Sam's father scrubbed his face. "It's foolish," he said softly. "You risk so much. You risk exposing our entire way of life. For what? For some flimsy chance that that giant man out there will remember you? He'll actually care for you? Sam, think this through before you do anything else." He turned and walked away, going down the dark path and towards the kitchen. They still had a job to do.

It was much later in the evening, after late check-in, when the small families were gathered in Sam's adoptive family's home. The women discussed storing the provisions and what to make and how much should be set back for winter. The men discussed logistics, who would take what, where excesses could be stored and all the minute details that went along with such a large plan. They didn't do this big of a raid often, preferring to take bits and pieces where they could find them. But the monthly delivery of supplies and the sloppy, careless manner they were handled was far too big of an opportunity to pass.

The small people were just about to set out on their plan when the door to the room opened and slammed shut and thundering footsteps resounded overhead. Something heavy dropped to the floor, cracking the floorboards even more. The damage couldn't be immediately assessed, though, due to bag blocking the light. All the small people froze, not daring to move, not daring to make a sound. There was a curse above them, followed by a feminine scolding.

"Dean! Good grief, this place can't stand up to your roughing it up. And my credit card can't stand damage fees."

"Oh come off it. It's not even your card." This was Dean's gruff voice.

Sam's lips twitched. Hunting was not an honest, money-making business, he knew. In his later years, in those quiet moments of waiting for a chance to scavenge and reflecting on his youth, he often wondered just how his father paid for everything. Well, now it made sense. Credit card fraud. 

"Hey, I'm the one actively using it. So yes, it is my card." 

There came the sound of rustling through the duffel bag, heavy, metallic items clinking and clanging against each other. The humans continued talking. "We don't need the whole bag. That's too much. The werewolf was easy to take down so we have all the time tonight." 

Sam wondered what she meant by that. "So what do you suggest? You seem to know everything."

"Something gentle." There was silence and then a feminine giggle. "Alright. I guess there's nothing gentle in that bag. Ooh. What's this?"

"Twine," Dean said. Silence. "What? What are you thinking?"

"Hm.. It's hard to verbalize. But what about..." There was silence. In the silence, all the small folk exchanged wary glances. What were the humans talking about? "How's that?"

"It's idiotic."

"Rude!"

"But it just might work."

Their voices grew distant as their footfalls carried them away. The small people breathed easily and finished making their plans in hushed whispers. Then, they set off. It was slow going, creeping through the walls and checking to make sure their presence went wholly unnoticed. 

They were in luck. The kitchen was a mess. Food was scattered everywhere, with partially open containers and sloppily closed cabinets. It was a small folk’s paradise. 

The crews worked quickly, following the plan and gathering all they could. They returned to their homes a few hours later, once the food had been fairly split among everyone. Sam put away the last of their goods, smiling at how his mother cooed over the tattered apron they had brought back. It was a bold floral pattern. Florals has always been her favorite. 

With his family distracted over the influx of supplies, Sam slipped back into the dark of the walls. He crept through the ventilation ducts and stopped at the grate to stare out at the vast room beyond. 

It was dark in the room. No noises came from anywhere, save for the faint, soft breathing of the humans in their bed. Sam took this as a sign that it was safe to enter. He slid between the slats and stepped into the room. 

Only to have his ankle snagged in something before he was hauled upwards. He cried out in surprise and fear as he dangled at least three of his body lengths above the floor. He tried to pull himself upwards and grab the rope but he found he didn’t quite have the strength to do so. 

He didn’t have time to think of anything else. The overhead lights flicked on, nearly blinding him. He cried out again and threw his arm over his eyes. Voices echoed in the distance. The voices of the humans. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a shiver ran down his spine. 

He had been Seen. 

Dean turned and looked at his partner as the Borrower hung from their trap. “You were right,” he told her. “It did come back.”

Jesslyn nodded as she strode over. “I told you. They’re curious by nature but also shy. Having the lights out completely helped. And the food laid out lured them in.”

Sam looked around, just now noticing the chunk of granola bar laying on the ground. That wasn’t even what had drawn him in here. The chance to reconnect with his brother was the bait. He had been caught in a trap all the same, though. 

Sam suddenly realized just how foolish he had been. He didn’t really know this man, even if he was Dean. He didn’t know what kind of a hunter he was. Did he kill everything that wasn’t human? Or did he have compassion for harmless things? Sam gulped. He was about to find out. 

