A/N:

Thanks to goldacharmed for the review!

Idly stretched out along the margins of their dad's journal, Dean slid his whetstone along his knife, admiring the silver gleam that caught the light while Sam frowned down at a passage in John Winchester's heavy-handed scrawl.

They'd spent most of the morning and the beginning of the afternoon like that. Dean got his exercise when Sam needed to turn the page, and Sam persisted in trying to kick him out of the way instead of letting him get up on his own.

They always found their own balance.

Both of their bags were left off to the side, next to the journal. Once he was done checking over his own knife, Dean was planning on going over Sam's just as assiduously. They needed to keep the only weapons they owned in tip-top shape. They couldn't risk the precious knives for anything. Any other weapon their size wouldn't come close to the craftsmanship or quality. Dean would be damned if he let Sam's weapon fall out of repair, the best defense his little brother had against the too-big world.

"Y'know, I was thinking," Dean said aloud, breaking their easy silence.

Sam arched his eyebrows in Dean's direction. "Thinking? You do that?"

"Smartass." Dean stared up at the ceiling high above. He had one leg casually kicked up on a knee, and was lying flat on his back. "But anyway, I was thinking we might want to see if we can get Jacob some more practice on the guns. He could use it."

Sam shrugged, walking past Dean. He whapped Dean's boot with a hand as he passed, making Dean briefly flail when his balance was lost. "We've got some time while we're in town if there's any gun ranges around. I doubt his parents or the neighbors will appreciate it if he starts taking potshots at cans in the backyard like at Bobby's."

Dean sat up. "We'll just have to-"

Sam never found out what he was going to say.

The sound of footsteps trudging up the stairs made it through the walls. Dean twisted to look towards the door, only faint concern on his face. It was early for Jacob to be back, but the cadence and floor-shaking impression they could feel was nothing like how Mike and Mariana walked around the home.

Sam turned as well, but a shock ran up his back. The world almost dropped away as the door was tossed carelessly open, slamming against the wall and nearly jarring them from their feet.

The figure wasn't as tall as the human they'd grown used to seeing over the last few months. He was thinner, too, not nearly as muscled. His head was topped with pale blond hair and his eyes were blue like ice. Aside from the arrogant demeanor of someone that clearly thought he owned whatever ground he walked on, one fact darted right through the brothers' hearts like steel bolts.

It wasn't Jacob.

That was all it took. Dean threw himself off the journal, almost mowing Sam down in his hurry. He grabbed Sam's arm with one hand, hauling him along while the newly-sharpened knife was brandished in the other. "Out of sight!" he hissed, but he didn't need to say a word.

Sam knew exactly how bad their situation was. The blond-haired kid that came in was smaller than Jacob, but it didn't matter. They were still only the size of his fingers, and they had no idea who he was or why he had barged in. There was no way that Jacob would have let someone into his room without at least warning them.

At least, that's what Sam hoped.

Their panicked flight drew Bobby's eyes like a beacon. He was simply too quick, too unexpected, for their running to get them out of sight in time. The phone dropped to the carpet and a blurted exclamation escaped his lips.

And then he lurched forward, surprised footsteps shaking the desk as he closed the distance in mere steps, crossing an expanse of carpet that would take Sam and Dean almost a full minute. His shadow slid over the fleeing brothers, awed blue eyes wide with shock.

Are those...?

He didn't finish asking himself what the hell he was looking at. In a rapid reaction to their scampering attempt to run away, Bobby threw out both hands and planted them in their path on the desk, a wall as high as they were landing irrevocably in front of them. A grin broke out on his face, already celebrating his quick thinking. Gotcha!

"Son of a bitch! " Dean snapped, the hands walled in front of them. He pivoted on one foot, twisting around to see the human leering down at them. It was a shockingly different grin than Jacob had when he'd discovered Dean in his motel room. Jacob had been enamoured, fascinated by the smaller man. Even when he was trapping Dean in a coffee pot, he'd tried to (unsuccessfully) reassure Dean that he was safe. But this guy...

