think that Jacob could go and find a place to get miniature furniture, like someone would put in a dollhouse. Sam and Dean could actually use it. Dean had been adamant in the past about not wanting stuff like that, though. That always stopped Jacob from lingering on thoughts of getting them much. Whatever they needed, they could make themselves.

While he pondered it, Jacob's eyes trailed over a clay jug that'd reach his knees, and then snapped back to it. A clay jug with a narrow top and a little lid, it was made of red material and painted with splashes of yellow and blue paint. Simple designs were carved into the side, depicting a beach. Jacob would recognize that from anywhere.

His grandmother on his dad's side still lived in Greece. She made tiny pottery on occasion, and had sent some to him and his mother more than once. This one used to sit on Jacob's dresser, but he hadn't seen it in years. All this time he assumed his mom was hoarding it somewhere.

Jacob couldn't help but get up and go to it, hefting up the clay lid that he knew would barely cover his fingertip normally. Dean was storing crumbs and bits of food in it. Jacob smiled faintly, amazed that the decorative pottery had actually found a use, before replacing the lid.

Dean had put together a nice home inside the walls. Jacob stood near the clay pot and looked around, admiring the hard work. Preferences be damned, Dean had definitely earned some furniture that he didn't have to cobble together here and there.

If Jacob got big again, he was going to go and find the man a damn shelf.

Chapter Text

“You’re clear!”

With Sam’s declaration assuring him he was safe, Dean darted out into the open. The bed was only a few feet away, but neither brother wanted to risk being caught in plain view if anyone else decided they needed to drop off some of Jacob’s things. Once he left the safety of the walls, Dean didn’t have anywhere to dive out of sight for a stretch of carpet that he tried to cover as quickly as he could.

Hopefully Jacob had remembered to grab the rest of his shit.

The main part would be getting the hooded jacket over to the bed. He’d be out in the open the entire time, exposed to anyone that wandered in. The good thing was, he had Sam backing him up now. His younger brother would give him advance warning of any intruders.

Dean grabbed the sleeve of the hoodie, dragging it towards the bed. Unlike Jacob’s t-shirt the brothers had taken to sleep on, this wasn’t a shirt he’d be able to budge wholly on his own. Luckily for him, all he needed to do was create a soft landing spot for the phone, that way it didn’t break. The jacket was close enough that Dean only had to drag the sleeve itself, never even moving the rest of the waves of thick fabric.

They couldn’t risk making a call in Jacob’s room itself. There was too much danger of Mariana wondering what the noise was and coming to investigate, and it was the last thing they needed.

With the sleeve positioned right up against the bed, Dean scrambled up the comforter. The thick fabric was coarse under his hands, making it perfect for scaling up the clifflike wall. He hoisted himself over the top triumphantly, but didn’t spend any time celebrating. Up here, he was exposed and vulnerable to anyone that caught sight of him, and Jacob wasn’t around to explain things or stage a rescue.

The reliable Motorola flip phone was resting innocuously in the center of the bed, casually tossed there when Jacob was his proper ‘Godzilla’ size. The phone itself was the same size as Dean, but much bulkier. The only way he would be able to move it around was the enhanced strength he’d discovered only after the curse had affected him for a short time. They didn’t have any real comparison, since they were both smaller than a hand, but Dean knew it wasn’t normal to be able to dangle his little brother by one hand effortlessly, and Sam could do the same.

While up on the bed, Dean just pushed the phone, occasionally flipping it over a lump in the comforter, a remnant of Jacob’s half-assed attempt to make his bed. Slowing to a halt at the edge, Dean peered over so he could line up the phone with the sleeve of the jacket. Sam was over by the wall, watching his older brother with bated breath. When Dean caught his eye, he raised a hand in a thumbs up, signaling the all-clear.

With the official go-ahead from Sam, Dean shoved the phone over the edge. He cringed at the noise it made as it landed, but the sturdy Motorola make held up to the fall. It just bounced on the sleeve and rolled once before it came to a stop, resting on the jacket sleeve.

Getting down was faster than getting up, and the phone was more cooperative on the flat floor of the room. Dean pushed it, a grunt escaping him at the effort, and the smooth plastic glided along the ground. Sam propped open the wallpaper to let him and the phone through, finally finding something he could help out with since his arm was still out of commission. The healing was going smooth, at least, and Dean was hopeful for no more than a few more weeks of wearing the sling.

The walls closed around their heads again, and the tension left Dean’s shoulders. Sam lead the way back to their place, and Dean awkwardly picked up the phone in his arms like he was carrying just another piece of potential furniture for their home, doing his best to not run into the walls with the way it offset his balance.

Sam leaned against the block that covered their door, hefting it aside and giving Dean space to sidle in the home with the phone.

Dean managed to dump the phone on the ground with a facsimile of grace, brushing his hands off. “There we go!” he declared. “Easy as pie.”

Jacob was over by Dean's shelf, the screwdriver in his hands. There were no signs that he'd done anything with the project-in-progress, but it was easy to see why. Before the phone clattered to the floor, he'd been staring in fascination at the screwdriver in his hands.

Looking up, his eyes were naturally drawn to the phone. It was almost his size, and for a moment he wondered how in the world Dean carried such a bulky thing around.

Remembering the casual strength used to drag him along earlier, he put it out of mind. The phone was probably not much heavier than Sam, and the brothers could haul each other around without difficulty. He leaned the screwdriver against the wall and wandered closer to the phone and the triumphant pair that had brought it back. "Alright, nice," he said appreciatively, nudging the phone with his shoe. It didn't budge. Holy shit.

Dean put a boot on the seam between the two halves of the flip phone. Latching his hands along the seam, he leaned in with his boot and yanked upwards with his hands. It flipped open, tossing his sense of balance off enough to end up stumbling to the ground.

Sam snickered as he joined the others near the cell phone. “Smooth moves,” he said, offering his good hand to Dean. He got a glare as Dean begrudgingly accepted the help, pulling himself off the ground and brushing off his leather jacket with a pointed annoyance.

“At least we’ve got the phone,” Dean griped. “One way or the other. Now Jacob just has to call up Chase and we can start figuring this out.” He pursed his lips. “It’s turning out to be a good thing Chase saw us that time.”

Jacob couldn't help but agree. Chase was someone that could come and help without arousing any suspicion. If he needed to, he could carry them out of there to go and find out what to do next, as much as it unnerved Jacob to think of being carried around by someone so big. He'd probably have to deal with it more than once. Might as well get over it.

Whether they liked it or not, he was stuck that size until they figured out a solution. He didn’t want to delay things any more than necessary.

He walked right up to the phone and, after a few tries at pushing the buttons with his hands, found that it was much easier to just lean his weight on them and use his shoes. The screen glared bright in the small, dim home.

He navigated the familiar, simple menu that looked so odd on a TV-sized screen, until he got to Chase's contact listing. He frowned at the small thumbnail of a picture, knowing for certain that he hadn't taken it himself. Chase must have taken a picture of himself when he made off with Jacob's phone at some point. Naturally, he sported the cheesiest grin he could muster. Dumbass.

Jacob stomped on the green SEND button and the sound of the dialing tone echoed out of the speaker. Jacob waited for the sound of his friend's voice to crackle through the speaker, and thought about how he'd approach the topic.

It turned out that he wouldn't be able to bring it up yet. The phone beeped before playing an answering message: "Heeeey, it's Chase. Just missed me. Sorry to leave you hangin.’ You know what's up, I'll call you when I can." Jacob sighed while the phone went into the familiar When you have finished recording... message.

He couldn't just leave a message saying Hey, Chase, I shrank to barely over four inches tall, please come and help. That was leaving open a possibility of someone else getting the message, which would not only be bad for Jacob, but for Sam and Dean and everyone their size as well. So, Jacob had to settle for a more generic message when the tone sounded.

"Hey, Chase, it's Jacob. The guys and I are ... having a little trouble with something. I'd really appreciate it if you'd gimme a call back or head on over to my house whenever. Could use the help." Jacob glanced over to Sam and Dean, hesitating on the END button in case they had something to add.

“Trust me, you won’t want to miss it!” Dean called out, his shit-eating grin barely wavering when Sam elbowed him in the side with his good arm. Now that they were all safely in the walls and had a plan in place, he was more optimistic about the entire situation.

Sam shook his head at Jacob, signaling that he didn’t have anything to add to the message. Chase was going to get a wake-up call when he got to Jacob’s house, one way or the other. There wasn’t much they could say in the message that would help decode the weirdness in their lives. Besides that, it wasn’t a good idea to give Dean too many chances to add into the message, considering his own sense of humor.

Jacob threw Dean a flat look before stepping down on the button and cutting off the message before any more could be said. He glanced at the top half of the sturdy flip phone, and, remembering the trouble even Dean had had getting it open, opted not to try to close the thing now.

“You think you’re hilarious,” he griped at Dean, crossing his arms sullenly. He wasn’t really upset, but then again, egging Chase on might not be the best course of action here.

Jacob knew he could trust his friend, but he was a complete spaz. His reaction to Jacob’s reduced size would be interesting enough without hyping him up first.

“So, who knows when he’ll actually get that message. Guess we just gotta wait around ‘til he gets here.”

Dean’s grin wasn’t dampened one bit by Jacob’s griping. He was too used to hanging around with Sam all the time, his younger brother’s constant disapproval making him immune to anyone else’s. “We’ve got all the time in the world,” he pointed out with a snarky grin. “In fact, I think this is our chance to prove something once and for all.”

Sam frowned quizzically at Dean while his older brother started to shift stuff around in their living area, keeping clear of the phone that took up the entire middle of the room and putting the cobbled together table with each of their chairs at either end. Dean was definitely up to something.

Finished moving things about, Dean sized up the table and chairs before giving Jacob his confident grin. “So who’s up for some arm wrestling?”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation and went to grab one of the bundled up scraps of cloth he’d packed some cheese in the other day.

Jacob eyed the setup critically, wandering closer to it. He had a feeling he knew exactly how this would go, and so did Dean. Jacob had just watched Dean haul around a cell phone that had to be several times his own weight. Jacob had suspected for a while that the brothers had a lot more strength than a proportional human would have. Ever since he saw Sam haul Dean up onto a bed like a kitten, sullen kicking and all.

Dean didn’t have opportunities like this. Normally, Jacob's pinkie finger was big enough to give Dean trouble, all due to the disparity of their sizes. He suspected that fact stung the little hunter. Jacob rolled his eyes and decided to humor the idea and give Dean his chance to shine.

"Okay, if you're that bored already," he conceded, sitting down opposite Dean. He held an arm up at the ready, attempting as much confidence as he could despite knowing what the result would be. He had to at least try.

Sam sat down against the wall, leaning back as he unwrapped his cheese to watch the show. It had been awhile since Dean had someone new to challenge. He’d even got Walt to go along with it once back at the Trails West, seeing how strong their adopted father was. It was a good test, though Sam usually just shrugged off a challenge.

“Bored? Me? Never,” Dean dismissed as he took Jacob’s hand in his, preparing himself. “Though if you’re bored, we can always do some sparring lessons afterwards.” His green eyes sparkled with challenge. “Sam might be out of commission, but you’ve always got me around.”

“Alright!” Sam interrupted from the far side of the room. “Enough talk. Put your money where your mouth is. If Jacob wins, he gets back his laundry money when we head out.”

Dean gave Jacob a challenging grin. “Deal.”

“Ready… go! ” Sam announced.

Jacob managed to suck in a steeling breath while Sam spoke, and some of the air immediately hissed back out again when his arm met a wall of resistance. His brow furrowed in concentration and the muscles in his arm, strengthened and honed from over a year of doing little other than lifting heavy weights, shook and made no headway at all. He had to fight to keep his elbow planted.

The confidence on Dean's face was very telling. He didn't have to try nearly as hard as Jacob was doing just to avoid having his arm slammed back immediately. It was only a few seconds before Jacob's strength gave out and the back of his hand slammed into the table.

He took a deep breath, raising an eyebrow. At least he hadn't been flipped over. "Jeez, were you even going easy on me?" he asked, impressed in spite of the loss.

Dean’s grin morphed to a winning smile, and he had to laugh. “Maybe just a little…” he drawled, releasing Jacob’s pinned arm. “Tell ya what. When we get you back to size, and we will,” his tone brooked no room for argument, “we’ll have a rematch. Me against your thumb, winner takes all. Can’t have Godzilla go without being able to wash his clothes, now, can we?”

Standing, Dean put the room back the way it had been in the beginning, making sure that Sam ended up in one of the chairs, rolling his eyes the entire way at Dean’s overprotectiveness when it came to his arm. “I’m fine, Dean,” he protested lightly while being dragged over, cheese and all.

Nudging the phone out of the center of the room, Dean arched his eyebrows at Jacob. “Now how about some sparring to pass the time?”

Chapter Text

Chase was glad for something to do. After spending most of the day helping out his mom and sister with errands in the city, he'd realized he had a missed call and a voicemail from Jacob. A really intriguing voicemail, he couldn't help but think. Even as he walked his way over to Jacob's neighborhood, a few things didn't add up.

For one thing, Chase was still getting used to the fact that Jacob even had a cell phone of his own. He'd gone without one for so long, only caving in when a pair of miniature brothers insisted he get one.

He'd have to tell him it might be a little messed up, though. Jacob, all 6'5" of him, had sounded just as loud as Dean, who Chase remembered stood under four inches tall. The microphone had to be screwing up or overcompensating for something. It just figured that the first time Jacob got himself a phone, they'd sell him a quirky one.

The content of the message itself was also concerning. It was vague and short, telling Chase they needed his help with something. Considering he was just barely introduced to what Jacob did, he had no clue what they'd need his help with.

Chase didn't hunt monsters. He was a small, asthmatic Chinese immigrant. He was much better suited to a business degree or something like that. Nothing strenuous or overly exciting, as a lot of people liked to remind him.

Even so, he'd never leave his friend hanging. When he arrived at Jacob's house and ran into Mariana on her way out to go to work for an evening shift, she told him that she didn't know where Jacob was, and Chase frowned. Jacob had definitely said to come to his house in the message, and it hadn't been sent that long ago. Chase excused himself to go up to Jacob's room on the pretense of waiting for him to come back, promising that he'd watch the house.

He remembered to knock twice on the bedroom door, the same system Jacob used to announce his arrival to the brothers, and entered. He closed the door behind himself, finding the room as empty as Mariana had assured him it was.

Jacob's hoodie was on the floor. That by itself was really weird. The guy never went anywhere without his jackets. Chase frowned at it before scanning the room; he didn't know where Sam and Dean tended to hang out when Jacob wasn't around, but they were his best bet for finding out what was going on here.

"Guys? It's Chase," he called cautiously, feeling ridiculous for talking to an empty room.

Of course, the room wasn’t as empty as it looked, and hadn’t been since Jacob had returned home for a prolonged visit. Inside the walls, the Winchesters were keeping a watch on the bedroom beyond, waiting for Jacob’s best friend to either call or appear. Without his help, or the help of another human that they trusted, it would be almost impossible to figure out how to get Jacob back to normal.

Sam, the lookout while lessons went on with Jacob, gave Dean a pointed look. They’d all felt the knocks echo around the room from Chase’s entrance. With Dean around, Sam wouldn’t be the one to go out to greet him first. That would be up to Dean.

Dean shoved himself off the ground from where he’d caught Jacob in a pin, brushing off his hands. The lessons were going swimmingly, in his opinion. Instead of being forced to be an onlooker, Jacob could actually participate so long as he was their size. Dean could give him key pointers to help him be able to break out of holds and keep enemies away from any weak points, like his knees and throat.

The smaller hunter was making sure he didn’t abuse his extra strength against Jacob. It was just a lesson, after all. Jacob could benefit from fighting a stronger opponent, since many of the monsters out there would be stronger than him in a fight.

Now, if it was Bobby Loran that had been downsized, these lessons would take on a whole new level of entertainment for Dean.

Jacob was strong enough to pin Bobby with just one arm. Now, they knew that Dean could handle Jacob like a child when he was on the same scale. Bobby wouldn’t have a ghost of a chance.

“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” Dean shot over his shoulder as he went for the door. He grabbed his duffel on his way, prepared to meet up with a human that towered over him. “You two hang back for a minute, then follow when we know it’s safe.”

He wasn’t concerned when he slipped free from the wall. Chase had followed the rules of ‘no grab, no stab,’ perfectly since the first time they’d met. So Dean waved his arm towards the towering human. “Down here!”

Chase turned his head, zeroing in on the quiet voice calling up to him. Dean was close to where Chase had first met the little guy, standing there as stern as could be while Jacob floundered for a lie to cover him up.

Chase cracked a grin and approached, hesitantly at first, before kneeling near the wall. "Hey, Dean," he greeted, raising an eyebrow at him. He remembered what he'd said before the message cut out, promising that whatever was going on was something not to be missed.

Maybe the way his friend insisted he needed help had drawn Chase over, but he'd be lying if he said that didn't intrigue him even more.

"What's going on? Where's Jake?" Chase asked, lightly settling a hand on the floor to hold himself up. He doubted Dean would appreciate him accidentally losing balance and shaking the floor with a fall.

“Oh, he’s around,” Dean said. He peered past the human, making sure the door was solidly closed behind Chase. With a nod to himself, he deemed it as safe as things could be considering their situation. There was no need to expose Jacob to more risk than necessary, especially since he wasn’t used to surviving at their size.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, shouting, “You’re clear, Sammy!”

Inside of the wall, just beyond the loose flap of the wallpaper, Sam had to smirk at Dean’s confident call. “You ready for this?” he asked Jacob in a soft voice, giving him time to change his mind before they went out there and faced down his best friend. It was one thing to talk about going out there, it was a whole other thing to actually do it.

Jacob's eyes were a little wider, away from the strategic lighting of the house Dean had made. Here, he was in the dark, and he knew that just beyond that opening in the wallpaper he'd be able to see.

He'd also be in view of someone several times his size.

"Yeah, I'm good," he answered, nodding to reassure himself as much as Sam. It was as simple as walking out there. He could do that much.

Chase had really impressed Jacob with his level headedness in dealing with Sam and Dean. After Jacob's stern warnings, Chase had never once moved to grab the small pair, and Dean's threat to stab his hand certainly helped the motivation even further. Normally, Chase was quick-acting and impulsive, but he could chill out about things if given the time.

Jacob stepped through the gap in the wallpaper, pushing his way back out into the open for the first time in hours, and turned his head upwards, ready to greet his friend as casually as he'd be able to muster.

He didn't get the chance. Chase, as careful as he'd been, was apparently still learning a thing or two. Combine that with the massive shock of seeing his huge friend at such a size, and his impulse control went right out the window. Jacob tried to rear back, but a hand that was too big and too fast to avoid came at him.

The feeling of having a giant hand wrap around him completely, closing around his body and sealing him in a secure grip, was completely foreign to Jacob. He had half a second to marvel that he'd actually grabbed both Sam and Dean exactly like this, irrevocably enclosing their limbs, before he shot up into the air in Chase's surprised grip.

"Jacob, what the hell," Chase exclaimed breathlessly, staring in shock at his squirming friend. His friend who normally stood so much taller than he did was now in his hand, tugging his teeny arms free and scrabbling for a secure grip on his knuckles. "What'd you even do?!"

“Whoa!” Sam cried out as Jacob was whisked upwards from right in front of him; he’d followed the downsized teenager through the entrance to the walls as quietly as ever. Concern for Jacob overrode the need for patient stealth, and he darted forward, hoping to convince Chase to put his best friend down.

It wasn’t the most unexpected reaction, if they were being honest with themselves. Seeing a person cut down to almost a twentieth of their normal size might make the most prepared person sweep them off the ground. It had been hoped that after Chase’s experiences with the brothers, he might rethink any such grabs, a hope that was dashed in no more than a few seconds.

