Quarter to twelve in the morning, Bobby rolled up to the motel in his Chevelle. After driving six hours straight to where Dean's GPS signal was coming from, the car was practically groaning at him in annoyance. But if something had happened to the boy, Bobby'd never forgive himself if he could have done something to help. That boy was like a son to him.

He scanned the parking lot, searching for the familiar silhouette of the Impala that had been with the Winchesters since before he'd ever run across that brash hunter named John. A foolish man on the best days, John was stubborn to a fault and foolhardy. The only redeeming factor to John had been the young boys tailing after him. Dean and little Sammy... Bobby smiled when he remembered that first day he'd seen them, walking behind their dad, eyes full of youthful wonder when they'd seen the junkyard spread out in front of them.

Dean, especially, had loved to tinker on the cars, learning the ins and outs of repair from John and Bobby over the years. Bobby hadn't been surprised when the boy had inherited the classic '67.

Bobby frowned. The Impala wasn't in sight. He double-checked the phone, making sure he was in the right area. The signal coming from Dean's phone was still originating from the motel room. It hadn't moved an inch. He narrowed down the pointer, managing to pick out the room the signal was coming from. Parking the Chevelle outside, he stepped up to the door. It was locked, leaving him to dig out his own lockpick. A hunters essential, right up there with silver and salt.

In less than a minute, the door was open. Checking his surroundings to see if he was being tailed, he slipped into the room. The door clicked shut softly behind him.

Inside, the room was motionless. A laptop Bobby recognized as Dean's was sitting on the second bed, while on the table the remains of a meal was strewn across one side. No weapons were anywhere to be seen. Aside from that, nothing jumped out at him as out of the ordinary.

Bobby frowned. The phone call was still bothering him. If anything had happened to Dean, surely there would have been a better way to get a message out for help. And the hunter didn't even seem to be in the room... so why was his phone still here?

Bobby walked through, checking the area around the beds and in the bathroom. There was still nothing there. He grunted in annoyance. If there were any clues here, they certainly weren't jumping out at him. He walked over to the table, picking up a discarded newspaper from the seat of a chair. The front page was about the death of a young girl from the same town he was in. He checked the address. In fact, where she'd died was less than five miles away. That couldn't be a coincidence...

Bobby's thoughts were pulled away when his eyes fell on a tiny little object, out of place on the nightstand. What the hell? he thought to himself, confused. If he didn't know any better...

Checking his feet, he stepped over to the nightstand, bending down so he could see it better. It was a tiny, intricate bag. A tiny strap that seemed well worn, held shut by almost invisible metal clasps. A human's hands would never be able to open it without destroying the miniature object. Bobby carefully pinched the little strap between two fingers. The leather it was made of was soft between his fingers, well-made. In fact, it was almost professionally made. Small signs of wear showed on the straps, little stretch marks from frequent use.

It was far too intricate to have been made by human hands. Too detailed be made for a dollhouse.

He squinted down at it with a frown. "What the hell..." Bobby repeated, muttered out loud this time.

He folded his hand around the bag, keeping it safe. Once done, he glanced around the room. Dean, being John's son, was the last person he'd have ever expected to find traveling with a little... something wasn't right here.

A tiny worm of fear hit Bobby. What if Dean wasn't traveling with them? What if he'd...

He pushed away those thoughts. He knew that boy. Dean may have been John's son, but he didn't have the same blind anger towards anything supernatural that his daddy had. He was a quick student, much better at figuring out who his enemies truly were then John had ever been. John still had a habit of charging in half-cocked, even after all the years he'd been a hunter. Dean had surpassed him in more ways than one in Bobby's mind. And if Dean was traveling with someone like that, as far-fetched as it might seem for the tall, imposing hunter, it would go a long way towards explaining that phone call he'd received earlier that morning that had set off this unexpected trip.

Bobby straightened, still holding the bag in his fist. "I know you're in here," he said simply, speaking to the air. It was just a guess, a leap, but he had nothing to lose.

For a second, he thought he heard a small jump of surprise. His eyes tracked the sound to behind the picture on the nightstand. He spotted a small shadow he hadn't noticed before, trying to keep down, out of sight. Stuck there with only a picture frame for cover and no way down.

