A/N:

Thanks to Christine for the great review!


As the morning marched on, a familiar person came to visit Oscar's small home hidden in the walls for the first time in over a decade.

Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes, doing his best to dissuade a dustbunny from the messy locks. One thing he never missed about going into the walls was the dust, though the path to Oscar's home was always cleaner than the walls at Bobby's. Sam knew the little guy did his best to keep it clean enough to travel. Considering how small Oscar was, a good-sized dustbunny could really trip him up.

The pathway was familiar, and he partially operated on instinct. The years had adjusted him to the dark. Compared to Dean, he had fantastic night vision, though the others his size could always see better inside the walls. He simply didn't spend enough time in there to fully adapt.

When he reached the house (after more than one tight squeeze he'd never noticed as a kid; Sam really had bulked up as he aged compared to Oscar), he couldn't help grinning. It was so familiar, and reminded him of happy childhood memories with a feeling of home.

The small ringbox sat inside, and Sam was surprised to see that he would no longer fit as easily into it anymore. The shelves that Oscar had so much trouble reaching didn't go much over Sam's head, maybe just a millimeter or two. Sam brushed aside the curtain hiding the pantry from the main room, looking at the supplies and food scattered inside. These supplies were what Oscar would live off of if food was scarce.

There wasn't much.

Sam steeled himself. They would help Oscar. Whether he wanted to leave or not, they'd find a way.

In the meantime, Sam had a mission.

He banged on the wall that connected to Oscar's room, aiming to wake their old friend. "Hey, Oscar!" Sam called out, though he still kept his voice down in respect of the humans that might be nearby.


Oscar's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. He was too tangled in his blankets to manage it, but he peered around with wide eyes anyway. The confusion of sleep still clouded everything, and he couldn't tell for a moment what had woken him.

His name had been called, or so he thought. There was a noise on the other side of the wall. Maybe. Oscar blinked rapidly and freed one of his arms from his blanket nest to rub at his eyes.

For a moment, panic surged into his system. If there was a human knocking around at the walls, they could find his home and him and he'd be captured. Then, he realized in a moment of clarity, an intruding human wouldn't know his name. The voice slowly made sense to him and he flopped back down on his bed with a huff.

He's really here. I didn't dream all that up. That's Sam.

Despite the hopeful, relieved thoughts, Oscar groused "Whaaaat?!" He was entirely unused to having someone come and wake him. In fact, he'd made his own schedule for over a decade. Oscar slept until he wasn't tired, and then went about his day. It was just the way things were.

"Sam, what're you ..." he paused to yawn. "Doin' here?"

"Getting you! " Sam called out with a wry smile. "What else? Told you I remembered where you lived!"

While he was standing by the shelves, Sam picked up a shard of a cracker, touching it with his finger and frowning at the size of it. It was more than time for Oscar to have some real food. Sam remembered him saying that he'd had a chance to grab breakfast the morning before only to have it snatched away at the last second.

"C'mon!" Sam idly started to rearrange the shelves. "You think Dean's just going to wait around all day for us? I'm betting one of these days he'll think it's a good idea to try and follow us down a vent! You'd be surprised at the places he gets himself into." Sam had a broad grin on his face by the end. Dean had fit into more than one ventilation system in a building, but this wasn't destined to be one of them. The metal walls of the vent were about half the width of the hunter's shoulders, at least.

Oscar let out a slow sigh. He let himself wake up the rest of the way while he lay there, blinking away the sleep. He remembered laughing with Sam once upon a time, both of them imagining Dean getting stuck in the vents trying to follow them to Oscar's house.

As he woke up, he noticed the sounds out in the main room of his home and frowned. "What?!" he blurted, sitting up again. It took him a few tries to extract himself from his blankets. He nearly lost a cloth shoe amongst the pile as he untangled himself, and finally staggered through the doorway in time to see what Sam was up to.

Oscar's face erupted into an indignant blush at the sight of all of his supplies moved to the top shelves of his pantry and around his home. "Sam!" he complained, turning an exasperated gaze up at his ridiculously tall friend before rushing forward to reach up and grab things to move them back. He could hardly reach the top shelves, even after growing up fully. He was just too short for them.

