The Real Adventure Begins - An Oscar Short

“Oscar, you’ve seen Dean’s pockets, right?” Sam chided. Oscar didn’t turn to look at him, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. “He can carry as much as you want to bring, I guarantee it. He won’t even notice the weight.”

Oscar huffed and shook his head as if shooing a gnat away. Sitting on his knees at the edge of his blanket nest, he tried to focus on the task at hand. He had a number of cloth scraps and rags stacked atop each other, a warm haven to burrow into on the colder nights in the motel. One hand pinched a worn blue scrap, running the thumb over the soft fibers. The other brushed over the rest of the blankets thoughtfully.

Choosing which blankets to take was turning out to be a tougher decision than actually deciding to leave the motel.

“I can … I can get more later,” he mumbled to himself. His cheeks were warm. He didn’t want to come back out of the vent overburdened with just blankets.

And yet, as he brushed his hands over each scrap, he conjured up the memories of where it came from. This one from a disorganized lady’s sewing kit. That one abandoned after a failed craft. Others …

Others that had always been there. A part of his home. These were the ones his mother must have gathered over the years. It used to be her bed. Years ago, before she disappeared and Oscar claimed it for himself to fall asleep in her scent at night.

Those memories were rough around the edges. Day in and day out had been the same struggle for a long time, until the Winchesters showed up. Now, with their help, a long and arduous chapter of his life was coming to a close.

“Hey,” Sam said, softer this time. He squatted next to Oscar and tried to catch his eye. Oscar realized that his eyes had welled up, and he hastily scrubbed at them while Sam went on. “It really is okay. I’ll help you carry as much as you want to bring.”

Oscar sighed and turned his attention back to the pile of blankets, his cheeks burning pink now. “I can pick some,” he insisted. “It … it really will be better to find some new ones. Once I’m there. It’ll help ... um, it’ll help me.” Sam nodded respectfully and stood to leave the side room and let Oscar decide on his own.

In the end, he picked four blankets. Once they were tugged free of the pile (along with the extra clothes Oscar stashed in there), Sam wouldn’t let him put any back. In fact, while Oscar worked to bundle the cloth into a more manageable pile, Sam tossed one more scrap of cloth onto it, one that Oscar had pointed out as especially warm.

“Sam!” Oscar complained, trying his best to glare up at his much taller friend. Sam just smirked at him.

Oscar huffed and resumed tucking the blankets together, rolling them up on the floor of the small main room of his home. The table, made of pill bottles and a tupperware lid, was still toppled and the rest of his furniture out of order, thanks to the too-tall pixie that had stayed in his home for a couple days.

A home that, soon, wouldn’t be his anymore. Oscar shuddered at the thought.

I can do it, he told himself, Sam and Dean will help.

He glanced over to his pantry, well-stocked with food for once in his life. It grated against everything he knew, but he didn’t need to bring any of that, either. Part of the reason he was leaving was the enticing promise of easier access to food. He didn’t need to desperately hoard it as much.

Still, he couldn’t let it go to waste. “Maybe I should leave the door open, so the mice can get to that,” he suggested.

Sam nodded and smiled. Already, he crossed to Oscar’s door. “Sounds like a good plan. They might come looking for you after a while, at least they can get something to eat.”

Oscar nodded absently, and his heart fell for a brief moment. He thought about the mice, generations of them, that he’d lived with in the motel. Meeting them when they were born and letting them learn his scent, raising them. He would miss them, and they would probably miss him, too.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around the bundle of blankets, getting to his feet. He needed to get moving before he had more doubts.

Dean’s advice to Sam rumbled in his memory. If he starts to have second thoughts, just bring him back out here, Sammy. We can both convince him, somehow. A giant fingertip had ruffled over the top of his head. Oscar hadn’t even bothered to fix his hair since then, and it was still a mess.

Sam pushed the door open, and then wandered back to where Oscar stood, laden with his blankets. “Want any help with those?” he offered.

Oscar shook his head. “I got ‘em.”