His heart sank, realizing he must have frightened them. Having a huge human stomping around in the room without knowing you were there... he understood how that must feel. And even worse was the vulnerability that came from being so small and defenseless near a human that knew you were there. There was no way for them to know he'd never harm them. "Now, I ain't askin' ya ta come out." At these words the tiny shadow moved, daring enough to peek from behind the frame. Bobby took his eyes away, staring around the room as though he had no idea they were there. It was the best way to gain their trust - meeting a human eye to eye freaked out even the hardiest little.

"I'm guessin' you're my mystery caller though, aren'tcha?"

He took a few steps to the nightstand, carefully placing the bag right next to the picture frame as a peace offering. He could only hope the intent would come across as he watched the tiny shadow cringe away from the side he placed the bag on. "I don't know why you're with Dean, but if you're worried about him or he's gotten himself into trouble, I can help." He stared hopefully at the nightstand. "I just need to know where to look for him."

A minute passed after he finished talking, completely silent. He was about to give up and go back to the table, leaving them in peace, when he saw a small hand with almost microscopic fingers reach out from behind the nightstand. It grabbed the bag, taking it quickly out of sight. Practically holding his breath at the sight, Bobby edged a little closer. He always forgot how damn small they were, no matter how many times he'd run across them in the past. And completely harmless, in all his years of hunting.

It was another minute before a different voice cut through the room, small and trembling. "You swear you won't grab me?"

Bobby smiled, knowing that meant the tiny, hidden (well, sort of hidden) person was willing to give trust a try. "Never saw the need before."

The little shadow moved as the person stood up, turning around to face Bobby. A slight shock went through him for a second, as surprised as he always was when someone so small and vulnerable was willing to trust a human. Especially considering what other humans had put them through in the past. Bobby always understood when they wanted nothing to do with him. After all, he knew he'd have a hard time talking to someone that could be dangerous by accident himself.

And then a larger shock went through him when the boy started talking.

"Bobby? It's me. Sam."

Sam couldn't help cowering behind the picture frame when the door swept open for the second time that day without any knocks. Shit, shit, shit! he thought to himself helplessly. Caught out, not once but twice. He was having a rotten run of luck this week. This time, there hadn't even been any warning, so he didn't have enough time to get under cover without being seen. So, the picture frame - the only cover that was on the nightstand that would block him from view - had been where he'd run.

The door clicked shut, followed by the footsteps of a human. He daringly peeked out from behind the nightstand, peering at the new human. His mouth went dry when he saw who it was.

Worn jacket. Trucker cap. Scruffy beard.

Bobby.

Older and more worn than the last time Sam had seen him as a child, but still recognizable. The older hunter was shorter than Dean, but still towered over Sam. Naturally. His eyes swept across the room, just as intense a gaze as Dean ever had. Clearly the hunter was searching for something.

That phone call must have made him suspicious enough to investigate what was going on. Sam had brought Dean help, but at what cost to himself? Anything could happen with a human - anything at all. All he had on himself was his silver knife for protection. He didn't even have his bag... it was out of reach across the nightstand. In plain view. He'd never be able to reach it without being seen.

For a bit, the human searched around the room. He didn't come near the nightstand, to Sam's great relief. When he sat down at the table, reading over the article on Marie's death, Sam relaxed a hair. He might actually make it out of this in one piece.

When the huge footsteps started up again, this time clearly heading for the nightstand, Sam realized he might have spoken too soon. Out of the edge of sight, he saw a massive hand descend to the surface, scooping up his tiny bag into its grasp. No! Sam cried out in his mind. Everything important to him was in that bag... his journal, the tools he used every day to survive in such a large world, the water orb from Nixie... and now a hunter had it all in his hand, pinched between massive fingers. One wrong move could destroy all Sam's most important possessions. Everything he had in this life that wasn't clothing or his knife.

Sam shivered, knowing he had to let it go. Better the bag than getting caught himself. Maybe the human would just put it down... it wasn't like it would do Bobby any good, anyway. Everything in it was too small for him to use, if not too small to see in some cases, from what Dean had told him. All irreplaceable to Sam.