Dean held out an arm, cutting off Sam’s forward charge before he could hurt his arm in the sling. “Chase,” Dean said, his voice as gruff and stern as always, “put him down! The rules apply to Jacob the same as us, and I’m pretty sure he’s not used to being small enough to grab.”

Chase blinked and tore his awestruck gaze away from Jacob to look down at Sam and Dean. He was used to seeing them at that size. Looking back at Jacob, he saw the startled exasperation on the little face, and offered a sheepish, apologetic grin.

"Damn, sorry, dude," he muttered, lowering his hand slowly to the ground. Jacob's little arms stayed wrapped around his first finger the entire way down, and he stumbled when his boots hit the carpet.

Jacob knocked a fist into Chase's palm before his hand could retreat. "What the hell, you jerk!" he griped, trying to shake off the feeling of a hand restraining his whole body. Only a few seconds of the experience was unnerving. He wasn't used to being so helpless. It was over in seconds, but the feeling lingered.

Chase held his hands up in surrender. "Guys, I'm sorry," he insisted, sounding just as shocked as his expression promised. "I wasn’t expecting this, alright? I didn't do any damage, did I?"

Jacob looked down at himself, begrudgingly admitting that, while he might appear bedraggled, he was actually fine. "No," he replied.

Dean and Sam came up behind Jacob, one on each side. Dean put a hand on his shoulder, making sure he was indeed fine. “Just remember, you could hurt him now,” Dean shot up at the only normal-sized human in the room. A brief glance in Sam’s direction afterwards wasn’t lost on anyone. After all, Bobby hadn’t meant to snap his arm. It was an accident, in his eyes.

Thankfully Chase was more considerate than Bobby had ever been when he’d snatched up Jacob in his surprise. Jacob was unharmed, so the brief grab could be overlooked.

“As you can tell,” Sam said with a wry grin up at Chase, “we might need some help figuring this one out. Especially since we’ll probably need to use the laptop.”

"Man. I'll say," Chase replied, his eyebrows perpetually lifted and hidden partially under straight black bangs. He didn't remember a single time in his life that he'd ever had to angle his face downwards to look at Jacob (aside from when he was up on stairs or something, which of course didn't count).

Now, Chase had to kneel on the floor and he still couldn't see all the details on Jacob's face. Standing among Sam and Dean like that, Chase could almost imagine they were all much farther down on the ground and he was up on a bridge.

Jacob, for his part, never imagined he'd be looking up at Chase. The other human was a petite person, and had never been taller than Jacob even as children. Now, he was a giant by comparison, his looming form so massive Jacob could feel every shift in a slight vibration in the floor.

His heart still fluttered from the new perspective. The thought of that hand wrapping around him and whisking him off the floor so swiftly would stick around forever. Everything was so damn big.

The weirdest part was knowing that he was supposed to be even bigger, and Sam and Dean still hung around him all the time. He could get used to this. At least it didn't seem like Chase was likely to grab him again. His friend was appropriately sheepish, in addition to amazed.

After a few seconds of the staring contest, Chase broke the silence and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "So, uh. What even happened? How much do you know so far?" Without Jacob at his usual size, Chase felt like a giant. That was just weird.

“So far,” Sam started, “we’ve got people that vanished inside of a farmhouse. Jacob went out there to scope the place, and when he got back, he hit his head somehow, and woke up this size.”

Dean took over for Sam as naturally as breathing, on the same train of thought. “When he was there, he found a hexbag and stuck it in his jacket pocket.” He nodded at the dark blue jacket that was lying on the floor nearby. “It should be in a pocket, but as long as there’s a chance that it’s the reason he’s singing for the Lollipop Guild down here, don’t touch it.”

Sam failed at hiding a grin at that one. “It looks like we’ve figured out why everyone vanished, at least. If we can figure out a cure for Jacob, we can go back to the farmhouse and track down the others. Get them all back to normal.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Jacob winced, somehow imagining the stern look on Bobby's face perfectly. He wondered what that would look like at his new scale. He realized that, grabbing aside, meeting Chase at this new size was a cakewalk. At least his friend hadn't at any point looked menacing in any way other than his comparative size.

Now, Jacob had to reveal to Bobby that he'd messed up on a case, big time. The seasoned hunter knew more than any of them about how to approach a case, and he never would have let something like this happen. Dean's scolding and pacing before came back to mind and Jacob sighed. There was no point in delaying the reveal.

"Hey, Bobby," he greeted, finally hopping down from the laptop and standing near the phone. "It's Jacob. The problem is, I may have accidentally activated a hexbag on myself and now I'm at little scale. Dean can toss me around like nothing."

This time, the pause was pregnant. Sam and Dean both winced as though preparing for a slap across the face.

“Balls,” was the reply that came at last. “Did you idjts tell him about hexbags or let him figure it out on his own? ”

“Hey!” Dean said defensively. “I told him not to touch anything! It’s not my fault he grabbed it! With Sam’s arm hurt, Jacob went to scope out a case on his own, and decided to bring the hexbag he found back here. We found him after he got hexed, and I dragged him into the walls as fast as I could.”

“Hmm,” came the thoughtful pause. “Do you have a picture of the hexbag? Or any idea what’s in it? I’ve got some books I can check into, but you boys better make sure you’re secure there. If I find a cure, I’ll need a way to find you.”

Dean pursed his lips, glancing up at Chase. “Actually, we’ve got some help. Jacob’s friend Chase is here, and he’s still tall enough to reach the pedals if we need to go anywhere.”

Chase took that as the best opportunity to introduce himself. "Hey," he greeted, suddenly noticing how loud he was compared to Sam and Dean and, now, Jacob. He'd never really had occasion to feel big before. At least when Jacob was the giant he was mostly used to it.

"Name's Chase. I'm a friend of Jacob's," he explained, marveling that the other guy seemed to know exactly what the others were talking about. Chase had to wonder how widespread the knowledge actually was of all this supernatural stuff. He’d never even heard of a hexbag before.

"Chase can be trusted," Jacob chimed in. "We don't know what's in the hexbag, though, and messing with it too much doesn't seem like the best idea. But we can probably get a picture sent to you at least." Jacob wasn't convinced that just a picture would be enough to really find out what made the hexbag work. He was wary of messing with it any more than they had to while there were so many unknowns, and so a picture would have to do.

“Well, if you boys got someone that can drive, you might want to head here as soon as possible. Researching a hexbag’s gonna go a lot faster if I’ve actually got the hexbag here to study.”

Dean bit his lip, torn with indecision. More than once in the last few weeks, he’d turned down a trip to Bobby’s. Sam’s arm could get jostled, and if that happened it would take him longer to heal.

“Hey, I can make it,” Sam interrupted his thoughts. He knew his brother well enough to understand exactly what was holding Dean back. “I’m much better now. People ride in cars all the time with broken arms, and I’m mostly healed. It’ll take more than a bump to hurt it.”

Deep inside, Dean knew all that was true. Enough time had passed that the bone had set and was well on its way to healing up the rest of the way, so a road trip wasn’t out of the question. He cast his gaze at Jacob, then Chase, knowing the idea of driving like this would be a new experience for both of them. Jacob had never been small enough to fit on someone’s shoulder, and Chase had never actually held anyone, aside from his brief grab of Jacob. “What do you think?” he prodded. “This might be the only way to get you back to size.”

Jacob sighed. He had worried it might come to something like this the moment they decided to call Bobby. He knew the world was a lot bigger to him now, and the drive to Bobby's was a distance he'd never be able to cross on his own.

He couldn't avoid trying anything just because it was nerve wracking to know he was so overshadowed. He didn't dare complain about the situation, knowing Sam and Dean had dealt with it for much longer. It would be an insult to their own tenacity if he did. He'd just have to look to them for guidance in how to deal with everything being so big.

"Chase, you up for a road trip?"

Chase grinned overhead. Any excuse to get out of town for a while in the summer was a good one, and this was even for a good cause. "I can do a little driving for you," he replied. "Just gotta go get ready, warn mom that if she tries to yell across the house for me I won't hear it, you know. All that stuff."

Jacob rolled his eyes, but Chase was right. He couldn't just take off without immediately drawing attention to himself. That was the last thing any of them needed. "We'll be there by tonight, Bobby," he determined.

“Sounds good. Call me if anythin’ comes up. I’ll make sure to clear up any hunters coming ‘round. They might not pay any mind to you and Chase, but the Winchesters will raise questions if anyone sees them and realizes who they are.”

There was a click, then a dial tone filled the air. Dean stomped on the END button with his boot, for once having nothing to say to the last statement. Even Sam was quiet where he was sitting on the edge of the laptop. A hunter was the last kind of person they needed to find out about them now. Too many lives could be destroyed by it.

Jacob pursed his lips, letting Bobby's words sink in. He hadn't considered other humans, especially hunters, finding out about Sam and Dean if they went to Bobby's again. After all, he was used to the various ways he could keep them hidden and safe. Now Jacob was too small to conceal the brothers and keep people from looking at him twice. Usually his size was enough to maintain a safe bubble around himself.

Now they'd be relying on Chase for all of that. Short, somewhat frail, and unassuming Chase. He couldn't hold someone off if they wanted to pick a fight with him. Cheeky grins and fast talking only went so far.

Jacob glanced up at his friend, and Chase raised his eyebrows in response, waiting for him to say something. Jacob decided he'd give him the chance. He was willing to do his best, and there was no one else around that could help them figure this case out. If it came to it, Jacob could distract any attention while Sam and Dean hid. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it would have to do.

"Well, Chase, I guess if you're sure about this, you better make sure you're ready for a trip. It could take a few days to figure all this out."

Chase grinned again and waved a hand dismissively, the action drawing Jacob's eyes. "It'll be easy. I'll even make sure to leave your mom a note that I've kidnapped her son for a little vacation. I got you guys covered."

Dean snapped out of his thoughts at that, and put his hands on his hips while he worried his lip. “Well, the sooner you get ready, the sooner we can get there and start trying to get Jacob back to normal.” He stared up at Chase. “We’ll stay in the wall until you get back. Just knock like you did before, and once like this on the wall of the dresser.”

He demonstrated the knock and had Chase tap back to show he had it down. Then they bid the human teen a brief farewell, and relocated into the welcome darkness. Sam took the time to pack his things back into his satchel. Dean shifted stuff around, piling the mess he’d made back onto the shelves so the home wasn’t messy when they got back.

And they would be back. Jacob would be back to normal in no time, towering above them all like he was supposed to.

Jacob waited in Sam and Dean’s house while Chase was gone. His parents were both at work for the next several hours, but he wasn't willing to take any risks. After what happened with Bobby catching Sam and Dean unawares, Jacob knew well the importance of minimizing vulnerability.

Besides, he'd seen his room before. A new scale didn't make it that interesting. The brothers' house was a much better choice.

Every little detail, every supply that Dean had nabbed from around the house, was so deliberate and put to the best use possible. Jacob remembered Dean's thorough nature from when they were working on the Impala. The small, tenacious hunter didn't let any tiny mark go unnoticed, as demonstrated when they were buffing out the scratches and oxidized paint. Jacob had thought his arms might fall off after that task was done.

After a while, during which Jacob could imagine a boisterous conversation in the Lisong household, there was a faint rumbling in the house. Jacob tensed until he recognized it as footsteps on the stairs. He heard the distant double knock and the creak of his enormous door swinging open, and then closed.

It was amazing, the details he could pick out if he focused. Sam and Dean lived with those sounds wherever they lived. Jacob was getting a sample of their lives. He'd always wondered what he sounded like from their perspective and he was discovering it firsthand.

A knocking sounded on the wall not far away, and then a distinct "Dammit" could be heard hissed through the wall. The correct knock came next, followed by "Sorry, guys. I fucked up the knock but it's just me and my dumbass self."

Sam had to grin at that from where he was sitting out of Dean’s way. The small home was sorted and organized, all in the name of something to do while they waited for Chase.

Not that Dean would let anyone else help him. After getting his satchel together, Sam ended up being ushered into one of their few chairs so he wasn’t tempted to ‘help’ with his arm still in the sling. He knew that if it was up to Dean, he’d spend the entire day, every day, resting in his bedroom. Until his arm was healed.

Which could take a few more weeks, and so Sam bluntly refused to do that. Any time Dean tried, he was met with a flat refusal, a stubbornness that matched Dean’s own.

Standing, Sam stretched his good arm over his head, then slung his satchel over his shoulder. “Think we should let that first knock slide?” he asked sweetly, remembering how particular Dean could be.

Dean gave him a flat stare back, his own bag already hanging by his side. The entire situation with Jacob had him on edge. “Smartass,” Dean muttered. “Everyone ready? Let's head out.”

He led the way out of the house, but had to pause to slide the wooden block back in place to keep their home from getting any pests inside. It wasn’t foolproof, but it would help a good bit if there was anything lurking inside the wall. When they got back, they’d go through the belongings inside, and make sure there were no fun surprises waiting for them.

Dean was the first to step out of the wall, but this time Sam followed him immediately after. Chase was expecting them, after all.

Jacob exited the wall last, still not used to the fact that he was in the walls. He paused on the carpet, again noting the way the fibers reached past his ankles, easily. New details he never would have noticed before kept jumping out at him at odd intervals. He looked up at Chase, still amazed that he was looking up at Chase.

His friend had come equipped with a messenger bag that was straining against its zipper, most likely stuffed haphazardly with an extra set or two of clothes. Luckily, he'd remembered to put on a shirt with pockets on the front. There was no risk of him suggesting they try to hide in a side pouch on that bag. It might seem bearable, but Jacob knew he'd probably hate it. Sam and Dean might outright refuse an arrangement like that.

Chase grinned in greeting. "Hey, fellas," he said. Before anything else, he slipped a hand into a side pocket on his bag, fighting a little to retrieve a thick white case that was clearly meant for glasses. It had a hard shell and looked like it'd easily fit the three of them.

Jacob almost told him he could go to hell with that idea, but Chase spoke up again.

"Thought I'd slip that hex-thingie in here. It won't fall apart or anything and I don't have to, y'know, directly touch it in case it still has bad energy on it."

Jacob wasn’t the only one that had thought it was for them to travel in. Dean had to force his shoulders to relax. It was hard to trust someone he’d only just met, and a move like that wasn’t helping. It was a good sign that Chase didn’t even look like he’d considered the option of trapping them in the case, especially since they would have a hard time getting his attention if it became hard to breathe in there.

Sam took a few steps forward, his mind focused on Chase’s issue instead of the possibility of being trapped. Problem solving was one way to keep his mind off things, like how they would be going on a road trip with Jacob too small to hold them and his own arm in a sling for the ride. “Do you have anything to pick it up with?” he asked, concern in his voice. “If it’s in one of Jacob’s pockets, it’ll be easy to accidentally brush against it, then Bobby’s going to have to come and find all four of us.”

“He’d never let us hear the end of that one,” Dean said dryly.

Chase snickered. "I'll do my best not to brush it," he assured Sam. "If I do end up screwing this up, I'll buy everyone dinner." He winked along with his boast, looking confident that he'd make it without hexing himself.

Then, he flipped the case open. Jacob absently wondered which of the other Lisongs he'd filched it from, something to muse about while he put away his concerns. He'd be traveling soon, regardless of how Chase decided to transport the three of them. Jacob had to mentally prepare himself for the journey ahead.

The jacket was easy for Chase to drag along the floor, and soon it was close enough to see the lump created by the hexbag in one of the pockets. Jacob frowned; he'd fit in there now. Normally he'd be tucking his hands away in those pockets, but at this size he could make a king-sized bed out of them.

Chase narrowed his eyes at the thing, nudging up the lip of the pocket to glimpse the nondescript little bag. It was such a ratty thing for something so troublesome. Holding the glasses case near the opening, Chase lifted the jacket up and gave it a shake so that the little hexbag tumbled into the case.

Jacob flinched when the case snapped shut, concealing the hexbag from view. It didn't put him at ease even as Chase tucked the case away in his bag again, but he still smirked up at his friend. "Damn. And here I was almost looking forward to seeing the look on your face if you got downsized," he quipped.

"You wish," Chase shot back, poking Jacob lightly in the chest. Jacob stumbled backwards in surprise, sending his friend a glare.

Chase snickered and then became more serious. "Okay, guys. How's this gonna work, though, actually? I think the keys to that big-ass car are in Jacob's other jacket pocket here, but what about, uh, actually getting to the car? I got pocket space here, will this be enough?" He gestured to the pockets on the front of his shirt.

“It’s probably for the best,” Sam said, eyeing up the pocket. Normally, with no one else around in the house, they’d ride on Jacob’s shoulder, but along with Chase having much thinner shoulders, Sam wouldn’t be able to hang on to such a precarious perch. Until his arm was completely better, he ran the risk of injuring it more.

Dean nodded. “Just try not to jostle it much once we’re in there, okay?” he asked seriously. Jacob was going to have to get used to traveling like them fast, and they’d all have to watch out for Sam in the crowded pocket. It was going to be an interesting trip, that was for sure.

"Right, no jump rope while I have passengers, got it," Chase answered with a nod that was far more decisive than he felt. He'd grabbed Jacob up off the floor earlier as a pure knee-jerk reaction. Now, he'd have to pick up all three of them and stash them away in a pocket.

Three people in one pocket. What the actual hell. Chase felt like he was almost as nervous as they looked.

Seeing expectant looks, Chase raised his eyebrows and went through a quick decision making process in his head. Dean could climb up, he knew, but Sam certainly couldn't. Jacob might be able to, but Chase doubted he'd had time to learn in the last few hours.

There was nothing for it. Chase would have to help. He paused before lowering a hand to the floor, his fingers creating a ramp to his palm. He couldn't just scoop them up. Not after the scolding from before. They'd pointed out how easy it'd be for him to hurt any one of them, and the fact was sinking in more and more as the seconds passed.

"Alright, who's up first? Lisong express is ready to go."

Chapter Text

Dean sauntered up, giving Chase a confident smirk. “That would be me.”

There were many reasons that Dean wanted to be the first in the pocket. He wanted to make sure it was big enough for all three of them. When Sam got placed inside, he’d be able to help Sam down. He could test out Chase’s skill with picking them up, and help Jacob out if he had trouble with the pocket.

Even though Dean was doing much better with heights, his stomach knotted up at the thought of a new human holding him. Jacob had steady hands, and knowing that made it easier to put himself in the teenager’s grasp. Those hands had saved Sam and Dean both.

Chase was an unknown, especially when it came to being held or picked up. The impulsive grab from earlier highlighted his inexperience with people so small. Even with that small setback, Jacob had managed to put an end to any desire to snatch Sam or Dean off the ground the first time they’d met, and that was only reinforced by Dean’s rule of ‘You grab, I stab,’ and the state of Sam's arm.

Sam might point out he was slightly antisocial if he found out about that saying, but it was a good rule of thumb for when dealing with people so much larger and more powerful than they. It didn’t apply as much to Jacob or Chase anymore, since even Dean would admit that both humans were doing great.

Any strangers that tried to grab them, on the other hand…

Dean stepped up onto Chase’s hand, using the slanted fingers to reach the curved palm. It was strange. Compared to Jacob’s hand, Chase’s was very slim. Even his fingers were smaller around. Dean thought he might actually be taller than a few of the fingers, a novel sensation considering even Jacob’s pinkie normally outsized him. His hands would be able to cover a fingertip now, another thing he couldn’t manage with Jacob. The skin under him was softer and less callused from hard work as he dropped to a crouch for balance.

“Ready when you are!” Dean announced, hoping he really was. He had to repeat to himself that the height wouldn’t be that bad. Chase would do fine; even with smaller hands than Jacob.

Jacob watched in some awe as Dean settled on Chase's hand. He'd seen the same sight from above numerous times before. Dean had been nervous at first to walk onto Jacob's hands, but now he practically swaggered on. Seeing this from Dean's perspective opened his eyes. Jacob could see how big the hand was by comparison, and it didn't stop Dean.