Sam smirked. “Alright. You sure you don’t want to bring your chair? I can carry it for you.”

Oscar let his gaze slide to the blue velvety ring box, with fake satin lining and a foam base. He’d already retrieved his extra sewing needles from the foam, and they were stowed away in his overflowing cloth bag. He’d done his daily chores on that ring box for years, now.

“Um …”

Before he could murmur out a weak “no,” Sam stepped over to the thing. With a quiet grunt of effort, he pushed the lid closed over the box with a snap that sent a startled jolt through them both. “I’ll carry it,” Sam announced. Oscar’s jaw dropped and he almost protested, but he couldn’t.

It was part of his home. And something like that wouldn’t be so easy to find again.

“Fine,” he huffed, trying to roll his eyes at Sam. Instead, he gave him more of a sheepish smile. “Showoff.”

Laden with their cumbersome burdens, they finally took their leave of the small home. Oscar, for the last time ever, crossed his threshold. He took a shaky breath once they were in the dark.

The one place he could always go when he was lonely or scared or cold, and he was leaving it behind. Riding on a promise of better safety somewhere else, he put one foot in front of the other in a slow, painstaking effort. Finding someplace better should be easy, but leaving the place he knew was hard.

“It’s okay, Oscar,” Sam encouraged him gently. His gait was slower than it normally would be, balancing the ring box in his arms.

“I got it,” Oscar muttered back. Determination and nerves clashed in his voice, but still they continued onward.

Thanks to the ring box, they couldn’t use the vent entrance. Oscar led Sam along to the torn wallpaper entrance that they’d used when walking with Goldenrod the pixie. At eight inches tall, the fussy fairy couldn’t fit through Oscar’s entrance to the air shafts.

Actually pushing the entrance open while both of them had their arms full was a trick. Sam ended up shoving the ring box at the opening, forcing it through to free his arms. Then, he hopped out into the motel room after a cursory glance into the light, holding the wallpaper back for Oscar.

Oscar paused, letting the opening frame indecision. One more step on the journey he’d let them convince him to take.

“I-I can do this,” he told himself, before clumsily exiting the walls.

Dean, seated on the bed to wait for them, had his eyes on a different section of the wall. He wouldn’t find them at the vent, so Sam waved his hand. “Dean!”

The human, over six feet tall and bearing an intimidating expression even when neutral-faced, turned his green eyes to the source of the call. He spotted them quickly, something that still always startled Oscar. Most humans wouldn’t know what to look for, and their gazes would skate right past his drab-colored clothes. Sometimes, he relied on that notion.

At least with this human, Oscar didn’t need to worry about being spotted. He shuffled his feet on the worn carpet fibers as Dean grinned and stood, carrying what to Sam and Oscar was an immense weight over to where they waited. When he knelt, the ground shook and air pushed past them.

Neither of them really minded that his shadow engulfed them. Dean had their trust, and they both knew he’d never want to betray it.

“So, whatcha got?” Dean asked curiously, nudging at the blankets in Oscar’s arms. His gaze flickered to Sam as he hoisted up the ring box once more. “A ring? Oz, I didn’t take you for the jewelry type.”

Oscar blushed fire while Dean lowered a hand for Sam to set the box down. “I-I’m not! That’s not what it’s for, I never even saw the ring!” he protested. “I use that box as a chair, it’s usually open!”

Dean’s teasing grin gave way to intrigue and he lifted the box high in the air in front of his face. Oscar watched with wide eyes as a fixture of his home opened easily in the human’s grasp, and Dean brushed a fingertip over the foam base. “Huh,” Dean began, snapping the box closed once more. “That’s a good idea. I’ll make sure it gets there all in one piece.” He winked, and the box disappeared into a jacket pocket.

“The rest is just, um. Just a few blankets,” Oscar said, lifting the bundle for emphasis.

Sam snickered and chimed in. “I think he was worried about making you carry more.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up. “That so?”

Oscar didn’t get to stammer out a reply before a huge hand, bigger than his pile of blankets before he’d picked it apart, swept towards him. Dean was careful but swift as he scooped the whole lot off the ground, with Oscar along for the ride. Oscar ended up landing on his chosen blankets on Dean’s palm, all in one pile.