The human straightened, towering over the nightstand. "I know you're in here," he said after a minute, his gravelly voice filling the room.

Sam twitched away from the edge of the frame in shock. How?! his mind demanded of the human, words he was too frozen in fear to get out past his lips. How did Bobby figure it out from one little bag? Shouldn't he just think it was from a dollhouse, like a normal human?

The achingly familiar voice continued while Sam was too frozen to respond. "Now, I ain't askin' ya ta come out."

Sam blinked in surprise. That was the last thing he'd ever thought he'd hear from a human. Even Dean had made catching Sam his first priority when he'd thought something was in his room. Curiouser and curiouser... Sam thought to himself.

"I'm guessin' you're my mystery caller though, aren'tcha?"

Sam leaned out from behind the picture frame, taking in the old family friend while he was looking around the rest of the room. Bobby wasn't even glancing towards where Sam was hidden, giving Sam a little more confidence to lean out further. He caught sight of his bag, still held in the massive fist. Hope blossomed in his chest when he saw it was safe, no sign of damage from the human's handling. Everything should be intact in there.

Boots rattled the floor under Sam as Bobby came back over to the nightstand. Moving back behind the frame Sam froze, scrunching his eyes shut as tight as he could. He wrapped his arms around his legs, trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. He even held his breath.

Years of ingrained reactions to humans refused to let him open his mouth and talk. Even the first time he'd talked to Dean had taken him hours to get up the courage to actually confront the hunter. And that was his own brother.

A shadow passed over Sam's hiding place, then disappeared. He opened his eyes in confusion, glancing at the side of the frame he was scrunched behind.

His bag was sitting there, not three inches away. All he had to do to reach it was scooch over to the edge of the frame again. But... what if he's just guessing where I am? What if he's trying to lure me out of hiding? Using my own bag to catch me with...

The voice came again, softer this time. "I don't know why you're with Dean, but if you're worried about him or he's gotten himself into trouble, I can help. I just need to know where to look."

Sam could feel his courage starting to build up. This human didn't feel like the others... he was actually starting to remind Sam of the way Dean treated him. Acting like he was an equal, talking to him like just another person... not once had Bobby tried to go for him yet. All he had to do was pick up the picture frame Sam was sitting behind, hardly a problem for any human. And Sam was nowhere near any real cover. He was a sitting duck.

Taking a leap of faith, he reached for his bag to test his theory. His small arm was exposed for the brief seconds it took. He pulled it back to his side as fast as he could. There was no movement from past the picture frame... no grabbing, no jump of surprise... nothing. Not even a gasp.

Which meant Bobby already knew where he was. And had decided to leave Sam be.

He gathered his courage, understanding it was useless to pretend he didn't exist at this point, and addressed the giant hunter. "You swear you won't grab me?" His voice shook as he talked, unable to push away the impression left over from when Dean had grabbed him all those weeks ago, coming close to crushing Sam by accident when he hadn't realized what he was holding in his fist. And Sam completely helpless the whole time. He was too small to budge a single finger.

There was a smile in the voice when Bobby spoke up again, addressing Sam directly. "Never saw the need before."

Before? There have been other times? Pushing away the confusion in his mind from that statement, Sam slung his bag around his shoulder, reassured by its weight against his side. He ran a hand over the leather strap, glad it was back where it belonged. He took a moment to gather himself. This was it.

He stood up and stepped out from behind the frame.

"Bobby? It's me. Sam."

The reaction that statement got out of Bobby could have made him the poster child for the phrase 'Cat got your tongue?' His mouth opened and closed a few times in shock. Sam clutched his bag to him when the huge hunter sank to his knees right in front of the nightstand, eyes running over every inch of Sam's small body as though he was afraid Sam might disappear again. Sam took a few steps back, nervous to be standing out in the open in front of a hunter that wasn't his brother. The human was too close for comfort, Sam barely an arm's length away. He felt exposed and vulnerable.

