Home 2

The car came to a rest outside of the house.

Sitting on Dean's shoulder against the thick collar of his black jacket, Sam shielded his eyes. This was the first time he'd ever seen the house outside of the old photos tucked into their father’s journal.

The twisted tree was far more foreboding in person, towering over the entire scene. The house itself was nice. Straight edges, clean lines. He wondered for a moment what his life would have been like had they grown up in that house. Never being hunters, never getting cursed... a storybook life, one that could never exist outside the pages of a beautiful, leather-bound book for him. He'd be able to look his brother in the eye when standing next to him, instead of the heel of Dean's boots, so low down he had trouble knowing if Dean could even hear him when he said something. A life he'd never have.

Realizing Dean hadn't said anything since arriving, Sam turned to face his brother. The big green eyes were staring off into the distance, unable to look away from his childhood home.

Sam only knew a little from those days. Dean always clammed up the moment Sam asked him about the time before their mother died. It was like Dean was afraid to face his past, scared of reopening old scars. No matter what Sam said, Dean wouldn't let him in. And when Sam had been with Dean and their dad growing up, John had almost never talked about the night of the fire around Sam. Hell, if he'd had his way, Sam wouldn't have known about anything they did. He'd have lived in ignorance right up until the witch had zapped him, giving him a rude introduction to the supernatural. Dean had been the one to introduce him to the supernatural, grouchy and resistant the whole way, but knowing it was for the best.

"Dean," Sam nudged the neck he was sitting next to so he could get Dean's attention. "You gonna be alright, man?"

Dean didn't look away from the house. "Let me get back to you on that." A frown was etched into his face. He climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Without even looking, he raised a hand to Sam, letting him climb into the offered palm.

Dean held him in front of the pocket. Sam climbed in without any qualms, dropping into the pitch black fabric. Once he was in there, Dean started walking to the house, shaking the pocket with his swaying gait. Sam could hear the huge heart behind him speed up as Dean drew closer. Wishing he could offer better support, Sam patted the wall behind him, knowing from experience Dean could feel him like this, if just barely. And indeed, a moment later a huge weight gently brushed against Sam, letting him know Dean had felt his reassurance. Sam smiled in the darkness, not feeling alone anymore.

The hand pulled away and Sam stood up as he heard Dean knock on the door. The door cracked open. Sam managed to push the pocket flap up just enough to catch a wary glimpse of the person greeting Dean.

A nice voice rang out after the door opened. "Yes?"

Sam almost choked when he saw the owner of the voice.

It was the woman from his dream.

The blond hair and soft eyes were unmistakable. While Sam was recovering from his surprise, Dean's voice rang out overhead. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am..."

Sam kicked his heel against Dean's chest as hard as he could. After catching a glimpse of her, he doubted the plan they'd discussed on the ride down would work. Dean fumbled his words in confusion for a moment. Sam hoped he'd get the hint.

"Are you alright?" The woman's voice came again, sounding genuinely worried for him.

Dean recovered from Sam’s kick. "Yeah, sorry. Just... a lot to take in. My name's Dean Winchester. I used to live here, when I was little. I happened to be driving by and was wondering if I could see the old place. Ya know, for old times’ sake."

Sam dared enough to peek out once again. For a human, she didn't seem so bad so far.

She cocked her head briefly, thinking. "Winchester..." She said thoughtfully. "That is so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night."

Sam could feel how tense Dean had become. "You did?" His voice echoed loudly around the pocket.

She stepped out of the doorway, beckoning Dean in. "Yea, come on in." She turned back to Dean. "Oh! My name's Jenny."

Sam could almost hear the smile in Dean's voice there. "Good to meet you, Jenny."

A moment after her footsteps started walking away, Dean's voice came from above. "What's the big idea, kicking me like that?" He demanded, sounding frustrated.

Sam pushed up the edge of the pocket enough so he could peer up at his brother. Dean was staring down at the pocket with an aggravated look his face. Jenny was far enough away that she shouldn't be able to see him. "I just had a feeling." He called up quietly. "I didn't think she'd go for the fake badges."

Dean came around the corner. Sam dropped back down into the pocket to avoid notice. Through the fabric walls, he could hear the sound of children, one little boy’s voice bouncing off the walls yelling "juice, juice, juice, juice!" repeatedly. Sam froze fearfully. At his size, children were dangerous. They were more perceptive than adults, far more likely to notice someone his size trying to hide, because they were more open to the unknown and unexpected. Adults always stayed in their own safe, enclosed worlds, shutting away the unknown.

