Pizza and Hexbags Part 3 (final)

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Oscar peeked through his fingers and saw some shock fighting for space on Dean’s face.  Before the human could recover from his revelation, Oscar decided to spill the explanation he’d been waiting for a chance to give.  “There were some maids in here earlier that weren’t really maids and they were talking about hexbags and they said you were a hunter and they wanted to boil your blood and they put one of those things behind your bed and I was just in here to get some pizza and I overheard them that’s all I swear please don’t kill me!”  He took a deep breath after all of that, and then some tears leaked out of his brown eyes as his body began to shake again.  Oscar curled up as much as he could with someone suspending him by his shirt like that.

Dean didn’t speak right away, but stuttered a few times as if trying to decide what question he wanted to ask.  Oscar kept his face covered, awaiting the worst.  Dean cleared his throat, a sound that sent an icy feeling up and down Oscar’s spine.  “Are you threatening-“

“Dean, don’t,” Sam cut in.  Oscar heard a number of things fighting for control of the smaller brother’s tone.  Among them were both sympathy and annoyance.  “Put him down and let him explain before you give him a heart attack.”  Oscar looked down and tried not to think about the height and whether his legs would actually break if Dean dropped him.  Sam stood there, his feet set apart and his arms crossed.  But he was looking at Oscar with discomfort and concern in his eyes.

Oscar never thought he would have seen one of his kind standing up to a human like that.  Especially not one as scary as Dean.  He almost didn’t notice himself moving downward as Dean actually gave in.  He started to squirm again once he was only an inch away from the table, and it prompted Dean to let him go before his feet were on solid ground.  Oscar stumbled, but surprisingly didn’t fall down.  He looked at his arm, where Sam had reached out and caught him before he could fall.  “Th-thank you,” Oscar muttered once he’d righted himself.

Sam nodded tersely, his hazel eyes skating over Oscar’s skinny frame with concern.  Oscar didn’t keep his gaze on the smaller brother for long.  He got Dean in his peripheral vision, but couldn’t look at the human any more directly than that.  Oscar began to sidle away from Dean, towards the middle of the table.  No one stopped him, though he could feel their gazes on him.

Sam sighed once Oscar had made it a few inches.  “Oscar.  I know you’re scared … believe me, I get it.  But we need you to give us that explanation again, and maybe now that you’re on solid ground you could take a breath or two so we can keep up.”  The words could have been sarcastic, though the tone of voice that Sam used was closer to weary concern.  His patience combined with the begrudging silence from Dean, still looming over them, made Oscar stop inching away.  He stared at his feet, and for several seconds the only noise was the whirring of the hard drive in the laptop nearby.  


Dean watched the little guy work up the courage to speak again.  He could see that his tiny legs were tense, ready to bolt at the first sign of movement.  Dean wanted to demand that the guy spit it out, dammit, before the apparent threat over his head took effect.  But he glanced over at Sam, and it stopped his thoughts in their tracks.

Sam was watching Oscar with a heavy look of empathy on his tiny face.  Suddenly Dean realized how he must have looked.  Grabbing someone around Sam’s size, dangling him in the air, and yelling at him … Dean must have looked like a monster.  He had realized that Oscar knew something they didn’t, and jumped to conclusions.  He just wanted to protect Sam and himself.  But he’d been blinded by his own paranoia.  He watched Oscar, guilt furrowing his brow as the little guy slowly looked up.

“It’s okay, Oscar.  He’s not going to grab you again, okay?” Sam assured Oscar, a certain finality in his tone reserved for Dean.  He heard his brother shift slightly in his chair, but got no protests.  “Please tell us what you know.  We need all the information we can get to stop any more people from getting hurt.”  Sam focused on the little guy, a kind look on his face as he tried not to think about how scared he looked.  Sam had felt a beat of that same fear, watching Dean glare at the smaller person.  How easily it could have been Sam in that position, those weeks prior when Dean had first found him.

Oscar looked up and met Sam’s gaze.  The tremulous fear was still written all over his face, but Oscar’s hands clenched into fists to stop their shaking.  “I said that some maids came in here earlier, but they weren’t really maids.  They don’t work here.  I know what all the maids here look like.”