Sam grinned barely able to keep from cracking up. An entire life with Dean had him prepared for dealing with someone that was reluctant to get out of bed. "Told you to come to our room in the morning!" Sam reminded Oscar with a shit-eating grin. "Next time maybe you'll get out here in time."

With Oscar trying his best to put things back in order (many items out of his reach without a step up to reach them), Sam snagged the back of his shirt in one hand and the worn grey bag in his other. "Good to see you up. Now, it's time to go." He strolled towards the entrance to the cozy home, Oscar brought along as easily as a puppy. "You can fix those later. I'll give you a hand."

Oscar stared down at the floor in shock. His feet weren't on the ground, courtesy of Sam's casual strength hoisting him off his feet as he carried him towards the door. Oscar was feather light. It made it laughably easy for Sam to haul him around, and there was no stopping him.

He squirmed and kicked his legs in surprise. "Sam," he groaned, trying to look behind at the shelves that had been rearranged. His cheeks blushed fire. He was too short to reach his own shelves. Sam must be remembering way back when Oscar had to climb on his counter to reach.

"Gimme a break, I'm not used to waking up early," he groused, trying to reach behind himself and grab Sam's arm to secure his release. He couldn't manage it and he huffed even as they reached his door. "I had everything organized to a system, I hope you realize," he pouted.

"And you'll have plenty of time to organize it later," Sam countered expertly. When he pushed them both out the door, he paused to nudge it shut. The block that Oscar used for a door shifted easily under his greater strength. Years of better nutrition and training to hunt had paid off for Sam, and he fully intended to pay it forward to the one person he had to thank for his skills.

Even if Oscar disagreed.

Sam took off down the worn pathway, following it unerringly back to the vent. "It's time to live a little," he told his skeptical friend, not giving up his grip so long as it was likely that Oscar would try to dart back to his home. "You'll thank me after we get back."

Oscar continued to squirm uncomfortably for a few more steps. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get his feet to reach the floor. Sam was too tall and he had too secure of a grip on Oscar's shirt. Oscar huffed, his face still burning with embarrassment. "At least let me walk on my own," he complained. "And gimme my bag back, please?"

He sent Sam a sullen look. Considering Oscar had only woken up not ten minutes before, he was still dazed and sluggish. He'd gone to bed on a full stomach after a long day. Sleep had taken ahold of him almost as strongly as Sam's grip on the back of his shirt.

Sam held Oscar out in front for a second, looking him over. He was practically pouting while he dangled in the air. Arching his eyebrows, Sam told him "No running off, otherwise we'll be right back here in no time." Oscar was better at staying out of sight, but it was clear which of them would be the better runner. Sam prized himself on his speed, waking up most mornings long before Dean ever stirred to run a few quick laps around the room they were staying in. It was safer to do while the hunter wasn't moving around, and if they weren't on a case, Dean would normally grab his chance for some extra sleep.

Dropping Oscar down an inch in front, Sam held out the grey cloth bag with an encouraging smile. "We'll have you back home to organize your shelves in no time, promise."

Oscar nearly stumbled, but managed to hold onto his balance enough to plant his feet firmly in the dusty passage. He took time and care to make sure his pathways were clearer than most of the motel walls in the area. It was easier to travel silently without dust scraping along the ground under his cloth shoes, after all. He snatched his bag back and fumbled the strap over his head with a yawn.

They resumed the trek back to the room, Oscar glancing around like he always did. Always alert. Outside of his home, he had to be watchful. He brushed a hand through his hair, settling it into some semblance of order as they went. "So ... what's the plan, then? Why'd ya drag me out of my house? Did you guys already take care of the werewolf?"

"Nope." Sam let Oscar take the lead. It was his home turf, after all. No one knew this dark passageway better. This time, Sam could actually make out all the details he'd missed before. His eyes hadn't adjusted back then, and most trips through the walls he'd be holding onto the younger boy's arm.

"Around lunchtime, Dean's planning on going down to the Coroner's office. He wants to make sure the body is just missing its heart. If we go into a fight without knowing for certain it's a werewolf, we could get ourselves killed." Despite his words, Sam displayed nothing but confidence. Together, the two hunters were some of the best out there. "That's why we do so much research before going into a fight. The smallest detail can mean you're dealing with something completely different, which might mean the silver bullets Dean has in his gun won't do us any good."

