Chapter Text
Oscar rubbed at his eyes to fight off sleep. After spending a tense evening stuck in the jar with the hunter keeping watch, he'd been let out for a short while. The human even gave him some pizza before putting him back in the jar for the night, all with few words between them.
He hadn't slept much. Nerves and the cold, hard glass of his prison kept him awake. All night, stuck in a jar in a looming room, he had only his thoughts for company. By the time a knock had come at the door the next afternoon, he was exhausted. Even now, hiding behind the TV with Sam, he barely pieced together what happened.
Vincent had hidden him quickly, only for Sam and Dean to suddenly appear. He wasn't even sure Dean knew about him right away. How would he?
Oscar huffed out a tired sigh and slumped against the TV. Next to him, Sam sat more alert and glanced at him. “You can sleep if you want,” he said gently. “It’ll probably be a bit before Dean and Vincent get back.”
Oscar shrugged. “I-I don’t want to sleep yet.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Exhaustion weighed down every limb, but so did worry. It left him too restless to really sleep.
Sam was quiet for a moment. Then, he nudged Oscar’s side with an elbow to get him to look up. “If you want, we can hide out in the walls instead and meet up with Dean somewhere else. I can text him to take care of Marinner and you don’t have to see him again.”
Oscar’s brow pinched and he thought it over carefully. It would put him at ease, maybe, to never again have to deal with the human. He hadn’t even learned Vincent’s name until Sam explained everything to him. A lone hunter that even Bobby didn’t know that much about, he hadn’t acted completely like anyone expected.
For all anyone knew, he might still plan to kill Oscar when the hunt was over. His intentions were clouded in every conversation with him.
“I-I think that, um. If y-you’re gonna face him, then I should, too,” Oscar decided. “It’ll probably … we gotta make sure he knows not to hurt a-anyone else.”
The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Okay. We’ll stay right here. When they get back, I doubt Dean will let Vincent get a word in before he gets going. We’ll look out for ya.”
Oscar let himself smile a bit. “Y-yeah. I know.”
~~~
He ended up asleep anyway. Oscar wasn’t sure how much time passed, but he woke to find himself curled up with his bag under his head. Beside him, Sam had just risen to his feet, and beyond the TV there was the telltale rumble of car engines.
He pushed himself up to a seat and rubbed at his eyes. Then, he followed Sam’s serious gaze to where the sparse light ended and met the shadows they hid in.
The room’s door all but burst open, just like the last time Vincent returned from a hunt. This time, however, two sets of heavy footsteps entered the room.
“Nothin’ like finishing off a werewolf pack,” Dean announced, louder than strictly necessary as he closed the door behind them. “Good job getting outta there in one piece, Vince!”
Vincent was unamused. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he grumbled. He’d already crossed the room to the alcove with the sink by the time the lights flooded on and showed the two humans’ shadows on the wall.
Oscar practically leapt to his feet to follow Sam’s lead towards the edge of the TV. Their cover was all that stood between them and the two giants in the room. Sam peeked past the edge first, and Oscar peeked past him. He was just in time to see a familiar hand scoop up the phone they’d left out on the dresser and stow it in the pocket of an equally familiar leather jacket.
Glancing up, he flinched in surprise to find Dean looking at them in the corner of his eyes. He smirked and turned his head just enough to offer a wink and a nod before focusing on Vincent again.
“Well now that that’s outta the way, we got something else to talk about, Vincent.”
It must have been some kind of cue. Sam strode out of hiding, and Oscar, after a startled instant, followed him. They came to a stop inches from the edge of the dresser, with Dean replacing the TV as the protective wall nearby.
Vincent turned in the midst of wiping his face off with a towel after splashing water on it. Oscar tensed as the man’s eyes opened, first finding Dean with a scowl of confusion. Then, they landed on Oscar and Sam, standing out in the open, and he visibly bristled.
“What the hell!”
Vincent stepped forward, his confusion and surprise fixed on Oscar and Sam. Oscar found himself grabbing Sam’s sleeve and hardly realizing it. His heart jumped into his throat.
“Sit down!” Dean’s voice was loud and powerful, with no trace of his condescending tone from before. His bearing was all authority, and the gun brought to bear against Vincent glinted a warning in the following silence.
Vincent straightened and put his hands up. His brow furrowed in more and more bewilderment, but he followed Dean’s jerky nod and sat on the corner of the bed. He glanced Sam and Oscar’s way once, but couldn’t take his eyes off Dean for long and risk losing track of his weapon. “What the hell, Dean.”
