A/N:

**Please see Chapter 1 for all warnings!** Don't like it? Don't read it!

Thank you Christine, goldacharmed and Kajensen07 for the great reviews!


There was a discernable bounce in Dean's step as he returned to the room. With the news he'd received from Bobby, this entire situation had hope of clearing up at last.

Dean had a target, and he had a way to kill it. Now he just needed to find it, and that was his specialty. After years of tracking down monsters, one more wouldn't be any different.

Even the broken toe that flared up occasionally with red hot shards of pain couldn't get him down. Only the slightest hitch in his step even gave away the injury. The thought of not only getting Jacob back to size but also ganking the sonovabitch that had cursed him had brightened up Dean's day. He just wished there was a way to get Jacob back to his normal Sasquatch-size sooner so that Jacob could land the killing blow. After everything, he'd earned it.

Two knocks on the door later, Dean swung into the room, not noticing the DO NOT DISTURB sign under his boot. "Good news!" he announced, tossing his jacket onto the bed with a whump. He couldn't wait to tell them about his phone call. "Bobby figured out what the bastard we're dealing with is! Just in time, too, I never thought we'd..." he trailed off as he glanced around.

"Sam?" he called out hesitantly. The laptop was dark and quiet, and there was no sign of the small hunter that he'd left working on it. "Bowman?" Every sunbeam leaking into the room was empty.

Dean walked hesitantly over to the table, his green gaze scanning it for Jacob's smaller form. "Jacob?" The last name he called didn't have much hope behind it as he spoke up. If Sam and Bowman were nowhere to be seen, and Jacob was gone...

What the hell happened here?

He put a hand down on the table as he thought things over, lips pursed. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something tossed carelessly on the floor not far from the dresser, and close to the hole in the wall the others had used to find Jacob the other day.

Jacob's phone.

Dean frowned, his eyes shifting back to the table. Jacob's wallet was gone, along with the others. They wouldn't have moved the wallet. They had no reason to, and Jacob, the only person that ever had any reason to use it, was too small. "Crap," he muttered. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

He stepped over to the phone, a boot landing on either side. With one swift move, it was in his hand and open, desperately searching for a message. Just like the one that had told him where his friends were earlier that day. Anything that might help him figure out what had happened in the still, silent room. As he straightened again, he frowned, finding nothing.


A voice like thunder echoed in the air overhead as the hunter entered. Jacob waited patiently while Dean talked to an empty room, knowing he hadn't realized that anyone was missing yet. Jacob even managed to only flinch a little from the sound of that building-sized jacket slamming onto the spare bed, pushing the air away in a gust that would send him flying.

Jacob knew calling out to Dean was useless. Dean couldn't hear him from a few feet away. It would be impossible for him to hear Jacob across the expansive motel room.

So he waited.

When Dean finally noticed the phone, Jacob sighed with relief, glad to see those green eyes looking in his direction. Soon he'd be able to get back to the table. A place where those enormous boots didn't stand taller than him. Where a chair leg scraping along the ground couldn't hurt him.

There was a moment's pause, then Dean stepped towards the phone. Jacob stood his ground as the bus-sized shoes stomped towards him. Dean approached with the usual swagger, but with a slight hitch when one of the boots landed, and greater speed thanks to growing concern.

Jacob clenched his jaw at the sight. His instincts were screaming at the approach of something so large he would never be able to escape. Inside, he knew Dean wouldn't step on him; he would find Jacob soon enough.

Jacob just needed to trust him.

The boots slammed into the ground, halting on either side of the phone. The rumbling in the ground actually made him stumble back from the phone from the impact. Those boots alone were powerful. More powerful than Jacob could even imagine. And there was an entire hunter looming over him to back up the power in those boots, bringing to mind memories of Dean fighting, displaying a power only hinted in his demeanor now.

Lucky it's just Dean. Jacob glanced up as a shadow began to descend. A huge, familiar hand stretched towards Jacob and the phone, fingers thicker than tree trunks reaching out.

Jacob braced himself to get swept up into safety.

Only to see tree trunk sized fingers settle around the car sized phone near him.

