Taken 8

"Stop moving, you're making this harder than it should be."

Sam grunted at Bree. "You try having a broken arm shoved into a tiny little sleeve. Trust me, it's no picnic."

Christian sighed next to Sam, working on his other side. "Why'd they put you in such a small jacket anyway?" He managed to tear part of the jacket, ripping the sleeve halfway down.

Relief surged through Sam as the pressure released. "They wanted me to impress the buyer they have for us. Guess she's after people me and Bree's age." He scowled at his bad luck so far that week. Getting captured, separated from Dean, broken arm, now put on display like some purebred dog... and he was certain he'd be sold off to her. He'd seen the gleam in her eyes when she looked at him and Bree.

They would both be sold off soon enough. Maybe even the older men with them if the family had their way. Christian would never see his daughter again, Sam would never see Dean again... he had faith in his brother's tracking skills, but even Sam had to admit if he was shipped off to a distant country there was little chance of him ever seeing Dean again. The world was a very big place to get lost in, and he was very small.

Mina had said she'd be back in the morning with an answer. Sam had a shrinking window of time left before he lost any chance of seeing Dean ever again. Not that knowing this gave him any edge. He was still trapped in a crate he couldn't get out of. No way of breaking the wooden walls, no way of snapping off or picking the lock. At the mercy of humans that wanted nothing more than to sell him off, and a broken arm to top it all off.

He supposed that being sold off would be better than staying near Isabelle. The better of the bad choices. A new life he didn’t want.

Christian managed to slide Sam's arm the rest of the way out of the jacket after ripping the tightest parts. He frowned deeply at the splint. It was crooked, and barely holding in place. "We're gonna have to redo this," he muttered. Christian glanced up at Mikael, who was watching them from a few inches away. "Mind giving me a hand?"

"Sure." Mikael grabbed a chunk of wood from beneath the pile of cloth. Anything like that they'd hidden so the humans didn't take it away when cleaning the crate. Chance was never overly thorough, if he even remembered to do it.

Once again Sam's arm was carefully aligned with the wood. Cloth was wrapped around for padding, then thin strips used to attach the wood to the arm. Sam hissed with pain as the bindings were tightened to hold it securely in place. "Do you think there's a chance of it healing straight?" he managed to gasp out.

"Well, if it's left on its own to heal, you should be fine. You're still young, and the break was clean. You just need to rest, keep it straight. And as long as they don't try shoving it into another jacket like that we won't have to worry." Mikael kicked away the shredded remains of the jacket. "They left your old clothes over here," he walked back over to the center. A few seconds of digging yielded Sam's worn jacket and jeans.

Sam smiled at that, accepting them from Mikael. "I was hoping I hadn't lost these," he rubbed his hand against the soft clothing.

Bree smiled back at him. "Waste not, want not, right?" she grinned, quoting her mother.

"You got it," Sam said, smiling back. He could almost hear Mallory saying it in his mind.

Sam carefully pulled on his jeans, out of sight of the others. He debated against putting on the jacket, afraid of upsetting the splint more. In the end, he chose to put the jacket on as well. The sleeves were wide enough to get the splint through safely and helped hold it in place.

Once that was all settled, Sam came back over to where the food was. The crackers were stale and old, but he needed to keep his strength up. He tried to dig through and find better crumbs, but they were all about the same. He settled down to eat the food, knowing better than to complain about the situation. "Wish my brother was here," Sam muttered to himself. Dean would have them free in seconds.

"What's his name?" came a voice from behind.

Startled, Sam almost dropped his cracker. He hadn't heard Bree come up behind him. Christian and Mikael were still a ways away, far enough they shouldn't have overheard anything. Sam gave her a tight smile. "His name's Dean," he admitted. As much as he wanted to avoid mentioning his all-too-human brother here, she deserved an answer as much as anyone ever had.

She glanced around the insides of their prison. "Why do you wish he was here with us? Aren't you glad he's free, away from these people?"

"It's not like that... I just... he could help us get out of here, you know? If he was here, we could get free..." Sam stared off into the distance. It had been so long. What if Dean never found him? Sam might never see his family again... never be able to talk to his Dad or share a mutual joke with Dean. He even found himself missing Dean's constant size jokes. Being called shrimpy or short stuff or Thumbelina or pint-size. Maybe he'd come up with some size jokes for Dean when he got back... get a little bit of revenge for himself for once. Sam pulled himself away from those thoughts, focusing on Bree.

She bit her lip, still seeming confused. "But, how could he get us out of here?" she asked, gesturing at their surroundings, especially the massive lock on the outside of the crate.

"It's a long story," Sam gave a small laugh. "And I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

She gave him a mock scowl. "You doubt me?"

Sam shook his head. "That has nothing to do with it. How 'bout this... I'll tell you the secret if... no, when... we get out of this mess. Together."

"That seems fair," she allowed, cocking her head at him. "But this doesn't get you off the hook," she winked. Scooching over to his side, she joined him at the crackers. "Why don't you tell me about him? To keep your mind off... things."

