A/N
Thank you Kathy, Wunjo, sammygirl1963, and Christine for the great reviews!
Jacob idly propped the shovel up on his shoulder, staring briefly at where the trunk had recently been open to an array of weapons. All kinds of weapons, he couldn't help but notice, including several blades and guns. Whatever came for him, Dean would have to be ready for it. Jacob couldn't imagine that pile of weapons being understocked for any occasion.
He followed after Dean, glancing around the graveyard as he went. Here and there, faded plastic flowers adorned the marble and granite structures. He even saw a few stuffed animals, amazed that they hadn't been completely destroyed by weather yet.
After several 'Here Lies' and 'In Loving Memory' headings later, Dean found the site he was seeking. The grass was still a little patchy over the site, tufts of green poking out of the fairly recently overturned earth. It'd be packed a little tight, but not as badly as those graves that had been filled in without attracting someone like Dean to them.
From the dates on the gravestone, the girl was only in her early twenties. Barely getting started. And someone had cut that short. It was hardly a wonder her spirit had trouble letting go and moving on. Time to put her to rest by ... desecrating her grave. No problem.
While Jacob waited to the side, Dean dropped his duffel on the ground and knelt down. He started to go through the pockets, digging around for the other container of salt he always kept inside. Sam balanced on his shoulder, watching with a clear fascination.
Once Dean had the salt in hand, he offered his other hand to Sam. With only a slight hesitation, Sam found himself stepping onto the broad surface, momentarily fascinated by the calluses that covered it.
He could tell just by a glance that Dean used his hands a lot. Small scars and nicks covered the skin. Thick fingers that were even larger than Jacob's stretched out, curling slightly at the end to guard Sam from falling.
Sam took a deep breath, then nodded up at Dean. This time, he was lowered sharply to the ground, almost tossed off balance by the sudden movement. We'll have to work on that, Sam thought with a hint of entertainment. And also hope, to think that he'd have the chance to adjust to being around his brother.
"Sit tight," Dean grumbled at him right before standing to his full height. Sam stifled a gasp, stepping back towards the duffel bag he was standing near as he instinctively sought cover. Not once had he stood directly at Jacob's feet, so he was thoroughly unprepared for the new perspective.
Dean leaned over, pouring the salt in a thick circle on the ground. The circle encompassed Sam and the duffel both, protecting the smaller Winchester along with all of the supplies. While Dean sidestepped around the bag to complete the circle, Sam couldn't help but follow his brother's progress, watching the movement of the giant that was walking so close.
With that finished, Dean tossed the empty container in the bag and grabbed his own shovel off the ground. "If you see anyone coming, spirit or regular human, you let us know," he said, head tilted down so he could see Sam from all the way up in the air.
Sam nodded, silently watching Dean go over to the grave. The shovel broke ground in the first stroke, and the tedious work of excavating a grave began.
The work was arduous, but Jacob held his own. Though he wasn't a fighter by any means, exemplified by how easily Dean had knocked him down, Jacob was not a weakling. He worked out regularly enough that he was actually able to contribute to the work of piling dirt beside the grave. Dean's work was halved, making the process quicker.
The night was quiet, and there was a cool, peaceful breeze. It was a sharp contrast to what Jacob was actually doing. And that was digging up a grave, occasionally glancing around nervously as if worried they'd be caught. The night was silent. There weren't even any cars on the nearest road at this time of night, no headlights rushing past to cast shadows over them. The moon took care of that.
When Dean's shovel stabbed downwards with a hollow noise, followed by the splintering sound of the coffin breaking, Jacob wasn't quite prepared for it. He turned towards the sound in time for the worst stench he'd ever encountered to practically slap him in the face. "Jesus Christ on a bicycle," he muttered.
With the grave dug deep enough, Jacob retreated. They couldn't both smash up the coffin without getting in each other's way, so he let Dean do what he was quite experienced with and climbed out of the grave. His arms strained a little after all the exertion, but soon he stood in the open air again, taking deep breaths of it. Breaths that didn't smell like a rotting corpse.
He wiped his brow with his sleeve, and then felt a chill run right up his spine. Following the feeling was the faintest sound on the wind, like a mournful sob. Jacob looked over his shoulder but saw nothing.
Any other night, he might have just said it was the late hour playing tricks on him. But they were here to burn the bones of a vengeful ghost. Jacob couldn't afford to write off that feeling. He turned to the circle of salt around the duffel, squinting in the dark. He couldn't see if Sam was still over there. "Hey, Sam, you're still behind the salt, right?"
At that call, Dean jerked upright just as the shovel smashed the last bit of plywood out his way. Sam?!
Sharp green eyes panned across the graveyard, searching for where he'd left his duffel bag. The dim moonlight crept through the branches above, affording them only a slight light to see by.
From down in the grave, Jacob was a dark, towering figure. Ten feet from where he was standing Dean could make out the duffel sitting in the shadows. Without any light, there was no way to know if Sam was over there.
Before Dean could fumble out his flashlight to find out what had become of his little brother and if he was still standing within the safety of the circle, a figure flashed into view. Sam's voice cried out a warning from the duffel bag. "Jacob! Behind you!"
Dark eyes glittered in Jacob's direction. Standing out of the grave, he was the tallest, and he was unprotected. Thoroughly untrained to be a hunter, and just helping out Dean, and clearly more concerned about whether Sam was okay than himself. That, more than anything, made Dean realize that Sam's trust in Jacob, even after being trapped so recently, wasn't unfounded. Everyone made mistakes. Not everyone sought to make things right.