The phone soared upwards in Dean's solid grip. Jacob's eyes widened in shock and displaced air messed up his hair. He hardly noticed in the wake of such an unexpected turn. Staggering backwards, he tried to keep Dean's face in sight as the hunter straightened to his full, terrifying height. Jacob's jaw went slack as Dean flipped the phone open with a thumb, a casual motion executed with all the power of a car slamming into a wall.

Jacob's heart pounded as his situation truly began to sink in. Dean's colossal height loomed directly overhead. Twin, denim-clad legs thicker around than an average room was wide stood on each side of Jacob. The torso stretching up beyond that was a wide expanse of shirt. An entire warehouse of fabric couldn't make such a massive garment. One of those enormous hands hung casually at Dean's side, and his intense green eyes, over three hundred feet up in the air at Jacob's scale, were fixed on the phone gripped in the other enormous hand. Not even a flicker of thought was directed towards the vulnerable hunter standing between those boots.

Because Dean hadn't seen Jacob there.

He'd looked right at the phone, an inch or two away, and Dean hadn't seen Jacob there.

Jacob gripped a handful of his hoodie fabric and yanked his eyes away from the neck-breaking view of his best friend looming overhead. He stared at the dark fabric in his hands and instantly compared it to the dark carpet, the truth of his situation sinking in.

His dark hoodie blended in too well against the floor.

Dean hadn't expected Jacob to be standing next to the phone. His brain, focused on the device, had never even registered Jacob standing there needing help.

Jacob was just too small for Dean's gaze to linger on him long enough to see him.

Too small to matter, and now standing between two titanic boots.

Titanic boots that had no idea he was even there. That had no reason to suspect that one of Dean's best friends would put himself down on the floor in such a vulnerable position, at the mercy of an unknowing titan once more. Boots that could move at any second, in any direction.

Lucky it's just Dean.

Jacob's own mocking thought from earlier echoed in his head as he stumbled away. Knowing it was Dean up there no longer made a difference. It didn't matter who it was when Jacob was too small to be noticed. Those massive boots would crush him regardless. Dean would never even know.

Jacob needed to get out of the open now. He should have just remembered Sam's words. He should have waited near the furniture where he was safe. Dean would come looking. He always did. He'd have found Jacob soon enough on his own, without Jacob ever stupidly putting himself out in the open where he was most vulnerable.

Jacob ran again. He ignored the way his lungs burned and his ribs ached. The pain wouldn't matter if he didn't get out of the way. He darted between the huge boots while Dean deliberated over the phone. He needed to get out from between those massively dangerous, massively big boots. The moment Dean was finished whatever he was doing all the way up there with Jacob's phone, his time would run out. He pushed that thought away and focused. He could just dart around the heel of the nearest boot and get himself under the dresser. He'd be safe there. Safe from-

The boot in front of him lifted up into the air, sweeping backwards in a huge step as Dean started to move away. Jacob gasped while unstoppable movement happened right in front of him, and he stumbled to a halt. Dean was turning towards the table. That was all Jacob could figure out. The boot planted, shaking the ground from the simple motion of taking a step.

Suddenly all those times that Bowman complained about humans stomping made perfect, crystal clear sense.

Jacob's heart skipped a beat while he watched. He took a deep breath. His path was unobstructed. He needed to move. He darted forward once more, desperate to get away.

Without warning, a deep shadow eclipsed Jacob's small body. Instinctively, he dove to the ground with his hands thrown protectively over his head. The other boot was moving, this one sweeping by bare centimeters over Jacob's head as Dean moved.

Time slowed to a crawl. He peeked up at the deep treads as they moved, a rush of air blowing by like a gale force wind from the displacement caused by such a massive movement. Specks of debris rained down on his head from the dirt packed between those treads, crushed in by countless steps supporting Dean's entire weight.

The inexorable pass of the boot brought to mind the image of a Star Destroyer in Star Wars, searching for the small band of rebels. All it would take was one strike - one step - to destroy the rebels. To destroy Jacob. He was as helpless as they were if they were discovered, small enough to be squashed between those treads. His remains would be crushed in with the dirt and debris, not even a recognizable smudge after only a few steps, that immense weight pulverizing him beyond recognition.