Sam slung an arm around Oscar's thin shoulders. "Until then, we figured you could use some fresh air after all these years!"

Oscar might have stopped in his tracks in surprise, but with Sam's arm resting on his shoulders, he continued to stumble forward. Sam was just the right height to make use of Oscar as an armrest and he was definitely strong enough to keep him moving along without slowing down. "You mean going outside," he realized with a frown. He still couldn't stop walking with Sam guiding him forward, and soon they were at the opening into the air ducts.

"I haven't been outside since ... well, since you were here last," he admitted, sounding as hesitant as he looked. Oscar may have grown since he was a timid little kid, but he'd only come to realize just how big the world out there was. He was nervous.

"M-maybe I'll just stay inside the room," he suggested, though there wasn't much hope in the words. Sam was determined, and Oscar remembered that at times Dean was even more so.

"That's why you should come with us now," Sam said reassuringly. "You've got us around, and nothing bad's going to happen to us. Me and Dean do this all the time, trust me."

He glanced through the slits of the vent, spotting Dean's shadow close by. While Sam ran to get Oscar ready, Dean had gotten his shower. He must have finished faster than normal, and Sam hid a smile. He wasn't the only one excited to have finally found their old friend once more.

Sam gestured toward the vent. "Let's not keep Dean waiting, okay?"

Oscar hesitated, his feet planted while he deliberated. He glanced between Sam and the vent opening, knowing the ceiling would loom far overhead as soon as they stepped into the light. There was a time that didn't bother him at all, but Oscar had had a lot more time to get used to hiding, waiting in the shadows and avoiding open space whenever he could.

It took him several seconds to arrive at a decision, and he was glad that Sam didn't force him out into the open. He needed to do this himself or he'd be even more on edge.

"Okay," he said quietly, feeling a bit like a little kid again. His hesitation chipped away at the reminder that Sam and Dean really would look out for him. They always had, and the only time they couldn't was when their dad dragged them away. "Just for a while." He inched towards the vent, peeking out before stepping up onto the base to slip out into the light.

As the two smaller people slipped out of the walls and back into open air, Dean was watching from above. He was leaning against the wall with his feet crossed at the ankle and arms crossed over his chest. A wry grin touched his face as he saw Oscar's skittish movements even as he came out to the room.

Sam had made Dean promise to be on his best behavior, after being gone from the motel for well over a decade. They didn't want to risk startling Oscar more than they'd already done the day before. They knew how timid he could be. One wrong move might make him want to go back to the familiarity of his walls.

So Dean didn't scoop them up the moment they were through like he would have done years ago. Back then it had been a more casual, carefree trust. With the long years that stretched out since then, Dean wanted the chance to earn it back.

Instead, he knelt down on the floor about a foot away. "Hey, Oz," he greeted. He held a hand against the ground and flattened it. "You guys ready to head out? Coffee is a must."

Oscar couldn't help a bemused smile. He'd never had coffee before, but he knew the heavy aroma that filled many of the motel rooms early in the morning. Many humans swore by the stuff, and he found himself curious about it. "Guess I better try it, if it's that good," he mused, inching towards the hand.

He had to glance down and away from Dean's grin to watch his step onto the offered hand. He didn't want to risk tripping as he walked on a surface he hadn't walked on in so long. Even back then, he'd never been perfectly balanced on Dean's palm.

Oscar paused to look back at Sam, and then his vent before releasing a quiet sigh. He wasn't sure if he was really ready to head back outside after so long in the safety of the walls, but he was willing to find out. Sam was right. They would be there the entire time and make sure no one spotted him.

Oscar was safe.

Dean waited for the pair to settle in the center of his hand. The weight of Sam down there was as familiar his own shadow. Oscar, on the other hand, was so light he was almost a tickle.

Was he always this small?

Try as he might, Dean couldn't remember how heavy Oscar had seemed as a kid, only that he'd been smaller and scrawnier than Sam had ever been. All these years later, Dean's hands were much larger and stronger, and the skin callused from all the years working on the Impala and his weapons. Oscar was hard to notice.