Sam gazed off into the distance. "He's the only person I have in the world I can rely on, y'know? I mean, your parents were great. They took care of me for years, raised me and taught me everything I know about living... like this," he waved his hand in the air. "Without them I would never have made it." His shoulders slumped down. "But now they're gone. After everything they did to help me, I couldn't save them..."

Bree's gaze softened. "Sam, I don't know what happened, but I do know it wasn't your fault." She rubbed his back supportively. "The way you talk about them reminds me about the way I talk about them. Like family."

"Yeah..."

"Sam, don't think about it. Tell me more about him. Your brother."

Sam smiled. "He's the one person you could count on in a fight. He'd do anything to help people, even at his own risk - doesn't matter if it's a friend or a complete stranger, either. In fact..."

He talked to Bree long into the night, filling the silence with stories.

---

"Thanks Bobby. This information helps a ton."

"Just get your brother back, alright? That boy deserves better."

Dean hung up his phone quietly, remembering Kara's reaction to him slamming the phone against the table earlier that day. He didn't want to risk alienating her after everything it had taken to earn her trust, delicate as it was.

At the moment Kara was sitting on the edge of the computer, eating a little more of the granola he'd given her. A bottlecap was sitting by her side, with a bit of water in it so she could have something to drink with her food. He'd left it for her while waiting for Bobby's call. She didn't even flinch at the size of his hand when he'd placed it down on the table.

Dean looked up the address Bobby had given him over the phone. "Finally..." Dean muttered. Ten miles. The damn family lived ten miles away from the motel. Dean was so close to getting Sam back... and dealing with the family once and for all. With any luck they wouldn't make anyone else suffer like Sam and Kara's father, ever again.

He gathered up his belongings, packing up his duffel bag. That done, he glanced down at little Kara. Leaving her would put her in danger, but taking her with him would put her in even more danger. He knelt down on the floor, putting him at her eye level. "Uuhh..." Dean started. "Kara, you mind staying here? I'll be back in a bit, hopefully with Sam and your dad."

"No, you can't leave me here!" She bounced to her feet, running towards the edge of the table. "I need to help you find daddy! Please?"

"Whoa, slow down there," Dean put a hand up, guarding the edge of the table so she couldn't fall off. "Kara, it's dangerous out there for you. Your daddy would want you to stay safe, wouldn't he?"

She stared down at the table, sticking out her lip. "No. I can't just wait here." She looked up at him, eyes filling with tears. "I've been all alone for so long. I don't want to go back to that. Please..." She leaned on the hand guarding the edge. "Please please please let me come, Dean."

Dean chewed his lip, nervous. He tilted the hand she was leaning on so she tumbled into his palm, landing safely in the center. So tiny... he couldn't even believe he was actually considering this. But she was in the same boat as Dean here. Could he really leave her alone and defenseless in his room when there were kidnappers out for people like her? Not to mention they'd already been in Dean's room once. He couldn't guarantee her safety if she was alone. Maybe she would be safer with him.

"Kara, if you come with me, you have to promise to do whatever I say." He lifted the hand closer to his face. "Promise?"

She stared up at him, the same trusting look as Sam always had clear on her face. "I promise. Pinky swear!" she held up a tiny hand, extending her pinky for him. At least, that's what he thought she was doing. Her hand was so small he could barely see her fingers.

Dean extended his own pinky for her with his empty hand. He touched it against her hand as softly as possible, trying to ignore how she was smaller than his smallest finger. She lit up at the promise, melting his heart a little.

Taking his hand back, Dean focused on the problem at hand. "Okay Kara. If you want to come with me, I'll need a safe place for you to sit. You, uh... mind sitting in a pocket?" He pointed at his chest pocket for her.

"That's fine," she said, shifting on his hand, hitching her bag up higher on her shoulders.

"Did you need anything before we go?"

"No, I'm fine. Let's go find daddy!" She bounced up and down a few times in her excitement.

Dean lowered his hand to his chest, propping open the pocket with his other hand. He held it open wide enough that it formed a fabric slide for her, down into the depths. With a giggle, Kara jumped in, sliding down to the bottom with a bounce. She landed right next to Sam's small satchel, still there from Dean finding it the day before.

"You okay in there?" Dean asked softly, keeping his voice down for her benefit.

She glanced up, meeting the giant eyes above her. "Yep, ready when you are!" she called up with an excited wave.

He watched for a second more as she got situated in the dark fabric, pushing her little bag against the opposite side of the pocket from Sam's small bag. Sam's was about twice the size as Kara's, longer straps and more room to put his findings. Dean couldn’t help a brief smile, remembering how protective Sam was with his own bag. Kara had that in common with his little brother… she never let her bag out of reach. All the more reason to get Sam's back in his hands where it belonged.

Once she was settled, Dean let the pocket close on her and stood up. The little lump that made up the tiny seven year old girl moved a bit, shifting in place as he moved. Trying to not get distracted by it, Dean grabbed the duffel from his bed, hefting it over his other shoulder.

His brother was waiting.

---

Chance watched his mother hang up the phone with a smile.

Isabelle turned to her only son with a predatory grin. "We just had an offer from Mina. Over two hundred thousand for just the boy, three-fifty if we throw in the other three." She shook her head happily. "You found us the best of the bunch, Chance."

He took the compliment without comment. He enjoyed his job at the motel, keeping an eye out for all the little borrowers that supposedly lived there. That boy was the fifth or sixth he'd tracked down, and definitely the strangest. Seriously - he'd been living with a human. Who the hell lives with one of them?

Finding him had been one of the oddest moments in Chance's life. Normally he tracked them down with the cameras he had hidden in the motel rooms. Shadows against the wall, tiny figures sneaking around for supplies when there was no one in the rooms or when everyone was asleep. Once Chance found a pattern to their movements he'd report it to his parents.

With the newest boy, he'd seen him sitting, of all places, on a human’s shoulder. He wasn't one they'd ever seen or captured before, making him fair game. And he'd been out in the open almost the entire time he'd been in the room. Never taking cover once from the human he was living with. An easy catch when it came time to take him.

Isabelle left the kitchen. "Make sure to keep an eye on them tonight. She'll be here first thing in the morning to pick him up. Keep an eye out for that FBI man you said was nosing around the motel for the newest one." The door closed behind her with a snick.

Chance got up. First he'd make sure everything was as it was supposed to be in the storeroom, then check on his sister. He hated how she had to be locked in. With any luck she'd calm down once Bree was gone for good and stop causing him trouble. He didn't understand why Beth made things so difficult on herself. After all, their parents had got her the job at the motel for the same reason as they'd gotten Chance the job - track down and capture the little borrowers.

Selling them to buyers like Mina let them turn a good profit without falling into the more illegal side of things, like the smuggling they'd dabbled in before realizing they could find others like Bree. That had been the turning point for the family. Now they had a way to keep money coming in without risking arrest.

Beth, of course, hadn't participated in any of the family’s activities. She was so depressingly determined to be good. Go to school, get a degree, a good job... the black sheep of the family. Chance himself thought Bree had been a bad influence with his sister. He thought it was foolish his parents had let her keep the little borrower this long, especially after finding out how much they could sell for. At least that was over with for good, and Bree would be gone soon.

He shoved the door open to the storeroom. The crate sat in the corner, so ordinary you wouldn't be able to guess what was hiding in it. He knelt down, opening the lock so he could make sure they were still in there.

A quick count revealed all four were still there, the new boy in the center with his arm cupped against his chest. Chance smirked at that. If it was up to him, he'd have punished the boy far more after he stabbed Isabelle the second time. But no, they had to please Mina.

"You should know your place, insects." Chance said. He enjoyed watching the fear pass over their faces. Even Bree backed away from him. He wanted to enjoy that sight one last time before they were all sold off. Who knew when he’d have the chance again, with the slim pickings around these days. He knew he’d been lucky to discover the new guy.

Grabbing a different lock, Chance closed the crate up again. His sister didn't have a key to this lock. She wouldn't be able to get at Bree at all now. He hated the necessity, but didn't want to risk any of the little pests escaping and making him look bad.

He stood up, staring down at the crate. So small, but worth so much money... Strange how life was.

Chance took himself up to Beth's room. She was locked in by their mother until it was all over. Opening it up, Chance took in his sister's state. She was sitting at her desk, dejectedly poking at the dollhouse Bree had once lived in. A small bed was cupped carefully in one of her hands, against her chest. Tears streaked down from red-rimmed eyes. She glared up at him.

"What do you want, Chance? Haven't you taken enough from me already today?"

"Hey," he protested. "I just did what mother said. It's not my fault you're so attached to her."

"Yeah," she snapped. "That's why you enjoy this so much." She turned from him, still clutching the small bed to her chest. "Leave me alone already."

He hesitated by the door. As much as he disagreed with her over almost everything, she was still his sister. "Look, Beth... I'm not gonna lock you in. Just do me a favor and don't go anywhere near the storeroom. I'm going to be watching it all night and I don't want to have to lock you up again."

He closed the door softly. He doubted she'd even try anything past going to the bathroom. Too goody two shoes for her own good. A frown dug deep creases into his face. She was his opposite in almost every way, and they used to be so close, years back. Before Bree came into their lives. Maybe, with her gone, they could be close again.

He slipped back down the stairs. He'd grab a snack then settle in to keep watch on the storeroom. No worse than any other night at work. The only difference here was he wouldn't have the convenient network of security cameras to watch the premises.

"What's the chances anything will happen, anyway?" Chance murmured to himself as he walked around the corner. Like that FBI guy could even get anything from the tapes he’d given him. Chance snapped on the kitchen light.

Illuminating a tall man in a leather jacket, standing in the center of the room with a deer-in-headlights look on his face.