Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prey.

The scent was strong. Silent steps left barely a pawprint in the foliage as the wolf stalked through the woods. Normally, it did not pursue humans. They were dangerous and large, especially compared to a single wolf. But the Alpha demanded prey. Life, ended at the teeth and claws of the Pack. Blood for the Alpha to show that he was greater. 

Greater than any other member of the Pack.

No wolf went against the Alpha.

The wolf slowed and lowered its tired body as close to the ground as its stiff limbs allowed. It was so tired. But the Alpha's command remained fresh and sharp in its mind, even as predatory instinct began to take over. The hunt was still on.

The hunt went on and on and on.

There was something in the woods. Something that the Alpha wanted. Desperately. The Alpha demanded that the wolves continue their hunts, long after their paws grew tired and their eyes became glassy. Long after they wanted to crawl away and have peace.

The Alpha was close to his goal, and yet so far. He brought more and more into the Pack. 

Searching. 

Always searching. 

Something that he needed. Something that would make his status as the Alpha even more absolute.

Anything that gets in the way of finding it is prey.

The human stooped over one of its unnamable human things. Something that many humans could be seen carrying on their backs. The air was saturated with the scent of human. The scents of things from beyond the forest, beyond the green canopy and close trunks of oak and cottonwood and maple. This scent would have been enough to frighten a lonely wolf away. Humans carried things that hurt wolves.

This wolf was not lonely. It was a member of the Pack. And the Pack had a powerful Alpha. The Alpha had demands, and the Pack was powerless to resist him.

Bite. Claw. Kill. The human is blood and sinew. It is not what the Alpha seeks. It is only prey.

The wolf inched forward. Then, when it was sure it had the advantage, a low snarl echoed out of its chest. Matted fur raised on its back, and its lips drew back in a feral snarl as the wolf made itself known to the prey.

The human made one of those noises they were known for. "What the fu- Oh my God! " it squealed. The wolf snarled louder and took another step forward. The human's response was to take a wary step backwards. Some prey ran. Some prey, like this human, tried not to act like prey. But it could not change what it was, any more than the wolf could change itself: wild, ferocious, a predator. The thing that would pursue this human for the Alpha.

The human kept stepping backwards, one of its spindly paws held over its face. The wolf's own powerful scent must have reached it. The human's other paw fumbled at its middle. The wolf didn't have much time to waste.

It crouched lower, and then sprang forward, jaws wide. The human managed to retrieve its thunder-weapon from its middle. The wolf knew those. Humans carried those for the sole purpose of harming animals in the woods. But even as the immense sound rang out and something small and hot bit into its gut, the wolf's growls didn't falter. Adrenaline and instinct governed its movements now. Ever since the Alpha had made it join the Pack, the wolf had not responded to pain as readily.

The wolf's teeth sank into the human's shoulder, and the momentum of its body colliding with the tall creature toppled it over. Blows struck the wolf's side and head. It clamped its teeth harder. 

Bones broke. 

The human screamed. 

Predator instincts filled the wolf with pride and glee as the taste of blood ran across its dry tongue.

The human eventually dropped its weapon. It continued to fight. The wolf clawed at it, and reared back to bite its other shoulder. The human took the opportunity to kick the wolf. It wasn't nearly as painful as the hot pebble of metal that now sat in its bleeding stomach. But it was enough that the human could roll the predator off itself.

The scent and taste of its blood had the wolf in a frenzy. Though the human weakly tried to roll over and grab something, anything to fight, the wolf was upon it again. This time the middle. No bones in the way. Only the human's flimsy coverings. 

The human howled in agony. 

The wolf's ears went flat, but it was pleased.

Die. Die. Die.

Slowly, the tenacious human weakened. Much of its blood had spilled onto the forest floor. The wolf's clumpy fur was soaked in red. Dull claws continued to rake across the human's skin, tearing it away in a vicious show of predatory superiority.

Finally, the struggles stopped. The human had no more life to spare.

The wolf had won.

It stood over its kill, panting with lungs that could get no relief. The injury dealt by the human should have been fatal.

Should have been.

It raised its head to the canopy. At first, the only sound it could make was a gurgle. But, after a few attempts, a raspy howl escaped its core, announcing its success. Calling the leader of the Pack.

It waited patiently. It could feel the Alpha's presence growing closer. Slowly, steadily.

The wolf did not eat. It backed away, blood-covered snout aimed at the ground in deference. The Alpha gracefully approached the kill to claim it. The wolf hated the Alpha, but would not stop him.

The hunt is still on. Find it. Find what the Alpha seeks.

The hunt was always on.

 SUPERNATURAL

--Featuring special guest star, Bowman Leafwing!--

With the sunshine breaking through the canopy in wavering golden-green bars of light, it was easy to lose track of how far he'd flown from the village. But Bowman wasn't worried. He had flown quite far before, and he always knew the way back home. His wings never seemed to tire of carrying him along through the air, relishing the feeling of the wind breezing past his face.

But, suddenly, something caught the wood sprite's attention. Something was definitely out of the ordinary. Something was wrong. He glided in a lazy descent towards the ground illuminated by the dappled sunlight, glancing around nervously with bright green eyes. 

Did something come through here? 

The very air seemed heavy with ... well, with something. Bowman wasn't normally the most spiritually sensitive of his kind, but even he could tell that there was something very off in the faint smell of decay, and in the unsettled silence of this sparse area of the forest. The freeze in the natural rhythm of the forest was like a heartbeat going still. And Bowman couldn't help his own pulse quickening with nerves, as if his small heart might make up for it.

Bowman landed on a boulder covered in moss and surrounded by thick ferns. On one side, the plants had a dark brownish substance dried onto their waxy leaves ... 

Blood. 

Something had died here, most likely crawling up to the boulder for some final shelter to protect its final moments. But it was nowhere to be found now. The only thing Bowman could find about this area was the echo of some kind of powerful magic. Something that was an affront to life itself, the energy twisted and perverted.

Even the Earth Spirit might shudder under the almost tangible weight of the decay. Bowman's wings twitched and he inched closer to the sloped edge of the boulder, scanning the ground for any signs of what had happened here. Any indication that something might have dragged the dead thing off, and that he was only imagining things thanks to the remaining odor of whatever had died. He had to be sure of something, before heading back to warn the others. He couldn't create a panic over a simple hunch.

But there was nothing. 

No paw prints, no broken ferns, and no drag marks in the mud to suggest something was dragged away. Only a faint set of clumsy, dying footprints limping towards the boulder.

Bowman looked up abruptly when he heard something approaching. Something quite large, though of course he was aware that most things fit that description compared to someone like him. He was barely four inches tall, and somewhat thin and willowy like most of the sprites. It made for excellent dexterity in flight, but it left much to be desired in things such as fighting ability.

Because of that, Bowman crouched lower on the uneven stone surface, staring in the direction of the footsteps. He needed to be cautious around something that crashed through the forest so noisily. The sounds were quite inelegant, and he couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that whatever was causing them wasn't very used to walking in the woods. If I'm right, then the only thing that could be is--

His thoughts were interrupted when a tower of a human stomped into view. Bowman's heart immediately leapt to his throat at the sight of the large man some twenty, maybe thirty feet away. 

Unknown humans in sight of him? This was not good.

Dean grumbled as he walked through the forest. He'd left the Impala behind a half hour ago and was already regretting the thick leather jacket he had on. "I hate camping," he muttered under his breath, knowing his companion would hear him fine no matter how quiet his voice was. After all, Sam was perched on his shoulder, leaning comfortably against his neck while Dean did all the work. As usual. The thick leather of the jacket was merely a sturdy surface for him to sit on, while Dean quietly wondered how long it would take for heat stroke to set in.

"You know, we're not really camping," Sam quipped cheerfully. "After all, if we are you really should have bought better gear." He glanced down at his brother's hand down below, which was carrying the familiar duffel bag Dean took everywhere with him. It reminded Sam of his own satchel, slung carefully around his back so it wouldn't be jarred from his shoulder by Dean's rocking gait. If it fell all the way to the forest floor, everything in it could be damaged by the impact or a misstep, destroying Sam's most important possessions in seconds. "I don't think those M&M's will last you long out here..."

Dean snorted. "Maybe I'll have some of your granola bars, instead. After all, it's not like you eat much of 'em, anyway. Besides, those M&M's have protein in them! I made sure to get the peanut kind," he explained proudly with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, Sam turned his thoughts away from teasing Dean and over to the case. "What do you think's really out here? I mean, this doesn't exactly seem like your run-of-the-mill werewolf activity. Taking more than just the heart, fur found on the bodies of the victims... I dunno. Something just seems... off about the whole deal."

"I know what you mean. But we can't find out anything more without actually coming out here. We already talked to the victims families and they didn't have any other information to give, as long as they were telling the truth." He grumbled under his breath for a second about 'damn people and leaving out important details that could get us killed.'

Springy underbrush crunched under his boot as Dean caught sight of something at the edge of vision. "Is that... blood?" Curious, Dean inched closer, examining a few leaves that had been slicked with a dark substance. Kneeling down, he brushed a hand against the slender branches, searching for more clues. 

Sam was left clinging to his collar when Dean caught sight of a trail, heading towards a boulder not far from them. Standing, he crept towards the boulder, making as little noise as possible despite heavy boots settling over dry foliage. There was no telling what was out here. Taking his cue from Dean, Sam was just as quiet, his own body ready to spring into action.

Bowman inched backwards, glancing side to side for a place to conceal himself. He couldn't fly up now, or the human would definitely see him, large keen eyes keying right in on any movement. His gaze fell on the plants growing right against the base of the rock. His wings, vibrant green and batlike, could pass as leaves most of the time, even among these bloodstained plants. 

Bowman sighed and slipped over the side of the stone, landing among the plants with the faintest rustling noise. Hiding on the ground wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t have many options with that human heading his way.

He huddled in the shade, keeping close to the stone as the human walked closer. Hopefully it would pass right by on its way to wherever it planned to be. Then, as soon as it wasn't facing in his general direction, Bowman could fly up among the trees and find much better cover far out of reach of any human.

This human didn't seem to know much about where he was, and he didn't seem inclined to even watch his step, so he was a danger to the hastily concealed sprite. And he was huge, being not only tall but clearly quite built and ready for a fight. From his low vantage point, Bowman couldn't help but devote much of his attention to those intense eyes. They looked keen and cautious as they glanced around, not a good combination for someone in Bowman's current position. The human would be upon him in seconds.

Reaching the boulder, Dean knelt down, dropping his duffel an arm's length away. Resting one hand on the mossy surface, he brushed a hand over the ferns and the unseen sprite hiding among them felt his heart quicken even more. 

"Dammit," Dean muttered. Blood. And no sign of what left it. He started to scan the area, searching for any hint of a trail leading away.

Oh, blast it. Bowman still felt the ground rumbling beneath the man's huge steps, and he definitely felt it after that heavy bag dropped to the ground. And now, the human was right next to the boulder. It was a wonder he hadn't spotted Bowman when he swept his huge hand right overhead. Bowman's heart just kept right on pounding as he watched straight up.

A slight weight slipped down Dean’s arm. He ignored it for the most part, well used to his small brother using him to climb on. Sam never asked for help, and he really didn't need it, able to get around almost as agilely as a human. Probably more so, considering how often he needed to rely on his climbing skills.

Sam stepped onto the boulder, his boots sinking into the living carpet of thick moss. "What do you think left that?" he called up to Dean while he searched around on his own.

The second voice made Bowman look around frantically, trying to find who could have spoken. Was there another human coming up behind? But, no, the voice was close, just much quieter than the human's growl. Things were getting stranger and stranger.

"Not sure," Dean's voice was a soft rumble now, on edge in case the creature they were hunting was in the area. If it was a werewolf, they'd be fine until nightfall and he was packing silver bullets, just in case. But like Sam said, it didn't fit the profile the way it should. The lunar cycle might be right but there were no guarantees in their line of business.

Sam walked to the edge of the boulder, peering straight down over into the undergrowth. His own lips were set in a frown. He wanted to find this thing as much as Dean.

At the same time, Bowman shuffled forward, just a step or two, to peer straight up.

The sprite might have expected a number of things. Perhaps one of those phones that humans liked so much. But he most certainly did not expect to make contact with a pair of hazel eyes. His first thought was that another sprite stood up there on the boulder, but the briefest glance at its shoulders indicated no wings. 

What is that? Bowman thought, before realizing that if he could see this guy so well, then the would-be sprite could most definitely see him.

Right on cue, Sam did a double take when he locked eyes with... something... in the foliage on the ground. It didn't look like an animal. A quick glance up showed Dean still examining the area around the boulder for more signs of the creature. Dean hadn't noticed anything.

Bowman couldn't wait around to see what this strange pair's alliance was like. He glanced once over his shoulder to make sure he knew where the human was before darting to the side, hoping to find better cover. Or, at least, something that he could hide behind until he could take flight and dart away into the woods before that human realized he was there.

When Sam's eyes slipped back to the ground, all he saw was a rustling in the leaves. "Shit!" he hissed under his breath. One second he'd dropped his guard, and it might be getting away. "Dean, there's something down here!" he called up before jumping off the rock, landing agilely on the ground. No time to waste.

The leaves closed in a canopy over his head. Sunny green light leaked down, scattered in moving shards of illumination by the space in the brush and the swaying leaves overhead. Small rocks poked out of the ground, and ants marched by in a winding but purposeful line to fulfill lives dedicated to finding the best source of food. Sam took a few steps away from the insects, disturbed by the sheer number of them coupled with the fact that each one was the size of his boot.

Sam realized if he'd lost sight of Dean, Dean had no idea where he was. This might not be such a good idea... he admitted to himself. 

Too late.

Spotting a rustling in the branches to the side, Sam followed. 

Completely out of his element.

Dean heard the small yell by his hand. “Sam?” he called out, not seeing his brother. Panic rose up in him. He couldn’t lose Sam, not out here where every bit of wildlife was dangerous to the little guy… 

Seeing some of the leaves still shaking from something pushing through, Dean brushed his hand over top, trying to spot the little hunter through them. Green eyes narrowed as he examined the ground meticulously.

Bowman stopped in his tracks and turned around, a look of shock on his face. The wingless person was following him? And he'd definitely heard it call to the human first. Bowman wasn't sure whether he should run or go back and demand to know what was going on, stealth be scorned.

It didn't seem to matter, either way. The human was alerted to his presence thanks to the sprite-sized creature’s call, and now the smaller of the two companions was tromping around on the ground. Bowman had hesitated long enough that the guy rounded part of the boulder and put himself in view. He looked like he was built to fight, with a much bulkier frame than most sprites.

Bowman took a startled step back, but narrowed his eyes and otherwise stood his ground. The strange whatever-it-was didn't seem very aggressive yet. In fact, it seemed just as confused and curious about Bowman as Bowman was about him.

The thing stuck out so obviously in the underbrush. With his lighter skin and almost human-like clothes (not to mention his unfortunate lack of wings), he couldn't have been more out of place. Unless, of course, he were an actual human and thus towered over all the plants on the ground like the stupid giants tended to do, shaking everything around them with the force of their steps. This guy ... he wasn't made for the forest at all.

"Hey!" Bowman suddenly blurted, stepping forward quickly. The wingless person had come dangerously close to the still-occupied nest of a funnel-web spider. Bowman stepped deftly around it to give the guy a quick shove before he stepped right on the sticky webbing and got his leg bitten. A bite like that could leave him limping, possibly for the rest of his life, if enough venom got into his blood. "What do you think you're doing, stupid?!"

Sam spluttered as the strange little winged creature pushed him away, unsure about whether to be more surprised by the shove or the appearance of the person who had shoved him. “Me? What the hell are you doing?” His knife was out in a heartbeat, held protectively in front of him in an instinctive defensive grip Dean had taught him. Overhead he could hear Dean searching for them, trying to see into the underbrush. Branches rustled around the area.

“Sam? Where the hell are you?” rang out overhead, a touch of annoyance in Dean's tone.

Bowman balked at the sight of that knife and the sound of that loud voice thundering out of the human. His heart was still pounding from the giant's proximity and the foreboding magic in the air. His eyes were fixed on the weapon, and he couldn't help but notice that it was the shiniest piece of metal he'd ever seen. And that weapon had been drawn so quickly ... 

Just who, and what, was this guy?

"You ... you brought a human around here? What were you thinking?" Bowman hissed, sounding indignant and worried at the same time. He knew the forest well enough to know that they were well beyond the designated camping space. He'd seen evidence of the giants coming into the forest this far, but one thing Bowman was absolutely sure of. "Humans don't belong here." As he spoke, his wings fanned open slowly. It might have just been his increasing irritation, but there was a subconscious effort there to make himself look a little bigger. It wasn't as though he could hope to fight back if that guy came at him with his knife, threat displays or not.

Bowman opened his mouth to scold the strange man even further, but his glare dropped into a look of surprise when the bloodstained leaves overhead parted in the effortless movements of the human. The sprite looked up, completely surprised, at the face that leaned over the pair of them. That intense gaze was even more frightening up close. 

It was time to go.

He flapped his wings in a quick, startled pattern, hardly caring that he buffeted Sam with a gust of wind as he did so. Bowman's startled, erratic movement didn't get him into the air at all, but he knocked himself backwards several steps. "Forget this!" he groused, before pivoting to dash back under more cover and get himself more room to take off.

“Hey, wait!” Sam darted after the strange little guy after recovering from the sight of those strange green wings, spread wide with their verdant hue illuminated by the shifting light. Almost like leafy versions of Ilyana's wings… This was getting stranger and stranger.

He didn’t get far before Dean’s hand shot down, snatching after the other guy and only missing by a hair. Sam stumbled, off balance from the immense movement around him. Dean’s other hand was there in an instant, scooping Sam back off the ground and into safety.

Sam kicked one of the fingers near him. “Dude, what the hell? I had it all under control!”

“If this is what you call under control, I’d hate to see what you consider out-of-control, shorty,” Dean snorted, taking an instant to make sure his tiny brother was still in one piece. Mollified by Sam’s lack of injury, he peered back at the ground, pushing some branches aside. “What the hell was that?”

“I dunno.” Sam bent over the edge of Dean’s hand, peering down. Back with Dean, his point-of-view was much broader, but the leaves blocked out sight of much of the ground. “But he couldn’t have got far.”

Their argument, what he could hear of it, only served to confuse Bowman even further. He ran a bit farther, ignoring the slight stiffness in his left knee, a remnant of an old injury. He glanced back only once to see if the smaller person was following him. It was only for a second, but he did take his eyes off his path for a crucial moment. It was the worst time to encounter a cobweb.

"Ah!" Bowman sputtered in surprise and stumbled to a halt, making sure there were no spiders living in the web that had just tangled around his head and shoulders. He knew he'd made enough noise for that human to hear him and pinpoint his hiding place. He brushed at the old, abandoned webbing to get it out of his face before spreading his wings quickly and all but leaping into the air.

He crashed upwards out of his leafy cover, flapping his wings quickly to gain as much height as he could. A glance to the side revealed the human still kneeling there, this time with the smaller man in his hand. The sight made Bowman pause in midair to look at the pair with new confusion all over his face. Just who were these people? And what were they doing, coming around here with nothing but loud voices and heavy boots?!

"You two should leave," he snapped defiantly, emboldened by the fact that one of the human's hands were occupied. 

How fast can he be? 

"You don't belong in here." If they turned out to be the cause of the heavy, strange feeling in the air, he wouldn't be too surprised. Humans were as mysterious as they were giant.

Dean rose slowly to his feet, keeping the hand with Sam in it steady. His eyes locked on the little winged guy, keeping him within easy reach if he was to bolt. “We’re not leaving, bud,” Dean growled. “Not until we find what’s been hurting people out in these woods.”

Almost subconsciously, he lifted Sam to his shoulder, letting him climb back where he was more comfortable. His fingers twitched in anticipation as Sam secured himself from any sudden moves, clinging sharply to the collar. They both knew the ride could get bumpy in seconds.

Bowman watched Sam settle in place with some awe overwriting his defiant attitude. How could that guy stand to be so high up without wings? And how could he ever let a human carry him around like that, so willingly? Sure, Bowman had a few humans that he knew well enough, but he'd never thought about relying on them to get around.

The human was deadly serious. Bowman didn't doubt that for a second. But what he could be talking about, the sprite hadn't the first clue. He faltered under that intense gaze, trying to think of a reason for a human to come into the woods this angry. He clearly didn't know about the sprites, by the way he looked at Bowman, which was a small relief.

Whatever they were here for, they had some agenda they intended to fill. Bowman couldn't make them leave. He was keenly aware of the fact that he couldn't make them do anything. What he needed to do now was get away from these guys and then head back to the village and warn them that a human was about.