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean.  This was just the kind of break they needed on this case.  And the enemy had overlooked a witness.  “Alright, Oscar, that’s good.  What did these women do?”

Oscar shifted his feet uncomfortably.  “They talked about.  Um.  Boiling Dean’s blood.  With a curse.”

Dean raised his eyebrows.  “Oh, thanks for the warning, Oz.  Glad to have you on the team,” he grumbled.  He almost regretted his words when Sammy sent him one of his patented bitchfaces.  But Dean wasn’t about to apologize, not with a threat like boiling his freaking blood looming in the air.

“I … I was getting to it!” Oscar protested, clearly flustered.  “They put it behind the headboard.”  He pointed his tiny finger toward the bed behind Dean.

Sam looked in that direction, even as Dean turned his huge torso to look over his shoulder.  He glanced back, looking suspicious.  Sam thought he might know what his brother was thinking about.  If Oscar had been hiding, how did he even know where the would-be maids had hidden the bag?  If he was anywhere that he could watch them plant it, they’d have been able to see him.  “Well?  Go check it out, Dean,” Sam suggested, meeting Dean’s wary gaze.

Dean pushed his chair back and rose to his feet with a quiet grunt.  He stalked towards the nightstand.  One glance back at the table showed that Sam and Oscar were watching with interest.  He leaned over, peering around the headboard curiously.  His eyebrows shifted upwards when he saw something that didn’t fit in with the bland sheets of the mattress.  Cleverly wedged between the cheap box spring and the bed’s frame was a bundle of ratty cloth.  The hexbag.

“Got it,” Dean muttered. He had to turn his body to get a good enough angle to slip his arm into the narrow space.  He almost didn’t fit.  But, eventually, his fingers brushed against the rough fabric and he dragged it out.  It was pretty well hidden.  If he hadn’t known where to look, he never would have found this little thing.

Sam’s hazel eyes zeroed on the bundle as Dean brought it back to the table.  Dean stood over the table for a few seconds, still scowling faintly at the hexbag.  Sam took an instinctive step backwards from the perspective.  Sometimes it just caught him by surprise all over again how huge Dean was now.  Behind him, Oscar stared straight up, too, wary of the hunter.

“Well, Sammy,” Dean rumbled.  “How do we get rid of this thing before it, y’know, boils my blood?

“Uh, right,” Sam answered, walking the few steps back to the laptop.  The page Dean had found about hexbags was still up.  “Looks like we need to burn it …”


After Dean had put the two hexbags in the hotel’s trashcan, he lit a match.  It fell slowly, mesmerizingly, into the container.  At first, Oscar thought he was just going to cause a fire in the whole building, and he fretted about being stuck up on a table when that broke out.  But then, his eyes widened in awe as flickers of ghastly blue reached up out of the depths of the trashcan, clawing at the air.  He hadn’t seen that much fire in his lifetime, but he knew for a fact that it wasn’t supposed to look like that.

“Well, glad that’s over with,” Dean quipped with a scowl still tinting his face.  Oscar looked back up at his green eyes and saw that they had turned in his direction once more.  Dean still looked quite suspicious.  Oscar shrank back as the human returned to the table and sat heavily in the chair.  Oscar was glad that Sam still stood somewhat between him and the gigantic brother.

“Now, Oz,” Dean began, resting his arms heavily on the table.  Oscar could feel the tremors rattling through his feet.  “Mind telling us anything else about these maids?”

Oscar swallowed thickly.  His throat was like sandpaper, and despite himself he shuddered once under Dean’s singular focus.  This human was terrifying.  Especially when he was on a mission, whatever his current mission seemed to be.  “I, um.  I-I didn’t get a very good look at them, b-but I did hear their names,” he answered, his voice quiet.  He winced when Dean leaned a little closer to hear him better.  Even Sam seemed to flinch back from the sudden movement, and Oscar saw Dean’s gaze flicker to his tiny brother for a fraction of a second, regret shining in the green.

“Speak up, Oz, lives could be at stake,” Dean growled, though he kept his volume down for the benefit of the tiny, sensitive hearing in his brother and in Oscar.