“Think I’ll go first in twenty questions,” Dean said gruffly. “Wanna explain to me why Oscar’s here and not in his own home right now?”
Vincent’s confusion only grew and he glared up at Dean. “You know him? What the hell … and who’s that other one?!”
Dean smirked and allowed himself a glance down at the two on the dresser. “Go ahead and introduce yourself, Sammy.”
Sam lifted an arm to wave. “Hi, Vince. I’m Sam. Sam Winchester. Dean and I hunt together. Oscar helps us out from time to time.”
Vincent didn’t move. His confused expression didn’t lift an inch. “What.”
“Sammy here is my brother,” Dean said, picking up the explanation. His voice, as confident as ever, was laced with anger that he didn’t bother hiding. “How he got to be that size is frankly none a’ your business, Vince, but see, the folk living their whole lives in hiding, just trying to get by, are the ones that looked after him for years when he needed help. All they want is to live their lives out of anyone’s way. And you know what? You mess with them, it becomes our business. So really. I’m dying to know. Why’d you take Oscar?”
“I …” Vincent began, only to stop himself. He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, his scowl softened, but he still looked like he wished he wasn’t seeing what was in front of him. Dean’s gun didn’t waver at all, and Oscar and Sam stood in plain view.
“Found him sneaking around at Bobby’s when I came by,” Vincent finally explained. “Didn’t wait around to find out why. Had my case to deal with. So I took the risk and brought him with me.”
“Oz?”
Oscar couldn’t believe how much relief crept through him at the sound of that nickname. Dean glanced his way and waited for a confirmation of the story. Oscar huffed out a sigh and nodded. “I-I was looking around the silver that Bobby left out. It, um. I didn’t know someone was coming. He had a-a jar …”
“A jar?” Dean echoed, his mouth angling into a sneer of disgust.
Vincent narrowed his eyes again. “Hey, I didn’t even know what he was. You think I’m dumb enough to just let some potential threat go wandering off just because I don’t have time to figure him out right that second? Yes, a jar, Dean.”
Oscar lowered his gaze sheepishly. The irritation in both voices screamed loudly against his instincts, even knowing he was well out of harm’s way. It was his own fault, getting caught. He knew how dangerous any visitor to Bobby’s could be if they didn’t know him.
Sam stepped forward. Placing himself between Vincent and Oscar and drawing the other human’s attention back to himself, he spoke up. “Vincent, we understand what you mean. And believe me, I’m grateful that you gave Oscar a chance and didn’t hurt him right away. But now we need you to understand. Not everything supernatural is a threat.”
“I know that,” Vincent shot back. “You gonna shoot me for being cautious or are we makin’ progress here, Dean?”
“Sit tight, Vinny. I gotta check on my friend.”
With that, Dean lowered his weapon and turned to face the dresser, though one hand remained around the gun and he was as tense as before. Vincent didn’t make a move, and Dean had a chance to lean down closer to the pair on the dresser. His face loomed, practically filling the view, but Oscar didn’t flinch away from him.
“I-I’m okay now, Dean,” Oscar greeted. “R-really. Just, um. I fell down a couple times, in the jar. That’s it. He even … I got some pizza last night. I was scared but not much really happened …”
“Well, Oz, that’s some of the better news I’ve heard all day,” Dean admitted. His free hand appeared above the edge of the dresser and nudged at Oscar’s side. “I’ll take your word for it, for now. We’re gonna getcha home in no time.”
“O-okay,” Oscar replied. His shoulders relaxed a bit.
Dean did not relax just yet. Once he’d confirmed the story with Oscar, he straightened and turned an intense look on Vincent once more. He stowed his gun in the back of his pants even as he stalked towards the other human. “I’m hoping we have an understanding, here,” he drawled.
Vincent scoffed. “Really? Just like that. You haven’t even told me anything about how you know they’re not--”
He didn’t get to finish whatever insinuation he planned to make. Dean’s fist connected with the side of his head and Vincent twisted to the side from the force. It knocked him right off of his seat on the bed and he barely caught himself on the floor before he collapsed. When he looked up, rage broiled behind his eyes and he grimaced, but didn’t move to attack back.
“That’s for knocking Oscar around, and for kidnapping him,” Dean explained. A pause in which the tension between the two hunters settled over the room like a physical weight drew out. Then, at last, Dean held out a hand to help Vincent up. Vincent narrowed his eyes at it, but took it.