He darted to the side, aiming to make a wide arc around the human and take him by surprise. Then, once he was out of reach, he'd head upwards into the canopy where the man would never be able to find him.

Chapter Text

"Whoa!" Dean cried out as the little person shot off into a small, green blur. Reacting instinctively, one hand wrapped around Sam so he couldn't knock him off by accident as he lunged towards the other person. His hand swept downwards in an arc that Dean hoped was timed correctly to catch the speedy green blur without harming the little person.

He was in luck. His right hand curled around the little figure, pinning the delicate green wings to his sides. Dean closed his fist, careful to not squish him as fingers the size of the little guy's body secured him to Dean's palm. His other hand dropped away from Sam as he lifted up the hand to his face, carefully opening the fingers enough to see inside.

Bowman winced, loathing the awkward angle his wings took with the human's hand closed around them. Honestly, he was amazed they didn't snap right then and there. He struggled fearfully against the human's grasp, only becoming even more vigorous as the fingers around him loosened. He was trapped in an unknown human's grasp. That was never good. Bowman's heart was thudding a mile a minute, and his wings twitched like mad in the cramped confinement, unable to carry him to safety.

The moment Sam was free of Dean's encompassing, protective grasp, he pulled himself to a stand, resting a hand against Dean's neck for balance. "Don't hurt him, Dean," he muttered up at the ear above him, knowing how easy it would be for Dean to make that one mistake. Dean was used to being careful around smaller people, but this guy was scrawny compared to even Sam. And those bizarre, almost leaf-like wings were delicate; Sam could see them shifting minutely in the gap Dean allowed with his huge fingers.

"I know what I'm doing," Dean shot back down, though he loosened the fist a little more. He could actually feel the occasional pulse in those wings as if they were trying to to flap, trying to fill with air and deliver his captive out of reach. It wasn't going to happen. He held the hand near his eyes, peering in. "Ready to talk, bud?"

"T-talk about what?! " Bowman snapped immediately, though a lot of his defiance was cancelled out by the fear in his tone. This human has insane reflexes! Bowman hadn't been expecting that at all. And now, thanks to his complacency, he was captured. Surrounded on all sides by a hand that could easily crush him on a whim. And the only view outside his enclosure was taken up by an intense, green-eyed glare that sent a shiver of intimidation down his spine.

"What you are, for one thing." Dean tilted his head, observing his small prisoner. Vivid green eyes glared back at him, made even more vibrant by the contrast with his brown skin. And that wild tuft of green hair ... this guy definitely had the market cornered on the forest fairy look.

"Look, it's not my fault if some human trips on something or provokes an animal and gets bitten," Bowman grumbled evasively, unable to keep eye contact with the human that held him captive. With his wings pinned around him like that, he could hardly move his arms to push against his restraints. "Y-you're gonna break something, you giant idiot!" he insisted, trying to kick at Dean's fingertips as if he'd be able to pry them away.

Dean contemplated his hand for a moment, adjusting the fingers so they weren't clenched around the tiny wings. Now he was holding the little guy pinched by the waist, suspended in midair. But the wings were freed, fluttering weakly before falling slack over his hand. He didn't want to harm the little guy unless he was certain he'd done something, but he definitely wasn't going anywhere until they got some straight answers. And with wings like that, it wouldn't be easy to keep him in one place. If Dean hadn't timed his swipe just right, the little guy would have slipped right through his fingers and escaped into the woods. For all they knew, he could have the answers they needed about the case.

Bowman put his hands on the fingertips clamped around him, trying to pry them apart. He knew the drill--he'd never have the strength to move the human's hand if he was determined to hold him in place. The finger and thumb compressing his ribs were more than enough to prevent his escape. But Bowman didn't want to make the guy think he'd simply given in to being handled this way. He kicked and struggled against the human’s vice-like grip, sending his best glare to the giant face in front of him.

Sam's steady voice broke in, interrupting Dean and Bowman’s silent back and forth. As impressive as it was that this stranger could match glares with Dean, it wouldn't get them any further in the case. "We're not talking a few bites in the woods. There have been hikers eviscerated. Organs missing from the bodies..." he gestured towards the blood. "Blood drained from some." He gazed at the small, struggling man with his expressive eyes. "Any help we can get would be appreciated. People are dying." He ignored Dean's quiet scoff, knowing any help was better than no help.

Bowman winced as he imagined the gruesome things that the man described, images working their way into his head despite himself. He couldn't think of an animal that would do anything like that. Even the local wolves were only as vicious as they needed to be with their prey. He got a sinking feeling in his gut that there was much more to this than some rabid animals and a dark aura in the woods.

But if these guys were going to hold him back like this, he had no reason to trust anything they said. Who knew what they could be thinking; Bowman didn't even know what the smaller man was. "So sorry to disappoint," he answered through gritted teeth. "But I don't know anything about what might make an animal do that. Dying's a part of life, y'know," he twisted uncomfortably in the grip around his middle, wings twitching in agitation. "Sometimes the predators win. Just tell people to stop coming around here, maybe that'll fix your problem and mine at the same time."

Sam crossed his arms, watching the little guy's pointless struggles. A bit of guilt trickled through him at the sight of how hard he was trying to squirm himself free of the unrelenting grip. Sam might not be the one holding the little guy against his will, but by not telling Dean to stop he was silently endorsing it. He knew very well how strong Dean was compared to someone his size, from personal experience with that same fist a few times. "That's not gonna happen," he pointed out. "The more you tell people to stay away the more likely they are to go there. Which is where we come in."

Dean arched an eyebrow at the guy. He never acknowledged the tiny struggles or gave an indication that he even felt them. "Not to mention whatever this thing is that we're tracking, it could easily be dangerous to someone like you. You have friends, family? They could all be in danger right now."

Bowman scoffed, and mirrored Dean's expression with an arched eyebrow of his own. "Are you joking?! " he asked exasperatedly. He even paused in his struggles to keep his glare focused on the human. Clearly, the guy was trying to appeal to Bowman's sense of camaraderie with his fellow sprites. As if the biggest danger to any of them wasn't staring Bowman in the face, keeping him trapped in two fingers with no effort at all.

"Even if the animals weren't acting crazy, they're always 'easily dangerous' to someone like me," he snapped, making air quotes with his fingers and deftly avoiding a direct answer on the presence of more sprites. He scowled and resumed his attempts to wriggle free. Bowman opened up his wings to slap them defiantly on Dean's hand, even knowing they would be ineffective.

"Honestly, the biggest danger to me right now is a certain gigantic oaf and his little wingless sidekick!" he grumbled. "Let me go! "

Dean curled his hand further around the little guy, curtailing his constant struggles. The look of surprise and the tiny hands pushing against the incoming restraint did nothing to slow him down. All that was left free was the delicate little wings while his other limbs struggled fruitlessly against a strength he could never hope to match. "Big words from such a little guy." The growl in his voice got the little green eyes to widen in intimidation.

Sam winced a little at the sight of the little guy being completely trapped in the fist. He knew exactly how that felt right down to the desperate need to struggle despite it being pointless. He slapped his hand against Dean's neck to get his attention. "Dean, aren't you being a little harsh on him?"

"He's out here, right next to a blood trail. We can't take any chances." Dean tried to look over at Sam but his brother was too close to his neck. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the little guy he had trapped. "I'm not planning on hurting you," he pointed out. "But you're staying with us, fairy-boy, at least until we know what's going on here. For all we know you're the cause."

Bowman huffed in pure frustration. Humans and their constant nonsense calling him a fairy was as annoying as it was predictable. "I am not a ... wait, what?! No! I am not staying!" Bowman protested, redoubling his squirming as a small flutter of panic lit up his heart. Not this again. He was trapped on all sides by the human's strong hand, and Bowman felt completely helpless against the words that had just brought dread into every nerve.

His wings, now that he couldn't tuck them safely to his back, were sticking out at a bit of an odd angle. Not painful, but definitely uncomfortable and irritating and nerve wracking all at the same time. They beat weakly against the human's hand, barely brushing his thick skin like little leaves, as Bowman's struggles became more desperate. His breathing quickened in spite of his attempts to remain calm.

"I didn't do anything! So you found me in some plants, well, here's some gossip for ya, I belong in the forest, so it shouldn't be that much of a shock." Don't take me out of the forest, he thought behind his snarky words. Bowman fought against the human's grip, but could do nothing. He knew he shouldn't tire himself out like this; the man would have to let his guard down sometime, and then Bowman could be out of there. If he played this right, he wouldn't have to be forcibly taken out of his own home, possibly never to return.

Sam was watching it all spiral out of control. The little guy was freaking out, practically hyperventilating in Dean's fist. The wings rustled loudly as their frantic motions accompanied the desperate struggles. "Dean, let me talk to him. You're just making things worse."

He stood there, staring solidly up at his brother's profile until Dean relented. Dean's free hand lifted up, coming to a rest next to the shoulder Sam was standing on. Sam stepped on, not bothered a bit by the massive fingers arched around him. Dean held his hands next to each other, keeping a solid grip and a steady stare on the little guy.

Sam squatted down, putting himself at the same eye level as the strange winged man. Those leaf-like wings flailed uselessly against Dean's thick skin. "Hey," he started. "Calm down, okay? You're safe here. Dean's not gonna hurtcha, he just can't let you go until we know what's going on. We can't afford to put anyone at risk until we know what's going on here." He put a hand on his chest. "My name's Sam. What's yours?"

Bowman's eyes, wide pools of bright green like leaves with the sun behind them, met Sam's for a second or two. His struggles waned, until his wings stopped moving to hang limply out of the human's grasp. He still squirmed uncomfortably and his wings twitched once or twice, but the motions were a little more resigned now as he focused on what the smaller guy... Sam... had said to him. "I'm ... I'm Bowman," he answered cautiously, his brow dropping into a perplexed frown.

He really couldn't bring himself to completely give up his attempts to break free. Giving in like that, even against an unstoppable foe, just felt wrong. It was strange and unfair that he was stuck there, trapped in one of Dean's hands, while Sam casually sat in the other, completely trusting the human not to drop him. Bowman had human friends he trusted like that, but that had come about after a lot of hard work on their part. What was Sam and Dean's story? What was Sam?

Bowman abruptly turned his glare on Dean again. "Maybe you didn't hear me very well before ... I. Didn't. Do. Anything. So let me go, human, and you can go on your merry way provoking wolves. Did it ever occur to you that maybe, the fact that a bunch of humans were around made them feel threatened? Life has a certain balance, you know."

Dean glared right back. "It ever occur to you that if you actually did it, you might be lying to us? I'm definitely going to take your word for it, short stack," Dean said sarcastically. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, silently judging. "Well, it's true, Sammy."

Sam sighed at that. "Yeah, I know." He turned his attention back to Bowman. "Look, I know Dean can be a lot to take in all at once. But he really isn't going to hurt you, honest. You can relax a little." He pushed against his legs, going back to a stand on the hand while he switched into a questioning mode he'd picked up from Dean while sitting in his brother's pocket as Dean talked to vics.’ "So, Bowman... have you seen anything odd in the forest? Out of place, maybe whatever left all the blood? The sooner we figure out what's going on around here, the sooner you can leave."

Bowman looked up at Sam, unable to ignore the fact that he'd placed himself above Bowman’s eye level. From this angle it was especially easy to see that Sam was a bulky person ... if he were human sized, he'd be terrifying. Bowman wasn't sure why he was trying to sound so polite. He was party to this whole thing, same as Dean. "Are you both hard of hearing?" Bowman asked, exasperation in his voice and eyes. "I already told you I don't know a thing about humans getting attacked. I’m not their caretaker."

He shifted in Dean's iron grip, thinking he might catch the man by surprise and at least free his arms. It didn't work. The sprite huffed in frustration. His ribs were beginning to ache where his arms pressed into them. "The only odd thing I've seen around here is you guys," he added with a scowl. "Even the blood isn't that weird. Sometimes animals wander a long time before they actually die."

Bowman considered telling them about the strange feeling that he'd noticed in the air. It had faded now that all of this excitement had disrupted the area, but Bowman was sure now more than ever that it had been here. And he wanted to get away and warn the others as soon as he could, before finding the source. But, if Dean was going to be suspicious of him, then two could play that game.

A crunching in the branches behind them caught Dean’s ears. He twisted around, curling his fingers up around Sam so he wasn’t knocked off. There was nothing there, sunlight still streaming through the canopy, brightening the world around them.

The hair on the back of Dean’s neck rose. Some unknown creature could be stalking them right now and he was defenseless, both of his hands occupied. “Sam, you might want to take cover,” he muttered down at his brother.

“What is it? Is something out there?” Sam said, keeping his voice low to match Dean’s.

“Not sure. You mind hanging out in the pocket until I know what’s going on?” Once he got a nod from Sam, he tucked his hand into the pocket, letting him slip to the bottom. “As for you…” he said to Bowman, who glanced once at the same pocket with cynicism written in every one of his features.

That was all he got out. A low growl rumbled through the area, right behind Dean. He whipped around, keeping the hand secure around Bowman. The first thing he spotted was the sharp, keen eyes, glaring at him from behind a snout full of sharp canines. “What the…” Dean muttered in surprise.

A nasty stench hit them, full of the stink of a rotting carcass. Withered flesh covered the wolf, fur scattered in patches. Dean gagged at the scent, taking a step back to recover. The creature took a slow step forward, lips curling up in a snarl. Its paw sank into the underbrush, spreading the decay and killing off the plants it landed on. Blackened ground was left behind, withered husks crumbling into dust.

Bowman's head spun from Dean's swift whirl, and he groaned from the rapid transition. How could something so big be so blastedfast? Even so, he couldn't ignore the wave of odor that washed over the three of them, and he focused his eyes on their assailant. A choked sound escaped his throat at the sight of it. Wrong, wrong, wrong, echoed in his head as he beheld the thing. 

"Oh, Spirit, no." It was an affront to everything Bowman revered as a wood sprite. The wolf should be dead. It should have stayeddead. Bowman shuddered once as he felt that heavy, disgusting presence hanging in the air again. The foul energy filled the air all around the wolf. That and the small plants dying, some leaves barely bigger than Bowman himself, were clear evidence of how terrible this was.

All of Bowman's instincts were shrieking at him to fly high in the air to avoid the predator, and avoid that strange feeling that wafted off of it. But, trapped in Dean's hand, all he could do was nervously flap his wings a few times. He knew that if Dean bolted, the wolf would give chase, and it would catch the human. Even with all that rotting flesh, a wolf was faster than a human.

His last option made him wince. 

Bowman was not very well-practiced with even the simple Prayers. But, if there was ever a time to plead with the Spirit for help, this was it. "Earth Spirit, L-Lady of Life, w-we beseech you for b-balance, to right what’s been wronged," he stuttered out, keeping his eyes on the wolf. It was a very major Prayer, one that would surely get Her attention. But Bowman had no idea whether the energy would be able to correct this atrocity, and whether he was even strong enough to convey it.

Dean took another step back, keeping space between himself and the wolf. It let out a rippling growl, matching him pace for pace. It knew he couldn’t run. The decay spread with it, killing off the small plants on the ground and the insects in the air. Dean felt his own lips curl into a matching smile as he bared his teeth at the wolf, disgusted by the waste the creature caused.

This was the first time he’d ever run into an undead animal. Normally the undead were summoned by humans, picking people they knew or wanted to use. Why someone would want to reanimate a wolf… already an uncontrollable creature, born to freedom and the wild was beyond him.

A small voice came from his hand and Dean saw Bowman mumbling to himself. What it was ended up lost to Dean’s ears, washed out by the adrenaline thudding through his veins and the creature’s snarl. It crouched for a second, then leapt into the air, teeth aimed for his jugular. 

Dean dove to the side, barely out of the undead wolf’s reach. The wolf hit the ground, stumbling in surprise. It whirled around, bristling. “Nice shot, Frankenweenie!” Dean goaded. He had his handgun out in an instant. Since they’d suspected a werewolf, it was loaded with silver bullets. The silver might not matter with an undead creature, but a bullet through the head should take it down.

Sam, on the other hand, was hanging on for dear life. He didn’t usually stay in Dean’s pocket during a fight because of the danger of being crushed, but this time there was no other choice. Loud, angry growls filled the air, making it sound like Dean was surrounded.

The entire pocket swung to the side, making Sam hold on even tighter. He hoped Bowman was alright out there. He really didn’t think the little guy had anything to do with this case, but he had to agree with Dean. Finding him right at the trail of the creature they were fighting didn’t look good.

A loud shot rang out overhead, almost enough to make Sam’s ears bleed. He clapped his hands over his ears too late to do any good. A growl followed, followed by more snarls. Crashing in the bushes, dying down in the distance. Loud swears escaped Dean. “Dean, what’s going on?” Sam called up, confused. If only he could see!

Bowman coughed a few times, overwhelmed by the stench of the wolf, lingering even after it had run away into the woods. His Prayer had barely been enough to make the thing stumble and miss its mark. And he was still exhausted from it. Not to mention that in his swift movements, Dean had dragged the sprite along for the ride. At times Bowman was squeezed in his fist just a hair too much thanks to the adrenaline rush, and with the wolf to deal with he hadn’t noticed.

Bowman slumped in Dean's hand, breathing as deeply as the firm grasp around his body would allow. His ears rang, and he was quite sure he'd be unable to hear much of anything for a few minutes at least. The last time he'd been around a gun, he hadn't actually heard it fire. It had only been explained later how loud they could be. The descriptions didn't do it any justice.

Bowman hesitantly looked up at Dean, alarmed by the look on his face. The lingering snarl from the short fight made the human look all the more intimidating. Bowman averted his gaze and weakly resumed his struggles, wanting now more than ever to escape before the man attracted more terrifying atrocities. He also couldn't help but feel like the wolf's timing, attacking just after he was captured, would not look good for him in the eyes of this already suspecting giant.

Dean panted as he watched the wolf escape into the forest. It left behind a trail of dead plants, spaced apart by the length of its strides. There was a brief period where the decay would spread but it stopped after expanding to a diameter of six inches around where each paw touched down. It would be easy enough to track later.

The adrenaline started to wear off, leaving him on edge and jittery after the attack. Dean shook himself off, trying to clear his head. He tucked his gun back into his pants. There was no way he'd be able to give chase with Sam and the odd little Bowman with him. Speaking of...

Dean held Bowman up to his face, causing him to wince from rising so fast, and glared at the little guy. "What the hell was thatthing, Tom Thumb?" After all, the little guy was skulking around the same area the creature was, right before an attack.

The question all but barked at him almost didn't make it into Bowman's head, thanks to his fuzzy hearing and the disorientation from being whipped around so fast. But, eventually he worked through it, and scowled at the tone of voice Dean used with him. Like it was Bowman’s fault.

"You want my first guess, or maybe we should sit around and brainstorm on it?" Bowman snapped back, his voice coated in all the sass he could muster. His wings fluttered in agitation and he rolled his eyes. "It was a wolf, you idiot. What was wrong with it is a much better question."

He squirmed in Dean's hand, trying to pull himself free and get away from that heavy glare. "Before you ask, no, I don't know the answer," he grumbled, giving up on his escape efforts for the moment. He was just so worn out. Even his wings felt heavy.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered. “There was definitely something wrong with that thing.” He side-eyed Bowman for a minute, taking note of the way he was slumped down.

Sam listened to the voices outside, realizing the fight was over. Had Dean forgotten him in here or something? He kicked the side of the pocket he knew was resting against Dean’s side. “Hey, asshat! What’s going on out there? Is it gone?”

The world rocked around him as Dean shifted in place, huge fingers slipping into the pocket with Sam. Used to this, he stayed motionless, letting the long fingers coil around his body. Dean carefully pulled him out into the light again, unfolding his fingers the moment Sam was in the clear.

“Still in one piece, pint-size?” Dean asked Sam, scanning him for any sign of injury after his time in the pocket. 

“I’m fine, Dean. What the hell happened? I could hear the growling and got tossed around a lot, but I couldn’t see out.”

“Some kind of Frankenmutt, from what I saw. Nasty, reeks of decay and fast.” Dean shook his head. “I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it. Usually when I hear about zombies, it’s humans being reanimated.”

Bowman made a disgusted face at the thought of dead humans rising again. It sounded terrifying, though granted the wolf was an awful sight, one he'd have a hard time forgetting. What exactly did these guys do to put themselves into regular sight of reanimated human corpses?

Forcing life back into something that had died shouldn't be possible. But, he'd definitely just witnessed it. And, by the effects that wolf had on the plants and bugs around it, such a thing would definitely wreak havoc on the sprites if it found them. Bowman needed to get away from Dean so he could warn the others, but he sure as sunrise didn't want to tip the human off to the existence of more sprites, more people he could grab and yell at.