The only other person aside from Dean to ever catch him out in the open in the motel he used to live in had been a kid. He could remember that day clearly... He'd only been fifteen...

Sam creeps silently along the wall, trying to remember everything he's ever been taught about remaining unnoticed and unseen. He glances out from under the dresser he is hiding under, staring at the immense beds in the room. It has been the hours since the lights have shut off and everyone in the room should be fast asleep.

He takes his first careful steps into the room. There is a small bag of chips dropped on the floor by the child in the room earlier on in the day. It is freshly opened, a far cry from the stale crackers his family had been eating for the last week. He is desperate for food, and his father has refused to get fresh food from the kitchens. One of the other families in the motel has had to get food from there earlier that same week. If Sam’s family goes there again so soon, it will risk exposing everyone living in the motel.

The room opens up around him. Five years at this size and he is still not used to the way the world towers above him. It brings back a familiar ache, thinking how things might be different if the witch had gone for Dean. If their Dad had returned to the room a little sooner, or they had never come to this God-forsaken motel in the first place.

He wonders how Dean is. If their father is even still alive. Though it would be frightening to see them while he is so small, he wishes they were nearby. That they could help him. He can imagine, for a few wishful moments, being held by safe, familiar hands. Hands that will protect him instead of capture him. Dean would never let anything bad happen, Sam knew.

Deep inside, he knows it isn't ever meant to be, but it's a nice fantasy. Thinking of them is a comfort he rarely indulges in anymore, but a comfort he needs.

It is these distracted thoughts that get him in trouble.

He is so lost in his own mind that he stumbles right into that bag of chips. It crinkles around him as he falls forward into the leftovers.

A few choice curses he learned from Dean growing up slip from his lips. Standing up in the bag, he freezes.

There is movement in the room.

A small voice calls out. "Mommy? There's something in our room."

The voice is quiet and scared, but almost a death sentence for Sam, small and stranded as he is in the middle of the room. He is only three and a half inches tall, he's just started to hit a growth spurt.

There is a rustling from the other bed. A feminine voice fills the room now. "Go to sleep, baby. There's nothing there."

"But mommy..."

"You were just imagining it sweetie. Close your eyes and relax."

There is silence, and Sam starts to feel a little better. Cautiously, he picks up a chip, and starts to make his way out of the bag as silent as he could.

Finally out, he freezes.

Something feels wrong.

It takes him a moment to figure it out. A shadowy figure is sitting up on the bed, slowly scanning the room. The child is still awake, trying to find what was making the noise on the floor.

Sam tenses. The second the child looks away from his direction, he bolts for the wall. A cry sounds behind him, waking the mother again. While she is trying to calm the boy down, Sam makes it to the dresser and dives under. He wastes no time making his way to the wall, heart in his throat when he hears footsteps behind. They shake the ground under him, giving his flight a desperate spurt of energy.

He makes it to the hidden door and out of the room seconds before a light shines down, lighting up the area. He collapses in relief, still clutching his chip as he hears the mother again. She is right outside his hiding place. "See hun? Nothing there."

At least now he was with Dean. His brother would never let anything happen to Sam if he could prevent it. And a hunter over six feet tall was not someone easily messed with. Especially since Sam was out of a child's reach here.

Dean stopped moving once he reached the kitchen. Jenny's voice came to them as she bustled about the kitchen. "That’s Richie. He’s kind of a juice junkie." Sam peeked out of the top of the pocket in time to see Jenny take a juice box over to Richie, continuing on. "But, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy."

To Sam’s relief, the boy was in a small playpen. Sam would be safely out of reach. Jenny went over to the table, putting a hand on a small girl sitting there. "Sari, this is Dean. He used to live here."

Dean gave her a small wave of his hand. She smiled shyly at him as he turned back to her mom. "So, you just moved here?"

Sam lost track of the conversation for a moment when he realized Sari was still staring at Dean.

No.

Not at Dean.

Her eyes were wide, locked onto Sam. Surprised, he dropped down into the pocket, ducking out of sight. He tried to steady his breathing, panicked thoughts keeping him from calming down.