Bobby finally managed to get his act together enough to talk again. "Sam? " he blurted. "Sam Winchester? "

Sam felt his mouth turn up in a slight smile, reassured by the reaction. He held out his arms. "The one and only."

Bobby closed his eyes for a few moments, recovering from the revelation. Opening them again, he caught Sam's eyes again. "But... how? We thought you were dead... Dean thought you were dead..."

"I know." Sam's shoulders slumped down at the memories this brought back. "It's a long story..."

Bobby shook his head. "Well, this explains why you're with Dean. I thought it'd be odd for him to have a little traveling with him..."

Sam frowned. "A little? "

"Yeah... it's a name for people your size. I've heard a few... littles, borrowers, that type of thing. Everyone's got their own name, it seems."

Sam practically groaned. "Do me a favor... don't tell Dean about the 'borrower' name."

Bobby settled down on the floor, giving Sam a bit more space, to the relief of the small hunter. "Any reason why?"

"Uh... let's just say he'll be impossible to live with."

Bobby's chest jumped in a small laugh. "Sounds like Dean alright. How long you been with him?"

Sam sat down on the edge of the nightstand, still holding his bag close. Its solid weight was a comfort in his vulnerable situation. "Over a month, I think. Maybe more. Not really used to tracking days anymore."

Bobby sobered up. "Did something happen to him?"

"I... I don't know. The last time I saw him, he wasn't acting like... Dean." Sam trailed off, worry filling him again now that he had help.

"I think you better begin at the beginning."

Sam tucked his chin against his chest, deep in thought. "Well..." he started.

For the next ten minutes, he filled Bobby in on the case they'd been working on. About how the girl had died, the strange tapping she'd heard in the stairwell. He got to the bit about the interview with her sister and found himself telling Bobby about how it had seemed from his point of view... accidentally going into detail about being trapped in a pocket, and how it felt when the girl had almost seen him in the elevator.

The entire time, Bobby just sat there, intently listening. He didn't interrupt, he didn't make fun of Sam or poke jokes the entire time. Just listened, staying far enough back from the little hunter so Sam didn't feel threatened.

As much as Sam appreciated it, he found himself missing Dean's quips. As annoying and aggravating as they could be, they had become a constant reassurance Sam hadn't realized he needed until it was gone.

Sam got to the part where Dean had come back to the motel the night before at last. "It was weird," he said, staring down at his knees. "He... usually he always checks to see what I'm up to when he comes in. So he doesn't... y'know... step... on me. And, he didn't... he didn't give me the 'okay' signal when he came in." Sam strayed away from what the signal was, realizing instinctively the less people knew about it, the safer he'd be. "And he was walking weird. Acting surprised when he found weapons he'd hid in the room himself." Sam glanced back up at the older hunter. "I checked if it was a demon, but got no reaction. And Dean said shapeshifters use some kind of mind link when they take your shape... lets them pose as you. He had no idea what was in that motel room, guaranteed. And... when I saw him... up close... it was like a mirror reflection of Dean. Everything was just... a little wrong. Whatever this... thing... was, it doesn't fit with what I know."

Once Sam trailed off into silence at last, Bobby shifted on the ground. "Well, there's not much that might fit the bill. And nothing I've heard of that's ever been seen here before."

Sam felt a bit of hope. "But you heard of something that might fit?"

"I might have. Over the last century in Great Britain, there were recorded sightings of doubles. People that were at work, or with their family on one side of town while a friend would run into them on the other side of town." He stood up, causing Sam to bounce to his feet and back away from the edge of the nightstand, putting a bit more distance between him and Bobby. Instinct was impossible to ignore.

Bobby grabbed the laptop from the bed, loading it up. "Password?" he asked. Sam rattled it off from memory. He would switch the password again soon enough that it wouldn't hurt for Bobby to have it. A few minutes later Bobby flipped around the computer with an article showing.

Sam read the title. "Doppelgänger?" he asked curiously. "That's not shapeshifters?"