Maybe there was plenty of trust there, but Jacob knew there had to be bravado in the action just the same. His hands were normally even bigger than the one settled before them.

He wandered closer, coming up next to Sam, while Chase lifted his hand off the floor. The unhexed human looked a little wary of sending Dean toppling regardless of his crouched position, and held his other hand nearby like he was shielding a candle.

"And you guys do this all the time," Jacob muttered, awe in his voice.

Chase was dealing with his own awe. He felt like it'd be much more secure to have even a loose fist around the tiny, fragile form to keep him from accidentally rolling off his hand. A quick glance at Sam reminded him why grabbing was a no-go. He really did have the power to accidentally hurt them, and badly, if he did this wrong.

Naturally, that fact had him on edge. When he got Dean to his pocket, he propped it open with his free hand and tilted his hand into a gentle slope aiming for the cloth enclosure.

“Whoa!” Dean was caught off guard by the slope that developed beneath his feet. With the way he was crouched on the hand, it tilted his balance out from under him and sent him rolling down the outstretched fingers. No amount of pinwheeling his arms could stop the tumble. The hand vanished from under him and he hit the bottom of the pocket, landing in a surprised heap.

Sam pursed his lips as he saw Dean tumble down, already knowing what was coming. There was a good chance Jacob would see it too, after his exposure the last few months with the small hunter. He sent Jacob a grin. “Well, we trust you,” he reminded Jacob. “You haven’t let us down yet.”

Dean popped back into sight, his casual spike of hair disheveled and a predictably annoyed glare on his face from the unexpected tumble. “You can’t tilt your hand like that with Sam,” he griped up at Chase from inside the pocket. “Just… stick your fingers in the pocket and let them climb in themselves. Trust me, it’s easier than tumbling in.”

If Chase were the type to blush, he might have. As it was, he chuckled sheepishly and stared down at Dean's irate expression. He got caught up in the novelty of a person standing up in his pocket, clinging to the edge to avoid tumbling down, for just a moment before remembering the task at hand.

Jacob knew how to do all this picking-up-tiny-people business. Now he was one of the tiny people, and he needed help. Chase had to focus.

He lowered his hand again, slightly more confident this time. "Sorry about that, guys. It was a test run, I swear. No tipping anyone over. Uh, again."

Jacob rolled his eyes, but surprisingly found himself approaching the hand anyway. He judged that there'd be room for both him and Sam on Chase's hand. It was a short trip, anyway.

Stepping onto the offered palm was the tricky part. Jacob hesitated, knowing he was handing over control of his very life to Chase. His best friend for years could be trusted with this. He stepped on, feeling the skin give beneath his shoes. "Wow, Chase. You're actually not too bad at this learning curve," he teased.

Chase arched an eyebrow. "Hey man, just because you like to press your luck and get yourself stabbed in the hand doesn't mean I'm gonna follow your lead."

Sam had an easier time stepping onto Chase’s palm, already used to the necessity of handing his life over to a human like that. Dean trusted Chase, therefore he’d trust Chase. This friend of Jacob’s seemed friendly and trustworthy enough, compared to the other one.

Chase’s palm was softer under Sam’s boots than he was used to, so he stood close to where Jacob was. He glanced up at Chase, but was distracted by the sight of Dean watching them from the pocket, both hands clutched around the edge to hold himself steady. Even against Chase, who was much smaller than Jacob, they were so little.

“I’m good,” Sam called up to Chase, shaking off his thoughts. He shifted uneasily in place next to Jacob.

Chase's mouth twisted into a concentrated frown above them, and somehow that helped Jacob keep his breathing steady when their living platform rose up. Chase was doing his best to be careful and follow Jacob's lead from the times he'd seen his friend picking up one or both of the brothers. For the sake of Sam's arm, Jacob was glad Chase had prior instruction on how to go about doing this.

Even if things were a little wobbly, Chase was definitely doing better to start out than Jacob had, reflexive grab or not. Jacob knew that he had earned the scars on his hands from the knives Sam and Dean carried with them.

Chase's hand didn't tilt this time when it was level with the pocket. It wavered a little, but otherwise Chase gave them time to situate themselves without dumping them in. Jacob crouched at the edge, before angling his face towards Sam. "You better hop in first, so you have more room," he suggested. It was also said in part because it was clear that Dean would be on edge until he knew his brother was secure.

Sam gave Jacob a wry grin, knowing exactly why he wanted him to get in first. Dean was always incredibly antsy when Sam was at risk, even with something as simple as getting into a pocket or accepting a lift from Jacob. He crouched by the edge of the hand, trying to keep his balance on the living platform while it wavered in midair.

Dean made room for him in the pocket, stepping as far into the corner as he could get so Sam had plenty of space. Sam sat on the edge, dangling his legs off the side so all he needed to do was take one short hop down.

Two strong arms caught him before he hit the bottom, holding his weight without a problem while Sam found his footing in the fabric confines. The pocket wasn't as roomy as the hoodie they normally traveled in, but it was comfortable and would offer a great view of their trip, unlike the hood.

Once they got Jacob back to normal and Sam healed, they would actually try traveling this way with him. Jacob had picked up some shirts for the sole purpose of having a pocket in the front at Dean's behest. He’d bought them the first chance he got when he brought the brothers back to his family home.

It was nice to know how much he cared and was willing to listen to them even on the most random issues, like what he wore.

Straightening, Sam flashed a smile up at Jacob. “Piece of cake,” he told his human friend, knowing this wasn't something Jacob had ever expected to do in his life. He and Dean tried to leave as much room in the other corner of the pocket so Jacob could fit.

Jacob leaned forward slightly to catch a glimpse of the bottom of the pocket. He could see loose fibers, even the simple pattern of the weave in Chase's shirt. The chest in front of him was moving slightly as Chase breathed, and Jacob had to take a slow, shaky breath himself.

The new perspective kept hitting him right in the face. He was stuck in a tide as every new thing stood out to him. Jacob clenched his jaw and gathered his resolve again before doing what he never thought he'd do and slid himself into a pocket.

He would have fallen in a heap at the bottom if his hand didn't grasp the edge right away. Jacob stared downwards while he figured out his footing, planting his feet the best he could in the fabric bottom of the pocket. "There we go," he muttered to himself, looking back up in time for Chase to stand up to his full height.

Jacob's eyes widened and both hands gripped the edge of the pocket while he felt like he shot upwards in the air. Was this what it felt like for Sam and Dean whenever he stood up with them in hand? There was no warning, just the sudden feeling of gravity trying to hold him back.

Chase stared down at the three people crowded in his pocket. Alone, they didn't really have much weight for him to notice. All together, he could really feel them there, all standing and peering curiously out of his pocket. It was definitely the weirdest sight. "Sorry I don't have any seatbelts for ya," he quipped. "Good to go?"

Sam and Dean got situated once Jacob was in the pocket with them, the bottom of the fabric like a hammock that had three people trying to vie for position on it. Sam hooked his good arm on the edge of the pocket to support himself, relaxing a little as that kept him from losing balance. His injured arm was secure against his front, the sling more than enough to keep it from getting jarred as they settled.

He glanced up at Chase, giving him a smile. “We’re all set,” he told the human watching them curiously. “Just be careful on the stairs, okay? It gets bumpy if you take them fast.” Which was honestly putting it mildly. Stairs with Jacob had been more like an earthquake a time or two, especially when he was in a hurry on a case. Chase might be a smoother ride because he was smaller, but he might also be bumpier because of his relatively shorter paces.

“And don’t scratch my car!” Dean shot up from the other side. His mind was on one thing now that they were all safely contained in the pocket, and he would let everyone know about it. “I know every inch of her, trust me, I’ll know if you leave a mark!”

Chase grinned and nodded. "I'll do my best, dude," he assured them, before finally managing to tear his focus away from the pocket. The pocket containing three people in it.

That would definitely take some getting used to.

Chapter Text

Chase turned and left the room, slowing on the stairs like Sam had asked. He still glanced down a few times when he felt someone shift as if they'd lost balance, and was never once surprised to see that it was Jacob, clinging to the edge of the pocket while he regained his footing. His downsized friend looked a little green even as he peered around curiously. Sam and Dean were doing better, but looked just as curious about their new vantage point. Three small sets of eyes intently watched his progress.

Pausing near the front door, Chase left a note on a pad of paper that Mariana kept at the front table. He scrawled in slanted handwriting, telling Jacob's mother Hey. Kidnapped your son for a road trip. Later. -Chase He didn't see, but Jacob rolled his eyes at the blunt note.

Chase knew she'd probably laugh, maybe call him up later. He could spin the lie further if he needed to. At least he was better at that than Jacob was.

"Classy," Jacob quipped, the soft voice drifting up from the pocket even as Chase exited the house at last. It was like his friend was talking to him from a distance instead of a bare foot away in his pocket.

"Didn't hear you giving any suggestions on what to write," Chase shot back, glancing down to poke at Jacob through the pocket with a grin. He was having way too much fun with that, but then again it wasn't like he ever had the chance normally. At least, from Jacob's perspective, the constant shit talking and poking fun from his friend was something normal to deal with. The giant carrying him in a pocket was still his best friend and would look out for him while he was downsized.

Chase paused, staring critically at the Impala. Jacob glanced up in time for him to point out "Okay, so this car is fuckin' huge," before digging the keys from his jeans pocket.

Jacob almost answered, but he was preoccupied with the tilt of the pocket as Chase opened the door, tossed his bag across to the passenger side of the bench, and finally climbed in himself. Somehow Jacob managed not to go tumbling into Sam and Dean. Even Sam, with his broken arm, was having a better time than Jacob was at staying balanced. It was almost second nature to them, but Jacob had never encountered something quite like this.

Jacob burst into snickers as Chase paused, way too far back to even imagine reaching the pedals from his place on the enormous bench seat.

"Like to see you punch the gas right about now," Chase muttered, fumbling for the lever to push the bench seat as far forward as it'd go.

“To be fair, he could punch it,” Dean said with a snicker. “It just wouldn’t do much. Or move the pedal.” Even Dean was at least tall enough to reach the pedals, and he was the shortest person. He’d found that out for sure while they were repairing the car back the first week Jacob had met up with them. Dean had been in the middle of a full inspection of the Impala that day, including the brake pedal and the gas. When it came to his baby, he couldn’t be too thorough. Jacob had always been interested in what he had to say about the car, even when he went off on a complete tangent. When Dean wandered under the dash or under the seat, Jacob had always made sure to crouch down so he could see, too, and listen intently.

Sam stayed out of the conversation, just leaning on the edge of the pocket and watching their surroundings closely, especially Chase’s arms whenever they moved to either side. He couldn’t help but wonder if it would look the same when they were in a pocket on Jacob’s chest, considering the taller teenager had a thicker chest and much stronger arms. It was a unique point of view that Sam found himself enjoying. It was much better than being in a dark hoodie, no matter how safe the hoodie was. Here, he could see where they’d go.

"This car is gonna fuckin' eat me," Chase mused, when he finally got the bench seat situated close enough for him to reach the pedals. He had to adjust the rearview mirror as well, and somehow make the large vehicle conform enough to be drivable for him. The car was classy as hell, but Chase was definitely not the shape of person it was meant for.

Still, internal grumbling aside, Chase was feeling adventurous about things ahead. He shoved the key into the ignition and started the car with a roar of the engine. Holy shit, Jacob helped fix this monster up.

In his pocket, Jacob flinched from the noise, but it didn't stop him from staring around. The interior of the Impala was as familiar as always, but like his house, it was stretched to unreal proportions. Jacob was traveling like Sam and Dean always did.

He nearly lost his footing again when the car pulled away from the curb, Chase's arms moving around them as he turned the huge steering wheel that was wider than Dean's house in the walls. Chase's voice resonated around them. "Alright, guys, let's get going. And no napping all at the same time in there, alright? Someone's gotta give me directions once in a while."

“I think I can manage that,” Dean said dryly. It wasn’t like he sat around and read while Jacob was driving, unlike Sam. Though his younger brother probably had the maps memorized, especially the ones around Sioux Falls.

He hoisted himself out of the pocket, giving Sam an ‘accidental’ bump in the head with his boot and making him almost tumble back into Jacob. It was child’s play to avoid Sam’s lunge with his good arm, trying to swipe at his legs. Dean was out of reach in seconds.

From there Dean just crawled up to Chase’s shoulder, smirking at the disgruntled brother he’d left behind. At least for the moment, Sam wouldn’t risk climbing out after him. He was home free and out of reach.

“Second star to the right, and straight on till morning!” Dean declared, jabbing an arm straight out.

Jacob stared upwards in amazement at how casually Dean settled himself on Chase's shoulder. He had to wonder if that's what the brothers looked like when they climbed up to his shoulders. To Dean, Chase's shirt might as well have been a sturdy ladder. He didn't even hesitate.

Chase was quiet for a few extra seconds, too. Then, he caught up to Dean's words and got over the shock of being climbed and snorted out a laugh. "Okie dokie, Cap'n," he answered back, for the moment getting himself on the road out of town. On the first leg of their trip, the general direction of Sioux Falls would do.

And just like that, they were on the way back to Bobby's.

Jacob shifted around in the pocket, figuring out a way he could still prop himself up but relax some. It was a long drive ahead of them. He settled with hanging his crossed arms over the edge of the pocket. He glanced over to Sam. "How're you holding up? This kind of pocket gonna work?" he asked, noting that he hadn't even had a chance to let the brothers try out the front pockets on the shirts he'd gotten, not after Bobby had taken them. He had no idea if pocket travel trumped hood travel.

Sam was almost a mirror of Jacob, but instead of both arms over the lip of the pocket, he only had one. His other was relaxed in the sling, not jostled in the slightest since they’d gotten into the car. It was really going a lot smoother than he’d hoped. The what ifs tried messing with him, telling him they should have gone with Jacob to the farmhouse, but Sam pushed that out of his mind. No one knew what was going to happen, they could only focus on what they could do about it.

“It’s nice,” he answered Jacob’s query. “The only part about hoodies is we can’t really see anything. They’re comfortable… but it can feel more like a trap, in the back like that. This… we know where you’re going, and we can actually talk to you. So… thanks. Y’know, for being willing to wear something like that just for us.”

Jacob nodded, rapt attention on Sam. He'd never thought that his hood might seem like a trap at times, but now that he was small enough, he got the idea. He'd have a hard time climbing out if he fell into a hood at this size, and he wouldn’t be able to see where anything was. The brothers were good at it, but they still had to make it all the way to his shoulder to actually see where he was going.

In a pocket like this, they could peek out once and then duck back down out of sight. It was a better idea. "No problem," he answered with a shrug. And then he grinned. "I can still wear a hoodie over most of them, anyway. Gotta keep up my image."

Sam had to roll his eyes at that. “You and those hoodies remind me of Dean and his leather jacket. The second Walt finished it, we could never get him out of it, I swear.”

He watched the road pass them by, Dean above pointing out the way he wanted them to go to Chase. There was no way of knowing if it was the straightest line to Sioux Falls, but once he got an idea in his head he was almost impossible to dissuade.

So Chase got to hear all about it.

Sam decided to go on. He'd never really had the chance to talk to Jacob like this, and now, the teen was barely taller than he was. It was a shock to Sam to find him almost the equal of the biggest human he'd ever seen, but it made him easier to talk to.

“I think Dean wears that leather coat because it makes him feel closer to our dad. He had a leather jacket like that when we were kids. Dean ran off with it for a week when we were in school to show off to the girls there.”

Jacob snickered quietly, somehow not doubting the story in the slightest. It also reminded him of what he was really doing, hanging around the brothers and learning to hunt alongside them. They were looking for their father, hoping to find him again after a decade and a half of not knowing if he was alive or dead. For all Jacob knew, once they found him, that'd be the last he saw of Sam and Dean.

In the meantime, he resolved, they'd take on whatever cases they found. He'd watch the brothers' backs, and they'd watch his. They made a pretty good team.

"I can understand that," he said after only a brief pause. He lifted his chin to point out the twine choker necklace he wore, with a green glass bead in it. Now that he thought about it, the necklace was probably smaller than a speck to Chase. " 'S why I wear this thing all the time. I think it's just some cheap souvenir, but my dad got it for me in Greece."

Sam nodded in understanding. The necklace was something they never saw Jacob take off, so he was glad to know the reasoning behind it. The jade green glass bead was a constant for them, about the size of a softball. Without it, Dean might not have been able to track Jacob down after the hex took effect. Knowing their friend was always wearing it gave Dean something to focus on.

“It’s good to have something like that to remember him by,” Sam said. “I don’t really have anything from our dad. I’ve got my knife from Dean, and that’s it from when we were kids. Dean’s got the jacket, and the amulet I gave him before we were cursed. He never takes that thing off. I think he’s worried that if he does, it’ll slip down a crack and he’ll never be able to reach it again. It’s too small.”

The amulet, a brass face of an old, horned idol, was an amulet of protection according to Bobby Singer. He’d entrusted it to Sam. Back then, when he was normal and hopeful of seeing their dad return to them on Christmas Eve, he’d wrapped it up as a present for John. After he’d discovered that John had lied about returning that night, even though Dean did his best to convince Sam that their father hadn’t just left them there, Sam had given it to Dean instead. His brother deserved it more, especially after his attempt at throwing Christmas together for Sam.

Even though all the presents he’d filched had ended up being for a girl. He’d tried his best, in typical Dean fashion.

Chapter Text

Sam smiled, remembering one thing he thought Jacob would appreciate. “I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about losing your necklace. If you do, Dean will track it down for you. It’s how he found you downstairs, after all. He won’t let you lose your connection to your dad.”

Jacob's eyebrows lifted. He'd heard only the basics from Sam and Dean about their abilities. The curse had shrunk them down, but it left them with a few edges they could use. Dean could find things, Sam could tell when they were being watched. Both of them, as Jacob had been able to confirm from Dean’s earlier sparring lessons, were disproportionately strong.

He'd never gotten many specifics on how their abilities worked. Jacob didn't question them too deeply about such things, especially when he noticed they tended to keep pretty quiet about themselves. He didn’t want to push them away with too many questions. They had their secrets, and who was he to pry?

"That's great," he said quietly, thinking of how easy it'd be to find something that went missing if he just had Dean help him look. They'd never miss a hexbag again. "I was wondering if that's how he found me so fast. I feel like I wasn't even awake all that long before he showed up and dragged me into the wall." No time to really register everything around him.

Those first moments at this size might never leave him. The texture of the wood floors, the chill in the air, the size of the room all lingered. Jacob was tempted to ask Sam how long it took to get used to this, but then decided that he didn't want to find out. He couldn't afford to think about the daunting question 'What if this can't be fixed?' until they’d exhausted their options.

Sam pursed his lips. “Without the bead, it never would have worked. We thought for a bit that it worked on people, but Dean was just mistaking the Impala for dad back when you first found us. After that, he gave it a shot. Tried to see if he really could track down our dad. He just ended up with a splitting headache.”

Glancing up over his shoulder at where Dean was sitting on Chase’s shoulder, Sam let himself slump down into the pocket. Dean was perfectly fine up there, looking for all intents and purposes like he owned the place. Standing up was exhausting when everything was moving around them the way it was in the car, and Sam wasn’t up to full speed from his injury. With it still healing, he tired quickly and found even his determination softening around the edges much faster than it should. It made it easier for Dean to keep him in the house.

“We were worried when your mom dropped off your jacket in the room,” Sam admitted. “It’s not like you to just vanish when we’re expecting you back from a case. Then Dean found out you were still in the house and he set off to find you. The last place he was ever expecting you to be was under a cabinet, though.”

"I think today is full of more surprises than the day I found out all this supernatural stuff is real," Jacob admitted. He sank into the pocket after Sam, albeit far less gracefully. He wound up seated opposite him, his legs drawn close to make room. To maintain the strangeness of their mode of transportation in a pocket, Chase's heart continued to plod along next to them.