What if she said something? How much had she seen? Had Dean noticed? What if her mom found out he was here? He huddled against the huge chest behind him, thankful for Dean's height keeping him safe. He listened to the steady gust of breathing behind him, trying to slow his own breathing to match.

He came back to the conversation just as he heard something in Dean's voice switch from casual conversation to business mode. Dean must not have realized Sam had been spotted.

"Oh, that’s too bad. What else?"

As the mom started to detail all the issues of the house, Sam finally managed to calm his breathing somewhat in the closed confines of the pocket. With any luck she’d think she'd imagined him. He couldn't afford to get caught by anyone. As Dean's voice rang out overhead once more Sam again pulled himself up, barely peeking his eyes out of the edge.

He was just in time to see the little girl come up to her mother. "Mom?"

Jenny knelt down. "What, Sari?"

The little girl buried her head against her mother, frightened eyes peering up, first at Dean then at Sam. Dean stiffened the moment he realized exactly where she was looking at on his chest. Her next words caught them both off guard. They had both been expecting her to ask about Sam. "The thing in my closet," she said, sounding scared.

Jenny didn't sound surprised at Sari’s words. "Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in his closet." She turned back to Dean. "Right?"

Dean's voice was off balance, still recovering from Sari spotting Sam. "No, no. Of course not."

Jenny didn't seem to notice Dean or Sari's odd reactions. "She had a nightmare the other night."

Annoyed, Sari said, "I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom and it was on fire."

Sam and Dean both tensed at that. If the little girl had seen something like that, combined with the signs that her mom had written off as the normal issues of an older house, it was likely there was a haunting here. The family was in danger.

The moment was interrupted by Richie, who had managed to knock his juice out of his playpen area. He started to cry for both the juice and his mother. Jenny excused herself, going over to calm him down.

While they were distracted, Sari came over to Dean and tugged on his pants. "Excuse me?" She said, still shy.

The moment Dean glanced down at her, she turned red, looking away. He squatted down on the floor to see her better. Sam gasped as the ground fell out from under him. It was like being trapped in a free fall without knowing the world was about to drop from beneath your feet. He recovered right as Dean started talking to the little girl.

"What's up, Sari?" Dean asked, sounding worried. Probably for Sam and being seen.

She stared at Dean with an innocent expression. "What's his name?" She asked curiously.

Sam held his breath at that, wishing he hadn't been so curious and had kept his head down this time. The last thing he wanted was to be exposed to more humans, especially not children.

Dean seemed to have a different opinion though. His voice echoed softly around Sam as he answered her question so Jenny wouldn't hear from the other room. "His name is Sam. He's my little brother."

For a moment, Sam found himself shocked at the pride there was in Dean's voice. He'd never heard Dean talk like that.

Sari giggled softly. "Little brothers aren't supposed to be that little."

Dean laughed. "No, they're not. Sam here is special." His hand gently patted against the pocket again, making Sam jump away with a jolt before the familiar feel of the weight made him realize it was just Dean. He tried to calm himself down, even as his body trembled fearfully with a combination of past experiences and current danger. The weight of Dean's hand helped him start to relax, a tiny bit.

Calm down, Dean's not gonna let anything happen to you. You KNOW that. He hasn't let you down yet.

Sari's voice came again, as quiet as Dean now. "Why's he hiding?"

"Well, for Sam here, people like you and me are dangerous. It's real easy for him to get hurt by accident. So he stays with me, and I protect him."

Sam rolled his eyes at that, punching his fist into his brother's chest. The pocket shook with a silent laugh. Hesitantly, Sam pushed up the pocket flap to take a look at the girl. With Dean squatting on the ground, her eyes were level with Sam's head. They widened as he stood up, in sight. Sam could see Jenny in the distance, still calming down Richie, who was starting to recover from losing his juice.

"H-Hey Sari," he said.

"Hi Sam." She blushed, shyly staring down at her feet.

Sam had to smile at that. Okay, she wasn't so bad. No sudden movements, she hadn't grabbed at him at all. And he liked how quiet she talked all the time. It was hard hiding in Dean's pocket like this when his brother was talking to other people. Dean's regular talking voice wasn't bad most of the time, but sitting against his chest made it louder, almost deafening Sam on occasion.

His thoughts were interrupted when Jenny stood up, coming back over to Dean and Sari. Sam's stomach fell through his feet when Dean stood up without warning. The force tossed him back down into the pocket. Honestly - who needs an amusement park when you live with a giant? He tumbled back into the depths as Dean turned to face Jenny. Sam was able to push himself up so he was sitting propped in a corner, boots half buried in the pocket lint while Dean said goodbye to Jenny and Sari.

