A/N

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"I'll take a coffee, black, with a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich," Dean ordered at the drive-thru window. His voice remained gruff from waking up and not grabbing a drink.

Sam was down on the seat, calmly watching the bag where Logan was trapped with a steady eye. From there, he couldn't be seen from the drive-thru window, and there were no walkways nearby for a passerby to peek in at him. He could have a few minutes where he was sitting on the seat just like anyone else did.

A shadow moved overhead and Sam craned his neck back. He watched as Dean steadily turned the wheel directly above, angling them out of the drive-thru. The car shifted to a faster speed, and Sam latched a hand onto the seam of Dean's pants. As silly as it was, it was better than going flying with the car moving around. Dean wouldn't be able to grab him in time with his attention divided.

Moments later, the car was parked in the back of the lot, out of the way so they'd see people coming. Sam got a pinch of the sandwich handed off, and it was far more than he'd ever hope to eat. Logan's jar was dug out of the bag right afterwards, bringing the other hunter back into the light.

Logan once again landed in a pile at the bottom of the jar, pushing himself up with a scowl that was beginning to feel permanent. It was still alarming to see those fingers the size of him or bigger clutched around his prison, around him. They pressed into the glass with what looked like enough pressure to collapse his lungs.

Though he'd never admit it to them without a fight, Logan could admit it to himself easily. It was unnerving being so small and completely at someone else's mercy. He could almost understand why the sprites lashed out at any opportunity like the pernicious little things he knew them to be. He bet they'd all be delighted if it was more common for humans to shrink like he had.

"What?! " he snapped at Dean, huddling in the bottom of the jar and keeping himself as steady as he could. He ignored the smell of the breakfast food in favor of glaring out at his jailer. "Bored of driving already so you decided to bother me?"

"Sounds like someone's grumpy," Dean said with a laugh. He put the glass jar down on the seat a foot away from Sam. "Guess he had other plans for breakfast, we should just let him be."

Sam shot Logan a look of his own. "He's going to regret that later on," he mused aloud. "I mean, it's not like he's going to see food like this again for a long, long time. Not unless he's a hell of a lot better at sneaking around than he looks." He hefted up his own sandwich, displaying the squished together bread and foods that he'd missed out on for thirteen long years. "This is practically a delicacy," he announced to the car at large.

Dean shrugged it off. "That's just too bad, I guess." He lifted up the sandwich, ready to take a bite.

Logan glanced between the two sandwiches they had, one a miniature of the other, and frowned. Of course he wanted some of the food, but if they were still expecting to hear begging out of him, they had another thing coming. Still, with the jar on a mostly solid surface, he could actually stand, and he did so. With his hands against the glass to keep steady, Logan frowned cautiously at the two of them.

Sam sat so casually next to Dean, who could crush him with one finger if he wanted to. That level of trust seemed so foolish. It was simple self-preservation, to avoid threats you couldn't neutralize, and to take care of the ones you could. Both pieces of advice served well when roughing it out in the wilderness, and it should apply here, too.

He finally took the bait, however, and asked, "What do you mean I won't see anything like that? Are you really just going to drop me off at some house? If you're so sure I'll fail, why bother with it? Why keep me alive?"

Dean lowered his sandwich down to peer at Logan. "That's exactly what we plan," he stated flatly. "Not just 'some house,' either. It's our friend Bobby's house. So you'll be seeing us around more often than not. After all, we're gonna keep an eye on you, make sure you don't get into trouble."

Sam shook his head ruefully. "We're not like you, Logan. We're not just going to kill you off because it's easier or just because we can. You're getting a second chance; one where you won't be able to hurt anyone. I always believed that people deserve second chances. You should take advantage of it. It's not as bad as you're making it out to be. I lived for over thirteen years like this before I found Dean again. It's hard, but it's possible."

Dean pinched off a piece of his sandwich and reached overhead. It easily fit into the airhole that was cut into the top of the jar. "Enjoy it while it lasts, bite-size. Sam's the one who's giving you a second chance. Me, I'm just gonna make sure you don't ever hurt anyone else."