Something about that grin was dangerous. Possessive. Dean felt a chill as cold as those blue eyes racing through his nervous system.

Dean shoved Sam in the opposite direction. "Now!" he shouted.

Sam would know what to do.

In unison, the two brothers tossed themselves forward with their knives. Almost at the same time, twin silver blades cut into Bobby's hands, one on each side. They needed to get the hands out of their way. If they couldn't manage that, they wouldn't have a ghost of a chance at escaping.

Bobby's celebratory smirk shifted into a grimace of pain in seconds and he hissed out an angry curse. Sharp, equal pains bit into both hands, leading him to draw them back towards himself in a reflexive action.

With the two little things between him and his hands, the motion shoved at them before his hands lifted out of their range. It was enough to topple the bulkier one, who'd thrown more of his weight forward in stabbing Bobby's hand. Luck favored the human.

Instead of checking his injury, Bobby scowled and flicked the fallen little man's knife away from his hand before he could reestablish his grasp on it, sending the tiny weapon clattering across the desk and trailing tiny spots of blood. It only took a second to wrap his hand around the creature before it could scrabble after the blade, pinning its arms and legs securely and concealing all but the tiny head and shoulders in a hand.

In one hand.

Bobby let himself glance over his small catch, fascination overriding the annoyance in his expression for just a moment. "I don't believe it," he muttered, before a stinging pain in his closed hand made him frown again. "You little shits."

He turned his eyes to find the other, his free hand held at the ready to snatch at him.

Dean snarled at the sight of Sam caught in a hand again. Huge fingers clutched around his valiantly-struggling younger brother, and pure rage coursed through his veins.

"Takes one to know one," Dean snapped, his anger finding its focus on the stranger that had intruded on their peaceful afternoon, destroying the serenity and security they'd found for a short period of time. They'd even started to believe that they'd be safe, for once, sitting out in the open on their own. Fresh air surrounded them for once and they'd thought they could simply sit and enjoy it without fear.

That wasn't something they'd done much since being cursed.

Brandishing his knife once more, Dean fell into a fighting stance, bracing the hilt against a palm with the blade held out. He was ready to bury it into the stranger without flinching. "Put him down, you fucking King Kong knockoff!"

Bobby didn't flinch from the vehemence in Dean's stance. He didn't scowl or brush off the insult. He didn't even make a move right away to grab at Dean like he planned to. But he didn't comply with his demands, either.

Instead, he laughed.

It was a subdued but derisive sound, one that revealed that he knew perfectly well who was really in control here. It wasn't Dean, not by a mile. Bobby held all the cards, and he wasn't inclined to share any of them.

"Right. You're so badass," he mocked, rolling his eyes. He glanced away from Dean for just a second to check out the palm that Dean had sliced open already. The tiny knife was practically covered in his blood, but the cut was hardly more than a very annoying scratch. He turned his hand around, fingers splayed out, to show off the wound and how little it really affected him. "Look at you go."

And then, before Dean could properly react, the hand rushed forward, two fingers snagging Dean's entire hand between them, concealing the knife and the hand gripped around it with ease. "Drop it," Bobby muttered absently, just barely finding enough purchase on the flat of the blade to yank it away from the small hand with ease. He didn't pay any mind to the pained grimace that flashed over Dean's face as he stumbled from having his arm tugged at.

Bobby dropped the weapon on the ratty old journal, rubbing his fingers together absently to make sure he hadn't nicked himself again. He wiped a small smear of blood onto his jeans before reaching forward again, sweeping the tiny man off the desk and lifting him swiftly so he was level with the other one.

He stared greedily at them, ignoring their attempts to break free of his grip. "Wow. Who'd have thought Jacob would be stashing something this crazy in his room." What's that guy been up to?

Dean practically spluttered in rage at the offhand comments, trying to thrash his legs free of his confinement. The pulse around him, unlike the steady plod of Jacob's pulse, fueled more anger in him. "Stashing us?! What the fuck do you think we are? Fucking toys?" The guy was smaller than Jacob, but none of Dean's kicks had any more effect than the first time he'd been captured. Goddamn curse.