The woman knelt in front of him and smiled. It wasn’t quite warm and it sent chills down his spine. “If you’re harmless, we’ll know soon enough,” she said. “And then you’ll be free to go home.”

She turned and looked to Dean who stood behind her. His shadow encompassed both the woman and the small person. To Sam, the shadow was cold, impersonal. He prayed he would survive. 

“Let’s start with holy water,” she said. She took the flask, poured a bit on her fingers and flicked it at Sam. He flinched from the moisture but no smoke came off him and no hissing ensued. 

The woman picked up a notepad and pen. “Holy water: non-responsive.” She scribbled a note and looked to Dean. “Next, silver knife.” 

Her words made Sam think of the knife he carried. His gift from Dean a few months prior to his curse. He wanted to speak out and prove his identity, but kept quiet as the massive knife was pressed against him. 

“Silver knife: unresponsive.” She handed the knife back and jotted in her notebook. “Next, iron.”

“I’m not a monster!” Sam suddenly found his voice. He was terrified but he had to make his case. “I’m human!”

Dean snorted. “Nice try, pipsqueak. Humans aren’t four inches tall.”

“Dean!” Sam tried again. “It’s me, Sam! I’m alive!” 

Jesslyn arched an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, no. Pretty sure Dean’s little brother is dead. How horrible of you to try and make him think otherwise.” She applied the iron poker to his side. She hummed at the lack of response and noted it as well. 

Dean’s cold face turned stony. “My brother is dead,” he growled. “Don’t try and get into my head.” 

“I’m not a monster!” Sam continued. “I gave you that amulet the Christmas before I was shrunk. Uncle Bobby gave it to me! It’s supposed to glow in the presence of God. Please, believe me!”

Dean’s face was hard. There was no trace of emotion in it save for the hint of fury and pain in his eyes. “Jesslyn, it passed all the tests. Cut it down and let’s go. I hate this town.” 

Jesslyn looked between them and shrugged. She cupped the small person in her hand and undid the knot around his ankle. He fell into her palm and she quickly dumped him on the floor and stood. 

“Right behind you.” 

“I was cursed!” Sam shouted, getting to his feet and running after the humans. “The witch didn’t destroy me, it cursed me to be this size! I was adopted by some other small folk and raised this way. Please, believe me!” He felt his knife thumping in its sheath against his hip. 

“I have the knife you gave me! The silver knife that Bobby helped you make. I had it in my hand when I was cursed.” 

Dean stopped, forcing Jesslyn to stop short so she wouldn’t clip his heels. “Leave me alone. I don’t know how the fuck you know all this but I don’t care. My brother is dead.” 

He grabbed his duffle, shoved his few clothes and possessions in it and grabbed the duffle from underneath the window. As he pulled it away, the crack in the floorboard was revealed. Dean glanced at the hole, saw the small hole underneath and scoffed. They were everywhere. 

He turned and walked out, leaving the door open for Jesslyn. The woman crouched and looked at Sam. “You know too much so you’re coming with me until I can figure out why.” 

She scooped him into her hand, grabbed her zebra-print suitcase and walked out of the room. The chilly night air slammed into Sam. He was carried at waist-height away from the only real home he had ever known. The door slammed behind him, blocking his path back. 

Dean took Jesslyn’s suitcase and scoffed at the small person in her hand. “Why did you bring it?”

“Because it knew way too much about you,” she said. “I want to know why and what else it knows.”

Dean shook his head. “Then you take care of it. I’m not.” He tosses her suitcase into the backseat of her car. 

Jesslyn leaned in and deposited Sam into the cup holder that was hanging from the window. “Stay put, little guy. I’ll be right back.” 

She stood and hugged Dean, kissing him sweetly. “Tell me where we’re going next,” she said. “I’m following you.” 

Dean had to grin at that. “I found a case over in Missouri. Seems like a simple vampire hunt.”

“Lead the way. But we’ll need to stop at a Walmart somewhere so I can get a tank for the Borrower,” she said. “He can’t be loose.” 

“There’s one a few blocks up,” Dean said. “You can get one there.”

“Sounds good.” She kissed him again and slid back in her car. She closed the door, buckled in and looked over to the small person in the cup holder. “Ready or not, we’re on our way.”