"Wellll, it's been fun, guys," he began, struggling again despite how completely pointless it was against Dean's strength. His wings stretched out behind him, quivering a little from his exhaustion and leftover adrenaline. "But with things like that following you around, you should probably get out of the forest, huh? In the meantime I'll stay up high, well out of reach of abominations and walking dead wolves." He couldn't resist the catty insult, and he leveled his glare on the both of them in turn.

Dean barely noticed the tiny glare. "You ever get tired of wasting your energy, small fry?" he snarked at the little guy. But honestly. The little wing slaps against his hand were barely noticeable. They might do something against Sam, but even Sam was bulky and built compared to Bowman. He was wearing himself down for no reason.

"Besides, until we're sure you've got nothing to do with the undead wolf apocalypse, you're sticking with us." Dean examined his body, searching for a place to put Bowman while they traveled. "We need to regroup, see if can find anything about undead animals in the lore. Sam, you mind keeping an eye on him till we get back to the room?"

Sam couldn't help wondering what Dean had in mind. "Sure. But where...?"

He stopped when Dean shifted the hand holding him, opening up a side pocket. He realized exactly where Dean was going with this.

Bowman paused in his weak movements to follow their gazes. He stiffened when he saw the pocket Dean was holding open. It looked like there would probably be enough room in there for himself and Sam, but that wasn't what he was worried about. He worried about the fact that they really did intend to take him with them, and with a human involved that definitely meant out of the forest.

Out of the only place he knew.

"Nonononono, you are not going to make me go in there," he insisted, trying again to squirm free. He didn't care about Dean's derisive comment. He knew this was only serving to wear himself out, but Bowman would rather be tired than complacent.

He'd been in the area by pure coincidence. But he could tell by the resolve on their faces that he wouldn't convince them of that. Bowman couldn't stand the thought of being trapped for any amount of time on this human's person. Panic started to seep in, and the adrenaline made his trapped arms and legs feel like jelly. Bowman's options were dwindling fast.

“You’re not getting much of a - OW!” Before Dean could move the little guy very far, Bowman leaned forward and bit the thumb in front of him as hard as he could. Tiny teeth latched onto him in Bowman's desperate attempt to startle his captor into releasing his grasp.

It had the opposite effect. Dean instinctively tightened his fist from the sharp pain. He glared at the source, aggravated with his intransigence. Bowman relented immediately and grimaced in silent pain while his tiny limbs strained with more panic to pull free. “Sonova--”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted. “Lighten up a little, you’re gonna crush him.” His face was covered in sympathy for Bowman’s predicament, well aware of how it felt to be crushed by a human enough to get hurt.

Dean realized what Sam was thinking and loosened up instantly, relaxing his hand around the little guy. The last thing Dean wanted to do was make Sam relive his torment from the dark days they’d been separated. Nothing was worth that.

Dean examined the bite mark. It was no more painful than a small papercut, and barely visible. By contrast, Bowman was breathing heavily and his gaze was cast downward. A simple squeeze meant a lot more from his point of view.

Pulling the pocket open a little farther with the hand Sam was standing on, Dean glared down at Bowman. "Try to behave for once. We don't want to hurt you!” And with that he shoved the hand in the pocket, letting the little guy drop down.

Bowman coughed as he recovered from getting squeezed in Dean's fist. It was a familiar feeling that he'd hoped he wouldn't have to experience again. At least this time he fared slightly better. Slightly. He tucked his wings close to his back, glad they hadn't been wrenched too much when he was shoved past the opening of the pocket.

Before Sam followed, Dean held out a finger to hold him back a moment. “Sam, if he tries anything, you know what to do, right?” Once he received a nodded response, Dean backed off. Sam dropped down without another word, vanishing from sight.

With that taken care of, Dean straightened. He draped his right hand over the pocket opening so Bowman couldn’t try any escape plans and hoped Sam would fare okay down there. If only he could know what it was like in his own pocket, but that was one part of Sam's world he would never be able to see.

Bowman managed to scramble out of the way just as Sam dropped into the pocket with him. He wanted to leap up and crawl out of the swaying fabric confinement, but instead ended up shrinking back when he saw how Dean's gigantic, powerful hand covered the opening. The few rays of green-gold sunlight that leaked into the pocket revealed the fear on his face. He didn't have much room left for defiance, now that he was trapped. Trapped like an animal in the claws of its predator.

Being in a confined space was bad enough, but there was nothing very solid beneath them, and it made it difficult to find a steady position to rest. Bowman looked over at Sam contemplatively. There was no way he'd be able to fight the guy. Even without his superior build, he was armed with a knife, at the least. Against a human, sprite-sized Sam obviously wouldn't look like much. But with Bowman unable to get his wings open enough to fly out of reach, Sam made a very good prison guard.

"Where we're going, it's .... it's not in the forest, is it?" Bowman asked quietly, already knowing the answer. At this point, he had no reason to believe that they would ever let him go. For all he knew, Sam could have been captured by Dean in a similar way and had been trained to cooperate. "I've ... never left the forest before," he admitted, even quieter this time. Saying it out loud reminded Bowman of just how frightening the thought really was. He was captured so easily, control over his life wrestled out of his own hands. And he was being taken away from his home, maybe for good.

Bowman was afraid.

Chapter Text

Once Dean was certain the passengers in his pocket were at least slightly settled, he strode over to his duffel, scooping it off the ground and slinging it over his left shoulder with a careful motion so he didn't upset the opposite pocket. The sun had started to creep down from its noontime position in the sky, shining innocently upon the grisly, blood covered bushes. Dean’s lips turned down as he regarded the light reflecting off the still-wet leaves, annoyed they couldn’t solve the case right away. He hated every moment it took them to get to the bottom of a case, knowing every second they wasted could cost another innocent bystander their life.

At last, he turned away, walking towards where he left the Impala parked on the side of the road in a small pull off. It was the same parking area that the last hitchhiker had parked his car, before his fatal run-in with the creature that had killed him, slicing him open and devouring his organs. Less than a mile away. He’d get there in good time, walking slow enough that the ride wouldn’t be rough on his passengers.

His steady stride made his pocket sway from side to side, rattling the two small people contained within. Sam had no trouble keeping balance, well-used to Dean’s ambling walk. He frowned at Bowman, concerned for the other guy. “No, it’s not in the forest,” he admitted, addressing Bowman’s question with an apologetic look. “He’s taking us back to the motel we’re staying at. It’s only a few miles away from here, once we reach the car.”

Sam let his satchel drop into the corner of the pocket, sitting down so he was leaning against it. He knew from long experience it would make the trip easier on him to stay like that. “You, ah… you’ve never been out of the forest?” He could empathize in a way. Unlike Dean, who’d traveled all over the continent, Sam had spent most of his life holed up in one motel, living there with his adopted family for years before Dean had found him again, after his curse.

Bowman watched the practiced way in which Sam settled himself in the opposite corner of the pocket, and tried to mimic the way he sat. It was slightly better, but dealing with the purposeful gait of the human was new to him. Bowman had never ridden in a pocket before, and so far he wasn’t very fond of it. With each step the human took, the fabric enclosure bumped against his side.

He contemplated Sam's explanation, suddenly feeling very parched. He would have no idea where he was, and no idea how to get home. He would have to rely on Dean to bring him back, and that was a despairing thought indeed.

"Not even once," he finally answered morosely, bracing his hands against the fabric walls on either side. He was still having trouble staying steady as the human walked. "The forest is home. It's safe." He couldn't stop his gaze from drawing upward to the opening in the pocket. Freedom seemed so close. But he'd never get out before Sam or Dean knocked him back into the pocket again. Bowman caught glimpses of the canopy above, and hoped against his current odds that he'd see that again.

The sprite clenched his jaw and his breathing quickened. Behind him, his wings twitched in agitation and discomfort, and his brow pinched with worry.

Captured.

Trapped.

Taken away from the only place he knew he would be safe, the only place he knew there were others of his own kind. Even if Sam and Dean weren't lying and it was only temporary, it put an ache in his chest. Bowman regretted ever investigating that stupid boulder.

With a frustrated sigh, he ran both of his hands back through his wild, pine-green hair. It sprang back immediately when it was free of his combing fingers. Bowman shifted uncomfortably and relaxed his wings a little, letting them drape over his shoulders and sides to rest over his lap. They were still uncomfortable, but not squeezed so badly.

His mind, desperate for a topic that wouldn't send him spiraling into fear of the unknown, latched onto something Sam had mentioned. "What's a motel?" he asked, curious in spite of his situation. "I've heard about cars. But not motels." Perhaps the answer would be interesting enough to distract him from his anxiety.

Sam smiled as Bowman focused away from being trapped. For a moment, it had looked like the little guy was on the verge of a panic attack. Sam much preferred the innocent question over the thought of having to restrain the winged person if he freaked out. Bowman sounded as curious as Sam himself on most occasions. "A motel is..." he trailed off for a second, wondering how to put it. Phrases echoed through his mind. A motel is my home. A motel is my prison. Sam shook his head, trying to focus away from the past, all those years he'd spent living in the dark, dusty walls of a motel away from Dean. With no way to ever find his family.

"Well, for starters a motel is a place made by humans so they can rest when they're away from home. A little home away from home. They stay at them for a time before moving on... a day, a week, a month... Dean even stayed at one for almost two months for me, when I got hurt. He didn't want to risk me getting more injured on the road. I... well, not me anymore, but people like me, live in the motels a lot. It's safer than the wilderness for us, and even though the humans can be dangerous themselves, they don't notice us often."

Bowman thought about it for a few seconds. Sam had given him quite a lot of information for just one question. He had been hurt, most likely by humans. Just like Bowman. And he still trusted a human, also like Bowman. And there were more people out there like Sam, small folk with no wings. Bowman could not imagine how oppressive it must be to have to live so near humans just to avoid predators in the wild, and stuck on the ground all throughout. Completely vulnerable to the humans’ stomping footsteps.

Already the air started to feel different. Not as close. The trees must have been thinning out as Dean continued. Bowman tried to stay on the topic despite his heart begging him to do something and get away from the giant that would take him away. "A home away from home," he echoed, some worry creeping back into his voice. He doubted it would feel much like a home, especially since he was being taken there against his will.

At least he wasn't in a cage. Yet.

"It's probably nowhere near as comfortable as sleeping in a tree," he insisted with a faint nod, quite confident in his claim. There really was nothing like resting on a high branch swaying with a warm summer breeze. Imagining it almost helped him to relax, but once again the nagging thought that he might never experience it again kept Bowman's anxiety at the same level.

"Are there going to be a lot of humans there? Or will I just have to deal with your charming friend while I'm your prisoner?" Bowman asked derisively. He had a number of concerns about what the place would be like. But chief among them, especially after hearing about how many humans seemed to pass through these 'motels,' was the worry that someone would see him and think they needed to take a closer look at the forest.

Dean shaded his eyes, taking stock of where he was. The Impala couldn't be far...

He hadn't heard anything from his pocket in a while, which he chose to view as a good thing. Sam had a calming manner about him when dealing with people... fairies...? his own size. Dean had no doubt Sam could handle the strange little Bowman.

The trees were starting to thin so he must be getting closer. He hadn't seen any other signs of decay or blood, so the wolves must be keeping to the heart of the forest. That was good. There were more joggers along the road. Not many hikers ventured out here.

Picking the direction the Impala must be in, Dean set off again after his short break.

Sam found himself wishing again he could talk to Dean from inside the pocket. The brief swaying when Dean turned around had Sam curious, but they hadn't finished learning Morse code yet. Dean especially was working hard on memorizing the code.

He can't have gotten himself lost. His sense of direction isn't THAT bad...

Keeping his thoughts away from whatever Dean was getting them into out there, Sam focused on answering Bowman's questions. It was the least he could do after helping Dean keep the little guy captive. But Sam knew it was for the best. They couldn't take chances when lives were at stake. For all he knew, Bowman's worried glances upwards were designed to appeal to Sam's sympathy. He didn't think so, but with lives on the line, Dean was right about this one.

"There'll be other humans around, but we shouldn't see anyone but Dean. It's too dangerous, for both of us. You'd be quite a catch for some people."

Bowman sighed faintly, the sound carrying his relief with it. He knew well enough what Sam meant. Humans fixated on strange things, especially when they were easy to hold down or trap in a fist like a sprite. Bowman's wings by themselves had drawn too much human attention in his lifetime. It was quite the pleasant surprise that Dean hadn't grabbed at them first thing, stretching them out to test their limits and see how they looked.

Sam chewed the inside of his lip, letting a few second's pause draw out while he debated on how much he should tell Bowman. It wasn't like it was any big secret. "Plus, Dean's not just a friend. He's my brother, which is how I know he'll keep his word. If you end up having nothing to do with what's hurting people, you're free to go. All we're here for is to stop it."

Bowman narrowed his eyes to look more closely at the man sitting across from him. "Humans come in sprite size too?" he asked, remembering that Sam had said more people like him lived in motels. But, then again, he was always referring to humans as if he wasn't one. Bowman gave the would-be human a flat look. "Brothers. You're related to him? " He pointed straight upwards at the opening of the pocket to indicate Dean. The pair really couldn't be more different.

Sam gave a self-deprecating laugh. "He's my brother because I used to be a human. It's what I was born. Now... I don't know." He held his arms out. "What you see is what you get, I suppose. Honestly, we don't really know what the other people like me are. They keep their heads down and try to live normal lives, as much as they can. They don't even have a name for themselves past what humans call them."

A slight jostle from outside almost knocked Sam over. Curious, he stood in the swaying pocket, grabbing the edge to see where they were. Past the hand Dean was still keeping there, Sam could see the trees thinning out ahead, and a clearing. Recognizing where they'd left the Impala, he smiled, letting the edge go.

Bowman scoffed and adjusted his position where he sat, bringing his knees closer to his chest. His wings wrapped a little closer around himself, to better hide the tremors in his hands. Dean had to be near the edge of the forest now, and soon Bowman would be leaving his home for an unknown amount of time. "However you two paired up, you're both wrong. What makes you think I'm hurting anyone? What makes you think I can?"

Sam let out a quiet sigh as he thought over the derisive question. "We don't know if you're hurting people, or if you can. We don't even know what you are. But if you're not the one doing this, don't you want to get rid of it? Have your forest back without the undead skulkers around?"

Bowman frowned and averted his gaze, glaring bitterly at the fabric wall surrounding them. He couldn't even find any more curiosity in him to pursue why Sam wasn't human anymore. He was frustrated to be under suspicion when he had even more reason to be worried about the 'undead' things than they did.

Really, if they had grounds to suspect him just because he was in the same place as that abomination, then he could suspect them just as easily. The only difference was that Bowman couldn't force Dean to go anywhere, couldn’t crush him in one hand and shove him in a pocket... "What I am," he began with a newly-forming glare, "is lucky that your brother didn't snap my knee. It's weak, you know. From the last time someone tried to crush me." He held up a hand and slowly curled it into a tight fist to demonstrate what he meant.

Sam's face melted into an expression of sympathy. "You've been crushed before?" Sam found himself unconsciously rubbing his left arm, sympathy pain running through it with the memory of it snapping bright in his mind. "I know how you feel," he admitted quietly, his voice almost too soft to hear.

Bowman looked at Sam through the corner of his eye, wondering if he'd really heard the quiet mutter. He had a feeling he had, and that he was right about Sam being hurt by humans. And yet the once-human still trusted Dean, his colossal brother ... it was almost impressive. Bowman knew there were humans out there that could be trusted. Even so, he could hardly picture Dean as one of them, considering the man was taking him away from his home against his will.

The thought frustrated him all over again. "And now, instead of looking for the source, I'm being kidnapped, with only some human's word that I'll be allowed to come home, and that's if the all-knowing giant decides I'm not involved. And if he does think it’s my fault ..." he trailed off, an equally frightened and resentful look crossing his face again, though he still refused to look Sam in the eye.

"Don't worry, we'll find the source," Sam said, full of confidence in their ability to track down the creature.

Bowman barely acknowledged Sam's assurance. He glanced up as the light leaking into the pocket changed, becoming a little brighter. There were definitely fewer trees around now. He recoiled a little further into himself, leafy wings wrapping around like security blankets. Something was happening to him, something really bad. And in the meantime, his family was back home, unaware of the danger that had moved in.

Chapter Text

Sam watched Bowman pull his wings in close, making himself appear even smaller in the giant pocket. Dean would caution against sympathizing with Bowman, but Sam couldn't help it. He'd had his own experiences with being crushed, something Dean could never share, or truly understand.

"Is there anything I can do to help? I've got some first aid supplies in my bag, if you're injured," Sam patted the satchel behind him.

Above them, Dean finally reached the Impala. "Did ya miss me, baby?" he said through a grin, momentarily forgetting about the entire 'undead wolf apocalypse' in his eagerness to reach her. A thin heat haze over the black metal of the car was his only reply.

He dug his keys out of his pants, accidentally jostling the pocket he'd placed Sam and their little prisoner in. The car was open seconds later and Dean climbed in, making sure the pocket with his baby brother in it didn't get squished.

Bowman opened his mouth to decline the offer for first aid. But Dean bumping the pocket and jostling them around took precedence in his mind. Whereas Sam was clearly some kind of expert at travelling this way, Bowman was completely new to it. He pitched to the side, his limbs tangling as he tried to compensate for the abrupt movement. Grumbling, Bowman got his wing out from under himself and folded both to his back.

"I'm not hurt," he finally answered with a quiet, frustrated huff, as he slumped back down to his corner of the pocket. "Bruised maybe." He flinched visibly at the sound of something slamming. It was the first time he'd ever heard a car door close, though he didn't even know what it looked like. He immediately felt the air pressure change, and knew they were sealed inside the thing.

"So, how do--" he began, momentarily curious again about how cars worked. But a strange grinding noise followed by guttural roar outside the pocket made Bowman duck his head in alarm. "Is he being attacked again?!"

After starting up the car, Dean felt a spasm come from his pocket. Concerned, he pinched it open, peering down to see if Sam was alright.

What he saw caught him off guard. Sam was practically convulsing with laughter, doubled over with his arms around his stomach. Bowman had his head down, eyes darting about nervously in the opposite corner from Sam.

“You, ah… you guys alright in here?” Dean asked, completely confused and forgetting his suspicion of Bowman in favor of a brief worry for how scared the little guy was. And Dean hadn't even tried to scare him this time. The tips of those fragile green wings were quivering.

Sam waved him off. “We’re fine!” he called up, still recovering from the laughter. Dean looked skeptical for a moment before letting himself believe him and letting go of the pocket. Once it went dark again and the Impala pulled onto the road, Sam brushed the remaining tears from his eyes. “Sorry… sorry. I haven’t had a good laugh like that in forever. You should have seen your face!”

With a cough he brought himself back to their situation. “That was just the Impala. She’s pretty loud, I know, but hardly a monster.”

Bowman's face darkened in a blush, and it was visible even despite his bronze skintone. His cheeks heated up in his embarrassment, despite still having no clue what was going on. He wanted to throw a catty retort at Sam for laughing, but in light of the continuing confusion, all he could supply was a nonplussed look. He glanced around again when they were moving, the sensation very different from Dean's bumpy strides.

"She ... Impala ... what?! " he stammered, looking at Sam like he'd just sprouted antennae. He was almost positive that Sam had said they were traveling by car. But Sam talked about a 'she,' and something had definitely growled.

"Uh ... I thought ... I thought cars were machines? " he asked tentatively, not wanting to sound ignorant but knowing he would no matter what. "Th-that's where we are, right? In a car?" He glanced up, glimpsing a sliver of something that was definitely not the sky beyond Dean's pocket. They were in some kind of moving container now, and that was all he could tell.

Sam gestured vaguely up at the top of the pocket, trying to indicate the car around them. "The Impala is Dean's car. He calls her his baby, and he's had her for years. The growl was just the engine starting up." Sam focused on Bowman's face, taking note of the confusion still covering it. "You've never even seen one, have you?"

He stood in the swinging pocket, pushing it open a crack. Dean wouldn't even notice, it was so small. "Here. If you want, you can see her for yourself, or at least what little we can make out from here." He looked straight at Bowman, remembering Dean's cautionary words. He couldn't let his guard down. "But don't try anything. At all. You won't get far and I doubt Dean will just leave you in a pocket next time."

Bowman paused, his look hardening some as Sam reminded him just how short his leash was. But one more glance at the opening of the pocket and his curiosity won him over again. He shifted carefully to get his feet under him, faltering a few times as he tried to stand. With a frustrated sigh, he opened his wings partway for balance, and finally got his hands on the edge of the pocket. He wasn't sure how Sam managed to stay standing like that; Bowman had to brace his wings against the soft wall of the pocket to keep his balance.