He glanced up at the opening of the pocket, still able to see Dean proudly giving Chase directions. When he looked back at Sam, he had a sheepish smile on his face. "Everything I look at is just ... really jarring," he mused. For emphasis, he grasped the fabric of the pocket, weaving his fingers in between the threads. "All these details I never noticed before are just jumping out at me. If... when I get better, I'm gonna feel huge."

Sam thought about that, considering Jacob’s current predicament. He threaded his own fingers through the fabric of the shirt, watching how the space between the threads parted with ease. Humans could barely even see that, but to him it was normal. He even helped Mallory de-thread fabric from time to time. Their fingers might as well be needles at this scale.

“I don’t think it’ll be too bad,” he told Jacob. “I mean, you’re used to being that tall. You’ll probably forget what it’s like being this small in a few weeks. If I got back to normal, I wouldn’t even know what to do. I was ten when we got cursed. Dean might be able to go back to living like that, but… I don’t really remember being human anymore. Stupid things.” His face flushed slightly. “I barely know how to act around you and Chase half the time, I can’t imagine being in a crowd. Dean teases, but I wasn’t old enough to learn things like what to do with money, how to get it or anything. Our dad left all that up to Dean, and I… I was sheltered, as much as I could be when my dad hunted monsters. I know how to live like this. I don’t know how to be human.” He fiddled absently with the strap on his sling, embarrassed by the admittance that had poured out, unbidden.

Jacob's brow pinched with concern and he suddenly gained a glimmer of understanding for why Sam was so shy all the time. Aside from being worried about size, he wasn't sure how to interact with Jacob and Chase. They were on the other side of an invisible wall built up over years of living under different circumstances. Jacob shrugged lamely, unsure of what to tell him. "A lot of us kinda make it up as we go along, so you're not that far behind," he quipped.

He leaned back into the corner of the pocket with a sigh, unable to avoid thinking about the way it felt. The sensations that came with being small never seemed to dull to him. Jacob pursed his lips at the thought that Sam had been dealing with them for most of his life now. So long that they were more normal than anything else.

"Really, though, you and Dean are my experts here," he admitted. "With the hunting stuff in general, and right now. I have never met anyone who can just ... climb up a freaking cliff like you guys can climb a rope. It's badass, is what it is." Jacob trailed off sheepishly. He meant every word he said, though he'd never pointed it out to the brothers so blatantly. Even though he towered over them (most of the time), Jacob looked up to them.

If anything, Sam flushed a brighter red, his ears joining the party. Playful banter and jokes with Dean aside, he didn’t see his climbing as a big deal. It was just what he needed to do to get around, and both brothers did it on a regular basis. Dean was slower, but he had that silly phobia holding him back. Sam was certain that if he ever got over it, he’d be just as fast.

Well… maybe not quite as fast. Sam was taller, after all. It had to come in useful at some point.

Bright red cheeks and all, Sam gave Jacob a hesitant grin back. “Well, everyone climbs back at the motel. I was the fastest, though. Dean would always have me go up to the tables first since I make such a good lookout.”

Jacob snickered. He had seen exactly that in action, Dean sending Sam up a climb before. The brothers almost always went everywhere together, and they worked seamlessly in tandem. "You do make a pretty good lookout," he agreed. "Without your help on that first case, I probably would have gotten arrested for creeping around that house."

The casual conversation, actually having a chance to just sit and chat with Sam for once, was helping with Jacob's nerves. He was sitting there in his own best friend's pocket driving to the most comprehensive library on the supernatural he knew about, but it wasn't so bad. It could definitely be a lot worse, especially if he hadn't gotten home before shrinking.

"When your arm is better you'll have to scope out the house a bit. Dean wanders all over the place like he owns it," he said with a grin. Jacob had spotted Dean here and there in the house, noticing the barest movements only because he knew they were there. Sam might not be so easy to spot.

“Yeah,” Sam snorted. “Maybe if I was with him he wouldn’t get himself spotted so many times. He got soft with me around to tell him if anyone’s watching.” He glanced upwards, only just able to make out a sliver of Dean from where he was sitting. Most of his line of sight was blocked off by the bottom of Chase’s chin as the human kept his eyes on the road up above them. The ride had been smooth so far, no sudden turns, so Dean must be behaving and keeping his backseat driving down to a minimum. He’d startled Jacob more than once with outbursts and excited jumps when they passed places that were familiar, even something as simple as a Biggerson’s.

Sam wondered how Jacob could put up with it so much. When it came to Sam and Dean, they constantly bickered about how to do things, but Jacob could be so chill. His calm was a helpful contrast to their lack of it.

Sam did arch his eyebrows as one thought came to him. “Good thing Chase was the only other person to spot him. It might not be so easy to explain things to your parents.”

Jacob raised his eyebrows in an expression that all on its own said yikes. Explaining everything from the last few months to his mother and stepdad would be difficult. Jacob didn't know how his mother felt about magic and curses and stuff, but he doubted it was anything good. His stepdad would probably just want to have him evaluated, maybe spend some time in questioning for the slowly growing arsenal in the trunk.

Dean had his thoughts on what weapons Jacob would need, and it was tough to argue with him about it. Dean was the boss of their team, and he’d established that early on. Jacob wouldn’t be the one to challenge him, despite being the most apt to do so.

"They might be okay after the initial shock wore off, but yeah. Probably best not to let them see you at all while you're out Indiana Jones-ing," Jacob decided with a chuckle.

“We’ll just have to hope we never find out,” Sam quipped gamely, hiding a shudder at the thought of more humans discovering them. He doubted that Jacob’s family would react anything like Bobby, but the fact that his stepdad was a cop made it dangerous. He could easily confiscate Sam and Dean and take them to the station, and they’d run into an entirely different type of trouble there. The possibility of the others their size being discovered would run high.

“Maybe we’ll have time to teach you some of that ‘Indiana Jones-ing,’ ” Sam said with a grin. “I might not be able to climb yet, but Dean wouldn’t be against more lessons. I think he’s looking forward to actually being able to train you. We shouldn’t rob him of his one opportunity. You’ll be a fighting machine when we get you back to size.”

Jacob chuckled dryly, remembering his lessons earlier. While waiting for Chase to show up, Dean had decided they'd use the time to practice some hand-to-hand combat. For the first time since meeting the Winchester brothers, Jacob was on a scale that allowed him to actually follow along with the lessons rather than watch them play out on a table while he leaned over, trying to see every detail. Naturally, Dean kicked his ass every time, but it had been informative.

"I'll make a lot more progress like this than at my usual Godzilla size, I guess," he said, smirking faintly at the nickname that had stuck to him since the first time he ever grabbed Dean by surprise. It didn’t fit so much at the moment. "Might as well see some kind of good come out of this, not that it isn't fun getting poked by Chase all the time.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to get back at him,” Sam said. “Trust me, being small won’t stop that one.” He didn’t mention all the ideas Dean had come up with to get back at Jacob with, though he hadn’t had any opportunities to put them in motion. For himself, Sam was content to just sit back and watch Dean. He didn’t have any reason to pull any pranks on the human. Dean, on the other hand, he had plenty, especially once his arm was healed.

“Dean’s enjoying having someone to toss around,” Sam spoke his thoughts out loud. “After all, I’ve been out of commission for a month now. He’s been spinning his heels just putting the house together. That’s all that keeps him out of trouble half the time.”

Jacob chuckled. He could just imagine Dean scouring the house over and over to check for supplies or just to memorize the layout. He wasn't the type to just sit and wait around. "He's done good work with it," Jacob admitted. With the supplies he brought back, he never would have envisioned the resulting home that Dean had put together. All of the planning had been his, too; Jacob remembered Dean telling him how tired Sam was, during the first week especially.

"And ... did he really paint those protection symbols all over the place? He's even gonna do my parents' room?" Jacob asked. The symbols didn't look like much on their own, with the simple red paint in the dusty interior of the walls. Arranged correctly, however, Jacob had learned enough to know that Dean would be safeguarding his family from all the danger that Jacob hadn't even known existed a few months ago.

Sam snorted. “Where do you think all that paint goes? Hasn’t he gotten refills three or four times now? Your room’s covered, if you go in any of the passages we use. And I’m sure if he has the time, your parents room won’t be the last room he hits up. I’m sure the living room will follow after that.” He rolled his eyes, unable to hide a smirk at Dean’s expense. The sight of the small hunter with the oversized paintbrush slung over his shoulders stuck out in Sam’s mind.

“Just be glad he doesn’t need salt lines everywhere in the house for demons. Your parents would be wondering where it all came from if he wanted to coat the outskirts of the rooms like our dad used to do in our motel rooms.”

For salt, at least, they had a sizable bucket in their small home. They could refill their pouches from there, and if the bucket ran low it only took a minute for Jacob to take it downstairs and refill the salt from his mom’s supplies.

Jacob snickered quietly. In truth, he hadn't kept track of how many times Dean asked him to refill his paint. Jacob was bringing something back to the little entrance in the wall nearly every day, either by request or because he found something useful. It was mostly by request; Dean didn't have to shrink his vision for his home because of some key supply being missing.

"Yeah, mom would notice if salt showed up everywhere," he agreed. Then she'd probably come straight to him wondering what in God's name he was up to. Salt would damage the plants if it got tracked outside, after all.

"You guys are turning my house into a bunker," he realized with an amused chuckle. "Damn. It'll be one of the least haunted houses in history."

“Dean has a plan,” Sam laughed. “I usually just stay out of the way when he gets an idea in his head. It usually works out better. Or he enlists me to help. I’m sure when I’m back up to full speed I’ll be carting around the paint for him.”

His eyebrows went up. “That’s right!” Sam blurted out, his voice raised. “Did he tell you? He ‘borrowed’ my journal to use for the protection symbols I copied down that first week at Bobby’s, and Dean got a drop of red paint in the middle of it. He was trying to hide it from me for like a day before I got my book back.”

"Ah, that's bad luck," Jacob lamented, a bemused look on his face. He had gotten glimpses of the small journal Sam toted around with him, but never anything substantial. The tiny handwriting was much too small for him to see ... at least it usually was. It was clear how important the book was to Sam.

"I guess now it's just got a little extra character to it. And you have ammo for not letting him borrow your shit anymore," he snickered.

Chapter Text

The casual, relaxed conversation between Sam and Jacob in the pocket continued into the afternoon, with occasional bouts of comfortable silence as they stood to check the surroundings. Jacob felt a nudge from outside the pocket once and stood to find Chase asking him where they were, blaming Dean for leading him off the right road. It only took a minor correction and a little teasing for them both for Jacob to point them back in the right direction. He got shoved back into the pocket for that, and missed the sight of the shit-eating grin on Dean’s face at how flustered he was.

Even with the brief detour, Dean led them true and they were back in Sioux Falls in time for the sky to lean towards sunset, allowing some pink and yellow into the blue expanse. The Impala crunched up the familiar gravel road to Bobby Singer's house, and Jacob had to cling to the fabric of the pocket from all the bumps and wobbles of the massive car.

When the car finally pulled into a wide turn for Chase to park the car, Jacob let himself relax. He gave the chest next to him a punch, suddenly understanding why Dean punched his neck all the time. It was a succinct and easy way to get the point across.

"Hey now," Chase said, tilting his head down to peer into his pocket. He was still definitely reeling from the fact that his best friend and another person could fit in his pocket. "Was that really necessary?"

Sam straightened in the pocket so he could glance at their surroundings. Normally he'd be sitting on a shoulder the entire ride, since Jacob's hoodies didn't really have any pockets that were accessible while he was driving. With the healing arm, it was nice to have a place he could relax where he didn't need to worry about tumbling down to the bench seat.

“Joining the rest of the world, Sammy?” Dean joked from his perch up on Chase's shoulder.

Sam gave him a brief scowl, but went right back to watching the house. “Do you think Rumsfeld will be around?” he asked hopefully. After the curse struck, he never thought he'd have a chance with a dog again. He was too small, the size of a dog treat. Yet Bobby’s rottweiler, Rumsfeld, acted like they were his family, no matter how small they were. He didn't care.

"Wait," Chase asked, one eyebrow lifting while his hand hesitated on the door handle. "Who's Rumsfeld? I thought it was just that Bobby guy."

Jacob managed to climb himself to the edge of the pocket and hang his arms over so he could stay standing. "Rumsfeld is Bobby's dog. He's pretty chill," he replied, trying really hard not to think about how he was now the size of a pitiful squeaky toy by comparison. Rumsfeld knew him, and he was always gentle with Sam and Dean. Jacob would be fine.

It'd probably still be terrifying to see him at this scale the first time, but Jacob built walls by remembering how the dog had come to accept him during his last stay in this house.

Chase's face dropped into a skeptical frown, but all the same he opened the car door and got out, glad to be able to stand after hours of driving. He dragged his bag along behind him, letting it hang at his side instead of trying to put it onto his shoulder. That was occupied now and he doubted Dean was inclined to share.

Nice place. Got a nice, cozy, 'Git the hell off my lawn' feel to it.

He glanced down to see Jacob peering around avidly, most likely taking in all the familiar sights at such an alarming new scale. Chase sighed and made his way to the door of the house. He was amused by Jacob's predicament at times, but all the same it was weird and wrong for him to be so small. Chase looked up and rapped on the door with his free hand.

It was quiet for the first moment after the knocks died off, but a low bark quickly filled the air. “You already know who’s out there,” could be heard as footsteps approached the door, Bobby’s gruff voice drowning out the excited tapping of the dog's claws on the hardwood flooring.

The old door swung open with a creak, Bobby standing there with his hand on Rumsfeld’s collar. After the last time Rumsfeld had greeted the Winchesters with a stranger, he felt it was better to be safe than sorry. No one wanted the dog getting overprotective and sending everyone flying when he bounded up to investigate.

Bobby’s clear blue eyes landed on Dean first, then his eyebrows went up as he spotted Sam and Jacob standing in the chest pocket of the shirt. “You boys really know how to stick your foot into it, dontcha,” he muttered as he opened the screen door wide to let them in.

“You must be Chase,” Bobby greeted the only other normal-sized person there. “Name’s Bobby Singer. Guess these three dragged you into their mess.”

“We didn’t drag him,” Dean complained from his shoulder perch. “We asked. Nicely.”

Rumsfeld inched up towards Chase while the others were distracted, eyes wide as he sniffed the air. A low whine escaped his throat as he spotted Jacob standing next to Sam. That wasn’t where Jacob was supposed to be.

Jacob had to smile faintly at the sound coming from the dog. It was the size of a house to him, a really big house, but Rumsfeld sounded so pitiful whining at him. He waved, saying "Yeah, I know, Rumsfeld, it's definitely weird for me, too."

Chase rolled his eyes, at what he couldn't pinpoint. There were many options. He gave the dog one more wary glance before offering Bobby a grin. "Yup, I'm Chase, I'm the big guy here's buddy." He poked at his pocket, feeling a tiny fist swatting at his finger. He ignored it and continued talking. "I'm told you're an expert, which is good, 'cause I can barely keep up with all the crap these guys say is real."

Bobby snorted, stepping out of the way of the door to let Chase through. He released Rumsfeld’s collar now that the initial excitement was over. The dog had learned that the Winchesters, though they were small like the other littles around, had no issue with humans carrying them around. They didn’t have to worry about him growling at either human unless the brothers told him to, and that wasn’t likely unless Dean was in an ornery mood.

“C’mon in,” he told the small teenager. “We can get Jacob settled and check out this hexbag of yours. See what makes it tick.”

Rumsfeld nudged one of Chase’s hands, trying to get his attention. Everyone was too high up for him to reach. He let out a yelping bark. Sam gave him a wave with his good arm from the pocket, bouncing on his heels. He couldn’t wait for a chance to pet the dog again.

Chase smirked at the dog before settling his hand on his head, scratching behind the ears. Rumsfeld allowed it but still kept his hopeful brown eyes on Chase's pocket. Chase had a feeling that the moment he sat down he'd have a Rottweiler nearly the same weight as him trying to climb onto his lap.

He followed Bobby into the house, his eyes widening a little at the sight of the bookshelves lining the room they went into. Thick, old books filled every available shelf, and some were stacked on the desk or floor, too. The air was filled with the particular musty smell that followed old books around, and Chase brushed at his nose before he could sneeze. If there wasn't an answer in any of these tomes, he was going to have to ask just how many curses he did have the answer to.

Jacob looked around a lot, too, noting that many of the books were almost so thick that he wouldn't be able to reach the front and back if he stretched his arms as far as they'd go.

He was distracted by the sound of Chase humming thoughtfully. Jacob looked up and saw his friend glancing around before peering down at him. "You guys wanna ... stand on this table, or stick with the pocket and shoulder combo, or what?"

“The table, please,” Sam called up politely before anyone else could chime in. He was eager to get out of the closed confines, but he couldn’t risk climbing out himself the way Dean had at the beginning of the ride. He was sure he’d be able to manage it fine. He was the best climber around, but Dean would never let him hear the end of it if he even tried.

Sam paused to gather his satchel up from where it was left in the corner of the pocket. His three-pronged hook hung casually out from one side, and within the leather bag were the supplies he assumed he’d need for their stay at Bobby’s. His journal, a few changes of clothing, the lead pencil tip he used for writing. It was all nestled inside alongside some crumbs for food and aluminum foil.

"Alright," Chase muttered, thinking about how best to go about this. If Sam's arm wasn’t broken, he might have just reached into the pocket to scoop both of its occupants out. The little sling was a constant reminder to him that he could potentially hurt someone so small. Chase didn’t want to be like Bobby Loran, not even by accident.

His hand hesitated near his pocket before he figured out a way to slip his fingers into the fabric confines and curl them slightly, creating something for them to step onto. It was lucky it wasn't Jacob trying this; his hands were normally way too big to not just squish the smaller folk into a corner.

Even without Jacob's huge size, Chase's hand was making it crowded in the pocket. Jacob could see the look of concentration on the face above. He was at least trying.

He was about to brace his hand on the nearby thumb and step onto Chase's fingertips when one twitched, making Jacob pitch forward and land face-first in the tilted palm waiting on him. "God dammit," he muttered, feeling the heat in his face and just knowing there was a smirk above him (maybe two, if Dean had noticed his clumsiness). He scooted aside as much as he could to make room for Sam to climb on, too, resisting the urge to send Chase a flat look.

Sam cautiously made his way onto the fingers next to Jacob, trying to scrunch into the space that was leftover for him. They weren’t small guys, relatively, but the hexed and cursed stature of them both gave them enough wiggle room in the pocket to both fit on the curved fingers, though Chase’s hands were noticeably smaller than Jacob’s.

Drawing his legs in close, Sam gave Jacob a reassuring grin, knowing his human friend might never adjust to being hexed the way Sam had done as a child. He barely remembered what it was like to be human, but Jacob wasn’t used to being small enough to be picked up on a whim. The teenager was supposed to be one of the tallest humans around. Someone on the football team might be able to toss him in the air, but Chase would never budge him an inch.

That height would be his again, and Sam was resolved to do whatever it took to save Jacob.

“You’re getting better at this,” Sam told him encouragingly.

Jacob smiled tentatively, surprised and grateful for the compliment. He felt like he was fumbling his way through every little thing. He was so used to being tall and sturdy and now, it felt like a breeze could possibly knock him over.

He opened his mouth to answer but only a surprised noise escaped him before he had to grasp a hand on Chase's thumb while the hand lifted out of the pocket. Chase moved so fast.

Jacob hardly got used to rising up on his friend's carefully curled fingers before the surface beneath him dropped again. He let out a gasp and before he knew it, the wooden surface of Bobby's work desk expanded out before them. Jacob paused, caught off guard by the sight of something so familiar but so not. He knew this desk from an entirely different view.

