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!


A rush of air slammed into Jacob as the boot finally hit the ground. The impact rumbled the ground around him as Dean's weight fully settled down.

Jacob's eyes peeked open, realizing that, instead of crushing him flat, the boot had come down a few inches away from where he cowered. The worn carpet underneath was completely flattened. If the boot had landed only a few inches to the side, Jacob would be the one completely flattened. Unlike the carpet, he'd never bounce back after that boot lifted up again.

Instead, he'd become unnoticable among the mudstains that caked the treads, buried as more dirt was ground into the rubber. His remains wouldn't be worth a second thought the day Dean cleaned them at last, or washed off in the rain, or when Dean was standing in puddles of blood, finishing up a hunt. Dean's life would continue on long after Jacob was mourned as lost.

The horrified staring contest with the unforgiving heel shattered as Dean took another step, his foot continuing on towards the table in another sweeping motion. Time resumed its normal pace, letting Jacob take in a gasping breath. Somehow, a trial that Jacob had stupidly placed himself under was behind him, and he dearly hoped he wouldn't make any more decisions that led to such a close call.

As Dean made his way over to the table, Jacob scrambled up from the carpet with shaky limbs and dashed the rest of the way to the dresser without interruption. It had been close, but Dean hadn't crushed him under his boot without noticing.

Jacob breathed heavily once he was under the edge of the dresser, stooping over with his hands on his knees from all his running. He could wait here. Once Dean figured out more about what happened, he'd come looking. Then Jacob was more likely to be noticed. He wouldn't be missed against the black carpet in the hunter's haste.


With the phone silent and uselessly lacking messages, Dean dropped it onto the table. "What the hell happened..." he muttered, scanning the tabletop once more for clues.

He swiped a hand over his computer's trackpad, waking it up. The screen brightened into the familiar, friendly colors of Windows. His eyes went right to the search bar, where the letter 'v' stretched across the screen, like someone had just stood on the key. Something had distracted Sam, and he hadn't come back to his work.

Moments like this made him wish his laptop could be left recording. He'd know what made Sam stop typing, what had gone wrong.

While he was doing this, a glint of metal caught his eye. Dean turned, frowning severely when he caught sight of Sam's knife.

Covered in blood.

"Fuck," Dean hissed. The knife was in his hands in a heartbeat. Something had happened to Sam, and he hadn't been anywhere around. He was a fucking failure. The tiny knife tumbled in his hand as he tilted it, the bloody metal still shining, the tiny blade still savagely sharp.

As gently as he could, Dean dropped it on the edge of the laptop. He'd need to clean it soon, but for now, if any of his friends were in the room and unconscious or injured, he needed to find them.

Now.

"Sam? Jacob? Bowman?" He paused for a moment, letting the sound fade. "If you're in here, let me know. I'll find ya, I promise." Emotion rose in his chest. "And if you're not in here, I'll make the person responsible for this pay, and get you back." The promise was made to the silence, but in his head was just as binding as a swear made to their faces.

He started his search by the nightstand, examining the ground around it meticulously. The thought of Sam or Bowman curling up in a corner and passing out from injuries haunted him. And Jacob... he was so small that anything could be a threat.

Dean pulled out a flashlight from his jacket, larger and more powerful than the one he'd lent Bowman for the rescue in the walls.

The light played over the dust under each of the beds. No one was collapsed underneath the mattresses, no one was backed up against a wall. Sam's room was equally empty, the tiny bed stripped of covers and abandoned. Behind the nightstand, by the bed poles... nothing.

Dean checked the dresser next. Behind the television was clear of any collapsed sprites, and the dust had no sign of any footprints in it. Kneeling down, Dean had to flatten himself to see under the dresser. The light slowly swept from one side to the other, illuminating the darkness where his friends could be hiding.


Goddammit. Jacob was kicking himself while Dean checked around the nightstand. The place Jacob had started. Good ole' reliable Dean had gone to the first place they might be hiding the second he knew his friends were missing. Dean's broad back blocked it completely from sight. Jacob should have stayed there. Should have sat on Sam's bed kicking his feet and waited for Dean to come looking there.

He'd been so shaken by the stranger coming in and taking the others. Jacob hadn't thought straight since that morning.

He knew he couldn't risk answering Dean's call, or coming out from under the dresser. Dean would never hear him from across the room, and who knew what else might. Dean had already almost stepped on him once without having an inkling that he was there. Jacob waited in the shadows, trusting that Dean would come by eventually.

He kept towards the corner of the dresser. He didn't want to venture too far into the swamp of dustbunnies in the dark under the gargantuan furniture, but the rumbling in the floor as Dean brought the search closer made him flinch. Jacob shivered at the memory of the complete shadow that hung above him when Dean took a step over him. He was haunted by the memory of those treads that could grind him into the ground, leaving only a red smear.

Jacob was so easy to reduce to nothing at this size. The fact was getting more and more unsettling the longer he went without the titan knowing where he was. Dean could destroy Jacob completely without even realizing it... even during his search. It would only take a second of not realizing Jacob was there.

It burned him up to know that some unseen jackass was doing all this just to toy with him. He shouldn't have to fear his best friend. Not someone like Dean, who'd dedicated his life to helping others. Even now, he was doing his best to find Jacob.