"Oh, Spirit," he muttered when he could see out. Every single material that made up the interior of the car was unfamiliar. Even the fabric stretched over certain surfaces looked like it was made of unknown fibers. Plastic, rubber ... he'd seen small examples of these before, fleetingly enough that he barely remembered the words. And metal, everywhere. Bowman's eyes darted every which way, trying to take in as many details in as little time as they could. "Spirit's dance, it's ... strange." The murmured words fell from his lips almost unwittingly.

His gaze drifted up to the passenger window, and Bowman felt his heart lurch. Through the massive pane of glass, he could see the top branches of trees skimming by, and an expanse of open sky. He pulled himself up just a little farther on the edge of the pocket, trying to glimpse more of the trees whipping by, his home slipping beyond his grasp. They were moving so fast. When the trees dwindled, Bowman's jaw clenched. He kept watching the window, apprehension pinching his brow. The gaping uncertainty of what would happen next was almost as frightening as the undead wolf had been.

Sam watched a combination of emotions pass over Bowman's face. Fear, awe, amazement... like he'd never seen anything like the inside of a car. A smile quirked at Sam's lips, remembering the first time he'd seen the Impala at this size. It had been so overwhelming back then. He could scarcely imagine what it must be like for someone who'd never seen one before.

He gave Bowman a few more moments staring out from the pocket, then put a hand on his arm. "That's enough," he said quietly. Dean would kick his ass (figuratively) if he let his guard down here, especially with Dean distracted driving. Neither of them could afford Bowman trying to escape while the car was tearing down the road this fast. All it would take was a second's mistake to get them all in a crash, and that would end badly for everyone. And even without any accidents, Dean would be pissed. Sam knew for a fact that Bowman wouldn't want to see what that was like.

Bowman released a heavy sigh and let himself drop back into the pocket. He'd been tempted to leap out and perch by that window, to see where they were. And to track what direction they traveled so he could find the trees again. But he didn't want to test Dean's creativity in finding a new place to trap him. He scooted himself into his corner again, wings braced on the fabric on either side.

Wanting to draw Bowman's thoughts away from the outside of the pocket, Sam considered a few questions he had in turn. "So, what's it like, living in the forest?" he asked curiously.

"Living in the forest ..." Bowman began, musing about what he'd say. It was all he'd ever known. Explaining something that he'd never had to explain before might take some extra thought, especially because he had nothing to compare it to. With no idea what it was like to live among humans, Bowman was momentarily at a loss for what to tell Sam to set it apart. "Well. There's no shortage of food, so I have a lot of time to just fly around. I really love to fly ... I think I do that more than I walk."

Bowman shifted, bringing his right knee closer to his chest to rest his arm on it while he left his weaker left leg relaxed in front of him. It had long since healed, but sometimes he still felt a dull ache, and running wasn’t as easy as it had been before. "Sometimes on the really bright summer days I get way more sun than I need and then I have more energy than I know what to do with. So I fly more, which gets me even more sun." It was a cycle that would keep him in the air for a long time if it weren't for regular sunsets.

The pocket rocked around them as Dean took a sharp right turn. Sam's trained mind recognized that they were almost at the motel, even as he mulled over Bowman's answer.

With Dean's encouragement he'd been working on recognizing the direction and distance traveled by a moving vehicle, even when he couldn't see out of the windows. It was just another way to prepare for being separated again. Not that would have done him any good the last time. He'd been unconscious most of the trip. A bonus of his efforts was that now, even out of sight, he knew Dean was heading straight to the motel.

He couldn't even imagine what it must be like to be able to fly - to be completely free and never have to rely on anyone. As much as Sam appreciated having Dean around at his size, it was frustrating to need help with something as simple as getting to the car. Not to mention danger of being stepped on if he was walking on the ground. He was only ever safe around Dean or Bobby. Otherwise, it was into a pocket or on Dean's shoulder.

One part confused him from what Bowman had said. "You... you get your energy from the sun? Like a plant? Do you eat food at all?"

Bowman considered Sam's question, realizing that he'd taken his own knowledge for granted. Wood sprite wings were vaguely leaf-like in appearance, and they were very leaf-like in function. They converted light to energy, enabling a sprite to survive and possibly thrive even in famine conditions.

"I eat, too," he answered, a faint smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. Sam looked so curious all of a sudden. Bowman had to remind himself that this guy hadn't seen a wood sprite before, despite being the size to fit right in among them. "I'm a fan of pine sap myself. Birch is good, too. Dandelions, mulberries ... there're a lot of options. Bark isn't very good even though it's the most common. I'd rather just get a lot of sunlight if there's nothing else."

After a cautious couple of seconds, Bowman shifted so he could unfold one of his wings a little further. He angled it so it caught the wan light seeping into the pocket, showing off the vibrant green hue. "These wings are good for more than just getting me places." He kept the all-important limb close to himself, though he was watching Sam's face to see what he'd make of it.

Sam's eyes were wide with amazement. He leaned forward slightly to see the way the wings caught the sunlight the exact same way the leaves in the canopy did back in the forest. It was amazing to think of all the capabilities those wings offered to Bowman. A surge of sympathy hit Sam when he remembered the way Dean's fingers had crushed the wings during Bowman's capture.

His curiosity was almost bursting at the seams. Bowman was treated to a stream of questions. "Are they warm? Do they feel like leaves? What happens if they get ripped - can you still get energy from them?" Sam's hand twitched with the urge to reach out and touch the displayed wing and find out its texture himself.

Bowman couldn't decide which question to answer. The thought of a wing getting torn made him cringe a little and his gaze flicked to his own offered wing. They were very sensitive, and he was sure that even a scratch would sting fiercely. "I've never ripped a wing before," he answered, and his relief at that fact was evident. "But I think they still get energy so long as blood flow isn't cut off. But if they were too badly damaged they'd wither." Bowman had witnessed how painful it was to lose a wing, and he hoped every day that he wouldn't experience it himself.

Dean turned the Impala into the motel parking lot at last. The parking spot directly outside their room was empty, so Dean pulled right in. The less time he spent outside, the less chances there were of Sam and Bowman being spotted. While they were squirreled away in the pocket at the moment, there was always a chance of Bowman attempting escape.

Once the car was in the spot, Dean let out a sigh, shutting it off. It'd been a long day already, with the morning spent on interviews, and before that research had gone late into the night, since they'd arrived in town around 7pm. He gathered up the supplies and his duffel bag before locking up the car and striding towards the room.

Sam's other questions had been pushed from Bowman's mind when he heard the 'Impala' go quiet, and then Dean began to move again. He drew his wings back toward himself and tried to remain steady in his own corner of the pocket. Any tension that he'd lost during the trip came back in full force, knotting up his stomach and putting a wary look on his face once more. "I guess this means the motel is near?" he asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the top of the pocket. Any minute now, a massive hand would reach in and grab him, and remind him of how little control he really had. Bowman wondered idly if Dean was still angry about being bitten.

Sam glanced up, peering through the crack at the top of the pocket. "Yep, I think we're just about to go in." And indeed, seconds later came the sound of a key in the door, almost at the same level they were.

With the door open, Dean's thudding footsteps heralded their arrival into the room. A massive slam came from behind him as the door closed, followed by the crash of Dean's duffel bag on the bed, all his weapons rattling. Sam couldn't help wincing in sympathy, knowing Bowman wasn't used to things like that happening. Indeed, Bowman's brow pinched in an expression of anxiety and worry, as his eyes watched the edge of the pocket.

A few steps later and the top of the pocket cracked open. Dean's hand slipped in, huge fingers effortlessly curling under Sam and Bowman despite the latter kicking at them and trying to squirm away. Remembering his satchel, Sam lunged at it in the corner, snagging the strap right as he was lifted out of the pocket next to Bowman. For the few seconds of flight they were held close together by the fingers, one of Bowman's leafy wings pressed against Sam's face and side. The room spun around Sam as they were moved over to the table. Sam regained his bearings right as the fingers relaxed around him, letting him slide down to the table but keeping Bowman trapped in the fist.

All the confusing movements and being trapped uncomfortably in a hand bigger than he was couldn't distract Bowman from looking around frantically. As soon as he and Sam were free of the pocket, his eyes darted every which way, taking in details at a rapid pace. There were so many things in the room for which, in his complete awe and trepidation, he couldn't even begin to place a purpose. Furniture, walls, everything seemed to be based on angles. Bowman had never seen so many right angles. Even the corners of the cavernous room were actually square, something he had never seen before.

Dean lifted Bowman away from the table, holding him in front of intense green eyes. "So, you gonna behave now, Nibbler, or am I gonna have to find a place to keep you?”

Bowman's observations of the room were cut short by the words. To his credit, Bowman didn't flinch under Dean's heavy gaze. His heart pounded rapidly, but he still met Dean's eyes with a defiant glare. "Climb a dead tree and fall out of it," he hissed, the insult falling out before he could even hope to stop himself. He had been almost getting along with Sam, but Dean ... Dean would be tough to trust if he kept squashing Bowman in a fist like this. They would only ever butt heads so long as Dean acted like Bowman was just some inferior thing he could move wherever he pleased.

The sprite scowled and tried in vain to pull his arms free. His wings were pressed to his back, uncomfortable and twitching in time with his aggravated struggles. He hated the feeling of helplessness. "Let go of me!" he demanded, summoning up as much authority as one could manage while trapped in a giant fist. He twisted his upper body slightly and actually managed to wrench one of his arms free, wincing as he did so. He planted his hand on Dean's knuckle, trying to push himself free of his restraint. It never occurred to him that he'd only managed to free his arm because the human allowed it.

"If you're so broken up about getting bitten by a blasted kidnapping victim, let me go so you can use both hands to wipe your little tears, you sun-hated giant!"

Dean couldn't help the surprise on his face that replaced his warning glare. He'd never been sassed at by a guy trapped in his fist, so he wasn't quite sure how to respond. Sam was on the table, internally cringing at the way Bowman and Dean were acting.Can't we all just get along? he wanted to ask. Get back on the case, save some lives. Words he knew would fall on deaf ears.

In the end, Dean surprised everyone, including himself. He burst out laughing, a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed in the room. "You," he said down to Bowman, still chuckling, "have a lot of spunk for such a small fry. I like you." As much as he enjoyed being accepted by Sam's small family, they would never act so brash around a human, their natural skittishness preventing it. This Bowman's demeanor was almost refreshing after being feared just because of what he was.

Brushing off the end of his laughing fit, he lowered his hand to the table, opening the fingers up around Bowman. With a bit more seriousness in his demeanor, he warned, "Just remember, we're miles from your forest. So trying to run away might be a bad plan. There's nowhere for you to go."

Chapter Text

Bowman's face became a mask of surprise, even as Dean finally released him to a gigantic table. What just happened?! he asked himself, staring up at the human cautiously. Soon enough, he recovered from the shock, though the thunderous sound of Dean's laughter continued to ring in his ears, along with his warning.

Trying to run away might be a bad plan.

He gave Dean a flat look and threw up his hands in an exasperated motion. Behind him, his wings mimicked the movement, exaggerating it further. "Yes, I get it, you're the boss," he groused, raising an eyebrow. Even though he'd somehow shifted towards Dean's good side, he wasn't about to quit sassing back if opportunities presented themselves.

Soon, though, Bowman took his eyes off the towering human. The huge room was full of details, and he doubted he'd be able to catalog everything he saw very quickly. Without thinking, he spread his wings and took to the air, gliding away from the table to land atop the dresser just a few feet away. He knelt to run a hand along the surface. The wood pattern there was fake; some kind of plastic coating on much lighter material. It was a clever imitation, but spending his whole life around the real thing helped Bowman see past it.

His gaze was drawn upwards to a gigantic black structure resting on the middle of the wide dresser. It was made of mostly black plastic, and the back of it was covered in dust. Several strange-looking ropes stuck out of it, draping over the back of the dresser and out of sight. Bowman tilted his head to view the pane of black glass on the side of the thing that faced the room. It did look kind of familiar, like some of the 'electronic' devices he'd seen before. This was a lot bigger than a phone or a videogame. He stared intently at the hulking device coated in a fine layer of grey dust, taking in its many details, and quite forgetting his jailors for the moment.

Dean kept a sharp eye on the little guy. For one thing, he was completely out of his element because of Dean and Sam, and if they lost him he might never get home. For another, he was certain Bowman knew something about what was going on in the forest. He might not be involved but he might be able to help, even if it was just information. Every little bit of help they could get could help save lives.

How do I get myself into these situations? Dean wondered to himself. He spent far too much time around people so much smaller than himself.

In reality, Dean knew the reason. The reason was standing right next to Dean's hand, after all, watching Bowman with far more curiosity than suspicion, a keen counterpoint to his own disposition. Without Sam in his life, Dean would never have discovered there was an entire world practically underfoot, trying to live their own lives away from the enormous and dangerous humans. These days Dean found himself checking his feet constantly, never wanting to land a misstep. One wrong move could kill someone like Sam and none of his people deserved that fate.

Dean took a seat in the chair by the table, leaning closer to Sam so they could at least try and feign a private conversation while Bowman focused on the TV. "So, what's the verdict on small fry over there?" he asked quietly. His eyes hardly left the small form on the dresser, lest those swift little wings carry him out of reach while he let his guard down.

Sam crossed his arms, thinking carefully. "I doubt he's the one causing this, Dean." His small face peered up, tiny hazels locking onto Dean's steady greens. "It just doesn't feel right."

"We'll see. He's not off the hook yet, at least until he gives some straight answers."

Sam shifted closer to Dean, clearly uncomfortable. "Just... try not to hurt his wings. He told me he uses them to eat. Kinda like photosynthesis, I think."

"Really?" Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Bowman looked over his shoulder, eyeing the pair cautiously. For the most part, he'd tried to ignore the low rumble that was Dean's 'quiet voice.' But his last exclamation was a little louder, and had jolted Bowman out of his observations for a moment.

He chose to continue ignoring the very odd pair of brothers. He couldn't fathom what might have caused Sam to lose his prodigious human size. But, perhaps that was lucky for Bowman; if Sam were the correct size, he might have been less inclined to tell Dean not to squash Bowman in his hand. Bowman's wings twitched, as if admonishing him for imagining what could have happened.

Bowman stretched his wings once before taking flight again. The air in the room was so stifling. Closed off from the world. He sighed and flew a little higher, getting a better vantage point of the room to decide what to investigate next. He settled on the far end of the room, where an alcove housed a wide counter.

The moment Bowman flew to the bathroom counter, Dean shifted uneasily next to Sam. Glancing up at his brother, Sam saw the worry etched in Dean's brow. He had an inkling Dean hated having Bowman so far away.

Countless unnamable human objects littered the surface. A basin made of pristine white material was right in the middle of it, with a crumpled human-sized shirt resting over the side. Bowman was a little confused about why the apparent washbasin had no water and a hole at the bottom. A length of very shiny metal reached over the empty pool, revealing none of its secrets though the sprite stared at it intently for several seconds. He was sorely tempted to ask what on earth the whole setup was for, but he remembered Sam's laughing fit in the car with an embarrassed frown. Bowman chose not to look over at him.

A large portion of the wall behind the counter was mirrored. Bowman walked right up to the glass, brushing his fingertips on it. The sprites' only mirrors back home were clear, still waters. They didn't have much need to see their own faces. It was a little weird to see such a perfect likeness of himself, mimicking every move he made. The image was the same, right down to the faint worry that had settled in his vibrant green eyes.

Bowman sighed and tilted his head back, observing the room behind him through the mirror. The glass didn't make it look any more inviting nor homey. Even though the room was larger than he'd ever need, it was still a prison. The only thing that could remotely remind him of the forest was a vaguely vine-like pattern painted all around the tops of the walls.

Bowman watched the reflection of Sam climb up onto the reflection of Dean's shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world, settling in comfortably. Sam was very good at climbing, but then again, he would have to be, going around at his size without a helpful pair of wings. Bowman couldn't imagine having to climb just to get around the vast motel room.

Settling down, Sam reflected that his brother's shoulder was beginning to feel like home. It was safe, he was welcomed there, and it gave him an almost human perspective for once in his life, something he'd thought lost forever.

"You know, sitting here and giving him your angry face isn't helping, Dean."

Dean's throat vibrated against Sam's back with a frustrated growl, briefly reminding Sam how small he really was compared to his brother. He was lucky Dean didn't care about size with him or his family. It didn't matter at all to the hunter, just who they were. Sam would be far worse off without Dean around.

"Just wish I knew what he was doing over there," Dean grumbled.

Sam tossed him up an eyeroll. "You know, you could try asking him. Nicely, of course."

He didn't even need to see the frown directed down at him to know it was there. He leaned casually against Dean's neck, getting comfortable with exaggerated movements. "He's certainly not gonna talk to you like this," Sam pointed out.

Bowman stepped back from the expansive mirror and took flight again, drifting back out of the alcove in a slow zig-zag pattern. He paused at the foot of one of the huge beds. At least some of their furniture was recognizable, though again the bed had far more right angles than Bowman's own bed at home. And the blanket over the top looked crisp and rather uninviting compared to a well-worn cotton cover. Bowman had to remind himself that humans used machines to make a lot of their things; the stitches on that blanket were too straight and perfect to have been made by hand.

Something caught Bowman's eyes. It was a rectangle of metal set into the wall right next to the bed, very close to the floor. He stopped moving his wings, which immediately made him plummet a few feet. Then, he opened his wings again with a quiet snap and glided the rest of the way to the thing. It turned out to be a grate of some kind, a series of narrow slats that went right into the wall. Bowman could not imagine what they were intended for, but he examined the openings curiously, even ducking his head slightly to peer into the guts of the walls.

They were hollow! He could barely see, but he could tell by the faint movement of air that the walls of the motel room weren't solid by any stretch of the imagination. He suddenly understood why Sam said the other small folk lived in there. There was more than enough room for people their size.

More than enough room... Bowman considered squeezing into the opening and escaping into the walls in a bid for freedom. But he leaned away from the opening, glancing over his shoulder at Dean. The tall human looked tense and ready to pounce. The thought of that human tearing into the walls to get to him made Bowman step away from the metal opening hastily.

Sam watched Bowman explore the room with a slight sense of jealousy at the ease with which he got around. Wings like that would make everything easier. He didn't mind the way he was by any stretch of the mind anymore but even just one day he didn't have to spend climbing up the steep, cliff-like furniture would be welcome.

Sitting back against Dean's neck, Sam was well aware of how tense his brother was. The moment Bowman got close to the vent, Dean stiffened, probably worried about him escaping into the walls of the motel. In fact, if Dean got any more tense, he might pop a vein at this rate.

"Hey," Sam elbowed Dean in the neck.

"Mmm?" Dean didn't take his eyes off Bowman, but at least Sam knew he'd be listening.

Sam told Dean his idea and waited for his brother's response. It was a long time coming, mainly because of how much Sam knew Dean hated having his small brother alone with any unknowns. But Dean was refusing to budge and the fact remained that Bowman had at least started to open up to Sam in the pocket. As soon as Dean was back in the equation he'd clammed right back up. Sam figured he'd be fine. He could handle himself. That was the entire point of all that training they'd done, after all, and so far Bowman had shown no violent tendencies except for his desperate bite earlier. Sam figured they could overlook that considering the way Dean had grabbed Bowman.

Eventually Dean gave in, like Sam knew he would. "You better know what you're doing, pint-size," he muttered down at Sam as he lowered him to the floor next to his feet. Sam waved his brother off with a grin. Dean rolled his eyes before pulling the laptop over to him on the table to start some research. In his opinion Sam had a tendency to be overconfident on occasion. He kept a sharp eye towards where Bowman was, refusing to let his guard down with Sam down there.

Determined to ignore the ever-suspicious Dean, Sam made his way over to the vent where Bowman was standing. "So, what do you think?" he asked curiously when he was about a foot away.

Sam's voice pulled Bowman out of his curious observations with a slight jolt. He looked over at the man, noticing that he kept his distance. Bowman couldn't decide if that was out of respect or wariness. Maybe it was both. Maybe Sam was giving Bowman a little space after they'd been so cramped together for the pocket ride.

"I think it's really strange," he answered, shrugging slowly. "It's a lot more closed in than I thought it was going to be." It certainly didn't have the home-away-from-home feeling for Bowman that it had for Sam.

He was tempted to take flight again and explore more of the gigantic room full of mysteries, but with Sam right there and unable to follow, he kept himself back. It was so easy to forget what Sam was and think he was talking to another sprite. Even though Sam was a lot paler and bulkier than most wood sprites. But, one thing was certain: his size made him a lot easier to deal with than Dean.