"Holy shit," he breathed, turning his head to look up at Chase, and then glancing over at Bobby. It threw him off to think that, were he the right size, he'd be even taller than the giants standing overhead now.

While they were getting themselves off of Chase’s hand, Dean took the opportunity to climb down to the table using Chase’s arm as a ramp, with his leather duffel slung casually over his shoulder. Right as Sam was stepping down to the table, Dean hopped off of Chase’s wrist, landing next to his brother.

Bobby sidled past Chase, opting to sit down at the chair. It made it easier to see the expressions on the tiny faces, rather than staring down at them from a distance. “Holy hell,” he muttered as he leaned down further, staring in amazement at the sight of Jacob standing just a hair over four inches tall. He edged out Sam by less than a tenth of an inch, if that. “Guess we know who’s the tallest,” he muttered to himself, not noticing when Dean flinched at the comparison.

Bobby’s eyes flickered up to Chase. “Didja have the hexbag for us to take a look at?”

Jacob had his eyes fixed on Bobby's face, leaning closer and aimed towards him. He only turned when he heard Chase drag a chair closer to the other side of the desk to sit down himself. His bag rested on his knees while he fished out the car-sized glasses case.

"Got it in here," he explained, reaching forward and setting it down next to Jacob, Sam, and Dean. Jacob glanced down at his shoes from the vibration it caused.

Jacob glanced over the case for a second before facing Bobby again. He'd just have to get used to the way the man was always above them, even leaning down like that. They were small. Jacob wondered if his own efforts not to loom made any difference, or if Sam and Dean just tried to ignore it most of the time.

"I just picked the thing up and moved it to my pocket when I found it," he explained, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the case. "Nothing happened on the whole drive back to my house, it only hit me once I got inside. It didn't even knock me out, I think I just hit my head when I fell."

Bobby nodded to show that he was listening as Jacob spoke. He reached for the case, carefully giving the three small hunters a wide berth with his hand. It didn’t weigh much, but it had caused plenty of trouble for them already.

Snapping the case open, Bobby dumped out the hexbag, arching his eyebrows at the all-too-familiar ratty cloth. He’d seen many different types in his time hunting ever since losing his wife. This one, with the tattered grey fabric and the black twine holding it shut, didn’t stand out at all.

“Now, normally you got two different type’a hexbags,” Bobby said aloud as he reached behind himself and dug through the drawers of the cabinet. “The most popular is the type that you use to target a specific person with a hex. There’s usually something of theirs in the bag, giving the spell its direction even if it’s nestled in the walls out’a reach.”

He withdrew a long pair of tweezers, the type that might be found near a reptile cage to feed it dead mice. His other hand he slipped into a glove, using that to pinch the edge of the bag while he tugged the twine open. The bag opened up like a sickly flower as the twine fell away. “This one’s just used for general hexes. Toss it at someone and it’ll activate, since I don’t think anyone was close enough to Jacob to say a spell.”

A black dust was inside, along with dried herbs and a talisman. “Goofer dust,” Bobby muttered to himself. He glanced back up at Jacob. “When you got hit, were you doing anything? Did you brush against the bag or the pocket it was in at all?”

Jacob shook his head. He inched forward a little, curious in spite of himself about what was contained in the hexbag that was causing him so much trouble. He didn't recognize the 'goofer dust' and he couldn't identify the herbs in their twisted state.

"I didn't do anything with it since I figured Dean would snap my head off if I tried," he said, the irony not lost on him. He'd picked up the hexbag and brought it home with no idea that it would be just as dangerous anyway. "Might have bumped the pocket when I went to take off my jacket, but I was gonna wait to do anything until we knew more."

Bobby’s chest jumped in a laugh, and he busied himself pinching the top of the bag together and tying it back up. “This ain’t no complex curse, so you can rest easy. I should have a counter to it in a day or two.” When it was sealed back up, he didn’t bother with the gloves or the tweezers. He just pinched the top of the bag with two fingers, ignoring the tense expressions of the other four as he tossed it back into the glasses case.

He saw their expressions and snorted. “This is some small time witch’s hex. No one who’s been around magic a long time would make a bag like that. I’m bettin’ you brushed the side of it when you were takin’ off your jacket, and that’s what set it off. This hex can bite the hand that made it just as easy as it can shrink you, so no self-respecting witch would bother. There’s better, cleaner ways of makin’ people small.” He nodded at the Winchesters. “Hell, I’ll be surprised if you don’t find the witch downsized with her victims. ‘Specially if she didn’t have the cure to it with her.”

Bobby pushed himself out of his seat. “I just have to check a book or two to make sure I got the ingredients right, then call in a few favors with a buddy o’ mine. He owes me, so it shouldn’t be hard to coax the right stuff outta him.”

Jacob's eyebrows shot up and he couldn't help but step back to rejoin where Sam and Dean stood. Even so, Bobby's words outweighed the daunting sight of him standing by far. He couldn't help the relieved smile that twitched at his lips. Just a few days. He could be back to his old self, and he wouldn't have to consider the monumental changes to his life that he would have to make if this were a longer-term thing.

If he had his hoodie, Jacob would have stuffed his hands in the pockets and relaxed with the relief. He turned back to the others, seeing that Chase sported a grin. "Guess you won't get to be the tall one for long," Jacob quipped, getting Chase to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, 'cause with you out of the running I was suddenly gigantic," Chase shot back.

The relief in the air was palpable, and Bobby had to hide a smile at their expense. “Idjits. We’ll have to spend some time going over hexbags before you boys head out. That way the next time you find your way ass backwards into a hex, you can figure your way out of it.” He waved at the hexbag. “Just don’t squeeze the thing and it’s harmless.”

He walked away, tossing over his shoulders “Stay outta trouble and I’ll rustle up some grub! If I have anythin’ ...” The words faded as he went into the main room.

Chapter Text

With Bobby out of the room, Rumsfeld finally gave in to his impatience and popped his head up on the table, whining at the others for being ignored for so long.

Dean glanced between Jacob and the dog, and picked Jacob. “Guess you’ll be heading back to your normal Godzilla size in no time at all, then.”

Chase's hand settled on Rumsfeld's head again, patting the short fur and scratching the floppy ears. Jacob couldn't help but keep his eyes on Rumsfeld even as he answered Dean. "That's the plan," he said, finally glancing away from the dog. "I suppose you'll wanna do as much training before then as we can," he surmised with a smirk.

Joking aside, Jacob really was glad for the opportunity to learn a little more from the brothers. From them, and about them. They'd been guarded, even after all the trust they built up with Jacob, and he could understand that. Staying secretive kept them alive.

The conversation with Sam for the drive up had been eye-opening, and Jacob thought it had helped him become better friends with Sam, if just a little. He hadn't had much time to just chill with the younger Winchester before. He wanted to build more trust like that while he had a chance. Like this, he didn’t loom over the brothers, and his presence wasn’t so imposing on them.

Chase, finally giving into temptation, reached out and gave Jacob a poke in the side, making him stumble and glare. "Maybe they'll be able to teach you to dodge stuff like that," he snickered. "Maybe."

Dean slid his knife out and made a joking lunge towards Chase’s hand. “You know how we dodge stuff like that? Complete intimidation factor.”

Sam had to roll his eyes at the posturing, walking over to where Rumsfeld was watching them with those forlorn doggy eyes. “Careful, Dean keeps that sharper than most of Bobby’s weapons.”

As he came up to the dog, Rumsfeld let out a low whine, spotting the small sling around his arm. Sam tensed when the black nose moved close to it, but with the barest nudge, Rumsfeld drew away. He held out his good hand. “I’m okay,” he reassured the dog. “It’ll be back to normal in no time, promise.”

Rumsfeld sniffed at his side again, then settled down with his chin against the top of the desk. Sam leaned against his head, rubbing one of the ears.

Chase eyed the shining blade critically before drawing his hand back slowly and almost pointedly. "Yeah, I'm not gonna mess with that." He remembered Jacob showing him scars on his hand from both Sam and Dean, earned way back when he first met them. Jacob's first encounter with them hadn't been particularly smooth, but that wasn't unusual for someone so massive. Sometimes other humans edged away from him.

Jacob laughed at the wary look Chase fixed Dean with, knowing he was being at least a little dramatic with a touch of actual concern over getting sliced.

He glanced over at Rumsfeld again, while those big, chocolate brown eyes squinted a little thanks to Sam's scratches on his ears. "I can't believe how chill that dog is," he muttered. He was tempted to walk over and see how Rumsfeld reacted to him, but was still nervous about the size, and the fact that most dogs simply wouldn't be this gentle.

Dean smirked. “He’s not bad,” he admitted. “I even sat out with him a few nights last time we were here and kept watch.” With the fun of posturing and threatening Chase over, he tucked his knife away into his jacket.

Sam grinned along with that from where he was leaning against the soft-furred ear. “I remember that. And didn’t Bobby say he saw Rumsfeld with people our size before? It’s how he knew we’d be fine if he let him go. Rumsfeld pretty much adopted them as his family and won’t let anyone close, even Bobby.”

Dean nodded. “We never got a chance last time to see what he was talking about.” Truthfully, he wouldn’t have gone searching if he’d wanted to. Fixing up the Impala was too important for him to waste his time wandering around searching, and then there was the problem of getting there. It wasn’t likely any people their size would appreciate Jacob stomping around searching for them. He was a nice enough guy, but his looks alone would condemn him in their eyes.

Size became very important when you didn’t have it.

“One day,” Sam said. “We’ll see if they’re really out there.” He glanced over at Jacob. “He won’t lunge at you,” he said helpfully. “I think he’s worried about you. You should let him know you’re fine.”

Indeed, Rumsfeld’s eyes hadn’t left Jacob the entire time, aside from the times they fluttered closed when Sam’s scritches hit the spot. Tiny hands could get into the hard to reach corners at the edge of the ears.

Jacob nodded faintly, thinking about the other small folk Rumsfeld might have run into. He wondered if they had managed to get him this calm, or if he just came this way. In either case, he'd proven himself a friend to the littles. Jacob remembered that the only reason he knew where Sam and Dean hid to sleep when they all first came to Bobby’s was because he noticed where Rumsfeld settled down to guard them at night.

He decided to set aside his concern for Rumsfeld's huge size and put his worries to rest. Jacob knew there was no real reason to fear this particular dog. He was definitely unique.

He inched forward, making his way closer to the huge snout. He could see Rumsfeld shift a little, heard his paws scuffing where he propped himself up against the table. Jacob thought his tail might be wagging. The big black nose twitched.

"Hey, buddy," Jacob greeted, finally reaching Rumsfeld's muzzle. The nose twitched even more rapidly as Rumsfeld sniffed at him, checking out his scent and making sure he was alright. Jacob had to grin. He reached out and rubbed both hands on the dog's snout appreciatively. "Good to see you remember me," he said with a chuckle.

Rumsfeld made a grunt of acknowledgement, finally content now that he was able to make sure for himself that Jacob was alright. Since both brothers had clearly adopted the huge/small human, he’d done the same, and wanted to make sure that the now-little guy was taken care of. The air around Jacob clearly smelled of stress and nerves, much more than Dean when he’d first encountered the dog, and Rumsfeld wanted him to know he was safe here. He would make sure of it.

He snuffled against Jacob’s side, giving him one unexpected lick from a wide tongue before resting his head again. He didn’t want to upset Sam’s balance against his head, with the pain that floated up from the wrapped arm. He couldn’t leave those humans alone without them getting into trouble.

Dean had to laugh at the sight of Rumsfeld giving Jacob dog-kisses. “I think you’ve been officially adopted,” he declared from where he was standing in the middle of the desk.

Jacob pursed his lips and sent Dean a flat look before looking down at himself. His side and one arm were damp from Rumsfeld's affectionate move, and he shook his hand off with a frown. "I'm flattered, really," he shot back with a roll of his eyes.

Even so, he gave the dog one last rub on the nose before backing up a bit to brush at his shirt. Getting a dog-kiss from Rumsfeld was at least preferable to being a chew toy for him.

Chase couldn't resist a snicker anymore. "You missed a spot, Jake," he said, grinning even wider at the tiny little hand flipping him the bird.

Sam pushed himself away from Rumsfeld, brushing scattered fur off of his arms. “We should probably get settled in, anyway,” he spoke up. “Jacob can check things out with us for an hour or two before dinner.”

His mind was already flipping through the passageways through the house, trying to remember the way up to the spare bedroom that Jacob had stayed in the last time they were visiting. Sam and Dean had taken up temporary residence on the bottom shelf of the bookshelf in the room, and Jacob would be able to stay with them there now.

Though they might have to confiscate one of Chase’s shirts to sleep on.

While Sam was lost in thought, he didn’t notice Rumsfeld shifting behind him. The dog blinked at how far away Jacob and Dean were, knowing he wouldn’t be able to reach them without jumping up on the desk. Doing that would knock Sam over, and that would hurt the little guy.

So instead, he nosed up against Sam’s back.

And scooped him up with one swift motion.

Sam let out a cry of surprise as he found himself suddenly lying flat on his back on the dog’s muzzle, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Dean gave a shout, darting past Jacob to run to help his brother. He skid to a stop right at the edge of the desk, meeting Rumsfeld stare for stare. Sam, unharmed, pushed himself up on the muzzle and blinked back at Dean.

“I guess he wants to give me a ride?” Sam said in confusion.

Chapter Text

Chase's expression of concern quickly became amusement as he watched Sam sitting calmly on Rumsfeld's muzzle, the dog sitting still with him perched right on the long snout. The Rottweiler really was a pro with dealing with such small people, which was impressive. Most dogs couldn’t sit still when people visited, but Rumsfeld was like a statue. It also gave Chase an idea that he couldn't get rid of.

"Here, Jake, why don't you go along, too," he suggested, reaching towards his friend. Jacob managed to twist around in time to see Chase's fingers pinching carefully around his middle.

"Chase!" Jacob blurted, his legs kicking when his feet left the surface of the desk. As always, Chase moved too quickly for him and before he knew it he was deposited on top of Rumsfeld's head. "Ah, what the hell!" he groused, immediately crouching down and bracing his hands in the dog's fur. He sent a glare upwards at his still-grinning friend.

Rumsfeld let out a soft yowl when Jacob was placed on his head, but he didn’t otherwise react. Sam twisted around in his seat, crawling back from his more-precarious perch to take a seat next to where Jacob had been set down on the broad head.

“You’re all crazy!” Dean called from where he was standing on the table.

Rumsfeld nudged him in the side now that Sam wasn't in his way, almost sending him sprawling. “Jesus!” Dean tried to bat the dog away with one of his absolutely miniscule hands, which of course did nothing. Sam snickered from his place on the moving platform, and Dean glared. “Fine, I’m coming,” he griped. “Don’t move!”

Sam patted the fur on top of the head. “Stay,” he commanded, and the dog stayed still long enough for Dean to scramble up and join them. “Now, where should we go?”

Jacob shifted where he sat, making sure that he was secure and that he wasn't yanking on Rumsfeld's fur. He glanced over the side of the dog's head, hoping he'd be able to hang on. It was not very likely that Rumsfeld could catch one of them if they slipped over the side, no matter how attentive he was.

"I don't think there's any steering on him," he mused, reaching over to Rumsfeld's ear to give it a little rub.

"He listens pretty good," Chase chimed in, petting the fur on Rumsfeld's back since his head was occupied. A sudden thought drew a chuckle out of him. "Maybe you could try telling him where you wanna go. It's the Rumsfeld Express."

Jacob rolled his eyes and muttered, "Dumbass." Still, he looked around the room a little more, continuously finding new things at this scale that astounded him. "Looks like he's ready to take us on the tour."

Rumsfeld gave a yelp of agreement, and trotted off. Sam ended up having to cling for dear life with just one hand on the furry surface, caught off guard by the swift motions. The easy, loping strides carried the three very small humans away from their friend, leaving him behind.

Both brothers’ eyes were wide as the dog nosed open the door to the kitchen. Aside from when they hitched a ride with Jacob, they never got to move this fast when traveling, and with Jacob, it wasn’t quite the same. He’d usually listen to them if they asked him to go somewhere specific, but there was always the chance he’d go do his own thing first. With Rumsfeld, they didn’t even know where they were going in the first place, and the dog wasn’t going to tell them anytime soon.

The dog passed by Bobby on one of the phones complaining to another of the hunters that worked in the area. He almost did a double-take as he spotted the passengers sitting on Rumsfeld. Dean gave a jaunty salute as Rumsfeld nosed the counter, searching for forgotten scraps.

“Idjits,” Bobby muttered to himself with a twinkle in his eye, turning his attention back to the call. “Yeah, I heard ya, Rufus. This can’t wait. I need the crushed amethyst tomorrow at the latest. Witch hex, you know how it is…”

The sound of his voice trailed off as Rumsfeld left the kitchen, heading for the flight of stairs that lead up to the second floor.

Jacob clung to Rumsfeld for dear life, though he did have a faint smile on his face. He was reminded vaguely of a roller coaster, though it was an extra bumpy one once Rumsfeld's head tilted up towards the top of the stairs. The house passed them in a blur, enormous details speeding in front of their gazes before Rumsfeld was on the move again. Jacob only chanced one glance behind, seeing Chase trying to follow with an amused smirk on his face.

At the top of the stairs, Jacob let out a sigh. "This is--" he was cut off as Rumsfeld lurched forward again, determinedly wandering the house with his small passengers astride his head. "This is definitely not what I expected," he admitted.

"Sam, did you ever ride around on his head when we were staying here before?" he asked. Jacob knew for certain that Dean hadn't. Dean had spent all of his time out of the walls crawling around in the chassis of the Impala, directing Jacob on where to focus next.

Sam shook his head as Rumsfeld glanced around the hall, taking all of them with him. Dean was sitting behind them and turning slightly green from all of the swift movements.

“I never thought of it,” Sam explained. “I spent most of the days in the library researching. It was a short trip from the kitchen, and Bobby always let me be when I was walking around down on the floor.” He gave a knowing smile. “Actually, I think me being down there made him nervous. He’d find things to do anywhere else in the house. Rumsfeld would trot around, and make sure no one got close by while I was on the ground, and I’d rub his ears, but he never tried to get me on his head. At night, when you and Dean came in, I’d hitch a ride for dinner. And that was the exciting life I led at Bobby’s.”

Rumsfeld pushed open the door to the spare bedroom. The sprawling bookshelf was only a few feet from the door, and he bounded right over to it. Flattening himself on the ground, he put his head against the bottom shelf, bumping the books to the side to reveal the hidden cubby where the brothers had made their temporary home the last time.

Jacob only let go of his tight grip on Rumsfeld's fur when he was certain the dog wasn't going anywhere. He grinned at the sight of the small alcove behind the books, where he remembered Sam and Dean choosing to sleep the last time they were all here. This time, Jacob could see how spacious it actually was. He would fit amongst the books there, easily.

He scooted to the side of Rumsfeld's head, sliding past a floppy ear to land on the bottom shelf. The sound of Chase following into the room reached his ears, but Jacob's eyes were fixed on the books and the space behind them. He trailed a hand along the side of a book and leaned into the small alcove.

He looked back out with a grin. "He remembered where your 'room' is, guys," he pointed out.

Sam slid nimbly off the dog’s head, but Dean almost stumbled off, grumbling about how bumpy the ride had been. Rumsfeld whined at the swears, poking Dean in the shoulder for attention. The hunter ended up having to placate the dog with a rub on his muzzle.

Coming up behind Jacob, Sam peered around. “Brings back so many good memories,” he said dryly, remembering the morning of Dean’s hangover. He hadn’t been able to budge the older hunter for hours that day. Dean had pretty much become an ornery lump in Jacob’s shirt, hiding away from the world and swearing at the headache-inducing light whenever it pierced the dark cubby.