Logan didn't catch the offered food in time, but then he didn't try very hard to either. He stared pensively at the greasy bit of food, letting their words sink in. A second chance. Logan's brow furrowed deeply at the thought. A second chance implied that he'd done wrong. He wasn't buying their excuses for a second. Logan was right, and maybe it would take a while, but Dean would see it someday.

"If I'm still alive when you come to your senses, I hope I get to say 'I told you so' to your faces," he snapped, sitting down and begrudgingly grabbing the torn chunk of breakfast sandwich. "You're looking at the wrong versions of the fucking fairy tales. This isn't some Disney bullshit. That little leaf-winged freak would rip you to pieces if he was big enough."

Logan refused to look over at them again after that statement, knowing he was only likely to see disbelieving or smug looks on their faces. After all, Logan was patient, and he was smart enough to understand that he didn't need them to believe him. The truth would stand on its own, and they'd see it someday. Sprites were tiny, but treacherous.

And now, he'd finally been bested by the damn things, thanks to their hard work brainwashing other humans. The only comfort was that he'd never see any of the bastards again, in what he was sure would be a very short life.

"I'm sure," Dean said dryly, thinking back to the time Jacob had been downsized to barely an inch and a half. If what Logan said was true in any fashion, the very lastthing that the sprite would have done would be help Jacob out.

Rip you to pieces if he was big enough. Well, Bowman had been more than big enough back then. But instead, he'd risked his neck to save Jacob from the library. He'd helped shelter the small hunter from even Dean when he needed to. Bowman was someone that all of them would trust with their life. And he trusted them in return.

Once they were all done with their breakfast, Sam clambered back up to his usual shoulder perch- riding shotgun, as Dean had decided to dub it- and the Impala shot down the highway, on the road to Bobby's.

Logan settled to the side of the jar leaning against the seat back. The leather expanse around him seemed to creep outwards farther and farther as it really sank in how small he had become. He fit in a goddamn jar and was stuck on the bench seat of some old car. The sky was a boring view, but it was all he could see out the windows, so he watched clouds while he brooded.

He tried to assess the situation he'd be going into. He had no supplies of any kind, and no reason to believe he'd be able to find any very quickly. He was going to some stranger's house to get dumped and told to go survive.

Logan knew plenty of things about surviving in the wilderness, but he'd never imagined trying to survive in a giant house. Why would he? Normally he'd be tall enough to reach the fucking sink if he was indoors.

Without knowing what would be available to him, Logan wasn't even sure he knew where he'd find shelter. He knew that within the walls would be a good start, but from there? He had no idea what it was like in there, aside from dark and dusty. And there would be threats in there that normally Logan could crush under a boot without a thought. Spiders and mice would both require more thought now.

That wasn't even considering the guy living there. Anything could happen if this Bobby caught him. For one thing, Logan had no weapons to fight off his enormous hands. He'd need to fix that as soon as he figured out a source of food.

Fuck, he thought to himself. The car ate up the highway and brought them closer to the destination, but with each passing mile Logan realized more and more that he was not prepared for this at all. They probably knew it, too. They'd stand back and see how he failed. They were going to watch for whichever possible death claimed him first.

He jolted out of his thoughts when the car slowed down and the familiar clattering sound of an unpaved road grumbled around beneath the vehicle. The jar tilted forward, and then fell back against the seat, jostling Logan against the glass. Trees skimmed by the windows above. They had to be nearly there.

Dean knocked at the door of the older house in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

He shifted impatiently while he waited, hefting the duffel bag farther up on his shoulder. Logan was once again concealed inside, to keep up the pretense that Bobby wouldn't know he was in the house. Of course, at first Bobby wouldn't, at least until Dean found a way to tell him out of Logan's hearing. Most likely through text later on that night.

There came a series of barks from inside and a loud thumping. A crash, then a curse. Dean winced. It sounded like Rumsfeld must have gotten wind of Sam being nearby, and decided to go straight through Bobby to get to him.

Normally, letting an animal the size of Rumsfeld near Sam would be the furthest thought on Dean's mind. After seeing the pair interact, even the hardened hunter had to admit that they had a close bond. The dog would no sooner see anything happen to Sam than Dean himself.