"Everything is so square. And that human stuff ... 'plastic,' it's everywhere," he intoned, knowing he probably sounded so ignorant. But all of the synthetic things around him provided a stark contrast to the natural surroundings he was used to. "I don't--"

Bowman was cut off when a faint metallic groan echoed from the grate behind him, and then suddenly a steady breeze wafted out from the walls. He watched the opening with awe, and even unfurled his wings to test the temperature of the air that the wall was pushing out. It was chilled, like nightfall in autumn. He looked over his shoulder at Sam, complete awe on his face. "What's happening? Is the wall supposed to breathe?"

Sam had to bite back a grin at Bowman's innocent reaction. "It's the air conditioner." Sam walked closer, holding out a hand so he could feel the chilled air. "The room's not actually breathing. There's a ventilation system set up throughout the entire motel. It keeps the rooms cool even in the hottest part of summer. Or, during winter it can warm the place up, too."

A hesitant glance to the side showed Dean intent on the computer, but Sam was certain he was listening to their every word. After all the time they'd spent together the last few months, Sam didn't doubt Dean's sharp hearing. It was damned inconvenient on occasion, but definitely had its uses, like right now. Sam turned towards Bowman, intrigued about what he'd said before the air conditioner had come on.

"So," he started curiously, "what's it like where you live? Do you have a place to call home, or do you wander the forest?"

Bowman chuckled quietly. "Both?" he answered, glancing back at the 'air conditioner' opening. He let it cool his wings for a moment before folding them to his back once more and devoting more attention to the question. "I call the whole forest home, but there is a place I go everyday. I live in a pine tree. My house doesn't have any sharp corners, though."

Before meeting humans the first time, Bowman never would have thought of living in such a square box like the motel room. All of the sprite homes were Prayed out of the trees, coaxed into their shape on still-living branches. Every curve and knot in the wood influenced the formations. Bowman glanced once at Dean. The human seemed preoccupied. He thought it might be safe to divulge a little more to Sam.

"My house was shaped out of the trunk. It's pretty hard to convince a tree to let itself be molded like that. They're the most stubborn plants." He shrugged as if that ought to be obvious, scratching his head. It was hard to explain, without going too in-depth about how the wood sprites had to Pray to the Earth Spirit in order to borrow Her magic. Without the borrowed magic, the sprites had none of their own. Even with Her aid, it could take days to get a home to form out of a tree trunk.

"I guess I've heard that humans get around that by cutting the tree down," he added, sounding both saddened and awed by it. The fact that humans had the destructive capability to bring down an entire adult tree was alarming and unsettling.

While he loaded up the area news, Dean kept an ear open for Sam and Bowman. Though he trusted Sam’s judgement, he couldn’t imagine leaving Sam without backup in any situation, even just a light interrogation session. Sam had such an easy way about him with people his own size, compared to his reaction to humans - nervous, fidgety… he had a hard time maintaining eye contact with anyone past Dean or Bobby. And even with Bobby he was jumpy once in a while.

Well, at least one good thing had come out of this. Sam got a chance to interact with someone other than Dean for a bit.

Sam couldn’t help the curiosity building in him as Bowman talked. The way it sounded, they grew their homes in the trees themselves. Like nothing he’d ever heard of before.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, “humans cut down trees to build things. Like the dresser over there the TV’s on, or homes, chairs, counters… the list’s almost endless.”

Musing over all this new information, things he’d never even dreamed possible made him realize he still had one question he hadn’t had the chance to put to Bowman yet.

“So,” Sam started, “don’t take this the wrong way, cause I’m not one to talk… but I’ve never seen anything like you. What are you? Some kind of fairy? Pixie?” He hesitated, remembering Nixie and Ilyana. They shared very little in common, despite what they were. Bowman, standing there with his eyes wandering the room as his curiosity drew his gaze wherever it pleased, was as distinct and fantastical as they were.

“Or are you a different type of sprite?”

As soon as he heard the word, Bowman's bright green eyes flicked back to the once-human. He had a surprised look for him. "You've met other sprites before?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Since he'd missed the opportunity to cover up what he was, Bowman sighed in mild frustration and clarified, "I'm a wood sprite." He cast a sidelong glance at Dean, wondering if the other sprites he'd met had received similar greetings to Bowman's rather rough welcome. He hoped not, for their sake.

Bowman had to wonder what had led someone like Sam and Dean to stumble across other kinds of sprites. It seemed like most communities would stay well-hidden in their natural environments. Bowman's village had been so isolated for so long that they almost forgot about the existence of humans entirely. When sharing a world with such large creatures, that seemed like the ideal way to live. Ignorance had indeed been bliss.

"I guess a water sprite's fins would make it a little harder to stay camouflaged," he muttered to himself, thinking about which type of sprite was most likely to have been discovered by the odd brothers. "And then there's the fire sprites with their stupid wings that actually catch fire..." He focused on Sam. "What kind of sprite did you meet?"

Well, that's at least one question answered, Sam thought to himself. Wood sprite. Wonder if he's anything like Nixie or Ilyana...

The former Sam considered a close friend of his, despite her continuing strange reactions to him and Dean. Surprisingly loyal, she'd saved Sam and Dean's lives time and time again, even at the risk of her own, or breaking vows she'd taken when born. The latter... Sam sobered up as he remembered Ilyana. One of the youngest of Nixie's sisters, she'd been jealous of the immortality that water granted the water sprites. Fire was a far more fickle mistress, offering far more passion, but a life that burned hot and bright for a very short time.

Hers had burned shortest of all.

"Well, the water sprite we met had dragonfly wings, but definitely no fins. Gave me a start when we found her curled up in Dean's pocket. The fire sprites... they sure tried to set us and everything else on fire, but their wings themselves didn't burn." Sam tried to catch a better glimpse of Bowman's wings again. "In fact, they kinda reminded me of yours, only more lizard-like in texture. Ilyana certainly loved to show hers off."

Bowman frowned and tilted his head. "Water sprites' wings are fins," he insisted, once again finding himself very confused. "And fire sprites ... they have brittle wings." He unfurled one of his wings slightly to look over his shoulder at it. It was pliant and flexible, much like the leaves it meant to mimic. Nothing like a fire sprite's wings, which resembled a tightly tangled bundle of twigs. "Not like these at all," he muttered, falling into his thoughts for a moment.

Dragonfly wings? Lizard mimics of wood sprite wings? Bowman couldn't help but think that maybe Sam hadn't actually met sprites. They sounded nothing like the other small folk that Prayed to a Spirit for their aid and guidance. It was possible that there were more varieties than he'd originally thought, but Bowman doubted it. There were six Spirits, each responsible for the origin of a different variety of sprite. And the Water Spirit had definitely granted His children with fins. Bowman had met Him before.

"Are you sure these were sprites? Did you ever hear them Pray? Which Spirits did they invoke?"

Dean frowned as he finished another futile search. The only information he could find on undead wolves, or animals of any kind was continually linking him to various video games. Not any information that was useful to him.

"This don' make a lick of sense..." he muttered.

He turned his thoughts in a different direction. There had to be a reason there were undead wolves roaming the forest. Someone had to have brought them back to life for some reason he was missing. Maybe some kind of necromancer? But those usually summoned the dead for the express purpose of talking to them. That would be impossible here.

Hoping for another clue, Dean dug his father's journal out of his jacket. He never left it behind after all the useful information they could divine from it, once they translated their dad's scrawled writings, of course. Dean's eyes flicked over to Sam and Bowman, who were continuing their talk near the air vent. At least Sam was close enough to keep an eye on the guy.

Sam's eyes narrowed as Bowman went on. Spirits? Prayer? "No...." he said slowly. "They didn't 'pray.' Not to spirits, at least. Nixie and her sisters chanted, but that was to invoke the magic held within, bound in the ichor their wings contained. One broken wing and none of her spells could take effect, not even the ability to summon her sisters."

Sam started to pace back and forth in front of the vent, brows furrowed as he thought it through. "Did you migrate here? Nixie said all the sprites lived in Aeternum with her." He frowned even deeper. "Not to mention, she's only ever mentioned 'sisters,' not a word was mentioned about any male sprites."

Once again, Bowman frowned a puzzled frown as Sam talked. His explanation just didn't make any sense. 'Magic within' definitely didn't sound like a true child of a Spirit at all, and the talk of ichor in wings went over his head as well. "Well, none of that can be right," he answered, though his confusion was evident in his tone. "Sprites don't have any 'magic within.' "

It was Bowman's turn to shift his feet slightly. "Sprites have to Pray to a Spirit and borrow their magic. And a broken wing would be awful, but it wouldn't stop anyone from Praying. The Spirits are always listening." Bowman's wings fanned open and closed as thoughts of breaks and sprains filled his head.

Bowman glanced over his shoulder at Dean once, hearing him shift in his seat. The human had a worn out journal in his hands now, thick with notes and what looked like a few extra pieces of paper stuffed between the pages. He seemed so intent on studying that book that Bowman was almost curious about what was in it.

Turning back to Sam, Bowman crossed his arms. "I don't know where this 'Aeternum' is, but obviously sprites live in more than one place," he replied. Perhaps Aeternum was another sprite village Sam had stumbled across? "I mean, we've always been scattered on earth, because that's where the Spirits put us. My village has been in the forest for ages and we--" Bowman stopped talking abruptly, a look on his face like he'd been punched in the gut.

He should not have said any of that. He should not have tipped Sam off to the presence of more sprites in the forest. He would most definitely tell Dean, and who knew what that blasted human would do with that information? Bowman's look shifted to a glare, wary of any further questions. He couldn't believe Sam had tricked him into revealing so much about his people. Some protector you are, Bowman, he berated himself.

The creases in Sam's forehead spoke to his confusion, trying to put what he'd gleaned from Nixie together with what Bowman was telling him. But... she was from a different realm altogether, and Nixie herself had told him that traveling to Aeternum changed a person, in more ways than one. Lityerses himself had been mortal before following that damn amulet through the portal in his bid for power. Perhaps the sprites in Aeternum had as much in common with Bowman as they had with Sam.

One part of Bowman's rant stuck in Sam's head. "You're from a village?" All he could see in his mind eye was the wolf tearing through a village of peaceful sprites - Bowman didn't have close to Ilyana's temperament, the angry jealousy that had drawn her back through the portal in search of a different way of life. And if he had a magic like hers, there was no way Dean would have captured him so easily.

"Bowman, is the village close to where we were? That wolf could put them in danger if it finds them!"

Bowman stiffened and his eyes widened a little. He'd been thinking of that possibility since the moment Dean took him prisoner. The village, while quite far from where they'd seen the wolf, was in danger. Bowman needed to be able to warn them. And he definitely didn't want to be a part of this conversation any longer. Sam may have thought his question showed enough concern to convince Bowman to reveal the village's location, but it didn't.

The sprite looked over his shoulder again at Dean. In his mind's eye, he imagined the human storming into the village, grabbing everyone he could get his giant hands on. Stuffing them in pockets and cages and carrying them away from their homes just because he could. Bowman had nightmares about that sometimes, and he didn't want to be the one to make them reality. He couldn't stand to see his friends and family locked up again.

He whirled his gaze back to Sam, a determined anger washing out the fear on his face. "This is why you should have left me alone!" he snapped, before opening his wings wide and rearing them back behind him. With a powerful motion, he clapped the wide green limbs in front of himself, sending a small focused gale at Sam. It probably wouldn't knock him back, but it should be disorienting, combined with the loud snapping sound Bowman's wings made so close to Sam's face. With the tiny human disoriented for a crucial second, Bowman dashed towards the metal opening into the wall, ignoring the pain flaring up in his knee.

The sprite had no idea where he would go, but he squeezed himself into the wall anyway. At the moment, away from Sam and Dean were the only thoughts chanting in his head. He'd worry about getting home and warning his family if he could find a way out of the human dwelling.

He ran in the dark, barely able to see and hoping Sam wouldn't recover too quickly from his distraction.

Chapter Text

A small, sharp Crack! in the motel room made Dean's head snap up in surprise.

What the...? Dean's eyes scanned the room for the source of the disturbance. Everything seemed to be in place.

Then his eyes fell on Sam.

Sam was off balance, one arm thrown out against the wall so he didn't fall. His small chest, even from where Dean was sitting, was heaving up and down with deep breaths.

Bowman was gone.

That thought had barely crossed Dean's mind before he was out of his seat, closing the distance between them. Sam flinched slightly when one of the huge boots landed near him and rattled the ground in a subdued tremor right before Dean knelt down with a hand out to help Sam recover. "Sammy, are you alright?" he asked, barely breathing as his finger brushed against Sam's small form.

Sam let Dean help him up before pushing the finger out of his way. "I'm fine," he said as he peered into the vent. "I think I startled Bowman into running..." his face turned up towards Dean's. "I'm sorry, I think I pushed too hard or something with my questions." Sam was still working on his interrogation skills, his only experience there had come from listening to Dean during interviews.

Dean narrowed his eyes, examining the grate Bowman had escaped into. All that mattered was getting the little guy back. They had taken responsibility for him, after all. "I'm gonna get this open, see if we can find him."

Sam rolled his eyes with a snort. "Like you'd ever fit in there. You should leave this to the expert." He grabbed onto the edges, pulling himself in between the slots in the metal as easy as he breathed.

Dean leaned in, watching with amazement as Sam slipped into an absolutely tiny crack. Sometimes he forgot just how small his brother really was. Not only that, but this was what Sam had done for thirteen years when Dean wasn't around. Thirteen long, empty years thinking Sam was dead... an entire lifetime without hope...

A tiny, metallic thump signaled when Sam made it to the other side, landing on both feet without a problem. He wasted no time sprinting, heading away from Dean in the dark space as fast as he could as he raced after Bowman. The small patter of his feet faded off into the distance. Sam was an extremely good runner, especially after his trainings with Dean. He'd taken to it like a natural.

"Be careful, Sammy," Dean said in a whisper. He hated how he couldn't help Sam at times like this. His size got in the way more than it helped most days. He couldn't interact with his brother on an equal level. Hell, if he sneezed while Sam was on his shoulder, the little guy would go flying.

Deciding that he had to do something while Sam was putting himself at risk, Dean went over to his duffel. He dug out a screwdriver and set to taking the vent apart. He might not be able to fit in it even if it was completely open, but at least he'd be able to see if Sam was heading back, with or without prisoner in tow.

The second Sam hit the ground he was off running. The vent dwindled into the distance, leaving Dean and the motel room behind as fast as he could make his feet move. This he could do, better than Dean any day. It used to be his life, after all.

The dark tunnel closed around him. Very little light slipped this deeply into the walls, leaving people like Sam to adapt to the darkness. It was comforting, almost like coming home for him. He almost never got the opportunity to spend time away from Dean like this. As much as he enjoyed being back with his brother, he really wasn't comfortable in the human world most of the time.

Even when he spent time around just Dean and Bobby up at Bobby's place, Sam had a difficult time letting his guard down. He'd stiffen whenever one of the other two walked by, or if Bobby's eyes locked on his small form. Of course, then there was the time Dean had switched on the light in the kitchen, illuminating Sam on the counter... he'd just been trying to get a chocolate on his own! Not trying to sneak around the place. But he'd jumped a mile at the unexpected intrusion, and Dean assumed it was his fault, naturally.

His swift footsteps clanged against the ground steadily as he turned a corner. Normally he'd worry about being overheard in another room by humans, but he was in too much of a hurry for that, and chances were if anyone picked up on him in here, he'd be back with Dean long before they thought to search the vents. Dean was a force to reckoned with if there was ever danger to Sam.

His ears picked up a second set of footsteps, still racing away from him but far less gracefully. "Bowman! Stop!"

The cool air kept right on moving in the vent, and Bowman shivered as he ran. He heard Sam's command echoing behind him, but didn't slow down his desperate run. If it weren't so dark, he'd have tried to fly, closed space or not. As it was, the moving air and the invisible metal walls all around kept Bowman's wings furled tightly to his back.

Running at full tilt like this strained muscles he didn't work nearly as often as the ones in his wings. His bad knee was on fire, a dull reminder of the old injury received when an angry human got their hand around him and snapped the joint like it was no stronger than a blade of grass.

An angry human like Dean ...

Bowman shuddered and continued on, definitely not wanting to know what would happen if Sam caught up to him. Bowman was not a fighter. If Sam got hold of him, Bowman probably wouldn't be able to fend him off for long. And then the giant would have him again, and he'd be angry with Bowman for trying to escape him. The phantom feeling of an enormous fist tightening around him, body and wings, made Bowman gasp and propelled him onward.

He had no idea where he was going. It was so dark. Wood sprites, dependant on the sun for their health, were used to operating in the daytime. Bowman could see decently well at night with the help of the moon, but in here, in these metallic passages, almost no light made it in. His eyes were wide as he peered around, making his best effort to find some way out. He didn't even know if these 'air condition' passages would lead outside. The cold air certainly wasn't coming from out there.

Sam's footsteps were coming up behind him. Bowman could hear from the echo that Sam was gaining on him. The sound was unfamiliar and loud, in the dark creating an eerie sensation that crawled under his skin. Though Bowman knew it was just Sam following him, he couldn't help but picture a much larger creature, something well-equipped to tear a sprite to shreds. His instincts as a pacifist, prey species were ringing all alarm bells.

His lungs burned and his heart thudded in his desperate need to escape.

"Ah!" he yelped, skidding to an inelegant halt. He had reached a bend in the boxy metal passage. It went straight up, and he'd nearly crashed right into the wall in the dark. He took a step back and looked up. He couldn't see how wide that path was, but he could see that it was narrower than his current location. Bowman would risk bashing his wings against the walls if he tried to fly.

Bowman spread his wings hesitantly. They quivered from the adrenaline wreaking havoc in his bloodstream. He had nowhere else to go; Sam would be upon him in seconds.

Bowman froze in place, suddenly overwhelmed by the situation.

His wings were still unfurled and trembling along with the rest of him from the cold, but he could not risk launching himself into the narrow passage above only to break something. He searched the dark for Sam, thinking that maybe he could dodge around him and try his luck in the opposite direction.

Sam slowed when he saw Bowman frozen at the end of the horizontal portion of the vent. He didn't want to risk startling Bowman into flight in the cramped space. Sam could climb up the sheer cliff-like surface without a problem, but it would slow him down, giving Bowman the chance to find a way out of the maze-like vents and an opportunity for his bid for freedom. They were miles from Bowman's forest. There would be no telling if he'd ever make it home, or get captured by humans before he got out of town. Sam knew all too well how hard that was to escape from.

Holding his hands out, Sam approached the trembling figure. "Hey, Bowman," his voice was steady, cajoling. "Just... calm down. Okay? You're not in danger with me and Dean, I promise. We just want to help." He took a few careful steps closer, trying to put himself within reach of the sprite in case he tried to make a break for it. He was breathing quickly and trembling all over, so it was obvious he was skittish enough to try.

The cold air stopped with a mechanical groan, letting Sam's hair fall back around his head in the poofy hairstyle he favored. With them inside the vents themselves the ground trembled under Sam as it all wound down.

Bowman flinched and put his hands up in defense. Soon enough he realized that Sam was not responsible for the noises echoing all around. He drew his wings in close to himself and took a startled step backwards regardless, eyeing the man with wide eyes. He shifted his feet to start a slow circle around Sam, always keeping him in sight.

"You want to help humans," he clarified. His voice came out in a tentative whisper to avoid echoing throughout the strange chamber he'd escaped into. "Getting kidnapped and taken so far away from my home doesn't really help me all that much, so forgive me for being skeptical," he added.

Why did Sam keep acting like he was looking out for Bowman's best interests? He clearly intended to keep the sprite prisoner for however long it took Dean to decide he was innocent. While the loyalty between these two brothers was admirable, it didn't help Bowman at all.

"You act like some hero. Like avenging a few humans gives you some free pass ... I never did anything wrong, and yet every single time I have ever met a human, he gets this idea in his head that everything he does to me is justified. I'm not human, so what voice do I get, right?!" Bowman's hands curled into shaking fists as the thought lingered in his mind. What gave any of these people the right?

"You wanna talk about not being in danger, what's Dean gonna do if he catches me again? He almost crushed my wings the first time around."

The mechanical whirring completely tapered off, and Bowman thought the 'air condition' was finished making noise. But, a loud bang somewhere down the long line of metal passageways echoed as the distant machine closed down completely. Bowman flinched and bolted again, heading back the way he came. There had to be a way out of there. He just needed to keep away from Sam and Dean long enough to find it.

"Dammit, Bowman! You don't understand!" Sam shouted as the sprite darted past him again, narrowly avoiding his surprised grab at his arm. Without wasting any time he whipped around, starting the chase again.

Bowman knew his element of surprise wouldn't last long enough by itself with Sam so hyper aware. Sam almost kept up for a moment this time, but he flapped his wings, launching himself forward in a swift leap. He slipped effortlessly beyond Sam's reach, gliding as far as he could on silent wings. It hadn't been possible before with the air flowing, but now he could surge forward several feet.

