A/N
The new story is off to a fun start, and thanks for the reviews, Christine and Geek-Girl0416!
The second his arms were free, Sam went for his knife. Desperation fueled his movements, and it was out in a flash and slicing down at the thumb that was trapping him. Silver warmed by Sam's small amount of body heat sank into the human's skin, drawing blood and a startled exclamation.
Then he was falling.
It wasn't the ground that he slammed into, but the surface was more firm than the beds he'd walked across more than once. Sam let out an "Oof!" of surprise as he hit, crashing into a pile. There was no time to waste gaining his bearings, and Sam shoved himself to his feet with a stumbling panic. It took a second to realize where he'd landed.
Right on the human's lap.
Sam stumbled backwards away from the human's torso, afraid to turn his back. He was on a mammoth leg, far thicker than he was tall. He held out his knife defensively as he stumbled, trying to protect himself at the same time as he tried to escape. If he could get near the edge, he could dive off. Grabbing onto the cover would be the fastest way to get down. He wouldn't even need his hook.
Holy shit. Jacob tore his gaze away from his thumb, which was bleeding quite a bit, to look at the little guy that had cut it. That tiny knife, glinting silver and red and held defensively in front of the small man, had come out of nowhere. Jacob hadn't expected the little guy to have it, especially something crafted so minutely and in such detail. The little guy wasn't so helpless as he originally thought.
But he was backing away from Jacob without looking. He could walk right over the edge without realizing it!
Jacob wasn't angry for getting stabbed. A self-defense move like that only made sense. Still, there was a careful frown on his face as his uninjured hand darted around behind the little guy and coiled around him again. He winced and used his index finger to push the tiny arm back before it could stab at him again, effectively trapping the fragile little limb between his first two fingers while the little body was surrounded.
"Jesus," Jacob muttered as he reached down to pinch the tiny blade flat between his finger and thumb, which still had red beads of blood clinging to it. "Let it go," he murmured, his brow pinching with remorse. He felt bad for taking the little guy's weapon, but ... he really didn't want to get stabbed more. He pulled it effortlessly away from the small hand, not noticing the flinch of pain when he tore it from the guy's grasp. He was as careful as he could be when he set it down next to the cracker on the nightstand.
Sam writhed angrily in the human's fist, his hand sore from having the hilt of his knife ripped out of his grip. So close! He'd been so close to the edge and freedom! Just a moment more and he could have jumped, and never lost his knife.
Sam tried to blink, his eyes hazing up. With the knife gone, he'd lost his only edge. More, he'd lost his last connection to Dean. To his family. After thirteen years trapped in a dead end motel, Sam's knife had been a tie to the past. Sharpening it carefully with Walt's supplies, making it shine back at him… those times were where he felt closest to his lost brother.
Not that Dean was dead, but as far as Sam was concerned, he might as well be. Dean lived in a completely separate world. Sam had been cursed, and Dean had escaped. He might be as tall and terrifying as the human holding Sam captive that very second. Hell, Dean might be more dangerous than the human. He would be a hunter, after all, and hunters rarely stopped to ask questions when they had a target, and Sam certainly wasn't human anymore. He couldn't stop a toddler, nevermind a full grown man like the guy trapping him now. And certainly not a hunter, armed to the teeth with weapons far larger than Sam.
Still, that knife… it was the last link to his past. He could hold it and remember the time they'd been the same. Sam had only been a foot shorter than Dean. Now, at barely four inches tall, Dean would be overwhelmingly large.
But once, they could both hold the handle of that blade in the palm of their hands.
Thrashing, Sam tried to get his legs free. "That's not yours!" he snapped up at the human. His voice was watery with hidden tears. He'd already lost Dean. Now he'd lost his last connection to his brother, and he might lose his new family along with it. "Give it back!"
After only getting a few fearful looks and a stab in the thumb, hearing actual words come out of that tiny mouth froze Jacob in place. He stared in shock at the little guy trapped in his hand, and then at the knife he'd just put down. As he processed what the little guy said, Jacob couldn't help but notice the emotion lacing the words.
He lifted his hand from where it rested on his lap. "Uh. So you can talk," he managed, still so awed by everything that was happening. His eyes slid back over to the tiny knife he'd taken away. From the sound in that voice, the desperate anger, it was even more important to the little guy than Jacob first guessed.
Jacob's shoulders drooped slightly as he thought. He collected his memories of the last several minutes and found that he wasn't all that happy with what he found. Absolute terror had stared back at him while he simply poked at the tiny guy and moved him around with ease. He'd even idly noticed that his captive was struggling with all he had.