Jacob was so lost in thought that the flashlight beam swept over him before he realized Dean was even searching under the dresser. He put his arms up to shield his eyes an instant after the blinding light passed him by. He grimaced when he saw that the light continued to pan across the ground. It was already past him, and Dean still hadn't seen him.

Jacob huffed with frustration. He needed to be proactive if he was going to get Dean's attention. He was simply too small to be noticed. He took a few steps underneath the edge the dresser, keeping to its shadows. He needed to be closer to Dean before he even thought of yelling at him to get his attention.

Then he'd finally be found and he could tell Dean what had happened. They needed to figure out where that burglar had taken Sam and Bowman before they got hurt. If they weren't already. Jacob was useless on his own to help them; the only person who could do anything was right there, unable to hear Jacob from barely a few feet away. He wouldn't find his brother or the sprite that had tried to save that brother and had gotten himself caught in turn.

Jacob needed to help him.

A rustling sound just barely loud enough to hear caught his attention. His ears twitched and a chill ran right up his spine. The very faintest sound, it drew his eyes into the depths of the dust forest under the dresser.

At first he didn't see anything.

That didn't last. The source of the noise dropped a block of ice into Jacob's very core.

Eight long, segmented legs almost as long as Jacob was tall brushed against each other and against the dustbunnies. A thick, hairy brown body lumbered along, black eyes glittering from the light. Jacob opened his mouth, but couldn't even let out a yell of fear. He heard a click of fangs he couldn't yet see in the dim lighting.

The wolf spider, startled by Dean's light, had caught sight of Jacob. Jacob, barely bigger than the arachnid, just waiting there to be jumped and preyed upon. He knew it would kill him without much effort on its part. Jacob was too weak.

Something in Jacob's resolve snapped, and any semblance of logic fled. Panic replaced it and surged into his exhausted limbs. Pivoting, Jacob darted away from the creature before it could get any closer to him. He had to get away.

Suddenly, thoughts of getting Dean's attention, finding the others, and finding out why he was so tiny all left Jacob behind. The only thing that ran through his mind in a frantic, terrified chorus was Run!

Jacob's lungs ignited in painful fire once more. Every time he sucked in yet another rapid breath, it was like swallowing a mouthful of dust laced with shards of glass. His legs and arms pumped in a swift rhythm as he sprinted, and his heart beat like a bass drum, sending his blood coursing through his veins so forcefully it felt like his body vibrated with each frantic beat. His grimy, dusty skin burned with adrenaline and had a fine layer of sweat coating it. His injured ribs begged him to stop all this running.

None of that mattered, his instincts reminded him. All that mattered was escape. The primal fear imbued him with energy he didn't have. It enabled his limbs to continue stirring the air and propel him forward.

The rustling behind him spurned him on. Jacob didn't need to look to know that the spider's long, segmented brown legs were brushing against each other as it scuttled after him. It placed its creepy spider feet in an artful, hypnotic pattern. It had to be some kind of impossible magic trick.

But, as Jacob was keenly aware, it was very possible. Those legs with their rough hairs were carrying an enormous spider body between them, which by itself was nearly his size. The creepy legs merely made it bigger. And faster.

Jacob and the spider both dashed out in the open, heedless of anything but each other. They navigated the worn down threads of the poorly-vacuumed motel room floor, Jacob very nearly losing his footing a few times. His every step was guided by instinct, urging him forward. By the frantic, panicking thought that, if he didn't take that one more step, he would die, and not without pain and suffering.

If those fangs got into him, Jacob's body would fail him. He would fill to the brim with venom while the eight legged beast ignored his rapidly weakening struggles. Jacob would have no power in him to resist the unbreakable, sticky webbing. He would spin nauseatingly while it wrapped him up quickly and efficiently, a meal ready to be slowly drained of every ounce of life in him. A tidy parcel to drag back into the shadows where Jacob would spend the last hours of his life paralyzed and afraid.

Alone and lost among the dust.

Forgotten.

As if the spider could sense his fear, Jacob swore he heard the fangs clicking together. Already dripping with venom and ready to sink into whatever part of him it got to first. It didn't matter. It wasn't as though his clothes would protect him, worn thin as they were. He'd be one of the easiest meals it would subdue.


The light was steady as Dean aimed it into the shadows, squinting to try and make out if there were any familiar shadows lurking down there. On his second sweep, he spotted movement. The light was immediately trained on it, illuminating something that was decidedly not one of his friends.

"Sonovabitch," Dean muttered, hauling himself back to his feet. The spider was fairly small, but all his friends were small along with it. Something like that would be able to deal some damage if it got a fang in Sam or Bowman, and it could finish Jacob off in one hit. The blood in Dean's veins turned to ice at the thought of it lurking in their room all this time.

He came around the edge of the dresser, scanning the ground near his boots.

There.

The spider had darted out into the open, the last mistake it would ever make. Dean's boot was over it in seconds, and came down on the arachnid with a sickening crunch, pulverizing it with a resounding stomp.


A/N:

Spiders are the one thing that will make me spring from one side of the room to the complete opposite side to get away from them.

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Next: April 8th, 2018 at 9pm.

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