Dean managed to extricate himself from Rumsfeld, the dog resting his head on the shelf and watching his small friends make themselves at home exactly how he’d planned it. Dean sauntered up next to Jacob and Sam. “Guess this time we won’t be in hiding at all,” he stated wryly, glancing behind himself to where Chase was. “Though we will need to find something to sleep on since Jacob’s shirt is out of the question.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, but didn’t hide a smile. He remembered first finding the brothers holed up on the shelf, checking on them only to find that they'd stolen one of his shirts right from his bag. It had formed a pile of fabric that filled the small crawlspace, and cushioned the two of them. Now, they didn't have that option; the only shirt of Jacob's that had come with them was on him, and it certainly wouldn't fill that space.

"We'll figure something out," he said, even as Chase knelt cautiously next to the shelf. The only full-sized human in the room, he almost looked out of place, with his body blocking the sight of the looming room beyond him. Jacob realized with a jolt that smaller folk outnumbered normal-sized humans in the house.

Chase glanced around on the shelf, eyeing the small space they'd picked out to be their 'room.' When Jacob stepped away from the opening, Chase reached over them to experimentally nudge a book back to its upright position, and pushed it back a little farther. "Wow. With this setup no one would even know you guys were in there," he noted appreciatively.

Dean slapped the hand that was encroaching on their space. “And it’s gonna stay that way,” he said pointedly. “Now quit it! If you keep pushing the books back Sam will take over the entire place while he sleeps.”

Sam snickered at how offended Dean was. “You’re exaggerating.” He was only four inches tall, after all. He could only cover up so much space while he slept.

Dean glared right back, stubbornly pushing at Chase’s hand. “Says the guy that took over the entire bedroom I made at Jacob’s before I put in a wall to separate the sides.”

Chase grinned at Dean's stubbornness, marveling at the feeling of such tiny hands shoving at him. He let Dean push him away, backing off from the books on the shelf. Hunched over in front of the shelf, he could see the determination that Dean always seemed to have filling him to the brim. All from him nudging a book. It wasn’t hard to imagine that knife of his coming out if Chase tried to poke him like he’d poked Jacob.

It was a little entertaining, if Chase was perfectly honest with himself. Dean was easy to rile. Chase rested his hand on the floor, giving up on bothering Dean. For now.

"I mean, if you're gonna leave that much room, don't be surprised to find it all taken," Jacob quipped, choosing the opposite route. The chance to joke around with the brothers at an equal scale would not be wasted.

“Hey,” Dean griped, “don’t forget you have to share the room with us, too. If you let Sam sprawl, you won’t have any room to sleep either.”

Sam elbowed him in the side, and Dean dodged out of the way. It was true, after all. Most of the reason Dean slept with his arms folded close and his legs drawn together was because he rarely had room to himself from when they were growing up together. Before they’d found the small dollhouse bed for Sam to sleep on, they shared the same nest of fabric and Sam had taken advantage of his older brother to sprawl out and claim 90% of the space.

Dean pointed at Jacob. “You better not sprawl like Sammy! The last thing I need is two of him around, you freakin’ Sasquatches.”

Jacob held up his hands in mock surrender, still grinning ear to ear. The subtleties of the expressions Sam and Dean had on their faces were in clear detail to him now. It was a nice change to the usual guesswork he had to do when one of them smiled or glared. "Hey, man, don't look at me," he shot back. "I'll be taking up less space than I ever have, thank you very much."

Chase snickered at that, and it was his turn to roll his eyes at Jacob. "You're gonna drive Dean right out of the room, aren't you, Jake," he accused.

Jacob shrugged. "No, but you might if you snore."

"Nope," Chase said shaking his head matter-of-factly. "I would never." He pointedly looked at Sam and Dean then, ignoring Jacob's shake of the head. "I can move more books down to this shelf if you think you need 'em, though."

Sam shook his head, letting his satchel slide off his arm and dangle from his fingertips. “No, Dean’s just kidding. There’s plenty of room back here already, we don’t need more. We stayed here long enough for them to fix up the car, so we’re used to it. Jacob’s probably the only one that’s going to need to adjust.”

“At least it’s only for a night or two,” Dean commented as he walked into the back to survey their old place.

A few dustbunnies lurked in the back corner, but that would only take a minute to clean. In fact, last time, they hadn’t had to bother getting rid of the dust. Jacob’s shirt, even scrunched up to fit, covered enough of the floor to block all the dust. It had probably needed a good wash by the time Jacob had taken it back, but after having two people sleeping in it for weeks, it needed a good cleaning regardless.

Jacob had full-sized washers and dryers to use. Sam and Dean had to make do with any sinks they could commandeer. At Jacob’s house, with Mariana and Mike around, Dean had chosen to tap into the pipes in the walls. He was an adept mechanic, and Walt had demonstrated the method used by the littles in the Trails West motel more than once for him. It was a necessary skill, one of the only ways to guarantee that they always had enough to drink.

Chase nodded and then bridged a tentative hand to the edge of the shelf. "Glad this'll work," he said. "Now, whadaya say we go and see if there's food? You guys had me driving all day, I'm dying over here."

Chapter Text

In the middle of the night, Jacob rolled over in sleep and knocked his elbow into something he didn't expect. It jarred him enough that he woke up, running a hand along the wooden wall next to him in confusion. For a moment, he didn't know what it was, and could only tell from the rough wood grain that it wasn't his bedroom wall.

It came back to him and he sat up, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. Right. The bookshelf. Fractured thoughts drifted around before he made sense of them.

He'd been shrunk that day and, after a long drive during which he waited huddled in his best friend's pocket, he was as Bobby Singer's house. He was resting on a shirt that Dean had insisted they steal from Chase's bag after he took his allergy medicine and conked out for the night.

That had been an adventure all on its own, but with Sam’s arm out of commission, Jacob was Dean’s only backup for that mission.

Jacob blinked in the dark, peering to the back corners, where Sam lay sprawled on the pile of fabric. His arm was still held secure in his sling, but otherwise he really did take up as much space as he could, like a liquid filling a container. It was impressive, considering how small he was.

To the other side, Jacob saw no one, and frowned. Dean wasn't there. It was possible he had stepped out to use the bathroom, but Jacob remembered something Sam and Dean had talked about earlier and wanted to see for himself. He stood, disentangling himself from his curled up position in the folds of the cotton shirt-blanket.

He peeked out at the room beyond, still unsettled by the sight of everything so big. At least he knew the dog sleeping soundly there was friendly. Jacob smirked when he spotted Dean sitting against Rumsfeld's side, keeping a vigil over the room.

Jacob hopped down from the shelf and made his way over, his socked feet brushing lightly against the wood flooring, smoothed after years of heavy human footsteps walking on it. "What's up?" he greeted, glancing around the room once more. "Keeping watch?"

Dean glanced up at the sound of someone’s voice and grinned at the sight of his downsized friend. “Someone’s gotta,” he said, looking out at the room again. It was deeply ingrained in him from his estranged father, John Winchester, to never let his guard down. Normally he was fine, and would just sleep it off hidden away in the walls.

While at Bobby’s, he gave into those instincts. Some nights, he couldn’t sleep without spending some time out with Rumsfeld, watching the room around them for dangers. Intruders, spiders, rats… the possibilities were myriad, and many dangers for his size were overlooked by the humans in the house.

“Can’t sleep?” Dean asked the reduced human. He sidled over an inch, gesturing for Jacob to join him. “There’s plenty of room if you want to clear your head for a few minutes. It might not be the same as the outside air, but I’ve always found sitting out like this calming. You can focus your thoughts, and you don’t have to worry about a cat or a raccoon sneaking up on you in the night.”

Jacob paused to shove away the thought of how big and terrifying a cat would be at this scale, and then shrugged and sat down next to Dean. He heard a distant, sleepy grumble deep in Rumsfeld's chest, and patted the dog's side in greeting. He settled in and peered around the room, listening to the sound of Chase's slow, steady breathing. He was out like a light until his allergy medicine wore off. Jacob and Dean were the only ones awake.

"The fact that a cat or a raccoon are actually a worry kinda blows my mind," he admitted sheepishly, quietly. He didn't want his words taken the wrong way, but he really was amazed by everything Sam and Dean had to watch out for.

"I knew you guys were tough sons a' bitches, but actually getting a little sample of what it all looks like..." he trailed off with a shrug. Even something as simple as turning the lights on and off was inaccessible to them. The feeling of enormous footsteps shaking the floor was a constant reminder of who would have the power if the wrong human spotted them. It was their entire life.

Dean gave him a lopsided grin back and a sheepish shrug of his own. “It’s just how things are, I guess. We went from worrying about monsters and demons to worrying about rats and people treating us like toys. To tell you the truth, I never thought much of that part of things. The size, sure. I’d kill to be able to get myself a beer. But otherwise… we’ve always had danger around us. Sam was only six months old when our mom was killed by some… thing. Some creature or another that dad sought out with us in tow all those years.”

Shifting in place, he dug out a well-used leather canteen from his jacket, drinking the water inside to quench his sudden thirst. It wasn’t often that he let out so much of his past in one go, but Jacob had more than earned an explanation after everything he’d done for them. Even going so far as to help repair the Impala for free those months ago, and then to join them as a hunter-in-training. Easy cases from Bobby or not, all three of them were quickly earning their places as hunters.

Dean offered the canteen to Jacob when he was finished. The brothers were prepared for anything, but Jacob clearly wasn’t. He didn’t have a bag full of supplies and scraps of food if he got trapped anywhere, and he didn’t have a way to store water on him. “Thirsty?” Dean asked.

Jacob stared with interest at the canteen before taking it. "Thanks," he muttered, while he brushed a thumb over the leather. He knew it must be rat leather, like the leather of Dean's jacket, and the boots and bags both brothers wore. A rat the size of a bear and a lot more vicious had somehow been fought off and killed by Sam, Dean, and their adopted dad.

He took a grateful swig from the canteen before almost reverently handing it back. Jacob hadn't even known Dean had a way to carry water around, even after all this time. Sam must have one, too. Little by little, Jacob learned more about them. The hex, though frightening at times, was letting him in on so many more secrets than he ever imagined he’d know.

"And me, I didn't know about any of that stuff 'til I ah, found you guys," he mused. "The worst I can think of is my grandma complaining about the evil eye sometimes. Other than my dad getting sick I think my childhood was as normal as they come."

Dean put the canteen back in his jacket, concealed against his side. He let his fingers brush against the hilt of the silver knife that lay hidden as well, reassured by its presence. A reminder that he would always be as prepared as he could be, in a world that had left them behind.

“You never know,” Dean joked, “she might be onto something. Me an’ Sam are more than enough proof that curses are real.”

He leaned back against Rumsfeld’s side. He’d actually missed this, sitting out with the dog that had appointed himself as their protector. If anyone came meaning them harm, they would have to deal with more than just the two small brothers. Over a hundred pounds of Rottweiler would be raring to go, fangs longer than Dean’s hands snapping.

All joking aside, he thought about what Jacob had said. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it didn’t do our dad good, having something to point himself at after our mom died. With cancer or disease, he would have been forced to watch her suffer. It might have killed him, or driven him deeper into his drink. This way, he found a way to cope that helped people, one way or the other. Even if it meant we grew up on the road. I always wanted to follow in his footsteps, especially after we got hit with the curse. I can’t just sit around and let other kids go through this same hell.”

Jacob nodded quietly, knowing from experience what Dean was alluding to. Having something to actually fight after losing a loved one could make a difference to many people. It would have made a difference to Jacob. It was a noble goal that the elusive John Winchester had instilled in his son.

"It makes sense. For a while, I wanted something to fight," Jacob admitted. "I think I've chilled out plenty but I was such an edgy kid." He chuckled dryly, the sound carrying how glad he was that he had managed to find peace. His calm acceptance of what happened may not have come about so easily if he knew there was something out there in the dark, waiting for him to find it.

In the last several months, learning about the hunting lifestyle and how much good they were doing with each successful case, Jacob had come to understand a little of why Dean was so eager for the next one. Now, he was discovering even more layers to that determination, and he could relate to that, too. No one should have to suffer losing someone if it could be prevented.

"We'll help whoever we can," Jacob assured Dean after a pause. "Maybe I stumbled ass backwards into this case, but I guess that's what I get for not having my experts around, right?"

Dean chuckled at that. "Don't worry, we'll stick close until we wrap this case up. Since Sam did good traveling with Chase, he should be fine once we've got our resident Godzilla back up to par. Those chest pockets make a huge difference."

He frowned at the room as he considered the rest of the case. They'd all been so concerned for Jacob, it was easy to forget there were other people missing.

Other people downsized.

There was no doubt in Dean's mind what had happened to the missing people. If they were hexed the same as Jacob, they'd stand under four inches tall. Even if they tried to get the attention of the authorities at the house, there was a good chance that they'd be overlooked or chased off as rodents. Even that that was assuming they could gather enough courage to approach people that stood six feet or taller.

Jacob, as kind as he was, would be even worse for the victims to approach. Some massive teenager that broke into the scene of a crime would be assumed to be an opportunistic looter at best, an accomplice at worst. Why else would he know about the case? Anyone there must have made themselves scarce while Jacob was poking around the scene.

Dean let out a rueful sigh. "We'll come with ya when you go back to that farmhouse. I'm thinkin' those victims you were searching for are all still in the house. Me an' Sam will have to coax them out so we can break the hex. They're probably hiding from any humans that come close, same as we did when we got cursed."

"Oh, shit," Jacob hissed, remembering the case itself. There were people missing, and they could only be in one place. Bobby had even suggested that the witch who made the hexbag might have been affected. That meant that there were a few shrunken people hiding in the house, and Jacob had walked right past them.

He remembered how his mom had looked when he was newly small. Jacob cringed inwardly at the thought of being so tiny and seeing him break in.

Dean called him Godzilla for a reason.

"Yeah, I probably wouldn't be able to convince anyone of anything once the cure has been rounded up," he admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. "Took me a while to even convince you guys."

“That’s what we’re here for,” Dean said with exaggerated confidence. “Gotta watch out for the little guys. And hell. That first time you ran into us, all you had to do was wake up a little, Jacob. You did fine once you stopped trying to trap us. Maybe a backslide here or there,” the memory of Jacob almost grabbing them off the table that first time they’d gone to leave the motel rose to mind with an image of a huge, unstoppable hand stretching towards them, “but you listen pretty good. I’m sure you’d be able to get them to come out eventually.”

He let the words die on the air, staring out at the room that arched over their heads. Chase’s peaceful breathing filled the air, a reminder of the human that was in the room with them. Dean found it admittedly odd to consider falling asleep for eight hours and not waking up the way Chase had. In his and Sam’s lives, it was important to be alert at all times, even asleep. Sam wasn’t as good at it as Dean was, but he made an attempt. Dean would be up in a flash at any noise that was out of the ordinary, even just Rumsfeld snorting in his sleep.

“Who knows,” Dean said thoughtfully. “Maybe this cure will even work on me an’ Sam.”

Jacob felt the implications of Dean's hopeful words settling around him. After spending so long cursed to be this size, an opportunity to be cured came closer and closer. Jacob had no idea if the cure to his own hex would be enough to fix whatever had struck Sam and Dean, but he let himself be just hopeful enough, too.

"I don't think it'd hurt to try," he answered, glancing aside to catch a glimpse of Dean's pensive expression. The world had been so big to him for more than half his life. Jacob wondered if he could remember what it was like before being shrunk down.

"We'll have to have you and Sam give it a shot once the victims are all accounted for."

“Yeah…” Dean trailed off, leaning back against Rumsfeld. The memories from his childhood flooded his mind, filling his sight with flashes of the world when it seemed so much more… manageable. A point in time where he’d been able to open up a door, or turn on a light. He didn’t have to get help from a human, no matter how friendly that human had turned out to be. He could do things himself, for him and Sam both.

For the first time in a long time, he let his mind drift, imagining what he’d do if he got back to normal again. Driving the Impala was first and foremost, obviously, but there was so much more… He could even see if he could find a safe home for Walt and Mallory, somewhere they didn’t have to worry about being captured just because they were hungry. A place of safety, like the place he and Sam had found with Jacob. He could do more on hunts, be the weapon his father had fashioned him into. Save some kids, keep them from suffering just like he had as a child.

Thoughts like that kept him going through the long hours of the night.

Jacob fell into a companionable silence, drifting into thoughts of his own. Their night watch with Rumsfeld stretched out, a comfortable quiet that helped Dean reassure himself that danger didn't lurk waiting to catch them off guard, and it helped Jacob come to terms with the size of the room. It made it much easier to feel rested than tossing and turning.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The change took effect so quickly that Jacob barely had time to wonder if he'd said it right before he was shooting back to his full height. It was a dizzying snap back to what he knew, and he wavered in place once the growing stopped.

He shut his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before he could focus again, and he was no longer in the center of an impossibly looming room. He was a whopping six foot five again, and the tallest in the room without question.

"Well, good to know the mix was right," Jacob broke the pause, chuckling with relief.

Both brothers burst out into smiles at the sight of the incantation working, and Dean let himself feel a brief surge of hope that it would be just as simple for them. “Godzilla’s back in action!” he declared with a pump of his fist.

Rufus did a double take at the sight of the full-sized hunter now standing in the room. “Godzilla? You sure you got that spell right, Bobby? Looks like you gave him a few extra inches there. I know you’re gettin’ old, but this spell’s supposed to be simple.”

Rumsfeld trotted over to where Jacob was standing, eagerly snuffling at his hand as Bobby scooped up the bowl and rummaged around for a sack to store the spell ingredients in. “Nope, that’s how tall he comes,” he called over his shoulder. “And he gets endless shit about it, from what I’ve heard.”

It was hard to miss the constant stream of nicknames Dean shot at the teenager throughout the time they’d repaired the car, even with his default nickname of “Godzilla” slung around the most.

Jacob grinned widely, glad to be back to his old self. "Absolutely endless," he confirmed, glancing over at Rufus before looking down at Rumsfeld. He gave the dog a few scratches behind the ears, marveling that he'd been standing on his head moments ago. Rumsfeld's tongue hung out in a goofy dog-grin and he seemed happy that his buddy was back to normal and no longer worried about the looming room around him.

Chase looked dramatically put-upon when Jacob looked up. "I guess my days being taller are over," he lamented.

Jacob smirked and placed a hand on Chase's head, ruffling his straight black hair as obnoxiously as he could manage. "That's for all the poking," he assured him, satisfied when Chase ducked away and sent him a glare that would be potent if it wasn't coming from someone trying not to smile.

He finally turned to the counter, finding Sam and Dean back at the scale he was used to. They were smaller, but Jacob had still had his chance to hang out with them on their turf. He offered a hand. "What do you think, guys? Am I good as new?"

Sam immediately stepped onto his hand, inordinately glad to be standing on the familiar surface after the last few days of uncertainty. “Much better,” he said with an easy smile up for Jacob’s benefit. As nice as it was to have him on the same level as them, it wasn’t right. Jacob looked so out of place during the days, and lost if Sam or Dean weren’t close by. Especially while they were in the walls. Jacob couldn’t even see where he was going in there, a fact that caught Sam off guard. He’d been so young when the curse had struck, he was used to the way his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting in the walls. Jacob never had a reason to adapt like that.

Unlike Dean, Sam had stayed in the small home for the first few years. He’d stood under three inches in height, and Walt didn’t want to risk losing a child so young. Dean, on the other hand, had spent his entire childhood being groomed to be a hunter with John. His youth was no barrier to running out to get supplies, even if he wasn’t already determined to do all he could to help. Right after he’d recovered physically and was as mentally recovered as he could possibly be after losing his entire world, Dean had tossed himself into their new life, determined to keep Sam safe in any way he could.

Dean didn’t follow Sam onto the hand right away, pausing to size Jacob up from head to… well, not toe, since he couldn’t see past the edge of the countertop. Head to waist. The hand that was held against the counter waited patiently for him, never rushing the smaller brothers.