Oscar’s eyes widened slightly and he trembled in spite of himself.  Dean’s intensity was only winding up his nerves even further.  He brought to mind the memory of Sam, standing up to the human with no fear in his eyes.  Of Sam, trusting this human with his own life.  Because, from what Oscar had found out, Dean saved lives, even if he was completely terrifying while doing so.  So Oscar took a deep, shaky breath before inclining his head to speak up a little louder.  “Their names were Celine and Megan.  Celine sounded like she knew more about the whole scheme.  From what I saw, she had dark hair cut to about here,” he swiped his hand in the air at about his jaw to indicate Celine’s stark haircut.  “I didn’t get a very good look at Megan,” he finished, hoping that would be enough information.

Dean frowned faintly, almost looking like he recognized something.  Sam, however, perked up immediately.  “Dean!  Wasn’t Celine the name of that librarian?  The one who volunteers to read to kids every few weeks?”

Dean leaned back and looked at his brother, all but ignoring Oscar as the pair went into full hunter mode, discussing a woman that Dean had chatted with when they first started investigating the case.  Oscar watched with some curiosity as Dean quickly typed something into the laptop.  Once he’d found what he was looking for, Dean looked Oscar’s way again.  “C’mere, Oz.  This the chick?”

Oscar didn’t want to get any closer, but he would have to in order to see what was on the screen.  He shuffled up next to the base of the laptop, making sure to place Sam between himself and the human.  Oscar tilted his head to look up at the image on the screen.  It was from the local library’s webpage, the staff section.  A woman’s photo was displayed, a broad, charming smile on her face.  Oscar remembered those grey eyes of hers, and all of the malice on display in them during his brief glimpse of her.  It was definitely the same woman.  “Th-that’s her,” he announced with a nod, turning his head to look at Sam.

Sam nodded.  “Great.  This was the last hint we needed, Oscar.  Great work,” he smiled encouragingly, and despite his fear Oscar felt some pride swelling in his chest.  I’m helping these guys save a bunch of kids, he realized with awe.

Dean didn’t hesitate much after that to practically spill out of his chair to prepare weapons for himself from that worn out duffel bag.  Oscar and Sam watched and waited.  The final touch was a handgun kept shining silver with ornate engravings along the side, tucked into Dean’s pants in such a way that his jacket covered it from view.  And then the human stomped back toward the table.

“Alright, Sammy, let’s go kill us some witches,” Dean announced, setting a hand palm-up on the table.  Sam climbed on without any hesitation.  Seeing that was still absolutely crazy for Oscar.  He looked up at Dean’s face, but it seemed that both brothers were too eager to get going to give him any notice.  Oscar’s jaw dropped as Sam slipped into Dean’s pocket, and then the human left in a hurry.

The slamming of the door rang in his ears.  Oscar watched it with perplexed eyes for several silent seconds.  As strange as it sounded, he wanted Dean to come back through that door.

“Please, don’t let those jerks get killed,” he muttered out loud, frowning as he heard the telltale rumble of a car starting.


With Oscar’s information, the rest of their almost-leads had fallen right into place.  Sam couldn’t believe how simple a task finding the coven was, after just a short brainstorm in the Impala as Dean drove to the library.  Celine.  Megan.  The missing kids.  The monthly book-reading tradition, started just before kids started disappearing.  It was so easy, after realizing just how closely Celine was really involved.  She’d been the most surprised to see Dean burst into the basement meeting place, guns blazing.

Sam sat on Dean’s shoulder, leaning on his neck.  He could feel that his brother’s pulse was still pounding, working out the last of the adrenaline rush.  They needed to get back to the hotel to deal with the injuries of the night.  While Dean had distracted the witches, Sam had been hard at work reading out counter curses to free the comatose children.  They’d both gotten a little battered in the rush, though Sam had dived for cover as soon as the kids broke loose.

After the innocents were out of the way, Dean made short work of the surprised witches, but not without getting a few scratches on his face and arms, courtesy of a bay window.

“Good work getting the kids out, Sammy,” Dean complimented, feeling quite accomplished.  Another successful hunt for his tiny brother.  He couldn’t help but feel immensely proud.  Sam was always so brave, despite his size.  He was a real natural at this stuff.  “You’re really getting good at this.”