Sam let out a few curses he'd picked up from Dean as he continued running. If Bowman was flying, he'd have no problem getting away from him. Dean on the other hand...

Bowman's heart lifted. He might have a chance! He rounded the corner again, staggering a little as his knee protested.

Bowman stopped in his tracks when he saw that the metal cover was gone. Much more light was filtering into the space now. He hesitated, certain that Dean waited just outside that opening. He'd just placed himself between the two brothers.

"Blast it," he hissed. Bowman couldn't bring himself to try running past the opening into the motel room, and he knew Sam would be close behind. He clenched his hands into fists, his face darkening into a defeated scowl. It had been a miserable escape attempt, and all he had to show for it was a pounding heart and a pair of angered jailors.

Sam's problems were solved the moment he ran around that last corner to the room. The end of the vent was gaping wide, open to the motel room. Dean must have taken it apart while he was waiting. Sam's mouth edged into a smile. Having a capable mechanic for a brother certainly had its uses.

Spotting Bowman in between him and the exit, he held his hands out to the sides again, trying to come across as non-threatening. Dean was near the vent - Sam could see his shadow stretching over the floor - so the moment he realized they were there, Sam already knew he'd peer in. Bowman was literally cornered between them now.

"Bowman, I'm sorry we took you from the forest. We didn't know what you were or if you were tied up in all this crazy, and we didn't want to take a chance with other people's lives. I promise, we don't just help humans, we help any innocents that need it." Sam took a few steps forward, laying his hands on his chest. He ignored the sight of Dean kneeling down outside the vent, blocking off a good deal of their light as he did so. "Do you really think we wouldn't try to help people like me if humans got hold of them? Dean's saved them before, without even thinking about it."

A few more steps. "We didn't know you were out there but now that we do, we'll do our best to make sure your village is safe. Please, just let us help."

Bowman shifted his feet. He wanted to sidle away from Sam, but that would just put him closer to where Dean's intense glare waited. He was cornered, but he tried not to let himself think of that too much. The unique panic that any creature felt upon being cornered, the desperate attack, would not help him at all. Sam would most certainly subdue him and he might damage his wings in the process, as hard as it was to tell where the metal walls were.

Bowman also ignored the fact that Dean would almost be able reach them where they stood, if he stuck his arm into the hole in the wall. Bowman couldn't even blame anyone else. He had trapped himself like this. And maybe Sam talked like he was sympathetic, but one furtive glance told him that Dean was not pleased with his escape attempt.

"I just wanted to go and warn everyone," he finally replied, his voice as low as he could make it so Sam could still hear. "Wolves are dangerous enough as it is. That ... thing is an abomination against everything we revere."

Bowman crossed his arms, finding the will to be defiant despite his situation. "If you guys really plan to help get rid of it, then great. Sunny. " He scoffed, throwing a glare over his shoulder at the looming human presence waiting for them to exit the walls. "But, y'know, for some reason, I just don't feel like my best interests have been on anyone's mind. You two being humans doesn't give you the authority on whether or not I'm innocent. I'm innocent whether you say so or not."

Dean leaned in, trying to catch what Bowman was saying to Sam. He couldn't help the angry glare on his face, torn between annoyance at Bowman's escape attempt and worry for Sam, who was still beyond Dean's reach or help. Bowman, on the other hand, was almost in reach. If he just shifted into the right position, he might be able to grab...

Before Dean could try anything, Sam's tiny glare bored right through him. Sam knew exactly what he was thinking and disagreed. Sam shook his head slightly with I've got this, written all over his face.

Dean could feel his own scowl form in response. You better know what you're doing, pipsqueak. Being on the sidelines like this was aggravating. He leaned slightly away from the small opening, letting in a little more light to the tunnel and giving them some space. His eyes darted around the room, searching for a way to confine Bowman if they needed to. The last few times they'd dealt with a sprite, one's wings had been broken when they'd met, and the other he'd trapped in a vase to stop her rampage. Of course, trapping Sam in the vase with her hadn't been Dean's idea, but it had to happen. At least they'd had Nixie for backup, keeping Sam from getting set on fire.

There, he spotted a vase. At least if it came down to it, he'd be prepared. Dean settled back down, watching Sam confront Bowman in the vent.

Sam took a few more slow steps towards Bowman the moment he knew Dean wasn't about to try anything. Dean was just impulsive enough to go for it, and then they'd be back at square one. If he could just calm down the situation he wouldn't have to worry about Bowman getting himself hurt or Dean coming off as the bad guy. Again.

"Look, I believe you. I do. But it's hard to prove that to Dean with you trying to escape like this. He was willing to give you a chance before, I'm sure he'll give you another." That last emphasis was directed up at Dean, obviously eavesdropping on them.

Bowman rolled his eyes and scoffed. "How can you expect me not to try to escape?!" he asked, truly exasperated. He'd been grabbed and carried far from home. So far from home that his captors liked to keep reminding him that even if he did get away, he'd be lost and unable to find his way back. Bowman could fly as high as he needed to and try to see the forest from that vantage point. He was almost willing to risk being spotted by a hawk or other bird of prey, if it meant getting himself home.

He noticed belatedly that Sam was coming closer. Bowman narrowed his eyes and took a few steps backwards, maintaining a buffer of distance between them. For every calm step Sam took forward, Bowman took a cautious one backwards. He wasn't going to bolt, but he certainly didn't want to be too close to the guy. His wings fanned open and closed, working out some of the adrenaline that still coursed through his body.

Bowman still wanted to just run, and find a place where he could take flight and get away from these people. Away from this gigantic box that housed countless humans. It had been interesting to investigate the room, but with Dean's scrutiny and Sam's probing questions, all he could think of was his other encounters with humans. He had been grabbed and thrown in a cage and tormented, and his family ... his sweet young cousin, Rischa, had been captured too. A tremor shook his hands and the tips of his wings as he thought of the memory of little Rischa trapped in a net.

"You just stomped into my home, so clearly out of place," he continued derisively, his voice rising a little in his growing frustration. "Decided that I owed you answers even though you were the ones intruding! Humans don't own the world just because they live on it. That's not how it works. So stop acting like I'm the one who has to earn 'chances' just because you're stronger than I am!" As he admonished Sam, his wings flared out wide in his agitation. It certainly made him look bigger, though they both knew that even though his wings threw an extensive shadow over Sam, Bowman was physically weaker.

Dean watched as Sam confronted Bowman, slowly stalking closer to the little sprite. Bowman mirrored his every move, stepping away from Sam but closer to Dean. Dean could feel himself tense up as Bowman drifted close enough to grab with just a swipe of his hand. But he held off, giving Sam his chance to talk the little sprite down.

At least until Bowman flared his wings up threateningly at Sam.

Dean didn't even realize he was doing it until halfway through the motion, the urge to protect Sam so instinctively built into him. His hand lunged forward, eclipsing the wings with outstretched fingers.

Then froze, target less than two inches away.

Sam was in between them, arms thrown protectively up at Dean's hand. His eyes were wide as he faced his big brother down, putting himself at risk for someone he'd only just met. The second he saw that Dean wasn't going to grab him, he started breathing again, small shoulders shaking with his gasped-in breaths.

Sam's small eyes met Dean's shocked expression. With a deep breath, he braced himself as he talked. "Don't, Dean. Don't. Please. He wasn't trying to attack me, just scare me off!"

"But Sam..."

"Dean, please. Trust me. How many times did you say Kara tried to escape from you when you caught her by accident? Two? Three?"

"Sam, that was a totally different situation..."

But Sam didn't let Dean finish, talking right over his more powerful voice. "No, it wasn't. She was just younger and more afraid. I don't think Bowman has anything to do with this, but he has a lot to lose!" Steely hazel eyes bored into Dean as he talked. "Dean, I'm fine. Just... back off, okay? And try not to grab him again."

Dean tried to swallow down his shock as he took his hand back, lowering it down as he nodded silently.

Bowman watched, no shortage of shock on his face, as Dean's hand calmly retreated. His heart had nearly stopped when he realized that he'd put himself so close to the human to avoid Sam. And just when he thought his wings were going to be crushed,Sam had placed himself between Bowman and Dean. And he remained there, resolutely staring the larger human down. Bowman wasn't sure who was more shocked; himself or Dean.

He couldn't ignore that Sam had told Dean not to grab at Bowman. And he definitely couldn't ignore that Dean had actuallylistened.

"Uh. Th-thanks, Sam," Bowman muttered, averting his gaze. He took a few deep breaths and folded his wings tightly to his back. He had come far too close to having them crumpled up in Dean's powerful fist for the second time today.

At least now he seemed to have an ally, and judging by the way Dean had listened, it didn't particularly matter that his ally was just as tiny as a sprite. Bowman felt slightly more hopeful that he'd get out of this. Slightly.

"So ... you actually believe me?" he asked, his eyes cautiously skimming over Dean's face before settling back on Sam.

Sam could feel himself still coming down off the adrenaline rush from facing Dean down. It didn't matter that he knew Dean would never hurt him if he did get scooped up in that fist - it brought back far too many memories of other hands crushing him, treating him like he was no better than an animal... snapping his arm. The fact that Dean's hands were as safe to Sam as his home didn't matter when they were coming right at him. With a watchful eye, Sam stared at Dean's hand until it was out of the vent completely, lowered to his brother's side.

Sam turned to Bowman. He gave the grateful, awestruck sprite the best smile he could manage while he was still shaking off the remnants of his fear. He'd never fully rid himself of that fear, not so long as he was teeny enough to be scooped up against his will on a whim by any human that happened to walk by. "Yeah. Yeah, I do believe you. That wolf... it would have killed you as soon as me and Dean. Maybe faster if you were alone and couldn't get into the air." Sam lowered his hands to his sides. "I'm sorry for what we're putting you through, really. But I really do want to help." Sam half turned towards the motel room. "You wanna come back out or stay in here for the night? It's gonna get cold in here, I can tell you that."

Bowman thought about it. All in all, if he was going to have to stay there for a night regardless, he'd rather be comfortable. He remembered that chilled air, how it had seeped into his skin even as he ran full tilt through the vents. But, he wasn't sure how he liked the thought of letting his guard down around a human he barely knew. He didn't even like falling asleep around Jacob, and that oaf was the best example of a human Bowman could think of.

Still, Sam was offering him a choice. He wasn't going to make Bowman come back out, and that was important. Bowman decided to believe Sam for the time being. "I will come out," he answered after a few seconds. Before he took any steps, though, he leaned to the side to peer around Sam and raise an eyebrow at Dean in a pointed glare. "So long as a certain giant keeps his distance and doesn't blasted grab at me again."

Sam couldn’t help letting out a sigh of gratitude, glad the standoff was over, at least for the moment. “He won’t. I promise.” A glance was thrown over his shoulder in Dean’s direction. ”Right? ” he prompted the giant staring in at them with intense green eyes.

Dean was still recovering from almost grabbing his brother when he spotted the double glares being thrown in his direction. “Uh, yeah. Hands off small fry over there. Got it.” He held out his hands, trying to look as innocent as possible.

When Sam started to lead the way out of the vent, Dean pulled himself off the ground, clearing the space directly in front of the hole for them. The screwdriver and all the pieces of the vent lay to the side, waiting patiently to be put back together. Dean remained kneeling, steadfastly refusing to leave Sam alone on the ground with Bowman, whether he was wanted there or not.

As they reached the opening back into the room, Bowman paused. He glanced around and made sure he knew where Dean was. More importantly, he ensured the human's hands were a safe distance away before hopping back out of the wall. He reasoned that, if Dean changed his mind and lunged, Bowman could probably dodge back into the wall or under some of the towering furniture in the room.

He didn't make it two steps out of the vent before something to the side caught his eye. Bowman turned his head and looked at the pile of metal set next to the opening. The grate that Dean had pulled away lay there among other metal instruments. He edged up to them, unable to rein in his curiosity. Now that the trapped, panicked feeling was no longer stifling him, he let himself wonder about all of the strange and foreign things in the human dwelling. At least seeing new things helped him to avoid thinking about his own primed nerves.

Bowman knelt to slip a hand underneath one of the pieces of metal. It was pointed on one end, and had a spiral pattern molded into it, wrapping all the way to the top. He picked the thing up, noting that the dense metal was a bit heavy. The flat top of the thing had a slot cut into it, and Bowman brushed a hand over it cautiously. He glanced past it to the grate and his eyes found the hole where this thing must have fit perfectly. A quick look over his shoulder at the wall confirmed that this object was used to fix the grate to the wall.

"Where do humans get so much metal?" he muttered, for a moment lost in examining the object in his hands. At least, with the scare behind him, he could afford to be curious again.

Chapter Text

The moment Sam was out of the vent, Dean leaned down to check on him, huge hands crowding his small form and a shadow sliding over him. Sam tried to bat the fingers out of his way despite them being the size of his whole body. He was more concerned about keeping an eye on Bowman. “Dean, chill. Nothing happened in there, past you almost grabbing me!”

Dean felt his heart drop at that, remembering the fear on Sam’s face in those short moments. The fear that Dean would close him in an inescapable grip in his haste to grab the sprite. The last thing he ever wanted was to put that fear in Sam, especially after everything he’d been through.

“I didn’t mean it, Sam. You know that, right?” he asked, almost begging Sam to understand. Sam was only just recovering from his skittish reactions to humans after his ordeal, and Dean would hate to cause a relapse in Sam again. The time they’d spent at Bobby’s while fixing up the Impala had helped a huge amount, giving Sam time to rest and recover near friends and family. And spend time where he didn’t have to worry about hiding constantly from other humans.

“Of course, Dean. Just relax, okay? You being on edge isn't helping things here.” Sam turned his head up to Dean, ignoring the two hands looming around him like a protective, living wall. “Just remember how people like me react around humans, and remember he’s from the middle of a forest. He probably hasn’t seen as many humans as my people do. Give him a break.”

“Fine. But I’m holding you responsible for this,” Dean said, poking Sam gently in the stomach.

Sam let out a whuff of air and glared up at Dean, trying to brush off his rumpled clothes. “Jackass,” he muttered. “Go make yourself useful and get us some food or something, alright?”

“Whatever,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes. But he got up off the ground, striding over to the phone between the beds to order takeout. Sam was left alone near Bowman, who only looked up briefly to track Dean's progress. He was still intently examining the discarded pieces of the vent grate. The little guy looked like he'd found an alien starship.

Sam wandered over to the sprite once Dean's footsteps receded, noticing his curiosity. “It’s a screw,” he informed helpfully, seeing what was held between Bowman’s hands.

Bowman had done a decent job of mostly ignoring the strange brothers' conversation. He still could hardly believe that they were actually related. But, other than his size, Sam looked human. And Bowman wasn't exactly an expert on humans in the first place.

He gave Sam a sidelong glance when Dean was well preoccupied elsewhere in the room, far enough that he couldn't simply reach out and grab one of them. "A screw," he echoed, to show he'd heard. "And it holds that thing to the wall," he guessed with some confidence. There was no other explanation for the way the screw would fit with the grate so well.

Sam grinned, impressed with Bowman for figuring out the screw. He was naive because he'd never encountered human things before, but clearly he was smart. "Yeah, it does. Dean'll put it back together later, after we eat something." He could hear Dean talking in the background, ordering a pizza and a salad, two of Sam's favorite foods. The phone was hung up with a bang that made Bowman flinch, Dean's footsteps thudding past them back over to the table. He was taking Sam's suggestion to heart and leaving the two of them alone.

Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye, spotting the top of the laptop sticking up from the edge of the table. The clicking of keys filled the room as Dean went back to the research, hunched over the computer screen with a concentrated frown on his face. The tell-tale glow of the laptop lit Dean's face as he intently read the screen. Sam hid a smile, knowing how much Dean hated doing the research, and here he was left to do it all alone.

Bowman let the screw drop back to the worn carpet with a faint thump. He turned his head to look at Sam more directly. "You were right," he pointed out. "I haven't seen a lot of humans. Only ..." he glanced at his hands, murmuring unintelligible names as he counted. "Six. Before today." He shrugged lamely. "They brought a lot of weird stuff with them. But there's, uh, a lot morehere," he admitted. "It almost feels like I'm barely on earth anymore." There was a definite edge of concern to his words, but more than that he sounded intrigued. It would probably take Bowman days to investigate everything in the room thoroughly.

"So you have been around humans before," Sam confirmed, curious. From Bowman's skittish reactions to Dean, those meetings must not have gone well. Most humans tended towards grabby around anything they didn't understand, Dean being a rare exception once he realized the little people were just like humans themselves. He'd been horrified when he'd grabbed Sam by accident before either of them realized who was there. The memory of that day was burned into Sam's brain, for more reasons than one. Now Bowman shared Sam's experience of learning just how quick Dean's reflexes were.

"Yeah, I've found myself around humans before," Bowman replied with a grim smirk. His first encounter with the creatures was still clear in his memory. Jacob, a huge hulk of a teenager, had grabbed him and poked at him relentlessly. Curiosity may have felt harmless from his end, but to Bowman it was terrifying. And yet, despite the fear of their first meeting, Bowman and Jacob were close friends now. "The first three were, uh, 'camping?' They built a tent and sat around drinking beer a lot. Until one of 'em caught me."

Bowman absently rubbed his arm, glancing past Sam to where Dean sat working on something. He could see the light from the device that the human diligently poked at. "Jacob, the one that found me, turned out to be okay. But his friend was really bad. He pulled on my wings. And he called in an even bigger human that wanted to put all of us in cages and take us out of the woods. Called us vermin." Bowman's brow pinched in a frown.

The fact that the man had nearly succeeded in taking Bowman and his family away still gave him nightmares on occasion. Logan was even more formidable in size than Dean, and he was the main reason Bowman feared other humans. Jacob may have earned his trust, but not without some effort. "I wouldn't say I've had very good luck with humans," he finished, including Sam's gigantic brother in that assessment.

The story was awful to hear, but it wasn't very hard to believe, from Sam's experience. "Vermin?" he scowled, disgusted. Thatsounded like a few humans he'd run into before. A memory of being trapped in a crate miles away from Dean flashed through his mind. "We've run into humans like that before. They managed to catch me when Dean wasn't around, stuff me in a purse and take me away. Others, too. The one reason we didn't get sold off as exotic 'pets' was Dean found us first, luckily. He saved me and everyone else, taking them back to the homes they'd lost."

Sam's gaze softened as he glanced over at his brother, wrapped up in whatever research he could fit in with the few sketchy details they had so far. "He's a little rough around the edges," Sam admitted, "but there's no one around that I'd trust more, after everything he's done."

Bowman followed Sam's gaze. He wasn't sure he could just start trusting Dean even after hearing about what he'd done. Rescuing a bunch of sprite-sized humans from a lifetime of captivity was admirable, he had to begrudgingly admit. Bowman was willing to accept that maybe he could trust the giant eventually. But the trauma at the man's hands was just too recent to ignore. Getting grabbed right out of the air and squeezed and forced into a pocket was not something Bowman could easily forget. Especially since all of those things resulted in him being taken out of the forest, his home, for the first time. Everything in the huge room, right down to its eerily squared corners, reminded him of how outmatched and frail the sprites were compared to humans. It only took one of them to nearly destroy the lives of everyone Bowman knew.

"Jacob's like that," he answered after a pause, choosing to aim his focus on less depressing things. "That gun thing that Dean had, that made the loud noise and hurt the wolf, the hunter human had one of those. He threatened Jacob and his friends with it. But Jacob helped anyway." Placing himself in harm's way like that had earned Jacob the permanent trust of every sprite in Wellwood. The human had nearly paid a dire cost for them.

Bowman watched Dean a few seconds longer. "So. Your brother. He'll take care of that wolf with the twisted life energy ... and then what? I don't know what was holding that poor creature together, but the air was thick with it back there." With something like that going on, Bowman thought that there was no way it was an isolated incident. Especially if so many humans had apparently died already.

Scuffing his boot against a flaw in the pattern of the thick but well-worn carpet, Sam frowned thoughtfully. "The wolf itself should be easy to get rid of once we track it down. Dean told me a shot to the head can take out the undead, or if you're desperate and you don't have a gun, silver will slow it down." Sam fiddled with his own knife for a moment. He knew it was too small to help against creatures like this, but it was a comfort to have, regardless. "He's trying to figure out what's causing it right now. Wolves don't just pull themselves out of the ground on their own, so there has to be a source we can go after. Once we figure that out, we can stop them once and for all."

Sam took a few steps away from Bowman as he talked. "Honestly, I'm just hoping that we can figure this out before anyone else gets hurt, human or sprite. I can't stand the thought of people getting hurt because we're too slow."