And he'd ignored it in the name of curiosity. Jacob pursed his lips. I'm ... fuck, I'm an asshole, he realized, though he resisted the notion as much as he could. He always tried to be a good person. He'd never been intentionally mean in his life. But now, he'd clearly struck an emotional chord with this guy who fit easily in his hand.
"Fuck," Jacob swore aloud this time. This was a person he was staring at. Four inches tall, tiny and supposedly impossible, but a person. And Jacob had grabbed him and taken his weapon without even giving it a second thought. He glanced over at the knife, and then at his thumb, on which his blood was already starting to dry. He looked back at the person he held in his other hand. "I'm ...yeah. I'll give it back ... did I, uh, hurt you when I took it? And are you gonna stab me again?"
Sam stopped struggling, shocked to hear the human not only answer him, but agree to give him his silver knife back so quickly. He stared up at the human in confusion, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he'd get the knife back but be trapped. Locked away in a cage where the knife wouldn't do him any good whether he had it or not. Just like Walt and Bree had been, years ago. No one would be able to save him then.
But Sam didn't see anger staring down at him, or suspicion. There was regret. It might not be a promise to let Sam go, but that knife… his only connection to his lost family, the family he'd do anything to find again… he'd take what he could get.
Sam blinked, trying to will away any hidden tears. "Do I need to stab you again?" he asked thickly, his voice almost choking up while he tried to get the words out. He didn't bother acknowledging the other question. For one, he wasn't sure himself. Trapped the way he was, all he could tell was his chest was sore and his hand burned from the friction of trying to hold onto the hilt of his knife. Until he was free, he wouldn't be able to check from bruised bones or other injuries. At least nothing was broken, so far.
The words sounded strange coming from his mouth. In a way, he was threatening to stab a human a second time. While he was trapped in that same human's fist. Yet Sam couldn't risk any weakness. He needed to be confident in himself. It was the only way to handle a situation where he had none of the control.
Jacob's cheeks reddened with shame at the words and he avoided that tiny gaze by looking back at the knife. It struck him again how small it was. It wouldn't cover his fingertip. And, though it was sharp and left quite a stinging wound, Jacob doubted he'd even scar.
Before trying to pick up the miniscule blade, Jacob opened up his hand and flattened it under the small man, careful not to drop him a second time. His eyes grazed over that tiny chest, the one he'd so easily pinned with one thumb. With all the rapid breathing, he wondered if he'd compressed it too much at any point. The ribs of such a small person had to be some of the most fragile things Jacob had ever handled, and he'd closed his hand around them without a second thought.
He looked back at the knife once more, reaching for it with his free hand. It was so small, he couldn't pinch it in his fingers to pick it up. Jacob's cheeks darkened further and he felt the heat in his face from blushing. He wound up pushing the blade with his thumb, knocking it over the edge of the nightstand and onto his hand. It looked so tiny sitting there on the edge of his hand.
"I, uh," he began, more remorse settling on his shoulders as he realized what he'd really done. "I'm sorry ... I really fucked up." With that admission out in the open, Jacob held out the hand with the knife. He almost didn't realize he was holding his breath and half expecting that tiny blade to stab into him again. And truthfully, he wouldn't even be able to insist that he didn't deserve it.
Sam pushed himself up on his elbows, taking a deep, shuddering breath as he watched the other hand approach. His breath hiccuped with fear at the size of the other hand. His knife was so small now. Just like he was.
Once the hand was close enough, Sam managed to bring himself to sit up all the way. He might be running on adrenaline alone at that point. Solid, terrified-for-your-life adrenaline.
Sam glanced up at the human, assessing what he saw on the huge face above him before he reached out for his bloodied knife. Guilt and remorse, more than he'd thought possible in a human that had discovered a person the size of a toy.
Some of the tension began to dissipate the moment Sam's hand closed around the hilt of his blade. He had it back. The familiar weight was a comfort in his hand as he lifted it up, checking over the silver to make sure the human's clumsy handling hadn't damaged the blade. Only once he was certain it was undamaged did Sam adjust his seating again, putting a hand on his ribs and grimacing at the soreness that was there now.
In an attempt to focus away from the pain, Sam began to reverently clean the silver blade with the black t-shirt he was wearing. He owned other shirts. It was more important to have the knife clean than it was to have his shirt unbloodied.
Holding out the blade when it was clean, Sam examined it carefully. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he was stalling. But what else was there for him to do? He might not be trapped in a fist anymore, but he was still a captive. He was sitting on a hand that was under a massive human's complete control. It could snap closed at any second. This stranger was calling the shots, no matter what he did. Sam's shoulders hunched together with uncertainty at that thought.
"It wasn't your fault," Sam said, surprising himself. He didn't take his eyes away from his knife, staring at that to focus his thoughts. "That's how… humans always react when they find someone like me."