“It’s definitely an improvement,” Dean snarked, “even if you’re too damn tall for your own good. I mean, you can’t even fit in the bookshelf now. What are we supposed to do with you?” He stepped up at last, taking his spot next to Sam. So long as his little brother’s arm was in a sling, he didn’t go to climb up on his own.

Jacob sighed and shook his head in a mock lament. "I guess I'll just have to sleep somewhere else," he said, his grin returning quickly. Jacob could feel their tiny boots shifting on his hand, finding a balanced stance. Just moments ago, he'd stood on a hand much like they were doing now, though he knew his hand was much bigger than Chase's.

Once they were both secure, Jacob lifted his hand away from the counter. He hesitated when he realized he didn't have his usual hoodie on. He was back at his usual scale, but one little thing was still off. It felt so strange.

Even so, he ferried his hand to his shoulder for Sam and Dean so they could reclaim their usual spot. He waited patiently for them to climb up, making sure to give Sam all the time he needed to maneuver with one arm in a sling. He had a feeling Dean was keeping a very close watch, like he always did, over his little brother's movements. Their times on Jacob's shoulder since Sam's arm was broken were few and far between, but the slight sensations were as familiar as always.

Once they were on Jacob’s shoulder, Sam was sure to situate himself as close to Jacob’s neck as he could. The shoulders were much broader and wider than Chase’s ever had a hope of being, making it much safer, even with Sam’s arm out of commission and his balance less steady than normal. Dean settled next to him, crouched at the ready, the fabric of the huge t-shirt gathered up in one hand for stability.

With them settled, Jacob finally turned to address Rufus. "Hey, dude," he greeted, holding out his recently freed hand. "I think I owe you a big thanks for coming through with that amethyst."

“Yeah,” Rufus took Jacob’s hand slowly, giving him a firm shake. “If this old coot had told me what he needed it for,” he shot a look over at Bobby, who was standing over with Rumsfeld, “I mighta been able to get here sooner.”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing up to the two people standing on Jacob’s shoulder. On a damn shoulder like it was the most normal thing in the world. “So, you the Winchester boys?” he asked gruffly to cover up any confusion.

Dean nodded, matching Rufus stare for stare without flinching. “That’s right. I’m Dean, this is Sam. Rumors of our… death, were exaggerated. We had a run-in with a witch, and didn’t come out on top.” He slapped a hand gamely against Jacob’s neck, glad to be able to hit Jacob and not nearly send the kid flying. That had been strange. “This guy helped us out and got us out of the motel we got stuck in.”

Rufus nodded, interest on his face. “Well, I hear things from the hunters ‘round these parts, stuff that they won’t tell an old grump like Bobby. I’ll give him a holler if anyone hears from John. No father should be separated from his kids.” His eyes turned inwards, a sadness falling over his face.

He shook it off a few seconds later, glancing over at Chase. “How long have you four been huntin’ together?”

Chase's face broke into his customary impish grin and he chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "That's all their gig, man, I just drove them here this time," he insisted. He couldn't really imagine himself involved with the things Jacob had gotten himself into, fighting ghosts and monsters. Chase was too frail for it.

Jacob snickered, but nodded in agreement. "I'm a newbie to the whole thing. That's kinda how I got hexed in the first place," he admitted.

"Walked himself ass backwards into the hex, from the sound of things," Chase helpfully interjected.

Jacob didn't deign to send him a rueful glance. "I only met Sam and Dean this spring, and then we took a few weeks to fix up the Impala. Did a few cases, and we were taking a break 'til I went to investigate a bunch of missing persons reports and brought home the reason they all went missing."

Rufus snorted at that. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has a few curve balls when they start hunting. The important thing is you learn from your mistakes. I had to haul Bobby outta trouble more times than I care to count anymore.”

Bobby hustled over, shoving the pouch of spell ingredients towards Jacob. “Right. Because you never got your ass in the frying pan.” He gave Jacob a serious look, including the two brothers in it. They were sitting close enough to Jacob’s face that he didn’t have to look far. “Now remember. Redire ad normalis. If you ever have trouble with enunciation, ask Sam. Kid’s a natural with languages.”

He drew back. “And don’t go scaring off any of the victims,” he cautioned. “It’s been a few days. The police probably stopped by more than once. They’re going to be more freaked than you ever were. You, at least, had the Winchesters around, and knew it was possible. These people had no idea it was coming.”

Jacob nodded. He couldn't help but think about his first moments small, underneath his circus tent of a hoodie and confused about where he was. About why the ground rumbled so much. When he first saw his mother round the corner, his heart had felt like it stopped, and that was even knowing that being so small was possible.

Jacob didn't stand a chance of coaxing anyone out of hiding when he went back. "That's where these guys come in," he said with a grin, tilting his head slightly to indicate the pair on his shoulder. "The vics probably don't know nearly as much about hiding out as Sam and Dean, so they'll be able to find them."

Chase snickered. "Worse comes to worse, we have the fix. Jacob could just shrink again to explain everything."

"Nice of you to volunteer me, dude, you sure you don't wanna give it a try?" Jacob shot back with a roll of his eyes.

“They’ll probably think that’s even worse,” Sam piped in from his perch. “Seeing a guy like Jacob shrink like that? They might blame him for the hex.” He shook his head.

“We can handle this one,” Dean agreed, his voice more confident and focused than the others messing around. It wasn’t like they were any use in a case that needed brawn, anyway. They might as well find something they were better for. “All Sammy’s gotta do is get out his puppy eyes and they’ll be eating right out of our hands.”

Sam nudged him with an elbow, rolling his eyes. “We don’t know that’ll work,” he said, flushing red. “I’ve never really talked to anyone I don’t know.”

Jacob smiled faintly. He thought he could imagine the look on Sam's face, even if he had no way of seeing it at the moment. Sam was shy, he had learned, and even meeting other people of his stature couldn't surmount years of conditioning.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," he said with a sheepish smirk. "A lot better than I could do, that's for damn sure." That echoed what they all knew. Jacob was huge, and sometimes he was still amazed that Sam and Dean were willing to hang around him. He hoped that, after a few days of learning some hard perspective, he might be easier to be around even at his Godzilla size.

Chase shrugged. "Whoever does the talking, I guess we better think about getting back to Iowa soon, right? Some of those folks have been missing for weeks."

“Yeah, you boys better head out,” Bobby agreed. “Rumsfeld will be sad to see you go, though.” The dog whined from where he was sitting between the humans, staring up at his friends way up on Jacob’s shoulder. His tail wagged happily when he spotted Sam peering off the edge to wave at him with his good arm.

“Make sure anyone that asks questions about Sam and Dean knows they’re hexed just the same,” Bobby cautioned. “You can let them think they need to stay downsized to help with other victims. It’ll help keep other littles out of the limelight.”

Rufus shook his head at that. “Just when you think you’ve seen it all.”

“We’ve got it all under control,” Dean said, his attitude as smug and brash as ever now that they had Jacob back to size. From his tone, one would almost think he was the guy standing tallest in the room.

After the excitement from finding a working cure for the hex wore off, Jacob, Chase, Sam, and Dean got ready to head back to the farmhouse. The victims had waited long enough for the cure that Jacob entrusted to Chase's messenger bag. The hexbag was sealed up in the glasses case once more for safe keeping. Jacob and the Winchesters even remembered to tell Chase to find his shirt tucked away in the corner of the bookshelf.

They left, but not without giving Rumsfeld one last round of scratches behind the ears and an assurance that they'd be back to see him. The dog wagged his tail and watched his four friends leave, happy that things had worked out.

Before reclaiming the driver's seat, Jacob made Chase move the bench seat back. If he tried to crawl into the car the way it was, he'd probably strangle himself on something. With a lot of grumbling, Chase returned the seat to the position Jacob kept it, and they were on the road again in no time.

It felt good to be driving again. Jacob had Sam and Dean perched on his shoulder, Chase riding shotgun, and a few hours drive ahead of him. Even without the familiar weight of a hoodie, things were rapidly settling back into feeling normal for him.

The afternoon was still going strong when he pulled up to the farmhouse where four people had gone missing in the last weeks. "Bobby said the witch might have been affected by that hexbag, too," he remembered while he stared through the windshield at the decaying house. "She might be hiding with the vics. Think you'll be able to tell?" he asked, glancing at Sam and Dean in the rearview mirror.

“Definitely,” Dean declared from his spot.

Sam arched an eyebrow at his brother. “Really?” he asked in a teasing tone. “And you know this because of your past experiences with witches?”

Dean shot him a glare. “How hard can it possibly be?” He crossed his arms stubbornly. “Worst comes to worst, we use you to see if anyone makes your spidey senses go off and scream danger, then Jacob swoops in and nabs her.” His hand brushed instinctively against his knife. “She tries anything, I’ll take her out.”

Jacob lifted an eyebrow, but didn't argue. He knew better than to try to dissuade Dean. Besides, if that witch really did have the means to cause them any trouble, they'd need to act fast. She'd already shrunk five people, and only one had been fortunate enough to be able to go and get help.

Luckily, the one that escaped knew exactly where to go for help.

He glanced at Chase with one hand on the door handle. "You coming in?"

Chase lifted the pouch of ground amethyst and herbs. "I got this," he answered with a nod. "No one's gonna get close enough to Godzilla to get their cure."

Jacob rolled his eyes and stepped out of the car, careful not to lean too much in any direction. He was hyper aware of Sam and Dean, now that he was back to his normal size with an extra helping of perspective to think about.

"Just don't sneeze in there, Chase, or that'll scare 'em off more than anything else would," Jacob quipped, though his voice was already lowered. Before long they were at the front door, which was still unlocked from the last time Jacob came around.

The front room of the house was untidy, with enough dust motes in the afternoon light to suggest that no one had actually lived there for a while. Jacob noted a lamp shattered on the floor that he'd seen before, clearly knocked over by someone who broke in to snoop around. Someone who might still be there. Thankfully, there was no blood on the shattered glass to suggest that someone was hiding out with an open wound.

"The hexbag was over on that display case behind the picture frames," Jacob explained, pointing to a dusty glass case at the far end of the living room. "Wanna start over there?" he asked, turning his head slightly to show he was talking to Sam and Dean, even if he couldn't actually see them.

Dean nodded, then remembered himself. It had been an odd few days, having Jacob around at the same scale. They’d have to get used to having the teen back to his normal size. Hopefully he’d learned a few things while they’d had the chance, especially during the sparring lessons. It was hard to retain information for a fight just by watching others spar, which was why he’d insisted on constant practice during the time they had together. For once, Sam could sit back and watch his older brother kick someone else’s ass.

All in the name of lessons, of course.

Dean put a hand against Jacob’s neck, watching it twitch under his touch. Back to just being a tickle. “That’s as good a place as any to start,” he said aloud, scanning the rest of the room around them. The two humans were staying clear of the shattered shards of the lamp, and Dean found himself wondering if the lamp had broken when someone else shrank. Jacob had fallen bad and knocked himself out, so it wasn’t too far-fetched to imagine the same thing happening to another unsuspecting victim.

“We’ll extend our search from here, and keep you updated,” he continued. “After this long, they could be anywhere, but I’m hoping they stayed near the main rooms. It’s better to stick close to any food supplies, or access to water. If you go too far from either of those, survival gets ten times harder.”

Jacob nodded, knowing how true it was. Sam and Dean were experts on surviving at their size. They'd been that way for more than half their lives, and they had to learn quick what not to do. Despite the world being a lot bigger, there was no room for error.

He offered a hand to them both, holding it steady next to his shoulder while they clambered on. At least his few days at a smaller scale hadn't made his skills rusty in that department. With Sam still healing, the last thing he needed was for Jacob to jostle him with carelessly hasty movements.

"We'll stick around to this room just to keep things a little easier. Last time I was here I kinda walked all over the place," Jacob explained while he knelt next to the display case. Chase watched over his shoulder while he set his hand on the floor near the base of the tall piece of furniture, disturbing a layer of dust there.

The brothers stepped off the hand together, peering up at the room from their normal point of view. The sound of boots scraping against the floorboards came from behind them as Jacob stood back up, stepping away from the far more fragile people down on the ground.

Sam was rigid, sticking close to Dean. They were in an unknown setting, and the tingling on his neck from Jacob and Chase’s eyes on them wasn’t as reassuring as it ought to be. He followed along with his older brother as Dean set out towards the wall, and both of them hovered their hands close to where their silver knives were hidden in their jackets.

The wallpaper that coated the walls of the room was dusty and fading, the edges showing fine cracks. Dean came up to it, hovering a hand over the ridged surface. There weren’t any visible tears against the ground, but that just meant the opening might not be where they’d been dropped off. There was plenty of space in a house built for humans for an entrance their size.

With a hand brushing against the wallpaper, Dean led the way behind the display case. The tingle on Sam’s neck flattened to nothing the moment he was out of sight of their friends, and his shoulders relaxed. Then…

Wait. What the hell?

He was still being watched.

It was faint and fleeting compared to the heavy touch of Jacob or Chase’s attention, but it was there. There was no possible way that there were other full-sized humans in the room, they’d see them. Humans might be able to hide from each other, but to a pair of guys the size of Sam and Dean, their every motion would be obvious. Even the act of breathing was a gust of air that, if directed the right way, could knock either brother off their feet.

“Dean,” Sam hissed, “we’re being watched.”

Dean’s shoulders stiffened, and he dropped to a crouch as he ran along. No other words were needed. If Sam felt eyes on him, there was someone out there. Just like if Dean said what they needed was on the counter, it was there. Their abilities, their knacks, left no room for questions.

They ran like that for the next few feet along the wall, finding nothing more than dustbunnies and still air. Dean kept his hand against the wall, searching for a place where an opening was concealed, something easy to find if they knew where to look. Sam kept behind Dean, his injured arm braced against his chest and his good hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife.

When they must have been at least five feet from where they’d left Jacob and Chase, Dean’s fingertips brushed over a corner of the wallpaper. The sealant was gone, resulting in it flying up under his touch.

A dark tunnel beckoned them, and the tingle on Sam’s neck got stronger. He shot Dean a look, and his older brother nodded.

Straightening, Dean stepped into the walls.

Chapter Text

Fucking perfect.

Emmy and the other four victims perked up at the sound of yet another car engine cutting off outside the abandoned farmhouse. She'd been there the longest, and she'd kind of gotten used to the frightening drill. Someone would come in and stomp around for a while, looking larger than any of them thought possible. Then they'd probably get bored and leave without ever realizing there were hapless victims hiding from them.

The police had come by more than once, along with a few hooligans here and there. Emmy, frantic in the first few days of her shrunken state, hid under the cabinet until she found the tear in the wallpaper that gave her a better place to conceal herself. There were giants out there.

The initial panic had died down just enough for her to realize what really happened, only for her to panic again.

Shrinking shouldn't be possible.

Then, a second person had wandered close to the display cabinet and then he was small, too. Convincing him of the truth was a little easier than convincing herself.

He was still alive only by some miracle. He wanted to go talk to the police when they showed up, but Emmy warned him. It wasn't safe out there anymore. Proving her right, the officer looking around shoo'd the man away with the toe of his boot, mistaking him for a rodent. Because they were the size of goddamn mice.

The next two intruders to fall victim to whatever was wrong with the cabinet were a couple of high school kids. The girl shrank first, and the boy knocked over a lamp trying to get to the display case to find out where she vanished to. Emmy had watched, thinking she was about to see a girl get pulverized under a shoe, but then the boy joined her on the floor, tiny, and scared.

Olive was the most recent, and somehow simultaneously most disappointed and least surprised out of all the victims. She pouted with the rest of them while Emmy kept an eye on the living room.

"Just a couple kids," she whispered, knowing her voice would never overpower the absolutely gigantic boy talking in his deep voice. None of them knew how exactly they'd be able to get help. After the first time, no one volunteered to go and talk to anyone that broke into the house for shits and giggles. So Emmy kept watch, wondering if these guys were soon to join them among the rest.

"Wait, what?" she muttered aloud, squinting closer at the opening while the kid knelt by the cabinet. He lowered his hand to the ground and ... Oh my God!

There were two guys just casually standing on a hand the size of a goddamn truck. As Emmy watched, they stepped onto the floor and walked along the wall like it was the most normal act in the world. They didn't even stumble.

"Well, what?!" Olive hissed, suddenly right behind Emmy. Emmy waved her hand absently, eyes fixed on the pair of them. They were moving a lot faster now, one of them trailing a hand along the wallpaper.

They were a foot away when she realized it and backed up, colliding with Olive. The two women scrambled for a moment before backing towards the opposite side of the wall with the others. Emmy's eyes never left the thin opening.

She held her breath along with everyone else, and, as a group, the wary shrinking victims huddled farther back when the entrance flew open and revealed two silhouettes entering their hiding place, almost like they knew it was there.

She broke the silence. They were only about a foot away, all told. Those guys would have found them eventually. Emmy, who'd been there the longest, stood as tall and steady as she could, and said "Wh-who the hell are you?"

Dean took a few cautious steps inside the walls, Sam pacing right behind him. He held out his hands, doing his best to not startle them. Both brothers’ pupils were wide open, adjusting to the darkness of the walls better than they adjusted to the bright light of the room outside.

The five victims were huddled against the back wall, bright, fearful eyes watching the brothers’ every movement, and the last thing that they wanted to do was…

Sam paused. Wait, five?

There were four missing people.

Instantly, he scanned the faces in the dark. “Four o’clock, Dean,” he said grimly, keeping his voice low.

Dean nodded, green eyes locking right onto the woman that didn’t match the profile of any of the missing people. He took a few steps in her direction while Sam stepped in front, pulling attention to himself.

Sam held out his good arm and gave them a gentle smile. “My name’s Sam, and that’s my brother Dean,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “We’re here to help. Our friends out there have a cure for this hex.”

"Oh, thank God," Olive blurted, heaving a sigh. She leaned forward almost like she was going to take a step, but Emmy shot her an exasperated look.

"What, you just believe them like that?" she said. She had to hide her own hope. Things too good to be true often were. "It could be a trick!"

Olive rolled her eyes. "If you don't wanna get back to normal, you can stay here, then, Emmy," she snipped. "This whole thing has just been one stupid fiasco after another."

Emmy sighed and glanced at the others before looking back at Sam. He seemed like the most approachable person she'd seen in weeks. He made a less frantic first impression than the others, that was for sure. "How do we know you're not just ... I dunno, trying to lure us out? Why didn't you cure yourselves right away if you have something to fix this?!"

Sam couldn’t stop a laugh, giving her a warm smile and dimpling. His red cheeks were lost in the darkness. “Would you have come out if we were their size?” he asked, expertly sidestepping the fact that he and Dean were under a different curse. “Jacob out there was under the hex earlier today. We tested the cure on him before we came to find you.”

While Sam was talking, Dean was sizing up the fifth ‘victim’ that Sam had singled out in the beginning. She didn’t look like much, but if she was a witch like the one that had cursed them, she might have a few tricks hidden up her very-petite sleeves. His younger brother’s calm manner and forward approach held the attention of the other victims.

Emmy frowned, but had to admit he was right. There was no way she'd have come out if a bunch of people came in knowing the shrinking victims were all there. All signs would point to them having something to do with it.

"I guess," Emmy said doubtfully. She had to look back at the others again. "What do you think?"

"I-I wanna go home," the high school girl piped up. It was one of the few sentences Emmy had ever heard out of her.

“You’re all going to get home safe,” Sam hurried to reassure the young girl. “I promise. Me an’ my brother are here to make sure of it.”

For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel anxious about talking to a person he’d never met before. He just wanted to help them, and it felt good to know that he was going to make a difference in their lives, despite the fact that normally he could fit in any of their hands with room to spare. None of that mattered now that they were in trouble, and he could do something about it.