Dean cursed, going to haul himself out even as the spirit raised her arms towards the teenager. "Jacob, use the salt!"
There was no time for a reaction before she shrieked "Traitors, all of them traitors! They will know what they've done to me!" and plunged her hands forward. Jacob was caught right in the midsection, tossed over five feet across the graveyard and rolling to a stop on the ground.
Her ghostly visage flickered, then was standing directly over him. She reached a hand out, stabbing straight towards his chest.
She never noticed Dean holding his sawed-off shotgun only inches from her face. "Sayonara, bitch," he growled as he pulled the trigger. An explosion of sound, and she dispersed into the air with a scream.
Jacob stared upwards where the ghost used to be, fighting off the shock. His hearing was muffled for the moment, drowning in the sound of that gunshot that flashed just above him. His heart, which he realized might have just been torn out if not for Dean, was pounding frantically in his chest. Even without it, he was definitely going to be sore where the dead bitch had smacked him.
"H-holy shit," he breathed, finally looking at Dean. He sat up and got to his feet hastily, stumbling only a little. Jacob's eyes trailed over to where he'd left the container of salt, in order to free up his hands for the dig. He hadn't even bothered to pick it back up once he crawled out of the grave.
"Well, fuck," he muttered, brushing a nervous hand back through his hair. "Thanks, Dean ... for completely saving my ass there." He smiled sheepishly, knowing his own lack of experience couldn't have made itself more clear.
Dean shrugged it off. "Don't mention it. We all have to learn sometime." He grabbed the salt off the ground, tossing it at the teen. "Always know where your weapons are. Even things like salt."
There was a flashlight tucked away in Dean's jacket, and he soon had that in hand to pan it over the ground near the duffel. "Sammy?" he called out, scanning for his downsized brother.
As luck would have it, Sam was standing only a few inches from where he'd been seen last, well within the salt ring. The only movement he'd done in the last few minutes was dashing to the edge of the ring to yell a warning to Jacob.
Dean thudded over to the bag, getting the fire accelerant out along with matches. "We gotta torch this bitch before she comes back," he said to his companions. "You ready for your part?" He brushed a finger over Sam's hair, messing it up and getting a curse out of him.
Sam arched an eyebrow, trying to bat away the fingers. "What can I do for help?" he called up in surprise.
Dean winked, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a book of matches. "The most important part." He held them out to Sam, letting his much-smaller brother take the pack. It was bulky, but manageable.
Sam watched for a moment as Dean stood again, taking a step towards the open grave and pouring the accelerant down. He started to follow Dean, momentarily nervous about the way both of his companions looked while he was standing down on the ground. Dean and Jacob were not small guys by any stretch of the imagination, and here he was, walking towards them.
Jacob was next, shaking the salt into the pit as Dean directed him. The salt was just tapering off as Sam reached the edge, hesitantly putting a hand on Dean's boot to lean over and stare down. In the darkness, he couldn't see the corpse of the girl, but he knew it was there.
"Ready, Sammy?" came a voice from above.
Sam nodded. He shifted the book of matches around, pulling off one that was the size of a baton to him. Dean knelt down, taking the book so Sam could swipe his up and light it. With a powerful toss, the third and smallest member of the group put the finishing touch on the routine salt and burn. The grave burst into flame.
Sam didn't even complain as Dean swept him off of the ground, away from the sudden, sweltering heat. The hunter took a step back and they all stood there to watch the fire burn itself down to nothing.
Even though Jacob thought it was really kind of fucked up that they were standing around watching a corpse burn, he was happy to be there. He was witnessing a reunion that was a long time coming. No one deserved to be separated from their family for so long. Jacob was glad he'd been part of bringing them back together. As odd a scene as it was to see Sam's tiny body standing on Dean's protective hand, it was a heartwarming moment.
Even though he'd messed up a little getting here, it seemed like things were getting better by the minute. Him getting smacked by a ghost aside. At least he seemed to have earned enough of Dean's forgiveness to have his life saved. Dean made it look so easy.
"Pretty good bonfire, Sam," Jacob quipped, sending the smaller brother a grin. They'd just come through victorious from their first hunt. It was both relieving and encouraging.
Sam grinned right back up at him from his perch on Dean's hand, held next to a giant chest. If he concentrated, he could even make out the telltale thump of a heart that was larger than his entire body. And the deep gale of breathing that echoed up out of either humans' lungs. He knew now that he might be smaller, but he'd never have to worry with Dean around. All those years of worrying that his brother the hunter might be a danger to Sam himself were unfounded.
"Next time, I'll have an even bigger bonfire," Sam joked back, glad to see that things were starting to relax after Jacob and Dean's altercation.
He knew those words were true. In his heart, Sam wasn't meant to stay in one place. He was meant to be out there, in the world, helping people. Saving people. Whether they were humans or they were the same size as he was, it didn't matter. No one deserved to die at the hands of the monsters that lurked in the dark. If Dean would have him, he'd go on with the hunter. He'd learn how to hunt, no matter how small he was.
A/N
Only Winchesters would think of this as bonding! Watch out Jacob, you've found all the crazy!
***The story ends 8/21/16! Go vote in the poll on tumblr to help decide the next story!***
Next: Coming August 21st 2016 at 9pm est.
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