Bowman watched Sam, a pensive look on his face. He really seemed genuine. And a glance up at Dean showed that the huge human was quite intent on the device up on the table. It must be providing the information he needed. Or not, if his faint scowl was any indication. "I don't know if I can help you figure out what happened," he replied, looking back at the back of Sam's head. "But ... I want to stop this too."

Bowman sighed tersely, wondering how he could explain what he'd been able to discern before Dean walked up. Jacob had asked him a few times if he knew how to do 'spells and magic,' and Bowman had always been a little confused by that. He didn't have magic of his own. Anything he could do came from a connection to the Earth Spirit. Praying widened that connection and allowed him to borrow some of Her magic. "There was this kind of messed up life energy around that boulder. That's why I was there when you showed up. I'm not always the most sensitive but if even I could feel it ..." He shrugged, letting that implication stand on its own.

"That wolf died there. And it was supposed to stay dead there." Bowman realized his hands were shaking slightly as he thought about it. The violation against the essence of life - against the fact that it, too, had to end eventually - was immense. And Sam had just implied that these 'undead' things were widespread! "Even predators deserve respect. If a wolf kills something, it's sad, but we always have to remind ourselves that it's just trying to live. That wolf and maybe others have been wronged." Not to mention the people that had been killed by the beasts, brought back into the hunt after their time should have been up.

"What's dead should stay dead," Dean muttered to himself, internally agreeing with the sprite. With the room silent, he couldn't help but overhear the conversation down on the floor. Hunter-trained instincts made him more aware of his surroundings than the average human, and being exposed to his pocket-sized brother constantly had him ready to listen for the soft, quiet voices.

If it was true Bowman could sense the energy of whatever was bringing the wild back to life - that could come in handy. Right now all they had to rely on was Dean's ability to track in the forest. Sam was all but useless there. He was too small to risk going far away from Dean (in Dean's opinion - Sam disagreed, to a point. He still thought Dean was being too overprotective), and because of his curse, he'd never been able to learn those skills the way Dean had. With his size, he could pick up on clues Dean overlooked, but he had to know what to search for first.

Sam found himself unknowingly in agreement with Dean. A way to track the wolves down could save them the time they needed. The attacks had been more widespread than just one wolf should be able to manage. "Have you ever sensed that type of energy before, anywhere else in the forest?" he inquired curiously, hoping for more clues to work with.

Bowman shook his head. "Not before today. I ... I was flying a little bit farther out than I'm technically supposed to," he admitted. Even so, he'd gone that far in the woods many many times since meeting Jacob and the others. As a patrolsprite, he felt it was a good idea to make sure he knew the whole forest, not just their isolated portion of it. Bowman had taken it on himself to be the only early warning they had against threats.

And yet, here he was, miles from the possibility of warning anyone ... he tried to shake that off. If he could find out what was going on first, he might be of even more use when he finally did have a chance to get back to the others. "There's a big metal fence a few miles into the forest, you guys didn't even come close to it. I haven't noticed anything around the fence, and definitely nothing on the inside."

"Hopefully you can help narrow down where the damn things are," Sam said. "Right now we're looking at a search area of the whole forest, and that's gonna take too long to narrow down without help or a good lead." That put too many people at risk.

A thunderous knocking came from overhead, a loud, hollow sound that made Bowman's wings twitch with each impact. Sam flinched instinctively, almost throwing his arms protectively up over his head. He was never going to get used to being out in the open when things like that happened. It was for the best; getting used to that meant becoming complacent, a mistake Sam knew well that he couldn't afford.

Dean paused, eyes on Sam, trying to reassure him that everything was okay. Closing the laptop, he pushed out of his chair, digging his wallet out of his pocket. The delivery boy had arrived.

Once he was convinced Sam and Bowman were out of sight from the door, Dean opened it and slipped outside to pay, taking no chances with his far more vulnerable companions.

Bowman heard the gigantic door open and close, and felt the rumbling in the floor. He was glad that whatever human stood beyond it couldn't see into the room. He really didn't want to deal with any more humans today. Dean at least listened to Sam, so the sprite had some moderate assurance that he wouldn't grab him anymore. The arrival of a new human, however, had Bowman on edge.

A glance at Sam told him that this was nothing to worry about. Even though both of them had flinched from the pounding on the door, Sam seemed otherwise unaffected by the intrusion. So this was expected. Weird. He chose not to ask about it, to avoid looking clueless.

"Y-yeah, the forest is too big for you guys to check out in time," he agreed, acting as if nothing had happened. "It took me months to get it all figured out." But, having the layout of the woods memorized was well worth it. He was never lost in the forest. He was always home. "The stink of that wolf's life energy should be pretty easy to find again." The life energy, Bowman would be able to pick up on. And the actual stench of the rotting thing ... well, Dean and Sam couldn't miss it.

Chapter Text

"Thanks, man," Dean said as he took the food from the delivery boy, handing off the money. He waved at the kid, waiting until the guy was out of sight to slip back inside. This time he locked the door with the deadbolt, taking no chances. Him not being prepared could get Sam or Bowman in trouble they didn't deserve. A brief glance at the floor to make sure his path was clear and he headed for the table with a few quick steps.

"Grub's up, guys," Dean announced as he placed the pizza box and the salad down, opening them both up for everyone. He turned to Sam, cocking an eyebrow. "Need a hand, short stuff?"

Sam couldn't stop a grin from forming when he saw the food arrive. One of the best parts of trying to live in the human world with a 'height deficiency,' as Dean had once dubbed it, was the ready availability of warm, fresh food. No matter how much Dean insisted he could eat whatever he wanted, Sam still had difficulty asking for anything. He was slowly getting better, as he realized how important it was to Dean that Sam have everything he'd missed out on all those years.

"Nah, I'm good," Sam called up as he grabbed his fishhook from his bag. With Bowman around, he didn't want to come across as overly-reliant on Dean. Sam knew how that looked to his own people, he couldn't imagine it being different with the sprites. Other borrowers prized independence, and Sam wanted to prove himself to the sprite the same way.

Speaking of...

Sam turned to Bowman. "If you're hungry, you're welcome to whatever we have. Dean doesn't mind sharing, and neither do I. It's pretty good."

With that, Sam launched his hook up at the table, aiming for a corner of the pizza box. It clattered to the table just shy of the edge. "Sonovabitch..." Sam muttered as he went to draw it back in, drawing on Dean's favorite curse.

Before he could get far, Dean pinched the hook between his fingers, hooking it on his full cup of soda before Sam could argue. He gave Sam a wink as he turned back to his food. Sam turned his attention to his fishing line and started to haul himself up, using the leg of the table to steady himself rather than hang free.

Bowman watched Sam with interest as he scaled the strange translucent rope. Sam was quite skilled, though Bowman supposed he would have to be. At least he had a way to avoid being stuck on the floor all the time, aside from having a human around to help him. No wood sprite could boast the ability to climb a rope so easily.

Still, Bowman grinned and spread his wings, launching into the air easily. He had let Sam get almost two thirds of the way up before taking off himself, but Bowman still alighted on the table before the wingless man could reach it. Flying was just faster, especially for someone as skilled as Bowman. He fanned his wings once before folding them again, glad for a chance at even a short flight.

First, Bowman's eyes went to a huge container made of a clear plastic, filled with mostly leaves. It looked pretty fresh and appetizing; he saw a few large red-orange berries in it that he'd never encountered before.

But the smell coming off of the other container drew his attention. The air above it even wavered from the heat haze. Bowman glanced at Dean to make sure he knew where the human was - particularly where his hands were - before inching up to the wide, flat box. The food within was round and flat, and was so warm that it steamed. "What in Spirit's voice is that stuff?" he asked.

Dean watched as the sprite approached the box with interest, smiling inwardly at his amazement. “That, is pizza.” He reached into the box, pulling free one of the smaller slices. “A human delicacy,” he declared with a grin. He dropped the slice on a napkin close to Bowman, and then grabbed a bigger one for himself that he dug into without delay. Bowman leaned back from the pizza, a piece of food that was bigger than him, with a critical eye.

Sam finally hauled himself over the edge of the table, brushing his hair out of his face. With a flick of his wrist he caught his hook as it fell, coiling it casually into his bag. “In other words,” he said as he walked over near Bowman by the food, “Dean doesn’t have to cook, and it gets delivered straight to the room so it’s convenient. Cheese, crust, garlic and tomato sauce. Makes a pretty good combination.”

“One of your favorites, pint-size,” Dean snorted as he reminded Sam, poking him gently in the side again. Sam batted his finger away with a familiar bitchy glare.

Bowman crouched near the slice of 'pizza' that Dean had set aside, thinking that there might be no end to the weird names humans had for things. He watched sidelong as the brothers spoke. They seemed pretty at ease with each other. Even with Sam massively outsized by the human, he wasn’t afraid of having those hands so close. From this less-panicked viewpoint, it was easier to see that they were at least very close, if not actual brothers.

Bowman looked back at the pizza. It did smell interesting, and it looked completely foreign. But, none of the four ingredients they had listed sounded familiar to him. Bowman absently knitted his fingers together, stuck between asking and just trying the stuff. "Um. None of that has meat, right?" he finally asked, resolved not to look at either of them.

It was embarrassing to be so ignorant sometimes.

“No, not a drop of meat on it,” Sam said. He stepped onto the napkin, slicing off the end with his silver knife so Bowman could eat without having to tear it off with his bare hands. The piece of pizza formed a mini-slice, with an extra ‘deep dish’ feel to it. He held it out to the sprite with a smile.

Bowman looked over the food that Sam gave him, amazed at how warm it still was despite having traveled some distance to get to them. The sprites didn't heat up most of their food, having no need to. When they did, it was usually to heat water for tea. Nothing like this.

As for Dean, he set to searching for a bottle cap. Sam had a little tinfoil cup he’d made for himself at Bobby's, so Dean didn’t have to worry about finding something for Sam to drink out of. He just retrieved the small cup from underneath the nightstand, filling it up with a drop of his soda and leaving it next to the pizza-covered napkin. For Bowman he ended up having to give up his bottlecap, with no other options apparent. “Soda or water?” he inquired, making a serious effort to seem less threatening to the little guy for the moment. He'd be damned if he ruined any progress Sam had made.

The sprite looked up at Dean, a little surprised to hear such an innocuous offer out of him, especially after their previous head-butting. "Water, please," he replied. What is soda?! he thought, but kept that to himself.

He looked back to the pizza. After a pause, he took a tentative bite off the very tip. Immediately a set of entirely new flavors assaulted his senses. Bowman raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, taking a moment to decide if he liked it while he chewed that first bite. "It's, uh, interesting," he finally determined. "Really strong."

Biting into his own slice in turn, Sam nodded emphatically. "I used to eat this all the time as a kid," he explained, "then, once I got hit with this curse and trapped at this size, it became something that was too dangerous to even try to get most days." He ripped off a piece of the napkin he was sitting on and tried to clean some of the sauce off of his face. "Definitely one of the upsides of living with Dean," he finished to himself thoughtfully.

Once Dean had a bottlecap of water, he left it near the sprite. "Hopefully not the only upside, pint-size," he said pointedly.

Sam smirked. "Well, you are a lot to handle... but no. Definitely not the only upside."

"Good. So long as we're in agreement I'm awesome then," Dean said as he leaned back in his chair. Grabbing the remote, he flicked on the TV, searching for a good movie to kill time with.

It was only a few channels until he settled on Godzilla vs Mothra, a favorite of both brothers after it had helped bring them both together when Sam had watched it alone in a motel room. Without that distraction, Sam would never have let his guard down long enough for Dean to find him and Sam to recognize the amulet around Dean's neck. It might be almost as long as Sam's arm now, but the memory of giving it to Dean the Christmas before being cursed was bright in both their minds.

Sam couldn't help a slight twitch when the television turned on unexpectedly. He hadn't been paying attention to what Dean was up too for a few seconds, so he'd never even seen Dean grab the remote. Next to him, Bowman glanced up in surprise, too, as the screen lit the room. Once Sam saw it change over to the Godzilla vs Mothra movie, he smiled. He'd seen it a few times since being back with Dean but for some reason it never got old.

Bowman continued to eat his own pizza, mulling over this "curse" Sam mentioned and barely registering the images on the large glass device. He'd told Bowman about it before, and it was still amazing to think about. Bowman had always thought that the Spirits were the only things that had magic. But magic was far more widespread and destructive than he could ever have thought. If not for that curse, Sam would tower over Bowman the same as Dean. And he might not be sitting eating pizza with the pair of them. Without some empathy for his size, Sam might have been just as quick to accuse Bowman as Dean had been. Bowman might not have even survived his encounter with the brothers this long.

Even with that in mind, he couldn't say it was all that lucky. No one deserved to have their life so radically changed like that.

Bowman suddenly noticed something a bit unsettling about the object lighting the room with its moving images. He set his pizza down on the napkin and wiped his hands, all while keeping his eyes fixed on the glass front of the electronic thing. He'd only seen a few such devices, and they were much much smaller than this. This thing was bigger than a sprite's house.

It was like looking through a window to someplace far away. Someplace where enormous, boxy, metal human buildings were being violently destroyed by even more enormous monsters. Bowman watched intently, for a moment forgetting Sam and Dean. His wings tensed, flexing open a little before folding tightly again. He pulled the bottle cap of water towards himself and lifted it to take a quick drink, still not averting his eyes from the big electronic thing.

Grabbing his cup to the side, Sam took a tentative sip of the soda. It had been long enough for the bubbles to settle and the fizziness to die down. It wasn't as pleasant a sensation to drink a carbonated drink at his size, but he loved the taste of soda, so Sam tried to never pass it up. Waiting for the bubbles to slow was a necessity, however. He took another bite of his pizza, staring at the TV.

Fruit Break by Mogadeer

The rustling of green wings to the side pulled his eyes away from the TV. Sam realized Bowman was tense, sitting there like he was ready to dart off. His eyes were glued to the TV without even blinking, big and round.

"Hey," Sam asked quietly. "You alright there?"

Bowman gave Sam a sidelong glance. Seeing that he wasn't all that concerned about what the machine's window was showing them, Bowman turned his head to regard him with more focus. The violent sounds still made it to his ears, but now he wondered about why Sam and Dean were so casual about the rampant destruction they were witnessing.

Maybe he had missed something.

"Those are, uh, really big animals," he commented, trying to sound casual. Trying, though his voice betrayed his confusion and concern. "And I've never known moths to be so ... aggressive. Even the bigger ones." He looked back at the screen. That thing was unlike any of the insects back home.

"I mean. My cousin talks to the things, she says they're always very relaxed, unless they've been chased by a bird. Don't tell me there are birds big enough to cause that thing any problems."

"I, ah..." Confused, Sam frowned in concentration, trying to work through Bowman's words. Dean's eyes were glued on the TV as he finished off another slice of pizza, his third so far. He hadn't noticed anything going on below him, intent on his food and movie.

Another quick glance at the television - showing Mothra in all its glory - made Sam realize what a guy who'd never been out of the forest before might think.

"Oh!" he let out a laugh. "Those aren't real creatures! This is just a movie... kinda like a story, only told in pictures. See, Godzilla is trying to destroy the city and Mothra is protecting it. Kind of like a guardian. There's all kinds of movies like this, whatever humans can think of. There's even movies about people like me, or movies about fairies, which makes us think humans might have discovered little people before."

Bowman squinted critically at the 'movie' again, this time aware that it wasn't real. It was no small relief; the creatures projected through the glass were horrifying. Suddenly Sam and Dean's nonchalance made sense. Even so, with all the new things Bowman was facing today, he had been quite ready to believe the images were of real creatures.

"I guess that makes sense," he muttered. Obviously Dean had found Sam, and Bowman had met Jacob and the others. It wouldn't be beyond a human to go on and produce stories influenced by a meeting with smaller people. He could only hope those meetings didn't end badly for the non-humans involved.

Even knowing it was fake, Bowman cringed to see a particularly tall human building come crashing down. Still, a lot of his tension fell away in short bursts. He shifted so he sat cross-legged. He glanced over his shoulder once, making sure he had space, before unfurling his wings and letting them rest on the surface of the table behind him. They needed to relax after everything today.

"So ... if those things aren't real, then those big houses aren't either, right? How did they build something so big? How did they make the fake animals so big compared to the humans? What are they made of?" The questions poured out of him as curiosity ran wild in his mind, and Bowman was eager to figure out a little more about how humans performed some of their near-magic feats.

"Whoa, slow down," Sam held his hands out. "They're not actually as big as they look." Squinting at the screen, he tried to decide how to explain 'the movie magic' to someone completely uninitiated in its ways. "It's a trick. It's actually much smaller models, scaled so that they appear huge with the right camera and background. Humans have all kinds of ways to make you look at one thing and think you're seeing something else. They use all kinds of materials to craft the models - clay, wood, plastic... and lots more."

Gesturing at the laptop Dean's arm was casually resting on, Sam continued. "Those movies are older. Now humans can make images that seem as real as you or me with just a computer and the right program. Dean showed me a few of them so far, I'm a little behind on new technology still... like this one movie Lord of the Rings. There's one part with armies of these nasty creatures called Orcs that are attacking, and it makes it seem like there's thousands more than they really used when filming."

Bowman listened, allowing himself to be fascinated. He was attentive, keeping up as well as he could. Some of the words Sam threw around still didn't make much sense to the sprite, but he pieced together a meaning out of the context. At least, as much of a meaning as he would ever need. Human technology was far beyond anything a sprite could imagine, and he doubted he would ever fully understand it.

"So they're illusions," he answered with a slow nod. He glanced back up at the movie, tilting his head slightly as he looked for flaws in the creatures. Something that indicated they were made of plastic or clay. It was hard to imagine that the images might actually be bigger than the real things in this case.

Sam nodded in response. Bowman had caught on pretty fast for someone so new to technology. Most of Sam’s people avoided it completely. A TV or cell phone wouldn’t put food on the table, or ensure the family was safe, so that in itself rendered it useless to them. Sam’s exposure to it as a child had made him crave it, so on occasion he’d taken it upon himself to watch a show or two in a deserted room. But he’d always made sure to be prepared to make himself scarce if any humans walked by the door. At least until Dean had found him.

Hunter instincts and bad luck had combined, with the result of Sam landing directly in the hands of a hunter - the worst enemy of any little people like him. A rare stroke of good luck, on the other hand, had ensured that hunter was his brother, the only person Sam had truly been able to trust growing up. Many times since being cursed Sam had found himself wishing that his brother and his father would come back, knowing that no matter what Sam was now, they’d help him. Protect him. Dean especially had watched over Sam when they were children growing up. No matter the circumstances, Sam could always count on him. Even now, with circumstances screwed to hell and Sam under a foot tall, Dean was the single most dependable person he’d ever encountered, no matter the size. The only other person to even come close was Sam’s adopted dad, Walt. He’d never be willing to abandon his family, his son, the way John had.

"I've seen how clear the images can be on human things," Bowman continued. "When the humans came to my forest before, one of them made a picture of me. He had a, uh, 'phone.' " He held up his hand like he was holding a cell phone, and pressed his thumb to an invisible button. "He poked it and it clicked and then there was my exact image on it." It had almost been like looking at a mirror.

The moment Sam heard that, his head snapped to the side. “They took a picture of you?! Isn’t that dangerous - doesn’t it let humans know you exist, put your village at risk?” Bad enough that Mina woman had a picture of Sam on her camera. At least there was a chance someone would think it was a well-done photoshop job. It was a lot harder to push aside Bowman's vivid green wings, with all the detail in those leafy veins.

Bowman's brow furrowed with concern. "Does it?" he asked. "He had it on his, um, phone thing. And he sent it to his grandfather. But they're the only ones that saw it. I think," he explained. But suddenly he wasn't so sure. The shock on Sam's face worried Bowman.

He absently knitted his fingers as he considered it. He hadn't fully understood how the picture could have been sent away to someone else like that. But, he realized that he had been a little foolish to think that it couldn't be sent even further from there. It seemed like he'd never quite get the hang of human technology and how widespread it truly was.

"The human that made the picture ... he was really bad at first, but Jacob helped me. And he convinced his friend to help us and keep our secret." He relaxed again only somewhat. There had to be a reason that the news put Sam on edge. Bowman watched warily, anticipating another reason to be worried to come spilling out of Sam's mouth.

Sam's lips thinned. "Well, with any luck he got them to delete the picture. Bowman, with humans, they have this technology that lets them share things with each other - anywhere, anytime. It's complicated, but it makes secrets a lot harder to keep in this age. What's hidden might not stay hidden."

Unable to help himself, he got up and started to pace. "We use Dean's laptop to research myths and legends from all over the globe when we're on a hunt. There's almost no bar on the information you can find out there. It's useful, but dangerous in the wrong hands. Especially for people like you and me, whose existence depends on secrecy a lot of the time."