Olive nodded in eager agreement. She was done playing victim to her own stupid hex. "Come on, guys. Let's go give it a shot. We can all be nice and tall and un-hexed and ..." she finally noticed Dean's unwavering gaze fixed on her. "What is it, something on my face?" she asked, one eyebrow raising.

“Oh, why don’t you tell me, sweetheart,” Dean drawled. He took another step towards her, letting himself drift between Sam and the witch. With his little brother injured, he wasn’t about to let her have a chance to go for him. “I keep trying to place your face, but I gotta say. You don’t match any of the people that went missing in the area.”

Emmy's mouth twisted into a thoughtful expression. She glanced aside at the way Olive bristled at the man that seemed to be slowly separating her from the rest of them. Olive did have a bit of an attitude. Maybe he was just making sure she didn't freak out on them.

"I guess I believe you," Emmy finally relented. "It's just been really crazy and we've hardly been able to get food, and just ... yeah. Sorry..." She brushed her fingertips over her eye, and it suddenly showed how tired she was. "We should give it a try, guys ... Olive?"

Olive was glaring up at Dean. She might be new to the game, but she smelled a rat. There was a sense of a coiled spring in the guy’s bearing, and his words had an obvious knowing tone to them. She wracked her brain for ideas, and the only thing that made sense deepened her frown.

"Hunters," she whispered, barely more than a breath. She knew what hunters did with witches. It wouldn't matter to them that she hadn't actually managed to kill anyone yet.

Olive turned and bolted, to alarmed cries from the other victims.

“Hey!” Dean gave chase.

Sam watched his brother and the witch dart out of sight down the long, dark tunnel. There wasn’t much question in his mind for who would come out on top in a race. Not only did Dean have the upper hand in being able to see inside the walls, a fact they were very familiar with after Jacob had followed them around like a lost puppy for days whenever they were in the walls, he was also taller and a fast runner.

“It’s okay,” Sam soothed the other victims. “Make sure to stick together until we’re out in the open. Dean will be back with her in no time, and we’ll find out why she ran.”

“You know, you’re just delaying the inevitable!” Dean shouted at the woman in front of him in the walls. The steady beat of her shoes and his boots against the wood panels was the only other sound that broke the silence.

"That's the idea, sweetheart,” Olive shot back as she ran, parroting the patronizing nickname Dean had used on her moments ago. She really should have known that the only ones who would key in on something like this would be hunters. She should have known.

She had no way of contacting another witch, or anyone that might be willing to help her. She was on her own, but Olive didn't have to tell him that. "I'd step off if I were you," she called. "Bad luck comes in threes and if you got hit by my hex then, honey, you're not even halfway through the--" Her taunts came to an abrupt halt when a grip on her ragged jacket brought her run to an even more abrupt halt.

Olive nearly clotheslined herself. She scrambled to keep her feet and twisted with a panicked drive. One hand fumbled at the buttons of her jacket, failing to undo them, while the other reached behind in an attempt to shove Dean's hand away.

"Shouldn't you take me on a date before getting all domineering?!" she groused, aiming a kick at him.

Her panicked movements didn’t have any visible effect against Dean. The cursed human, unlike the hexed human, had a few perks going for him. Like lightning, his other hand sealed around her wrist in a grip of steel that not even Jacob could hope to match on the same scale. Her kick was blocked with his other hand, bouncing off.

He hauled her around, accidentally yanking her against his chest when she came with no resistance whatsoever. “Honey, I think that’s the least of your worries,” Dean said with a feral grin. “And if you’re counting on any side effects, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not under your little hex.”

Dean and Olive, by QuackGhost

Olive blinked away the daze of falling against his chest. He was definitely built, if his easy grip on her was any indication. She stopped her squirming to glare up at his face, defiant despite the worry that wormed its way into her gut. If this guy wasn't affected by the hexbag, then he must be one of the little curse victims that she'd only ever heard rumors of. Olive had based her stupid hexbag on those rumors, but she never thought they might actually be true.

"You ... I'll tell the others," she warned, though she didn't really know what that would do for her. They could still easily be cured; Olive knew what was needed, but she hadn't thought to bring it with her when she came to check on her experiment. Of course she'd fumbled the stupid fucking hexbag.

Now she was caught in the grip of a hunter, stuck like they were preparing to waltz. Olive squirmed a little, found that he wasn't relenting at all, and then changed track. "Just let me go, babe, maybe I can even make it worth it."

“Tell them what you want,” Dean dismissed, refusing to let her get a hold on him through his curse. He shifted his grip and started to haul her back towards the little nook the hex victims had found for safety. It was damn good luck that they’d all made it out without any injuries, especially without someone to help them through the transition in size.

“I don’t think they’ll be listening to you, hun,” he egged her on, “once they find out exactly who’s to blame for their little size problem. Our friends have the cure they need, and in no time at all they’ll be back to size and going back home. Safe.”

The dark tunnel beckoned him, and he could see a glimpse of light from where the opening in the wallpaper allowed a scattering of sunbeams into the dark passages. Sam and the others would be waiting, and he had complete faith that his little brother had the situation back there under control. Once he got those puppy eyes out, Sam practically had them eating out of the palm of his hands.

"Waitasecond," Olive answered quickly, trying to come up with another bargain. Her shoes scraped along the dust while her resistance was ignored completely. She couldn't think of any quick words, since she could only focus on the way Dean had emphasized that the others would get better. If that meant what she thought it meant, she was going to be pissed. She wrenched at her arm again, but only ended up twisting it awkwardly with a pitiful squeak of pain. "There's gotta be something we can work out here. I mean, you leave me here, I stay out of your way in the future, and we're all friends. What do you say, strongman?"

“I’ve got a better plan.” Dean yanked her close to stifle her struggles. They were ineffective, but annoying at the same time. “How about we take you with us, and make sure you don’t bother any other innocents in the meantime. We’re happy, the victims are happy, and you… well, you’ll get to see how it feels to be too short to ride the roller coaster.”

Dean gave her a grin as she was forced to hurry alongside him, or be dragged through the dust that wafted in the air at their passage. “You’re just going to love Jacob and Chase.”

For once, Olive was stunned into stammering half-formed excuses instead of firing one off immediately. "But I ... you're gonna ... " She tried one more time to squirrel herself out of Dean's grip, but he held on too tight. He was way stronger than he looked. She almost thought it couldn't possibly match his body. "Christ, caveman, loosen up a little, wouldja?"

The others came into view, all watching her stumbling along next to Dean. Emmy watched her warily, and the other idiots just looked confused like they always did. Olive appealed to Emmy, the self-proclaimed leader of their little band of tiny people. "E-Emmy, tell him to let me go!" she pleaded, her voice shifting from the sassy defiance into a whimper that was just barely on the verge of tears. She couldn't overdo it yet.

Emmy glanced between the returning two and Sam, before looking back at Olive again. "Why the hell'd you run away?"

"B-because I know these guys, they wanna hurt me!" Olive said, making a show of struggling against Dean again, though it was far weaker than before as she played up her innocent helplessness. She struck his arm with a weak fist and was secretly glad she hadn't really tried to punch him; that could break fingers.

"Ah, you don't have to worry about that, sweetheart," Dean clucked as he came to a halt a few inches from the others. "We won't harm a hair on that pretty little head."

Sam looked Olive straight on, meeting her eyes. "Four victims, all missing from this house in the last few weeks. And there's five people here. Your face wasn't in any of the reports."

Dean pushed Olive in front of himself, right into the light that leaked into the hovel so everyone could see her face. "C'mon, tell them. They deserve to know that you didn't just stumble over that hexbag, or their hiding spot. Tell them how you came to check on the little hex you put on them and bumbled, shrinking yourself down just like your intended victims. You should watch out with hexes like that. They bite the hand that made them just as easy as anyone else."

"I don't need you to tell me how hexes work," Olive spat, before she could even consider stopping herself. The jig was up, anyway. She saw the gears turning in Emmy's head, and the jaded woman would figure it out in no time at all. So Olive stood up straight, inclined her head, and put her hands on her hips.

Emmy scowled and she could hear the high school kids muttering to each other. "I've been away from everything for weeks because of you?!" she asked, even more annoyed that her glare did nothing. Olive was as haughty as always. Now Emmy realized why. Olive was never a clueless victim like the rest of them. "We could've all starved here, you bitch!"

"Actually, sweetie, the term is witch,” Olive snapped back. She glared over her shoulder at Dean, the one who'd put her on the spot and the one she knew she wouldn't be able to dart past. "There, are you happy? They know."

Emmy's hands clenched into fists, but she didn't have the energy to go and smack that smug look off Olive's face. She'd been scraping by for too long. She looked over at Sam again, weary and hopeful. "Can we just go now? If those guys out there can fix this, I just want to go."

“Of course,” Sam said soothingly. “Jacob and Chase are waiting for us. They'll get you back to normal and you can get some real food to eat.”

He didn't feel any resentment that the hexed humans would be able to go back to normal lives just like that. Sam was long past being envious of what he'd lost. It was just the way he was, and he accepted that.

It was the life he knew, after all.

Instead, he felt pride that he could save others from his own fate. They'd go back to their old lives, and maybe think twice if they found people his size one day down the line. It was easier to empathize after an experience like that.

Pushing against the loose wallpaper, Sam gestured for the others. Dean led the way, shoving Olive out of the walls first. Then the other victims followed suit, trying to hover close to Dean and his confident walk.

Sam was last, sending a glance around the hidden nook to make sure nothing had been left behind. He nodded to himself, satisfied with how things were going.

They were making a difference.

Chapter Text

At first, Jacob and Chase didn't see the small people exiting the wall. Chase was poking around at the shards of the lamp with a shoe, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets, and Jacob was near the window. He kept an eye on the driveway leading up to the old farmhouse, ready to flounder for an excuse if someone wanted to ask why they were trespassing. This close to the goal, they couldn't risk someone getting hurt in all the excitement.

Motion on the floor drew his attention like a beacon. "Hey," he greeted in surprise, while Dean and Sam stepped out along with several small strangers. He winced when most of them balked at the sight of him, and immediately lowered himself to a careful kneel a respectful distance away. "Thank God you found them.”

Olive, pushed along by Dean and closest to the absolutely towering kid, felt her heart hammering away. She tried to keep on her brave face, and gave it her best effort to take unwavering steps while Dean led the group along, straight towards the kneeling teen who looked so relieved to see them all. For a moment, she thought about appealing to him, since it hadn't worked on Emmy.

The sight of one of those massive hands lowering to the floor to hold up his weight weakened Olive's resolve. "Oh, no no no," she blurted, turning around with the intention of slipping past Dean. She only managed to collide with him, and it didn't alter his stride at all. "Please no," she hissed, smacking Dean's chest with a petite and pitifully weak fist before trying to duck around him.

Jacob raised his eyebrows. "What ... I'm not gonna …” His perplexed eyes scanned the rest of them. The other victims looked disheveled and nervous, but not panicked. No one else tried to bolt from him in complete terror, something that wouldn't surprise him but wouldn't feel good either. "I won't hurt anyone."

“Oh, don't mind Olive,” Dean said disdainfully. He angled straight towards Jacob, intent on getting the source of all the missing people safely contained before she could cause any more problems. No matter what size she was, she wouldn't stand a chance in a tussle with Jacob. “You're lookin’ at none other than the witch herself, in the flesh.”

While Dean continued his inexorable march towards Jacob with the witch, Sam gathered the others close to him a distance away like a shepherd with a flock of sheep. They looked to him for some clue of what to do.

“We should break the hex one at a time,” Sam informed them, meeting each individual's eyes one after the other. “Jacob hit his head pretty good when he got hexed, and if it doesn't take effect on someone right away, we don't want them to get crushed by the others. Everyone is getting out of this in one piece.”

Emmy watched Dean drag Olive straight towards the bulky teen for a second more. Then, she looked back at Sam and nodded, along with the other nervous shrinking victims. With the open room looming overhead and not one, but two giants nearby, everyone was even more subdued. They were so small. Emmy had to wonder how Sam and Dean were so calm about it, but if they were more aware of hexes, it made a little sense. They at least had an explanation for it right away.

"We'll do what we gotta," she answered, in time for Olive to let out a high pitched squeal a couple feet away.

"Stop, lemme go!" she insisted, shoving fruitlessly at Dean. Jacob pursed his lips as he looked down at her, thinking she was far less sinister than he would have expected. He reached out a cautious hand, almost feeling bad about the way she could offer Dean no resistance. Frantic struggling or not, he trusted Dean's judgement, especially when she yelled up at him in a wavering, defiant voice, "I'll hex you again, you enormous son of a bitch! Don't touch me!"

No hexes were forthcoming, even as Dean shoved Olive right into Jacob's grasp. He closed his fingers carefully around her tiny frame, suppressing her writhing. While he lifted her away from the floor, he noticed Chase shuffling closer on cautious steps, glad he was considering the other shrinking victims. They all watched in awe and trepidation.

"Look, miss," Jacob said, though he couldn't tell if Olive heard him or not. She was busy squirming around, only her head and shoulders visible. A stream of stammered cusses spilled from her mouth and she kept her eyes shut tight. Jacob sighed. "I'm not going to hurt you, even though you almost got me squashed by my own mom," he said pointedly. "But we'll figure out what happens next once we take care of your victims. Try to just chill for a second."

"Chill yourself, asshole!" Olive groused, her breaths frantic despite her continued glare. "I hate you! Put me down!"

Jacob rolled his eyes and glanced aside. Chase was stooping a little to see the tiny woman in Jacob's fist, and he seemed amused by her fiery comments. Seeing the pouch of herbs and amethyst in one of his hands, Jacob nodded at it. "Trade? We don't want her getting cured while we're taking care of everyone else or she might get away."

"Suuure," Chase drawled, handing over the bag and holding out his other hand for Olive. She let out another frustrated squeak of protest, but of course could do nothing to stop Jacob from depositing her on a different palm. Chase ended up cupping his other hand over her like he had a very foul-mouthed firefly, and backed off until he was nearly to the archway out of the living room. Olive's protests died off as he got farther away, but occasionally Chase would almost snicker at whatever she said.

Jacob sighed and turned his focus back to the small crowd near him. His expression was bemused. "Wow, that's, um. A pretty impressive witch, there," he quipped, before holding up the bag to show off to them. "Let's get you guys back to size so you can go home."

Dean sauntered casually back over to the others, confidence oozing out of every pore. Sam stood a head over the other victims, scanning them to see who he should send out first. He caught Dean’s eye, smiling sheepishly. His calm manner made the others want to follow his lead, completely different than Dean’s cocky demeanor.

“Why don’t you go first?” Sam suggested to the high school girl. He gave her a reassuring grin. “Just stand in the center of the room, and Jacob will take care of the rest.” He gestured towards the spot on the floor, a few feet away from where they were standing.

Dean came up to stand next to his younger brother, proud of how well he was handling himself. With others relying on him, it was like Sam’s shy nature didn’t exist. He was confident and assured, knowing exactly what to say because of his empathy for them. It made Dean wonder what Sam would be like with the chance to grow up a normal kid instead of shut away in the walls at that motel.

The girl stared at him, wide-eyed, before her gaze was inevitably drawn upwards to Jacob. Jacob smiled encouragingly and nodded. He was ready to help everyone get back to normal. They looked bedraggled and thin and dirty from their time hiding away, with no one around to help them. He couldn't imagine how they'd managed to get any food, with the house abandoned.

"Don't worry, it's quick and painless and before you know it you'll be back to normal," he assured her. The girl gave her boyfriend's hand a squeeze before extricating herself from the wary group. She jogged to the middle of the floor, looking tense and glancing around at the towering furniture a lot.

When she got there, Jacob finally pushed himself to a stand, cringing only slightly at the way most of the victims flinched back at the sight of his full height. He couldn't blame them. He knew how big he was better than ever after being hexed. He took a few steps back to give them all space, and made sure to angle himself towards just the girl so he wouldn't affect the whole group by accident.

"Redire ad normalis," he enunciated, dumping some of the powder onto his palm and dropping it down in front of the girl.

She stumbled backwards in surprise, but before she took two steps she had shot back up to her true height. She stared around in shock before finding the group of remaining victims. "Ohhhh my God," she said, staggering back even as her still-miniature boyfriend lurched forward in surprise. "Oh my God it worked!"

Jacob grinned at the growing relief on her face. The poor girl was so frazzled he almost didn't recognize her from her photo. "Make sure to give him some room," he advised. The girl did so, and in short order she could hold her boyfriend's hand again while they backed off.

The last two were cured soon after, shooting up in height so quickly that Jacob would almost think they simply popped into existence. Emmy took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "I thought I was gonna die here," she admitted, blinking quickly.

Jacob smiled again. "Not on our watch," he assured her quietly. It was another case solved. These people had faced something they never should have had to face, all for sneaking into an abandoned property. Now, they'd be able to go home.

Jacob turned his face downward to where Sam and Dean stood, the last two on the floor that remained small. With everyone returned to normal around them they seemed smaller than ever, standing close to each other for support. It must be nerve wracking to be out in the open like that with so many unknown humans around. They could be wary enough around just Jacob and Chase.

Jacob poured some more of the dust onto his hand and held it out questioningly. "You guys ready to give it a shot?"

Sam’s mouth turned dry, and he shot a look at Dean. Give it a shot? he mouthed at his brother, having heard nothing of this from anyone. He rubbed the back of his neck in a distracted gesture, trying to brush away the warning tingle of humans watching them.

Dean was almost glowing with hope. He nodded eagerly. “It’s a cleansing spell,” he said in a hushed voice. “Maybe it can cleanse the curse just like the hex. It can’t hurt to try, right?”

Sam could see the hopeful desperation that covered Dean, and couldn’t find it in himself to protest. “Yeah,” he replied. “It can’t hurt.” The last thing he wanted to do was pull the rug out from under his older brother’s feet.

Even though he didn’t want to try it.

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t appreciate the thought. Far from it. He was grateful that everyone was so eager to help them, but for him, his life was this size. He’d been small long enough that the thought of living any other way was alien. Dean remembered being a different size, he remembered everything from before the curse, but Sam had been a child, and those memories were soft around the edges, like looking back on a dream. They would never be as real to him as the feeling of thick threads in his hands or stifling air in the nooks and crannies he'd learned to utilize so well to hide.

He licked dry lips, trying his best to focus away from the fact that if it worked, he might be the only person in the room that stood at four inches. And he didn’t want to change. “Go Dean. Give it a shot.”

For both of us.

Dean slapped a hand against Sam’s arm. “See you on the other side,” he said with a confident grin. He strolled to the center of the room.

Outwardly, he did his best to hide his nerves. He kept his poker face on, dead set on masking any emotions. The humans might be too big to tell, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Inwardly, he thrummed with adrenaline and nerves. Sam and Dean were in a room full of humans, almost ringing them. Aside from the witch, held cupped between two hands, and Jacob and Chase, all the humans thought the brothers were just like them. Hexed.

But it was a curse, and a strong one. Strong enough to hold them captive for over half their lives.

Time to break free, Dean told himself firmly.

He planted his boots, steeled his shoulders, and glanced up at Jacob. The human towered over him from that angle. It was a far cry from the teenager they’d come to know over the last few days, standing on the same scale. Getting to know Jacob like that was an experience both brothers appreciated, because it helped them realize that Jacob might be bigger, and he might be taller, but he did look up to them. Whether Dean was smaller than his fingers or tall enough to flip him effortlessly over a shoulder.

Dean nodded, solemnly meeting Jacob’s gaze.

He was ready.

The words rumbled around him in a familiar cadence. Dean clenched his fists as the spell came to an end, waiting with bated breath for the final part. Jacob’s huge hand moved overhead, tossing down the amethyst and herbs with a certain finality.

The herbs and gems scattered around Dean, and he shut his eyes.

Chapter Text