Bobby frowned, turning the computer around so he could see the page. "Don't know. No hunter's ever run into one here. You and Dean might end up being the first. Supposedly, they appear as a double of a certain person. Like an identical twin, only like you're looking into a mirror instead of an exact copy like a shapeshifter. Now, whoever they're impersonating tends to die not long after the sighting, usually within six months. Because of that, they became known as death omens over in England. It's not too much of a jump to say they might be the cause of the death, instead of just the harbinger."

Worry spiked in Sam again. "But... if that's true... Dean's next." He turned his hazel eyes up at Bobby, the puppy-dog look on full power. "We need to find him!"

Bobby went over to the table, going through his jacket. "Do you know if Dean had any silver bullets?"

"Uh, yeah. In the duffel he took with him. Why?"

"Well, no matter the type of shapeshifter... skinwalkers, werewolves and the like are all vulnerable to silver. In fact it's the only way to kill most of them. With any luck a doppelgänger has the same weakness. My silver knife will have to do for now." Once he had everything settled, Bobby headed for the door.

Sam jumped up, running to the edge of the nightstand. "Wait! Where are you going?"

Bobby arched his eyebrows at Sam. "To the apartment you told me your brother went to before his personality changed. Why?"

Sam couldn't keep the slight despair out of his voice. "You'd go without me?"

"Well, yeah. It's dangerous for someone my size, never mind someone like you."

Sam glared up at Bobby with determination. "I can't just sit around while Dean's in trouble! He's my brother - I need to be there for him, just like he's always there for me!" He pulled his own silver knife out of his jacket and stared at Bobby with steel in his small hazel eyes. "I can handle myself. You and Dean aren't the only hunters here."

For a few moments, Bobby stood there, silently assessing Sam. Whatever he thought of Sam calling himself a hunter, he never said. He nodded thoughtfully to himself as he came to a decision. "You know this means I'll have to pick you up, right?" he asked quietly.

Sam kept himself from flinching at the thought of being in someone other than Dean's hands. Dean needed him. Nothing else mattered. "Whatever it takes," he said, packing in every ounce of stubbornness and determination into his voice that he had in his body. One thing that Winchesters were never in short supply of was stubbornness. No matter their size.

Bobby came over to the nightstand and knelt down. His hand came to rest a few inches away from Sam. "Just so you know, I've never picked up a borrower before," he warned.

Sam smiled at that. "Well, you can't do any worse than Dean's first time. He practically crushed me before he realized what he had in his hand."

Bobby's eyebrows were practically up to his trucker hat. "Crushed you?"

"Yeah... I'll tell you all about it. But first, we need to get Dean back." Pushing any doubt to the back of his mind, Sam stepped onto the unfamiliar hand, concentrating so he didn't shake in fear. He needed to act like he was the one in control here, keeping any sign of weakness away. He tried to keep his mind off what he was doing but failed spectacularly. He hated putting himself in anyone else's power. Dean was the only human he trusted to hold him, and Dean had earned that trust over a lifetime.

The hand rose into the air smoothly the moment he was standing in the center of the palm. Sam dropped down into a crouch for balance until Bobby had him at chest height. "Pocket?" Bobby asked.

Sam glanced at the chest pocket on Bobby's jacket, considering how odd it was that it was normal for him to travel that way. "Uh, yeah, that works." His voice didn't even shake when he spoke. He was getting better at this.

The hand moved down so he could reach the pocket. Sam found himself grateful that Bobby didn't try to put him in the pocket himself. Getting used to being this easily picked up was still something he was adjusting to. A lot of the time he found himself missing the days of living in the motel with his parents. He'd been the only one in control of his fate back then, no worrying about humans that could grab him as easily as breathing. Thank god Dean was doing much better at that.

Jumping in, Sam discovered the pocket was thicker and roomier than any of the chest pockets on Dean's jackets. He had a bit more space to breathe, helping him to relax in his unknown surroundings. Holding his bag on his lap, he sat in the corner, glancing up nervously once in awhile.

Dean needs me.

Nothing else mattered.

Once Sam was safely settled in the pocket, Bobby left the room. His Chevelle soon pulled out of the parking lot, heading for Marie's apartment complex.

A/N

Annnnndddd... the monster is revealed! Doppelgänger. More to come next week.