"Dean, stop!" Sam hissed from the side, his face scrunched up in pain from the tight hold that curled around his entire body. Every inch of him but his shoulders and head was trapped.

Bobby smirked, amused by Dean's fiery attitude in spite of his situation. Either he was stupidly bold, or he just didn't get that he'd already lost. Bobby had caught them, fair and square.

"I dunno what you are," he admitted with a shrug. "Ya don't really look like sprites, but then again I haven't actually seen one of those, either." If he concentrated, he could feel the itty bitty torsos straining for breath against his grip. He loosened his grasp just a little, quirking an eyebrow. It was strange to think that they were this fragile, and yet here one of them was, backtalking him like he owned the place.

Adjusting his grip, Bobby moved his thumb under Dean's chin, tilting his head back a little to get a better look at his angry little face. "Don't give me that look, you're the ones who got your asses caught."

With his taunting out of the way, Bobby lowered the pair slightly, tilting his hands and considering his options. If Jacob was keeping them here, he'd probably find out what had happened. Bobby smirked to himself again, remembering that he'd been something of a ringleader among their small group of friends. He could probably convince Jacob of something if he caught on.

His decision made, Bobby opened the hand with Sam just long enough to release Dean onto it next to him, closing his grip on them the second he landed. He was more cautious this time, trying not to squish the pair together and break those fragile little bones.

Dean crashed down next to his little brother, his hands desperately trying to touch his neck to make sure that Bobby's fingernail hadn't done any lasting damage when he was peering so closely at the small hunter. Having his chin propped up like that was a sharp reminder that it wouldn't be much more effort to have their necks snapped instead, killed as easily as mice or rats that were found infringing on a human's property.

All he managed was to lightly brush his hand along the scuff that was forming, and the huge fingers curled around them again. The two brothers were pinned together, and instead of looking over them, this time the human wasn't paying them any mind at all.

"Easy on the package!" Dean snipped at Sam when the grip on them tightened, pressing the two small forms against each other. It was a looser grip, but Dean just couldn't wriggle an arm free. The knives on the desk and the journal suddenly seemed so far away as the human turned from the desk and stooped down to get his phone.

Sam replied, but the words were lost in the resurgence of Dean's fear of heights. His face turned white at the loose grip and the ground that rushed up to meet them as the fingers of Bobby's other hand closed around the phone he'd discarded in his shock and hurry to grab them.

"Dean!" Sam's voice started to break through when a sharp jab came from his left. "Dean, look at me!"

Dean's lips parted, almost panting in fright at the terrifying drop. He met Sam's hazel eyes. Despite everything else, they were still hopeful and strong. "Dean, focus on me. Do not look down, whatever you do. You do this with Jacob all the time, you can do it now. Don't let him see you afraid."

The words were hushed and hurried, but they were exactly what he needed to hear. Sam was right. He did do this with Jacob all the time. It wasn't exactly the same, with the huge teenager very considerate of his passengers at any time while this stranger was now holding them casually down at his side, but it was close enough that Dean managed to pull himself out of his funk. He was still trapped, he could still feel Sam struggling next to him in the hope of slipping out of the loose grip before the human crossed out of the threshold of Jacob's room, but he was himself and not a slave to his phobia.

Dean wouldn't let Bobby see him afraid. He was a hunter. He wouldn't cower for some kid.

In the midst of trying to push at least one of the fingers out of Sam's way, in the hope that his greater running speed would help his escape, Dean angrily shot up at the human, "Where the hell do you think you're taking us?"

The human didn't even look down.

Dean cursed, trying to squirm free. "Sonovabitch!" he growled. He only managed to jab Sam with an elbow, eliciting a grunt out of his younger brother. "Sorry, Sammy."

"Don't mention it," Sam huffed back, caught up in his own struggles.

Bobby crossed out of the room, taking the brothers away from their sanctuary and heading straight for the stairs.

And the outside world.

A/N

Ah, one of my favorite scenes! We even got a picture of it!

Okay, yea, the rest is pretty terrible

Next: July 14th, 2019 at 9pm EST