Pinky Promise

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Literature Text

Walt didn’t like it, but he hadn’t been left with much of a choice. The supply of crackers and dried meat from the last rat he’d managed to dispatch was running low, and the motel was in a slow season. No, Walt didn’t like it one bit.

It meant he had to venture into occupied rooms. He had to pray that no one saw him or came back while he was out somewhere vulnerable.

It only took one set of eyes spotting him and it could all be over. Walt had far too much experience with that simple truth. He’d spent days in a cage before, waiting for his enormous captor to return and either do away with him or sell him like an object, a pet. Leaving Mallory all alone. Walt was lucky he’d survived that.

That hadn’t hardened his heart the most against humans. Walt had been fortunate to meet one good human then. He was not so lucky when it was his daughter, his sweet baby girl, behind bars. Bars that Walt couldn’t budge no matter how much he wanted to.

Humans took Bree away from him, and all he’d ever been able to do was tell her it’d be okay and watch as they left with her in a cage, helpless.

Now, it was just him and Mallory. He preferred to keep his petite little wife out of danger as much as he could, and worked hard to bring home enough when he went out. He couldn’t lose her, too.

He shifted his feet as he waited. His hiding place under the bed wasn’t ideal, but the two kids staying in the room had dropped plenty of crumbs. He was desperate, and confident in his patience. The food in his leather satchel would be reward enough as soon as he had a clear shot at the entrance hidden behind the other bed.

There were two humans in the room with him, a fact that could set his heart pounding by itself. To top it off, they were kids. The older one was in his mid teens at the most. The slow rhythm of breathing was barely audible over the TV he’d left on, but Walt could tell he was asleep.

If it was just him, Walt would have made his exit already. A creak from the mattress overhead rang ominously in his ears as the younger boy shifted and squirmed into a more comfortable position on the bed. The scratching of a pen on the motel room’s notepad resumed as the boy continued his drawing, blissfully unaware of anything around him.

The TV announced a show to be starting soon, something about a hedgehog. Walt heard the quiet “Oooh!” from the kid above him, and found himself hoping that whatever it was might lull the younger kid to sleep as well. Then he could finally head home and put the stress of hiding in an occupied room behind him.

The boy shifted and the mattress creaked some more, and Walt watched the shadow out on the floor move. It looked like the kid was angling himself towards the TV more, and Walt edged forward carefully, thinking he could confirm the theory.

Just as he looked up, piercing blue eyes peering past the edge of the bed, he saw the pen plummeting downwards after being knocked to the edge by the boy’s movement. Walt gasped in surprised and stumbled to the side, barely avoiding the pen crashing down on top of him directly. Even so, it tilted and knocked into him anyway as he stumbled, leaving them both on the floor in a heap.

Heart pounding, Walt hastily shoved the pen away from him and looked up in time for a hand to fill his vision.

He didn’t have time to go for the razor in his jacket before the hand was upon him. Walt felt the fingers coil partway around him and then hesitate. He looked away from them to see that the boy’s eyes were turning towards him as he leaned over the side of the bed. When he caught sight of Walt, something he probably had not expected to grab when he went absently for his dropped pen, a quiet gasp sounded up above. The pair was frozen for a second, staring at each other in surprise as a cartoon’s theme song started up on the forgotten TV.

Then, the fingers closed all the way around Walt’s struggling form and he found himself soaring into the air, lying on his back on a net of fingers with his arms pinned to his side. There was a whirl of motion as the boy lifted him up in front of his face, and then looked right past Walt at his sleeping brother. Before Walt could read the expression on the young boy’s face, he rolled over with Walt still in hand and almost dove off the other side of the bed. Walt hunched over in the kid’s secure grip and tried not to be sick.

He only opened his eyes again when he was sure the motion had stopped. The boy had huddled himself on the floor, placing his bed between himself and his sleeping brother to hide what he’d found. Walt was almost grateful for the consideration, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Big, curious hazel eyes peered down at him, very nearly hidden by messy brown bangs that hung over his forehead. The kid’s lips were parted slightly in awe and he looked over Walt’s few inches curiously, while Walt continued to squirm and try to at least free one of his arms.

“My name’s Sam,” the boy introduced himself. “What’s yours? What are you?” Sam’s hazel eyes were wide and hopeful as he stared at Walt, but no answer came. Walt was too busy trying to squirm free to waste time on idle conversation with a huge kid that had captured him and could keep him if he wanted to.

That quickly changed when Sam’s other hand appeared, and his index finger extended and brushed at the side of Walt’s face, making him flinch back and try to lean away from the curious contact like he’d been burned. “Don’t do that! Put me down now!

Sam froze, and blinked at Walt, before peeking over the edge of the bed as if Walt’s outburst might have woken his brother up. Then the boy huddled down even further, staring at Walt. “I-I’m sorry, did I hurtcha? I didn’t mean to!” Sam whispered.