Sam smiled, patting the giant neck with his hand.  “Not bad yourself, Dean,” he answered.  He could feel a muscle twitch as his action almost tickled his big brother.  Both of Dean’s hands were on the steering wheel, but Sam could see that one had almost left it to scratch at the feather-light feeling.  The fact that Dean was trying so hard to make sure Sam didn’t get knocked around by his simple actions … it really made the smaller Winchester feel safe.

As Dean pulled into the motel’s parking lot, he chuckled.  “I guess once we’re cleaned up I better get us some beers to celebrate, huh?  I’m guessing Oscar scrammed as soon as we were out the door,” he mused.  He felt Sam shift on his shoulder, and the silence coming from his tiny brother didn’t give him a great feeling.  What’d I say? he wondered, glancing at the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Sam’s exasperated face.

“Dean … I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.  But Oscar’s still on the table.” Sam answered quietly when the Impala settled into the parking stall outside their door.  Sam stared at the dull metal number nailed to the door.

Dean threw Sam a critical look through the rearview mirror.  “Nah.  You think?  Why would he stick around after …”  After I scared the hell out of him?

Sam sighed.  “He dropped his climbing rope before you grabbed him the first time.  He has no way to get down.”  He suddenly felt a sinking guilt.  How long had they taken to beat the witches?  How long had Oscar been forced to sit waiting on that table for them to return?  Out in the open, the absolute last place someone like him would want to be?  It had to be lonely and terrifying.  Sam thought he could imagine exactly what Oscar must be thinking.


That had BETTER be them! Oscar thought with a tired scowl.  He sat on the book once again, kicking his legs back and forth so his feet scraped quietly on the tabletop.  He watched the window, now only lit by the streetlamps outside.

After realizing that Sam and Dean basically forgot him there, Oscar had paced around every edge of the table.  He’d tried to find a safe way to get himself down, and escape before the pair returned.  The pizza had been good, but all this hexbag and witches nonsense was a little too much adventure for Oscar.  He had tried to sleep off some of his recent fear, but the table was too hard and unforgiving.  In the end, he had taken up his seat on the book to wait for them to come back.

Being detached from the experience of a human effortlessly grabbing him up, Oscar had given himself plenty of time to get more and more annoyed about his situation.  At least, if those guys never came back, he’d have pizza to live on … but if the actual maids came in?  He was a sitting target.

All of his irritation dropped away, morphing back into nervousness when he saw a shadow pass by the window, and heard a key turn in the lock.  It was the loudest sound he’d ever heard.  Oscar watched the door, but soon had to throw his hands over his eyes when Dean reached in and flipped the lights on in the room.  Bright!  The fractured thought darted across his mind.

He heard Dean sigh, a heavy sound laden with … was that guilt?  After blinking a few times, Oscar looked up at the human.  Once his eyes met those gigantic green ones, Dean walked forward.  He looked like he’d been in quite a fight.  It didn’t make him look any less frightening.  Oscar hopped down from his perch to start inching away, even as Dean sat heavily in the chair in front of the table, resting his arms on the flat surface.

Oscar waited for Dean to reach into his pocket to retrieve his little brother.  But motion next to the human’s head caught Oscar’s still-adjusting eyes, which widened immediately.  There was Sam, climbing down from Dean’s shoulder and using his massive arm as a bridge to the table, natural as breathing.  He moved with such sure steps, completely trusting Dean not to let him fall.  Sam was brave.

“Oscar,” Sam started, looking even more shamefaced than Dean.  “We were so ready to go and fight.  I didn’t even think about …” his voice trailed into a sigh, and his brow knitted over his hazel eyes.  Oscar looked up at Sam’s face and decided that this near-apology was genuinely ashamed.

“Um.  D-don’t worry about it,” Oscar stammered out, wringing his hands nervously.  “Did you, uh, save those kids?” he asked uncertainly, glancing past Sam to Dean, who looked quite worn out.

Dean smirked above them.  “We did,” he answered in his gruff voice, sounding quite pleased with himself.

Sam nodded.  “And, really, Oscar, we probably wouldn’t have figured it out in time if you hadn’t told us all that.  So we owe you one.”  He chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.  “I’m sorry we didn’t get you a lift to the floor before we went.”