Jacob chewed his lip thoughtfully for a second. Seeing how carefully the little guy handled the tiny knife, cleaning the blade and inspecting it, Jacob was almost mesmerized. They were somewhat familiar motions, like someone taking off their glasses to clean on their shirt. But on such a small scale he almost couldn't see the tiny fingers.
Jacob wasn't sure how often humans found someone like whatever this guy was, but he believed that they always reacted exactly like this. It didn't make the guilt go away. If anything, it made it worse. "I mean, I totally get that a lot of people would have done the same thing here, but ... that doesn't make it okay. It'd be perfectly legitimate to call me a jackass. Or worse."
Jacob narrowed his eyes a little, almost bringing his hand closer to his face to look appraisingly at the little guy seated there. He barely refrained. "Are you hurt?" Fuck. He's ... shit. I broke something.
Sam couldn't help stiffening under the close scrutiny as he tucked his knife back into his jacket. The weight felt good against his side, placed in its sheath as it was. It gave him something else to focus on now that he had no other distractions from the human. And no distractions from the unsettling prickle on his neck that meant he was in the sights of that same human.
Now that Sam was free from the enclosed fist and his knife was where it belonged, he allowed himself to worry about injuries like the human seemed to be doing. He stretched out his knife-wielding hand, moving each finger carefully. Aside from lingering soreness and a raw feeling in his skin, Sam didn't find any other injuries hiding from the rough handling.
His ribs were next. Sam carefully pressed his hands against his chest, measuring the sore and tender skin. "Just bruises," he announced out loud, surprised all over again that he was sitting there talking to a human.
Finished, Sam's wasn't sure what to do with his hands. Self-conscious under the brown-eyed gaze, he folded his hands on his lap, hesitantly staring up at the human with no idea what to say.
Jacob could see the nerves lingering in the little guy's entire demeanor. What do I look like to him? He had to wonder. If this guy was so small compared to him, what did things look like from his end? Jacob had felt tall around people for years, since he was thirteen or fourteen and really shot up like a weed.
But this? This was beyond standing a head taller than a classmate.
He was holding an entire person in his hand. A person he'd grabbed and manipulated and terrified. With startling ease. It painted a picture of himself that Jacob didn't like, and he was more and more ashamed the longer he dwelled on it.
"I ... I said this already but it probably needs it again. I'm sorry I, um. Grabbed you and ... everything." He hesitated and then moved his hand over to the nightstand, tilting it so the little guy slid off next to the dropped cracker. "There's, um, that."
Sam caught his balance on the hard surface of the nightstand, off guard from the unexpected response. "You're... letting me go?" Sam asked out loud, unable to believe his luck. It was the last thing he'd expected from the moment that shadow appeared above his head.
What's more, the cracker he'd found earlier that night, the one that had put him in the entire mess, was in one piece. It must have been picked up and placed there by the human since the last Sam could recall was dropping it in a desperate dash in his bid to escape. If the human was truly going to let him go, and didn't mind... Sam might be able to help his family out yet. Get them the food that was desperately needed, buy them time to find a better source of supplies. Maybe Walt would even judge the kitchen safe to take from once more, and they could restock the small pantry Mallory kept.
The way the little person seemed so disbelieving only drove Jacob's guilt further into his chest. He really had scared the tiny guy half to death. Jacob took a deep breath and absently curled his fingers around his cut thumb, putting pressure on it and feeling he deserved so much more for the way he acted. He just couldn't get the images out of his head. Trapping a helpless person in his fist... What kind of person does that?
Jacob didn't have the voice for an answer yet, so he just nodded.
Sam straightened. "I, ah… thank you," he said haltingly. He'd fully expected to be trapped in a cage at that point. Unable to get out, no way to get word to his family.
There was a part of Sam that wanted to grab up the cracker and dart off before his small run of luck wore off, but something else glued his feet in place.
Curiosity.
Here was a human that had let him go without any urging. Sam might have a few bruises, but all things considered, that was getting off light. Those fingers were the size of his body, after all. A single squeeze could have snapped a rib or an arm without ever meaning too. Maybe… maybe the human wasn't as terrifying as the first impression he'd given.
Suddenly feeling bold, Sam stuck out a hand. The pain from the knife being torn from his grasp was wearing off as time passed, slowly leaving the only pain on him radiating out from sore ribs. The raw and tender skin on Sam's hand didn't hold him back as he offered a handshake.
"My name's Sam. What's yours?"
A/N
Looks like little Sammy struck a chord in Jacob. Don't take away his knife, it's all he has left! ;n;
For anyone who doesn't know, Jacob and his actions all copyright of PL1 on deviantart
Next: Coming July 21st, 2016 at 9pm est.
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