Bobby finally managed to get the door open with a creak. "Boys," he greeted, his sharp blue eyes briefly flashing to Sam sitting up on Dean's shoulder. For a hunter, he'd accepted the presence of the smaller Winchester without a problem, welcoming Sam into his home completely and even making a small shelter in a bookshelf for him.

Rumsfeld pushed himself between the two humans, bouncing on his heels for a second as he tried to sniff at Sam. Dean jokingly pushed the dog down. "Calm down. You'll get to see him plenty, y'know."

"So what brings you boys by?" Bobby asked as he pushed the door open so Dean could step inside.

Sam waved the dog down, doing what he could to get Rumsfeld to back off long enough for them to make it into the house. Rumsfeld stood in the door for a few seconds, watching Dean's passing form, then his ears perked up. Trotting after the hunter, he nudged at the duffel bag, whining at the smell he could just barely pick up.

Logan had thought that hearing the dog's thundering bark was bad enough. His heart was already in his throat before he'd heard the door open. They didn't say a damn thing about a fucking dog! he thought ruefully, wishing he could yell the curses on his lips at the top of his lungs. But then the other man would hear, as would the dog he could clearly hear snuffling at the duffel.

He curled into himself a little more at the bottom of the jar, trying and failing not to shudder. He was barely ready to be sent off on his own in such an environment. Now he'd have to contend with a dog. A gigantic, house-sized dog that could easily turn Logan into a chew toy. All it would need to do was catch him.

How he was expected to survive with that monster running around, Logan had no idea. He was more and more convinced that, despite all their talk, they didn't actually expect him to live through this. They'd left out any information on the dog because they knew that would probably be what killed him. Now Logan was even less prepared than before.

Another sharp whine pierced his thoughts and replaced them with No no no! Logan flinched, but it was lost in the constant movement of the duffel bag around him as Dean continued walking. He heard boots stomping on stairs but of course had no idea where he was going. He rapidly tried to think of everything he'd learned about dealing with larger predators, wondering if he could apply any of it to a dog that could snap him up like kibble.

"We'll just be around for a few days. I might work on the Impala a bit," Dean clapped Bobby on the back. He held up his phone, arching his eyebrows at the other hunter to get the message across that there was more to their visit than met the eye.

Bobby's brow furrowed, and he nodded at Dean with an odd look. But he left them on their own.

Unlike Rumsfeld.

The dog bounced up once he could, jumping on Dean's chest. "Whoa, hey. Down boy. We can't knock Sam off, can we?" He couldn't hide a grin at the exuberance. "C'mon, calm down a bit."

Dean pushed the dog down, then managed to slide into the doorway of his room. He waved Rumsfeld off as he tried to nose his way into the room, then shut the door with a click. Rumsfeld scratched at the door with a pitiful whine as he was sealed off from his small friend.

The room inside was peaceful. A single bed, a desk against the wall, and a huge bookshelf that spanned one side of the wall. Delicate etchings covered up a large part of the bottom shelf, hiding away the small room that had been made just for Sam, complete with a bed and a chest for his stuff. They'd have to find a way to seal off that room while they weren't around. Keep it safe from Logan slipping in.

Dean gathered up Sam, letting him down onto the floor. He dug into the duffel bag, withdrawing the jar into the light. He unscrewed the lid and tipped the downsized hunter onto the ground between the brothers, then took a seat on the bed. Logan would get no breaks from his new perspective.

Despite rolling out of the jar onto the hard floor in a confused jumble, Logan got to his feet almost as soon as he registered he was free of the glass enclosure. A number of disorienting sights had greeted him as soon as the jar came out into the light, and he was still recovering. Familiar things were warped by his new size. A shelf, a bed, a lamp, even the closed wooden door, all stretched overhead and seemed to lean in as if looking curiously at him.

Of course, Dean, leaning with his hands clasped on his knees while he sat on the bed, was actually looming over the two on the floor. Logan took a cautious step back, intimidated in spite of the defiance on his face.

He wanted to continue to look at the room. To check the faded wallpaper for some sign of a way into the walls. To see how far the hardwood floors stretched around him in all directions. To see how quickly he could disappear into the shadows under the bed. But any thoughts of finding safety here were pushed aside by his sudden disbelief that he'd need to.