---

A few moments later, Dean was walking down the walkway from the house. "Holy crap that was close," he muttered to himself. Or, that's what it looked like to anyone watching him.

Sam poked his head up from the pocket so he could talk to Dean. Spotting fingers coming right for him, he tried to duck back down again. Sam was easily scooped up by Dean before he got far. Dean just had a sudden need to make sure his brother was alright after being spotted by the little girl. He could feel Sam shaking in fear even now, cupped safely in the palm of Dean's hand. His heart sank. Sam was closer to a scared, small animal like this. Guilt bubbled up in Dean that even children could be such a danger to his tiny brother. Until Sam's panicked reaction today, he'd never even considered it.

"What's the big idea?" Sam grumbled up at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He shifted on Dean's hand, standing up. He'd once told Dean he hated being talked down to, and standing on the hand holding him helped to keep that feeling away. Dean slowed down his walk, afraid he'd toss his little brother off by accident. And the ticklish feeling from tiny boots moving on his palm didn't help.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself. Needed to make sure you were alright. I worry about you, man." Dean held his hand up next to his shoulder, letting Sam sit in his favorite spot. He didn't flinch at all as the teeny hunter got settled, even when he felt small hands brush against his neck for stability. "But it was too close today."

Once settled on the shoulder, Sam was able to bring himself to respond to Dean. "Yeah, no kidding." He paused for a few seconds. "Dean, why did you introduce me? I thought you wanted me to stay out of sight."

"Well, yeah. I do want you to stay out of sight. But she already saw you, and rather than her bringing it up in front of her mom, I figured it would be easier if we just got it out of the way. Not all kids are dangerous for you, Sam. And if any kids ever try to grab you, I'd keep you safe." Dean tried to turn his head as far as he could to see Sam for a brief second, but his brother was sitting too close to his neck. "Sam, I'd never do anything that would put you in danger. You know that, right?"

"Yeah..." Sam thought about that for the last few steps to the car. "I know. It's just... sometimes what's dangerous to me, you don't seem to think about the same way."

The guilt reappeared. Dean knew how true that was. He pushed down those feelings. It was hard, keeping Sam safe at the same time as continuing his work a hunter. Dean opened the door, sitting down.

It took Sam a few seconds to recover from the sudden movement around him, but when he did he focused right on the case, getting away from the topic of vulnerability as fast as possible. "Did you hear what Sari said? A figure on fire."

Dean met Sam's tiny hazels in the rearview mirror. "And that woman - Jenny - did you get a good look at her? Was she the woman in your dreams?" At least Jenny hadn't caught a glimpse of Sam. A small silver lining, considering how the day was going so far.

"Yeah, she was." Sam crossed his arms, staring down at the shirt he was sitting on for a moment. He chewed his lip in thought. "You hear everything she mentioned? Scratching, flickering lights, major signs of a malevolent spirit."

Dean sighed, hating what he was about to say. "Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are coming true." The last thing he wanted was for Sam to know how scared the visions made him feel... He had no control over them, no way to help Sam shoulder the burden. And if they were truly premonitions...

All Dean could feel was the desire to protect Sam.

But how could you protect someone from himself?

Still watching Sam in the rearview mirror, Dean saw him cringe from the tone he had taken. Great. Something else to feel bad about. Awesome, he thought sarcastically.

Dean started up the car, pulling his attention away from his shoulder. Noticing the fuel gauge was low, he turned the Impala in the direction of a gas station he remembered from his childhood.

He was driving along for a few moments before Sam could bring himself to talk to him again, voice still tremulous. "Dean... the thing in the house.... Do you think it's the same thing that killed mom and my adopted family? The demon?"

"I don't know," Dean said. He kept his attention on the road, hoping his memories were right about where the gas station was.

"Well, did it come back here or has it been here the whole time? Sending us on some wild goose chase while it hides in our house!" Sam's tiny voice rose until he was almost shouting. Dean almost had to grab his ear with his hand, only stopping when he remembered how easy it would be to misjudge and send the smaller Winchester flying.

"For all we know it’s something else entirely!" Dean regretted those words the second they were out, realizing his voice had risen as he talked.