“Dean!” Oscar complained, his voice squeaking with indignation. Vertigo swirled around him as he rose into the air.

That familiar, smug grin was in place when the hand stopped moving. “I think I got it, Oz. No need to worry about little old me.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Oscar insisted, huffing as he sat up on the pile of blankets. “I just thought … I didn’t wanna bring more than I needed.”

Dean’s grin softened and he nodded. “Fair enough, Oz. This everything?”

Oscar nodded, and scooted himself off the pile of blankets just in time for Dean’s other hand to pluck up the lot. If he hadn’t moved, he had a feeling Dean might have swept him up along with the blankets, just to tease. Luckily, Oscar’s ‘bed’ disappeared into a pocket without him in it.

Oscar sucked in a gasp as the hand lowered again, this time to admit Sam onto the palm as well. Oscar shifted aside to make room as Sam hopped on, and then flinched when the smaller Winchester winked at him. “Race ya!”

Sam stepped over the edge of Dean’s sleeve and started a swift climb up Dean’s arm, gripping the folds in his jacket with practiced ease. Oscar’s eyes widened and he scrambled after him before even realizing what he was doing.

Racing up the arm of a human.

Sam was already up on Dean’s shoulder by the time Oscar was making a vertical climb, thanks to the stolen head start. Oscar frowned up at him as he followed, amazed that Dean could sit so still. The human had his face angled to watch them the best he could, but he didn’t otherwise move, letting Oscar finish the race on his own.

“That’s cheating, isn’t it?” Oscar mumbled as he dragged himself up onto Dean’s shoulder. “I wasn’t ready!”

Sam laughed gamely. “We’ll call it a tie this time, but next time you better be ready!” He helped Oscar inch closer to the collar of Dean’s jacket, and Oscar gratefully clung to the larger fold of fabric. It only just began to sink in that he was up on Dean’s shoulder for the first time in his memory.

No safe pockets to curl up in and snooze. This time, Oscar would be traveling up high, watching every step Dean took. He would be able to pretend he was the one walking along at such a height.

He gulped. “M-maybe,” he said. “I don’t race a lot, it isn’t … I just like to be quick enough to get in and out of a room as fast as I can.”

“Well, for now, you just relax, Oz. We’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us anyway, and I don’t think you guys wanna run around in the car,” Dean rumbled out. Oscar clung tighter to his collar as the human shifted, and then both he and Sam braced themselves as Dean stood. Air rushed past them, ruffling their bangs.

Oscar’s head swiveled this way and that once Dean was at his full height. He had seen the motel room from a vantage point in Dean’s pocket before. In the front pocket of the flannel shirt, Oscar would have a wall of a chest behind him. Now, he could look behind Dean as the human turned.

He could see all around. Despite the shaky perch, he could see the appeal.

Dean retrieved his own bag in a smooth motion. Oscar kept an eye on Sam, who leaned with the motion like it was the most normal sensation in the world. He didn’t have to cling to the fabric of the jacket like Oscar did in order to feel secure.

Oscar sighed. He might end up just as accustomed to this someday, too. Sam and Dean had both insisted they’d be able to visit him more, after he made this move.

Probably meant Dean would keep scooping him up off the floor as a greeting, too.

Oscar faced the door when Dean took one long stride towards it, jarred out of his thoughts. The motel room was behind him. A world of familiar shadows and corners, of countless nights wishing he’d found more food and endless days waiting for someone to check out so he could go out. He was leaving it all behind. What little good could never erase the hardships of getting by on his own.

A large hand left the human’s side down below, closing firmly around the worn metal doorknob. Oscar held his breath. He’d been outside before, but this … this was the last time he’d travel out that door.

He squinted in the sunlight as the door opened. Yet another adventure with the Winchesters was underway.

Oscar let his breath out and allowed himself to smile, just at the corners of his mouth. He’d had a few adventures already. What was one more?