Oscar straightened up slightly.  There it was again.  That pride.  There were children that would live out their lives thanks to his help.  He smiled faintly, probably for the first time since meeting these crazy brothers.  “I’m, uh, glad you made it out okay, and got those kids out before something bad happened to them.”  Something as drastic and life-changing, perhaps, as a curse that left someone a fraction of their original size … Oscar doubted that’s what those witches had in mind, but at the same time he couldn’t help but notice how singularly focused Sam had been before leaving.  It was at least a little personal.

Sam nodded, an approving smile on his face.  And then, he held out his hand.  Oscar stared at it in surprise for a beat of hesitation, but then took it.  Or, perhaps more accurately, he placed his own small hand in Sam’s to shake it.  He got a sudden notion that Sam would be absolutely huge if he were still human.  “Well, Oscar, I guess we’d better let you get going, huh?” Sam asked, glancing over his shoulder at Dean.

Dean jolted, shaken out of whatever thoughts had caused him to drift off.  He was probably tired as hell.  “Right,” he grumbled.  He turned one of his huge hands over on the table.  His palm faced the ceiling, and his fingers twitched once to beckon Oscar to hop on.  “I’ll give you a lift, Oz.”


Sam watched with a faint smile as Oscar hesitantly inched towards Dean’s hand.  He knew that look.  The ‘is-he-about-to-grab-me’ look.  Sam had felt that exact trepidation when Dean had first offered him a hand.  But, rather than tease the little guy about it, Dean was actually waiting patiently for Oscar to work up the nerve.  Sam smiled softly.  Despite their rough start, Dean was making good progress in showing Oscar that he could be trusted.

Once again, Dean could scarcely believe that someone so small could exist.  If he thought Sam was light as a feather, then Oscar was practically not even there.  Dean lowered the nervous little person to the floor next to the chair, opting to stay seated to avoid scaring the little guy any more than he’d already done for the day.  “Not saying you didn’t do a pretty good job accidentally investigating for us, but uh, stay outta trouble, Oz,” Dean said with a smirk as Oscar quickly scrambled to the carpet.

Oscar, all three-and-a-quarter inches of him, turned to look up at Dean.  He clenched those little hands into fists to keep them from shaking, and stood his ground.  “For the last time, Dean, my name is Oscar,” he answered firmly.

Sam peered carefully over the edge of the table, smiling faintly at Oscar’s proud stand.  It was kind of relieving to see the little guy recovered enough to actually stand up to Dean.  “Take care, Oscar,” Sam called down to him.

Oscar glanced away from Dean’s smirking face to regard Sam, his head tilted straight back.  Sam saw him nod a few times before taking a few steps back, and then turning to run towards the nightstand where his climbing line remained.  The Winchesters watched in silence as the little guy gathered up his string and slinked into the shadows to finally escape the room.  Oscar was a lot braver than he seemed to think he was.

Once the little guy was long gone, Sam stepped back from the edge of the table to regard Dean.  "Now, Dean, about those beers ..."
:dummy:  Finally, the third part, after that awful awful cliffhanger last time around!  >w<  It's a bit longer, but I did my best to trim it down.  xT  Hope everyone enjoys a little falling action, clearing up some big misunderstandings and all.  Also more opportunities for Dean to call poor Oscar by that silly li'l nickname.

This story doesn't focus as much on the actual mission.  Just a routine kill-the-witch hunt.  :shrug:  I wanted to write a story that was more about how the side characters must feel in Supernatural.  I know if I helped a hunter get information they needed to save some lives, I'd feel like pretty hot shit.  ^-^  So, hopefully I got that across here.  Go Oscar!  You're timid as hell but you did a good job, you poor little thing.  ;w;

Fun fact:  In his head, Oscar is much sassier than he'd ever be out loud.  ;w;  On the inside, he wants so badly to be brave.  But on the outside he's such a timid little fellow.  This is why his inner monologues don't exactly match with the way he talks to the big scary Winchesters.  XD

Ugh I suck at endings I'm sorry.

First Part

Second Part

Part of my entry for :iconnightmares06:'s contest, found here.  
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Phoenix-FireMage's avatar
Happy ending. They saved the kids!