"Time to get this show on the road," Dean announced jauntily as he went to stand back up. His other hand instinctively cupped around the one holding Sam and Oscar, and when the little guy wavered in place Sam put a hand on his arm. When he was standing, Dean propped open the flap of his pocket and held his hand right over it. "Just like old times!"

Oscar leaned forward to stare down into the pocket. It was a view he hadn't seen in so long, and yet it was perfectly familiar. He'd hidden himself away in Dean's pockets numerous times when they were kids. Back then, Oscar hadn't been able to reach the top edge to see out, and he realized with reddening cheeks that he'd still be too short.

"Yeah, pretty much," he mumbled, crouching down on the edge of Dean's hand. He took a slow breath before pushing off and falling right into the cloth enclosure, sinking to his knees at the bottom.

He scooted to the side, tucking himself into a corner with his fingers slipping between the weave of the shirt to grip it tightly. Once he was secure, Oscar blinked upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of a view from inside a pocket. He never thought he'd see that again. Or, at least, he never thought he'd see it and not be terrified of whomever had just captured him in their pocket. Dean would never trap him.

"Your pockets got bigger," he observed sourly, a mock pout on his face.

Sam dropped in after him, landing on the other side of the pocket. The bottom dipped beneath his greater weight, almost tossing Oscar off balance. Together the two of them only barely weighed down the pocket, resulting in a light weight resting just over Dean's heart.

Dean chuckled at the sight. "Sorry 'bout that," he said wryly. "Turns out the pockets they make in clothing get bigger when you grow up. I think Sam grew with the pockets so he never noticed the difference."

"I noticed," Sam complained. He reached over to Oscar and picked him up by the scruff of his shirt, but this time it was only to hold him up to the edge of the pocket so he could see out. Oscar gasped and hung his arms over the edge to hang on. His feet didn't reach the bottom of the pocket that way.

Sam resumed griping at Dean once he knew Oscar wouldn't fall. "Just a part of living with your giant ass, I guess."

Dean rolled his eyes as he patted down his jeans pockets and made sure he was ready to go. "Whatever, shrimp." A mischievous glint lit up his eyes and he patted the pocket they were standing in. "Just so long as we know who's in charge."

"Yeah, me!" came out of the pocket as Sam pushed stubbornly pushed his luck and got a poke in return.

Oscar wasn't sure how he managed to hang on to the edge of the pocket, but even after Dean patted them both, he was still clinging. He could see the room from high up again, though some of his focus was distracted. His shoes braced awkwardly against the fabric to keep himself from falling back into Dean's pocket.

It was remarkable to witness the casual banter between Sam and Dean. They acted like any brothers, regardless of their size difference. There was a lot of trust between them. Oscar had to wonder if he'd be like that, too, if he had managed to leave with them all those years ago.

He looked straight up to look Dean in the eye in an upside down view. "Where're you gonna go to get your coffee?" he asked curiously, glad he'd at least be hidden in the pocket while they were outside.

Dean glanced down and had to grin at the sight of Oscar clinging to the edge of the pocket. Sam had never had much trouble seeing out of the pockets on the shirts and jackets he wore, but every time he saw Sam next to someone standing on the same scale, he was reminded that Sam was actually tall. 6'4" if it wasn't for the curse, a number Dean was able to glean from the scale he'd worked out back when Sam was first cursed.

All he had to do was take Sam's original height as a human and figure out how many times smaller he was at his new, cursed height. It was around nineteen times smaller, a ridiculous number if he stopped to think about it. Oscar would probably be right in the five foot range if he was on Dean's scale instead, and Dean determined that he'd have to find out at one point.

"There's a place right down the street," Dean told them, keeping his voice down low with them directly up against his chest. "I saw it when I was picking up dinner last night. Just a short walk away."

With them set, he went to reach for the doorknob.


A/N:

RUDE, Sam. Dragging a guy out of his room! He was not ready.

Sam and Dean's solution to getting Oscar? FEED HIM BREAKFAST

and literally. just. drag him out of his home.

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Next: August 13th 2017 at 9pm est

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