“You’re not half bad at the hunting gig, Vinny,” Dean went on, pretending not to notice the flat look he earned for the nickname. “You don’t rush into anything, and that’s good. Hopefully you’ve learned to leave little guys like Oscar alone. For all you know, one of their folk could save your life one day.”
“And thank Bobby for his help every once in a while!” Sam called out from the dresser.
Vincent’s confusion lingered. After spending the better part of two days stuck with the guy keeping close watch on him, Oscar had learned some of his tells. The man didn’t say much when he was puzzling things out.
Dean sauntered back over to the dresser, a hand already held out. His fingers, most of them longer than Oscar was tall, settled on the surface like a ramp right to his palm. It was hard to believe how different a safe hand looked compared to an unsafe one. Oscar let Sam lead him onto Dean’s careful grasp, and then he sat down abruptly as all the leftover tension left his tired body.
Dean seemed ready to hastily scoop both of them up, and barely managed to control his urgency. As the small pair lifted up, Oscar chanced one last look over at his former captor. Vincent stared openly with that inscrutable, thoughtful frown on his face. Oscar lifted a hand in an awkward, wary wave. “Um. Bye.”
Vincent blinked, and then a trace of amusement appeared, so quickly one could miss it. “Take care, Oscar.”
~~~
“‘Take care’, like he’s not the one you should watch out for,” Dean complained when they were safely back in the Impala and pulling out of the motel’s parking lot. He’d let Sam and Oscar settle onto his shoulder for the ride so Sam could keep a lookout, and Oscar didn’t have to be confined for a while. Their slight weight, almost too small to notice, was a comfort after dealing with an entire hunt without Sam around.
“At least he listened,” Sam chimed in. “I don’t think he’ll forget it, not with a black eye to remind him for a few weeks.”
Dean smirked. “He needed some kinda souvenir for his trouble,” he reasoned. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he could make out the shadowy shapes perched on his shoulder. “How’re you holding up, Oz? We can make it a little ways before we see what places’re open late and grab some victory grub. Whataya say?”
Oscar sounded tired when he answered. “Okay. D-did, um. I guess the werewolves weren’t much trouble after all, huh?”
“For me?” Dean chuckled. “Not a chance.”
~~~
By the time they found a place that was open, Vincent and the ordeal Oscar went through was far behind them. Sam helped Oscar move to Dean’s shirt pocket for the brief moments in the quiet diner, and Dean was quick to make his order; the sooner he could find a place for them all to rest, the better. Oscar had hardly said a word since the trip got underway.
Predictably, Oscar perked up once there was food in the car. The little guy had his arms over the edge of the pocket to hold himself up, drawn by the smell. The food filled the air with aromas that constantly reminded Dean how hungry a good hunt could make him.
“I’ve heard of ‘alamode’ before,” Oscar mused. “I um. Never saw what it meant.”
“It means they put ice cream on the pie,” Sam explained.
“It means we’re celebrating,” Dean chimed in. He couldn’t help a glance down at the small pair in his pocket, though he could only spot them in the passing glow of a streetlight. “I know you’ve had pie before, Oz, but this takes it next level, trust me.”
“Ice cream?” Oscar’s voice had never sounded so unsure about food before. Dean was surprised to pick up that tone in the tiny voice. “Isn’t that, well. Wouldn’t it be too cold for pie?”
Dean grinned, more to himself than anything. Finding new things for Oscar to try had become a fun challenge ever since he discovered just how little variety the timid guy had known his entire life. The simple confusion over something as mundane as ice cream on a slice of apple pie reminded Dean of how much work he still had to do.
“That’ll be up to you to decide, Oz,” he replied. “But at least you won’t have to say you’ve never tried it.”
Oscar went quiet for a few seconds, leaving only the murmur of the radio and the background roar of the tires on the road to keep them all company. Then, his resolve seemed to come back to him. “A-alright. I can try, then I’ll see why humans like ice cream so much.”
Dean snickered. “Attaboy, Oz.”
“You’ll like it,” Sam assured him.
Oscar sighed, one of the quick little huffs he was prone to. “Well. I-I’m sure I will. You’ve never been wrong about that before.”
Dean smirked. Ahead, the Vacancy sign of a motel shone bright in the dark, drawing him in. It wasn’t quite home for any of them, not really, but it would do for the night.
They could all use the rest.