Jacob closed his eyes as the treads started to lower. The step was ending and he was under it. The image of the crusted soil taunted him, pointedly reminding him that he was about to join its fate as a tiny smear on the bottom of a rubber sole. He wondered how many bugs had met their demise under that same weight, either knowingly or unknowingly by Dean. How many ants had been crushed that he'd never even seen, simply continuing on his way when the step ended, claiming the lives of creatures the same size as Jacob without a second thought?

An earnest, desperate prayer slipped out of Jacob's lips.


With Sam and Bowman trapped in a black bag, the ride seemed endless. Time stretched on. Minutes became hours, so despite the fact that the ride to the human's destination was short, neither of the captives could name how long they'd been trapped.

Eventually the engine turned off. Something tugged at the top of the bag, then the world went sideways as the burglar grabbed his stolen 'goods.' Sam and Bowman tumbled to the bottom in a heap, trying to untangle from each other's arms and legs (and wings) without hurting each other.

Sam clutched his satchel to his chest, staring angrily up at the top as their enclosure began to swing back and forth to the rocking gait of a human. It felt disconcerting knowing it wasn't Dean or Jacob, trusted humans that had earned their share of trust repeatedly. If anyone could have seen Sam, they would have seen an unusually vicious snarl on his face.

Bowman's own scowl was also more potent than he usually sported. The glare he reserved for Jacob or Dean when they were messing around was far more tame. His blind, bright green eyes were not effective in burning a hole in the bag despite the fire in them. He tried to brace himself in the bag, his wings tense and his hands tightly gripping the fabric.

The swinging of the bag paused. A scraping of metal on metal sounded above, and then came the deep rumble of wood brushing against wood as a huge, stiff door was shoved open. Bowman flinched as the light coming into the bag all but vanished, casting them into more complete darkness. The human slammed the door behind himself before stumbling around, looking for the switch that would bring on the fake electric lighting.

The bag was roughly dropped onto a flat surface. Bowman assumed it was wood as he and Sam once again jostled against each other from the sudden impact. He flared his wings as far as they would go in the bag, huffing in frustration. The human could be heard walking around and rummaging through things.

Bowman's filters didn't usually hold out this long, but the way they remained trapped in a dark container finally wore on him enough. "Well gee, I'd tell you you have a lovely home, mister, but I can't see it! How about letting us out and giving us a nice blasted tour, you sunhated sneak?!"

No response came, as they'd learned to expect. Not even a rough poke or prod to shut Bowman up. Distant rummaging could be heard as the man moved about the unseen house.

Sam's skin crawled at the thought of being unable to see his surroundings, but being in sight of a human. The thought disgusted him. He shuddered, wishing there was something he could do to get them out.

There came a crash nearby as something hit the surface they were on. There was no time to even wonder what it might be. The bag was swept up, the top opening up before Sam could get his bearings. Fingers looped around Bowman's squirming form before hauling him out with his wings in a firm grip.

That was all Sam saw before the sprite was yanked out of the bag. Before Bowman could even think about his usual strategy of biting the human, a metallic clang could be heard, and a dark chortle. "Just wait here, pretty. Your friend will join you in a minute."

That was Sam's warning. This time, when the hand swept down, he was prepared. Hand looped in the thick fabric, he braced himself on the side. The groping hand missed him at first, trying to grab him at the bottom.

Then he leapt into the air.

Grabbing onto the man's sleeve, Sam wasted no time scrambling up. A deafening shout came as the empty bag dropped away. He caught a fast glimpse of a cage with Bowman shoved inside. Gritting his teeth, Sam put it out of his mind. If he got caught, he was no good to anyone.

The man tried to catch him again, fingers snatching. Sam made it to his shoulder, instantly swinging off the back to climb down.

He didn't expect the shirt to suddenly sweep around him.

The burglar was as opportunistic as Sam. The moment the small hunter was on his back, he peeled it off, revealing a white wife beater. Sam was trapped in the waves of fabric until a searching hand grasped his body.

Then he was tumbling into the cage with Bowman. A lock snapped on the door behind him as it shut.


A/N:

My reaction when i opened the chapter today for upload was "Oh lord," because here we are at last. There's no middleman for interaction between Jacob and Dean, and who knows what going on with this mysterious stranger that's been messing with them.

This should all go swimmingly.

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Next: April 4th, 2018 at 9pm.

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