"You're seriously just dumping me here?!" he asked, rounding on Sam with an incredulous look. He balked when he realized Sam was now sitting on Dean's boot. "With a damn dog?! You people are sick!"

Sam arched an eyebrow from his casual seat that clearly conveyed to Logan who had the power between them. Dean was foreboding and intimidating as he stared down at the pair on the ground, his boot unmoving.

It had been so long since Sam had considered Rumsfeld a threat, he'd almost forgotten exactly how terrifying a dog could be. Logan didn't need to know that the worst he'd have to worry about from the dog was being nudged off his feet because he wasn't giving scritches behind the ears.

As far as Rumsfeld was considered, Sam was part of his family. He'd adopted the younger Winchester as soon as he'd seen him, and had in fact tried to guard Sam from Dean.

Which, come to think of it, he might have to tell the dog to not do anything of the sort with Logan. The hunter hadn't earned a loyal dog like that, and they couldn't risk him discovering that Rumsfeld didn't mind Sam or anyone his size riding on his head.

None of this crossed his face. Instead, he simply sat there with a bemused look on his face. "Next time, we'll be sure to find you a place with kids instead," Sam said dryly. "Believe it or not, they are a thousand times worse than any dog you'll ever have to worry about." A memory of a kid reaching for him in Dean's hand rose to the forefront of his mind. Dashing up Dean's arm to escape grasping fingers that would trap him. All to save Jacob, and all worth it, but an experience that he'd never want to go through again.

"We could always leave him out in the junkyard," Dean chimed in helpfully from the bed. His unoccupied boot swung forward, bumping against Logan. "There's plenty more to worry about out there."

Sam shot him up a look that didn't make it far past the knee at the angle they were at. They weren't actually trying to kill Logan off, after all. Dean grinned innocently, undaunted by Sam's condemnation.

Logan stumbled in surprise, and when he saw what had knocked into him, he stumbled away from it a few extra steps. A boot the size of a car, so casually controlled by the man still looming over him, just about knocked him over. Without any effort at all, Logan remembered, Dean could squash him out of existence. Hell, he might not even feel Logan breaking if he did.

His glare was once again shadowed by fear. They were actually doing this. Logan did his best to rein in his expression. There was no point in cowering or asking for mercy where there was none. Both of their faces told him everything he needed to know.

Logan was well and truly on his own now, and he'd have to figure out an entirely new view on the world than what he'd known for a little over three decades. The view from the floor might as well be a view of a different planet.

He tore his gaze from their expressions long enough to notice a vent in the wall, off to the side. The slats would be wide enough to admit him, when twenty four hours ago he would barely be able to fit a finger.

This is how things are now. Sprite-sized. Logan shuffled a few steps towards the vent while looking back at his two jailors. They were just watching him, but showed no other signs that they had anything useful to say.

He turned and bolted. Logan expected that boot to follow and nudge at him again. He expected that jar to be dropped over him to trap him again. He expected an enormous hand to drop in front of him like a wall. Any number of things Dean could do with ease to stop the desperate run.

But he didn't.

Logan made it to the vent and slipped through the opening, his breathing hard and his heart pounding. And then, he stopped. A dark, metallic hallway stretched to the sides in both directions. Standing in the pool of light from the vent, Logan couldn't see very far. The dark yawned before him like a real version of his uncertainty and the enormity of his task.

If Sam could do it, if the sprites could do it, Logan could, too. With or without help. Newly determined, Logan got his hand on the side of the vent shaft and cautiously stepped out of the light to begin exploring. His first order of business was to find shelter.

After that, his task was just as uphill as it had ever been. Survival. Pure, and simple. For now, it was the only option Logan had in front of him, though it was as hard to see as the path he was walking.

FIN

A/N

And that's it! Logan lives, but his life now hangs in limbo at Bobby's house. Will he learn his lessons? Will he have a change of heart and perhaps become a better person?

These questions and more are saved for the next story of Brothers Found, The Trials of Logan! It is currently unfinished, so it will be some time before we see the Brothers Found boys again, but be sure to let us know your thoughts on all this!

Leave us a review to let us know what you think!

Next: To be continued in The Trials of Logan