Sam cringed at the volume of Dean's voice. He covered up his ears and flinched as far from his brother as he could without tumbling off the shoulder.

Dean noticed, guilt passing over his face when he took in the brief fear on Sam's face. "Shit, Sam. I'm sorry."

"N-no, it's not your fault, Dean." Sam's shoulders slumped, matching Dean's emotions. It was depressing how easily Sam could be hurt just by a raised voice. "Dean... it’s just... those people are in danger. We have to get them out of the house. I mean, it's already come for Sari, what happens if little Richie is next?"

A slight smile tweaked Dean's lips. Even though Sam was afraid of the kids he was still worried for their safety. The little guy had a heart of gold. "Don't worry, we will."

"No, I mean we have to get them out now."

"You got a brilliant plan for getting them out? Some story she'll believe? Sam, I know how you feel, believe me, I do. But we have to pull back, figure this out." He twisted the wheel, pulling the Impala into a gas station. "We're getting too close to this. We gotta treat it like any other job."

Sam sighed. "Yeah? So what's our next big step?"

Dean glanced at Sam, able to see him now that he was sitting on the edge of the shoulder. "We would normally research the history of the house, the families that lived there, see what happened in the past. But we already know what happened here." Dean's eyes flicked suspiciously around the gas station, making sure no one was close enough to see Sam.

Sam saw the chinks opening up in Dean's armor and took his chance. "But how much do we really know? What do you actually remember from that night?" He started to climb down Dean's arm while he talked, falling into their standard routine.

Dean kept as still as possible as Sam climbed down, still watching the other people outside the car. So far no one had taken note of the '67 Impala parked there. But having Sam seen once that day was already more than enough. He needed to be more vigilant. "Not much. I remember the fire… the heat." He felt Sam drop from his arm, landing down on the seat. For a second Dean wondered what it must be like, having everything tower over you everywhere. To be too small to open a car door without help. He couldn't even imagine living in Sam's world. "And then I carried you out the front door."

Sam blinked in surprise up at his brother as he stepped away from Dean on the seat. "You did?"

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?"

Sam shook his head, "No."

"Hmm." For some reason, Dean had thought they'd told Sam that much at least. That moment in the house...  being given his baby brother and told to get him out as fast as possible... those words had ingrained themselves into his mind, helping to form Dean into who he was today. And losing Sam all those years ago, despite everything he'd tried to do to save him... Dean felt even more desperate to keep Sam safe now. It would be all too easy to lose his brother while he was this small.

He pushed those thoughts away, stubbornly sticking to the case. "And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was… was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

"Did... Did he ever have a theory about what did it?"

"If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times. He never even mentioned demons to me... And if your adopted family died at the hands of whatever killed mom, it's a demon. We might even know more than him now."

Sam took a deep breath. "Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s going on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing."

"Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time..." He slowly trailed off.

Sam blinked up at Dean. "Does this feel like just another job to you?"

Dean was silent, unable to sort through the turmoil in his mind for a long moment. In the end, he just got up, leaving Sam in the car while he filled up the Impala. "Hide if anyone but me comes near the car, alright?" He said softly to Sam through the open window once he was done. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

Dean walked around the back of the building, to where the bathrooms were kept. The whole time he surreptitiously scanned for followers. He wasn't even sure why he bothered - it wasn't like his brother could follow him, or even see out the window of the Impala. And none of the other gas station patrons had taken any note of Dean aside from approving nods when they saw the classic '67 Impala sitting by the pump.

He slipped his cell out of his pocket, dialing the number he knew by heart.

The familiar message played. "This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean at 866-907-3235."

"Hey Dad. It's Dean. I know I've left you messages before. Hell, I don't even know if you got any of them. But I'm with Sam." He let that sentence stand on its own. He still found it hard to believe that John had never called them back even with the revelation of Sam's surprising survival and rediscovery. "We're back in Lawrence, and there's something in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed mom yet..." his voice faded while he talked. Damn, he could use Sam's support right now. Not even able to leave a message for their dad without falling apart... pathetic. He should never have left Sam in the car.

But he couldn't free himself of all the memories... losing their mom. Losing Sam. Finding Sam again after all that time, hale and hearty but completely friggin' vulnerable... And a father that didn't seem to care about any of it. Tears pricked at his eyes.

"…I don’t know what to do." He closed his eyes, trying to brush off the tears. "So, whatever you’re doing, if you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad."