(Jacob, Mouse)
AU: Brothers Lost
Timeline: After The Water’s Fine
The old house creaked and groaned, constantly settling as the wind outside tested its strength. Jacob crept through the main hall, his boots muffled by a dusty rug that had been traversed many times over the years. The house truly was old, so much so that its wiring was shaky at best, and anything electronic didn’t fit in with the decor.
Jacob kept his flashlight trained on the ground as he walked, and his eyes flickered from side to side. He normally had two small companions on either shoulder, giving him input on where he should go.
They’d led him to this house, this old old place, and that was as far as he’d gotten with their guidance. Old floorboards and walls meant lots of passages within the woodwork of the home to explore. As the only ones that could fit in there, Sam and Dean were the best choice. Sam was only four inches tall, and Dean was a little smaller, but that had yet to slow them down.
Sam and Dean Winchester were hunters, and it ran in the family. After so long thinking their lives had crashed into a dead end in a little motel in Kansas, they were back on the job with a determination to rival anyone. While helping them look for their dad, a hunter who had dropped of the map a couple years back, Jacob was learning the trade as well.
They would scope out the inside of the walls and see if they could find any evidence of what might be causing the strange activity reported from that house. Jacob, being much taller and bulkier, would venture the halls and rooms, scoping out what he could.
Despite knowing how capable they were and how fiercely the brothers defended their independence, Jacob couldn’t help but worry about them in the back of his mind. This was an entirely new place. He didn’t even know the normal dangers they might face in the walls, and this house would probably have new ones. Old, unstable framework would shift and crush them, or a resident rat, used to having the place to itself, could sneak up on them.
Jacob had to remind himself often of how long they’d been living at their size. They were cursed as kids, and he’d only known them for a month or so at the most. Of their group, <i>he</i> was the least experienced with hunting.
The thoughts quieted as he wandered into what looked like a living room. He needed to focus. They were there to find signs of a vengeful spirit or even a poltergeist.
A flicker of motion in one corner drew Jacob’s gaze like a beacon. Normally, he’d never notice something like that, but after hanging around with people the size of his fingers, he could never be too careful. He had to keep his eyes open for them.
The risks if he didn’t were far too great.
“Sam? Dean?” he called, his voice low but still shattering the silence. He always felt huge and loud when he was dealing with them, and when they were all on a hunt. After the case with Melanie, he’d tried to learn better stealth, with Dean giving him pointers, but he didn’t think it was working very quickly.
Even so, he crossed the room to where he’d seen the motion, next to a heavy cabinet. He knelt down next to it and shone his flashlight in the corner, expecting to find one of the Winchesters snooping around. He could expect a scold or a harsh complaint if it was Dean.
Instead, there was a surprised little squeak.
Jacob’s eyebrows shot up and he gasped at the sight of a tiny mouse. It was curled up with its back to the corner, and a little pink tail wrapped around the tiny paws. Round ears and a whiskered nose quivered in time with the rapid breaths seen in the tiny curled up body.
“Oh,” Jacob muttered. He’d cornered a mouse. “Uh. Sorry, little guy.” He remembered thinking that the brothers were so close to mice in size when he first started hanging around them. Now, he was seeing, they were definitely bigger than a mouse, or this one was exceptionally small. It might be young.
Jacob didn’t have much time to think about the fact that he’d cornered a tiny little mouse in his search for his friends before a crash sounded elsewhere in the house. It sounded like it came from upstairs, and recognition lit in his eyes. The attic had been cited in the stories about the house several times.
“If you see my friends when you get back in the walls, let them know I went upstairs,” he murmured with a smirk, wondering if Sam and Dean could already hear what he said. Him, their so-called Godzilla, talking to a mouse.
Then, he stood back to his full height, letting his flashlight beam drift away from the mouse. He didn’t watch where its shadowy shape darted to next.
He had to find out what caused that noise. It’s what a good hunter would do.
Writerly Things 