Walt frowned sternly up at the boy, but refused to show his confusion. Most humans wouldn’t respond that way to him snapping at them, that was for sure. “No, you didn’t,” he had to admit. “But I do want you to put me down.”

He didn’t get lowered to the floor immediately, but Sam did adjust his grip so that Walt sat in his cupped hands. Walt was tempted to go for his razor again, but held back for the time being. At least he was making progress in the right direction, though his pounding heart was just short of frantic enough for a heart attack.

“I promise I will,” Sam said earnestly. “But … who are you? Why were you in our room? Dad and Dean say the supernatural is dangerous!

Walt kept his wary, stern gaze fixed on the look above him. He couldn’t help it, but behind the facade that all humans represented to him, of giants full of malice and greed that were out for their own gain, he saw Sam for what he was.

Just a kid.

Full of wonder and concern and the same human notion to grab, but a kid all the same. “Do I look dangerous to you?” he prompted, his voice and face still stern but slightly kinder than before. Sam shook his head. “You are more dangerous to me,” Walt assured him with confidence.

At that, Sam almost looked sheepish. “I … I’m real sorry I grabbed you,” he finally mumbled, his ears a little pinker than they were before. Walt nodded once, accepting the apology despite the lingering fear. He was still stuck in Sam’s hands at least a foot in the air.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Walt instructed him, feeling suddenly like he was scolding a child that could be his own. That tone had slipped into his voice without him realizing it.

Sam sighed, and the warm air brushed past Walt’s face. Then, much to Walt’s eternal surprise, the boy lowered his hands to the floor. Walt wasted no time in scrambling off of them and backing up on the carpet, hoping the boy wasn’t initiating a game of cat and mouse.

“Now can you tell me who you are? I won’t grab you again! Maybe we can be friends. We don’t …” Sam sat up straighter to peer over the bed again, once more checking on his brother. Walt couldn’t help but take a few more wary steps back.

He stopped when Sam looked back down at him, a melancholy in his eyes that should be reserved for someone much older than him. “We move around a lot so I don’t get to make very many friends.”

Walt’s stern look didn’t waver, but he sighed anyway. The boy’s loneliness coated every syllable, now, and Walt couldn’t unlearn what he had about Sam. “I’m Walt,” he relented. Sam positively beamed with delight. “And if you want to be my friend, Sam, all you have to do is promise that you won’t ever grab someone like me if you find them. We’re all just trying to get by, and we don’t mean you or anyone else any harm.”

Sam nodded vigorously. Then, his hand was rapidly approaching, and Walt stumbled backwards further. The hand stopped in front of him, the littlest finger extended towards him. Walt looked up at Sam in confusion in time for the boy to say “I pinky promise!”

Walt stared up at Sam, and then at the digit extended towards him. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, but Sam’s enthusiasm for the gesture made him feel like he was supposed to do something. So, tentatively, wishing he wasn’t so monumentally stupid for staying when he could be running for cover, Walt reached out a hand. It was shaking, with a fear in the back of his mind that Sam would change his mind and snatch him up again. Humans could be fickle like that.

Sam waited patiently as Walt reached out. Eventually, his hand brushed against the tip of the boy’s finger. Before he could draw it away again, Sam curled the finger towards himself a little, and Walt nearly stumbled as his hand was pulled gently along.

Then, without grabbing or even looking like he planned to, Sam drew his hand away again. Walt stepped back and kept the boy’s face in his sight, still wearing a cautious, stern expression.

There was a pause that nearly became awkward before Walt spoke up again. “I need to go home now,” he said, watching the human’s face carefully. If Sam looked upset or like he might not want Walt to leave, he was ready to bolt.

Sam was full of more surprises. He didn’t even protest Walt’s assertion. Instead, he nodded. “Okay, Walt,” he replied. Then, he bit his lip, thinking hard about something. “If you want,” he spoke up again, “you could come and visit me again maybe. I think we’re staying here for a little bit while my dad … works. Since we’re friends now I’ll remember not to grab or anything!”

Walt pursed his lips, seeing the hopefulness in every inch of Sam’s bearing. “I’ll think about it,” he replied, taking several steps backwards and towards the bed. Sam watched him go, that hopeful look remaining.

When Walt finally turned to dart away under the bed, he thought to himself that he just might come and at least check on the kid the following night. He didn’t plan to reveal himself again, not to a human. Even one who had let him go once could always change his mind later.

But he might at least come to see.
This is my entry for nightmares06 's contest. It's my entry for the tumblr contest, and you can get more information about that one here

The story is a slight AU of the Brothers Apart series. It takes place the night before Sam is cursed and shrunk by the witch. 

Brothers Apart and Walt Watch belong to nightmares06.  Supernatural and Sam Winchester belong to WB/Eric Kripke. Story written by PL1.

Hope you enjoy! :)
© 2016 - 2022 PL1
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So cute! Then when he comes back to visit it turns out to be the night that Sam is cursed! Dun dun dunnnnn