Bowman's frown deepened, mirroring Sam's concern. It had been over a year since that happened. And Jacob had even been back a couple times to visit, once he'd recovered. He probably would have mentioned something if it was a worry. Then again, it was possible that Jacob hadn't even thought about the possibilities.

"I haven't noticed any humans coming too close to the heart of the woods," he answered. "Thanks to the fence, I think." He paused, trying to remember what they had told him about it. "It's meant to be a ... nature ... preserve?" he guessed out loud. "The only reason Jacob found me was because he and his friends went past it."

Ever since then, Bowman had made sure to know the entire perimeter of the thing. A tall metal construct, it kind of looked like a cage. Luckily it was aimed at keeping people out instead of in. "I don't know if the picture is 'out there,' like you say, but we're a lot more careful now. That's what patrolsprites like me are for."

"A fence..." Sam mused, "and you live in the heart of the woods." It was unlikely Bowman had meant to let any information slip but Sam was accustomed to reading between the lines. During interviews it was rare Dean got the entire story and being able to pick up on small details like that was an enormous asset that Sam brought to the table.

Before he could ask anymore questions about the patrolsprites Bowman had mentioned (was that why they'd found Bowman out so far from home, all alone?), a loud buzzing noise came from the TV.

"BREAKING NEWS: This just in. A major animal attack on four campers on the outskirts of the forest happened earlier today."

A camera panned over the area, showing a bird's eye view of the forest. A devastated campground was there, clear signs of destruction apparent over the entire area. Dark shapes slipped through the trees, unnoticed by the camera crew as they recorded the tragedy. Sam flinched at the blood splatters over most of the gear. Dean straightened in his seat, attention riveted on the screen.

"One camper survived and was able to escape back to their vehicle during the confusion, bringing news of the attack. All prospective campers and hikers are warned to stay out of the area until the animal problem had been dealt with. Thank you, and be safe."

Bowman's gaze was drawn to the TV along with Sam and Dean, thanks to the insistent buzzing noise. He almost asked if the gruesome scenes showing were real or a part of the movie. But the question died in his throat as the voice over's words registered. The image on the screen was undoubtedly a real place.

It was his home.

Chapter Text

Bowman jumped to his feet, quickly drawing his wings close to his back once more. The aerial view cut suddenly to a view from the ground, and his eyes widened. He knew exactly where it was. It was hard to tell thanks to the fuzzy quality of the recording, but he would recognize the slightly bent trunk of one of the birch trees in the background anywhere, with or without blood splattered on it. Bowman knew the forest better than anyone.

The area was a little secluded, farther from where the humans were supposed to camp, according to what Jacob had told him. It was a little more than half a mile from where he'd met Sam and Dean. Bowman couldn't remember the exact measurement, but he'd be able to fly from one spot to the other without hesitation or confusion on the direction. The map in his head was carefully put together after tireless months of work.

"That's...!" he began, whipping his gaze to the side to look at Sam. "Where were the other attacks?" he asked urgently. He had a sudden suspicion. The wolf they had seen that day being near the boulder, and now this attack inspired new paranoia in Bowman. It was only two occurrences, but the line they made pointed closer to the fence, and thus closer to the village beyond it. If the other attacks confirmed this pattern, then at this rate the village was in much closer danger than he'd originally thought. No one would be prepared for a regular wolf to zero in on the village, let alone one that crawled back to life.

"Uhh..." Sam said, shocked at the sudden intensity directed at him. The urgency in Bowman's voice compelled him to swallow down any questions he had for the sprite. They could wait.

Sam twisted in place, taking a few strides towards Dean. He could remember where the attacks were, but a visual aid would be better. "Dean! Didn't you have a map of all the recent attacks?"

Dean gave a slight jump at the question. He'd been caught up in the news report. "Yeah, I was working on it before we went to the forest. Stand back."

With quick movements, Dean cleared off the table of their dinner remains. The last few slices of pizza and the salad went in the mini-fridge for later, the rest got tossed. All that remained on the table was his tiny brother, the sprite and the laptop, which Dean opened up in case they needed it. With cautious movements Dean unfolded the map he had of the area, aware of where Sam and Bowman were the entire time and making sure they were out of the way before opening up more folds in the map. Once he was finished he pointed to where the attacks had been marked in red.

"This is all the other attacks up until today. I should be able to get the coordinates for this last attack online if I do a little digging."

Bowman wasn't sure if he'd be able to read the paper map. Even as Dean's massive hands flattened out the folds, he frowned faintly. The details on the map were drawn in thin, sprawling lines, and he could not for the life of him recognize what they were supposed to represent. Even so, he stepped cautiously onto the map, peering around. It was interesting, walking on partially-creased paper. It rustled beneath his boots with a dry sound that reminded him faintly of autumn leaves.

He crouched to run a hand over one of the thick red X shapes that Dean had pointed out. It stood out against the thin black grid lines, and the other many colored lines that squiggled and snaked across the wide page. It was still quite chaotic. He absently traced one of his fingers along a slightly thicker grey line. "Is this the edge of the woods?" he asked aloud, glancing up at Dean. He hardly waited for any confirmation before standing up straighter to get a wider view again.

After a few more seconds of staring and trying to decipher the map, Bowman sighed in frustration. "This map doesn't mean much to me," he finally admitted. "I know where that picture was made, but I don't know how to find it on this." He pointed in the vague direction of the TV, which still showed footage of the decimated campsite while someone discussed the previous attacks. He scuffed his boot absently over one of the red marks. Marks that supposedly represented more tainted areas of the forest, hisforest, where that corruption might linger still.

"I could fly straight there if I were back home. That spot, the one they just showed in the, uh, movie thing, that's a little farther into the woods than the place you found me. That wolf must have picked up those other humans' scents and moved inward... closer to the fence."

Sam listened to Bowman's words with half an ear. Something on the news report was bothering him. Most of the dark shapes that had been darting about had faded into the forest so quickly that he couldn't be sure they were really there, but one remained, motionless as the shadow of a tree. Everyone there was ignoring it, as though it was supposed to be there or like they couldn't see it. He frowned faintly, bothered.

Once the report was over and Godzilla vs. Mothra came back on, Sam walked onto the map with Bowman. "It was worth a shot," he sighed. "At least, if you know where it is you can take us there tomorrow." That said, he still couldn't shake the odd feeling that shadowed shape had given him. Sam went over to the laptop Dean had switched back on. "Is there anyway you can bring that news report up on the screen?" he asked.

Dean arched an eyebrow but didn't question the request. Sam was often able to pick up on details he overlooked. "Sure," he said. He pulled the laptop closer so he could reach the keyboard, slightly over the map. After only a few minutes of searching, the same report was on the screen, playing through silently.

"There! Stop it!" Sam shouted excitedly.

Pausing the video, Dean peered intently at the screen. Sam climbed onto the keyboard, stepping nimbly over the keys. He pointed at a dark shape in the woods, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Dean could see what he saw.

"Yeah..." Dean said, leaning in. "What is that?"

A few more seconds of fiddling around with the laptop, and he zeroed in on whatever it was. "What the hell...?" Dean muttered.

The shape was almost completely black, pulling in all the light around it. But up where a head would normally be, there was a faint outline of a skull, with glittering eyes that stared out at its verdant surroundings.

Bowman inched up to the machine, watching it intently. Somehow the same images that had just been on the other device were on this smaller screen. Suddenly Bowman got an understanding for why Sam was worried about one picture. It hadn't even been a challenge for Dean to summon up the same moving images.

He kept clear of Dean's arms, ready to duck out of the way if the human made any wide gestures. Just getting bumped into by accident would be a lot of trouble for him or Sam. And Dean was pretty big, even for a human. Jacob was still one of the biggest humans Bowman had ever seen, but Dean wasn't that far behind.

Bowman could feel the faint heat radiating off of the brightly-lit machine, and he heard whirring inside of it. He supposed it'd be fascinating to see how it worked on the inside some day. But for now, he stood next to it and leaned over slightly so he could see what Sam and Dean were looking at without actually stepping onto the thing.

That dark shape came with a sense of obvious foreboding. It clearly couldn't be human. Bowman was no expert but he was pretty sure all humans needed to have more than just skulls sitting on their shoulders to continue the stomping around they were so fond of. It was the surest bet that this thing, whatever it was, was the source of all the magic bringing animals back to life and leaving its disgusting, twisted aura behind. The ominous figure needed to be stopped.

Tomorrow. We won't go back until tomorrow and in the meantime, that thing is there and no one knows about it. And the blasted wolves are getting closer, he thought, taking a few deep breaths to stave of his worries. It almost worked. Bowman stood back and ran both hands through his wild, dark green hair. His eyes were faraway.

"N-no one except me knows that thing is out there," he said weakly. "If I have to wait, then fine. But tomorrow, when I take you to that spot, I need to go and warn someone about what's going on. I'll come back, because I want to get rid of it, too, but ... I can't risk them being unprepared. My family is out there." His voice was heavy with worry, and he almost feared what they would say to his earnest request.

Godzilla rampaged in the background, ignored by the room's occupants. The brothers shared a look at Bowman's statement. It was clear in the scowl etched in the lines on Dean's face the last thing he wanted was to let Bowman, an unknown, out of sight. This time, Sam found himself in disagreement with his brother.

"If he's right, Dean, there's an entire village of innocents out there," Sam said quietly. He knew Dean would listen to him, even when he disagreed completely. "We can't put them at risk just to keep an eye on Bowman."

The silence stretched between them while Dean debated with himself. Sam was right... it was just hard to admit. He hated trusting their lives to an unknown entity.

In the end, Dean decided to trust Sam's instincts. They hadn't lead the brothers astray yet. Resting an arm on the table near Bowman, Dean leaned down so he could meet the sprites bright green eyes with his own. Bowman tensed, but didn't flinch away. He stood his ground, even as a huge, intense face filled his vision. His wings opened slightly and closed again, almost an automatic reaction. Even with Dean lowering his head so much, Bowman had to tilt his head back to look the human in the eyes as he addressed him.

"Do what you have to do to keep your family safe. But without you it's gonna be a lot harder to take this thing down, whatever it is, so we're counting on you to come back."

There were a number of snarky things Bowman could say. He hadn't exactly missed the short conversation with Sam. Bowman could have had a derisive comment about Dean still acting like the sprite was a culprit in all of this. But instead, he nodded once. "Thank you." The words, simple as they were, were filled with gratitude beyond what the simple phrase could convey.

His relief was almost immediately noticeable. Bowman's shoulders, while still tense, didn't carry as much uncertainty as before. He knew as well as Dean that if the human wanted to hold him back, he could and would. So it was reassuring to hear that Dean was going to allow him to leave long enough to make sure someone knew the wolves in the forest were not staying dead. There were no warriors among the sprites that could combat this, so they needed to know as soon as possible to be ready to flee.

"I'll have to come back anyway, if I want to get to the bottom of this," he continued, taking a few steps back so he wasn't so close to Dean's face. "If nothing else, I have to make sure you don't go stomping where you shouldn't." Not to mention that Dean was far better equipped to actually fight those atrocities than any sprite. A well-placed Prayer might unravel the twisted magic keeping them alive, but that would mean putting another sprite in danger. Bowman couldn't even consider that.

Dean smirked at Bowman's proclamation, unable to contain his amusement. "You do that, small fry," he jabbed as he leaned back in his chair.

Once he was sure Dean and Bowman weren't going to start arguing again, Sam turned his attention back to the laptop. The page was still frozen on the dark figure in the trees. Something about its face was ringing a bell in his head. "Dean?" he asked. "You mind if I use the laptop for a minute?"

Dean shifted so his arm wasn't resting on the keyboard and blocking Sam's access. "Feel free," he said. "Why, you got something?" Curious, he leaned in as Sam came over to the touch pad.

"Maybe, not sure. Just something familiar about that figure." Sam knelt down, switching over to an internet search.

Bowman was quickly drawn into fascination again when Sam knelt to touch a square indent in the base of the computer. He inched up to the machine, skirting around Dean's arm. Critical eyes spared the human's large hand one glance before he focused on the lit up screen. Dean hadn't grabbed him since Sam warned him not to, and Dean had just given his permission for Bowman to warn his home. He would, for now, afford the human some trust in return.

Hesitantly, Bowman stepped up onto the computer, too. He stayed near the corner, avoiding the buttons arrayed on most of the lower surface. But he watched with interest as Sam navigated them. As the small human worked, symbols of human writing appeared in a box on the screen. Bowman could feel the machine humming beneath his feet, like some kind of living thing in constant motion. It produced a warmth that he could feel through the soles of his boots.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked. Sam's careful dance atop the buttons, while fascinating, didn't have an obvious purpose that Bowman could see. But his eyes flicked back to the screen when Sam stepped on a larger button towards the side of the arrangement of buttons. It changed, leaving the old image behind in favor of lines of blue and black text.

Sam paused in his web search to glance over at Bowman. "I'm doing a search. Trying to find a way to relate what we saw there," he gestured vaguely at the TV, "with 'hordes of the undead.' " Sam turned back to the laptop, clicking a link. "And I think I know what we're dealing with."

"And what's that, Sammy?" Dean asked, leaning in a little to peer at the screen.

Sam crossed his arms and his expression darkened into a thoughtful frown as he regarded the image on the screen. "It's a lich. One of the more powerful undead that exist, it was originally a magician or wizard, maybe a sorcerer, someone with powerful magic of their own, that was searching out immortality hundreds of years ago. This goal is realized when they take their soul and bind to an object - a phylactery, it's called."

Dean was reading from the screen now. " 'Not only are they undead themselves, they have the ability to raise and control other undead.' Like those wolves, I'm betting."

Sounds like a disease, Bowman thought. All through their explanation, he developed a sinking feeling, making him sick to his stomach. A disease, with one abomination creating more and more, spreading that twisted magic further. And his forest home, the place he'd always felt safe and happy, was infected.

He scratched his head while he thought about it. The blocky text on the screen was not easily legible to him, but there were a few images accompanying it. None were very pleasant. The task seemed so daunting. "That's ... that's a lot of magic," he finally determined, his brow knitting with concern. He crossed his arms. "Even one wolf had a lot of that energy around it."

He sat down on the edge of the computer, stretching his legs out and resting his heels on the tabletop. His frown was both worried and annoyed. "I don't think even the most spiritually connected sprite could keep up with that. We're just not meant to channel that much all at once. And I'm, uh, not the best at Praying. I barely made that wolf trip today, and I'm not even sure that was me." He turned to look up at Dean. "You've got to have something that can fix it," he insisted, though it sounded more like he was asking, pleading for there to be some solution. "Life should not be corrupted like that."

Dean couldn't help a small jump of surprise when the little sprite addressed him directly. "Ah..." he said, trying to regain his equilibrium. Most of Sam's people, aside from a select few, had trouble talking to him at all, or even looking him in the eye most of the time. Bowman had almost nothing in common with them, aside from the similar size. His nervousness showed itself in a completely different way. And he had enough snark inside him to match Dean. "That's what we're here for. Neither of us is leaving ‘til this thing is gone, and everybody's safe."

Hearing that Bowman was the reason the wolf had tripped, giving Dean his chance to get his gun out, made him relax a little more. They really did need Bowman's help, after all. If he could be trusted, he'd make this hunt go a thousand times smoother, especially since Dean wasn't in his element out in the woods. By contrast, Bowman looked like he could have grown right out of one of the trees, with those leafy wings.

Gesturing at Sam, who was continuing to intently read the screen, Dean went on. "That's what the two of us do. We try to help as many people as we can by getting rid of as many of these unnatural sons of bitches as we can." And with any luck Sam can find a weakness that this creep has...

As though he was reading Dean's mind, Sam stepped away, glancing over at Bowman. For a moment he seemed surprised to see the sprite actually sitting on the keyboard, as though he'd already forgotten. It was a strange juxtaposition, Bowman's forest look resting on the human technology so casually. Sam gave himself a brief shake, then focused. "Looks like this creep has a weakness, if we can find it," he announced. "That phylactery that his soul is bound to - if we can find it and smash it, the lich dies. The magic holding the wolves together unravels and all we'll need to do is burn the remains of the lich to wash its unnatural substance away."

Dean grinned. "Now that sounds like a plan."

Bowman cringed slightly. Burning the remains ... it sounded foul. Not to mention the wood sprites didn't like fire very much in general. Bowman had thought that being near a campfire was bad. A fire big enough to get rid of a human-sized body? He'd have to witness that from a distance, if at all.

It would be better to focus on getting to that point. He wouldn't need to worry about a fire until he'd gotten rid of those abominations. Bowman looked between the brothers. "How will we know if we found this, uh, phy-lac-ter-y?" he asked, enunciating the strange word slowly. "Will it have the same magic on it as the wolf? If this thing knows it's a weakness, maybe it won't be so easy to just break it."

Bowman pictured something fairly sturdy. Smashing it would be difficult for him and Sam regardless. And in the meantime, Dean would almost certainly have to deal with a whole pack of wolves that hadn't been permitted to stay dead. He was a strong human, but that was a lot of animals, each with plenty of experience hunting single preys.

He sighed faintly. "That wolf being by itself was a little strange. We got lucky today," he muttered to himself, almost lost in thought. He combed his hand back through dark green locks, thinking that a pack of undead wolves would be a formidable foe against one sprite, a human, and a sprite-sized human. It was times like this that could make him really wish he'd practiced Praying more often.

Sam was just as concerned. "From what I saw, a phylactery can be almost anything if the wizard or sorcerer is strong enough. Most that I saw recorded tended to be something either inconspicuous and easy to overlook or something that was important to the lich in life." Pursing his lips, Sam thought back over the last day and all they'd been able to learn. Finding the blood trail, happening upon Bowman, getting attacked... so much had happened in a short time it was hard to keep it all straight.

He turned to Bowman, for the moment ignoring the question of how they'd break the phylactery in favor of how to find it. If they couldn't find it, it wouldn't matter how durable it was. "You said you could sense the energy holding the wolf together, right? Whatever magic the lich used to bind its soul to an object should be similar. Monsters don't usually change their tricks. Do you think when we get back to the forest you'd be able to find the source?"

Bowman hesitated, and then nodded slowly. "I think I might be able to find it. There was this heavy feeling in the air around the boulder and coming off that wolf. If it's really the same energy, then it would be hard to miss." The feeling had grated against him even after the wolf had run off. Whatever it was made of, that energy offended the Spirit deeply. The connection to Her was enough to make Bowman uncomfortable just being around it. He wondered how a more spiritually-inclined sprite would respond to it, if even he could feel how wrong the energy was.

It was alarming how powerful the magic had to be. Bringing one wolf back to life stretched his imagination, but raising an entire pack from the dead? With as many attacks as there had been, there must be several wolves out there, forced back among the living.

Bowman suddenly wondered if he should be glad that Sam and Dean had found him after all. If they hadn't come along, the wolves could have moved a lot closer to the village before anyone knew. And by then, it might be too late to evade the monstrous things. Why'd that stupid lich have to pick his forest? "The only problem is I might just lead us to more wolves instead of being on the right trail." And Spirit save them if they were surrounded. He'd be bombarded on all sides by that foul magic.

Dean gave a cocky grin. “One or two wolves shouldn’t be a problem.” He patted his jacket, where his handgun was tucked away out of sight. “I came prepared to take out a few zombie wolves. If you lead us to a pack or that thing, we’ll figure it out. This is what we do all the time.”

His glance turned to Sam. “Honestly, all I’m worried about is you getting caught in the crossfire,” he admitted worriedly, the cocky grin on his face fading at a vision of Sam caught in the middle of a fight with giant wolves or a walking skeleton. That wasn’t a reassuring thought, by far. Sam might be quick on his feet or the fastest to figure out a problem, but if he came up against Godzilla-sized wolves, none of that would matter if they got their teeth around him.

Naturally, Sam waved his worries off. “I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “We need to worry about more innocents getting wrapped up in this, not me. I know what I’m getting into here, and it’s not like I’m completely unprepared.” Sam gestured back up at Dean. “After all, I’ve got you for backup.”

Sam turned to Bowman. “Well, if we want to get out to the forest as early as possible tomorrow, we should probably turn in. I don’t think we should waste a second of daylight.”

Dean yawned, giving his arms a huge stretch. “Yeah, you’re probably right, pipsqueak.”

Chapter Text

Bowman shifted his feet, stepping away from the computer. He couldn't help but agree with Sam. He wanted to get back to the forest as quick as possible. And he was absolutely exhausted anyway. Flying all morning, getting captured by a human, attempting a major Prayer, and his failed escape in the dark, metal depths of the walls had pushed his body pretty hard.

Even so, Bowman wondered if he'd get a decent sleep. He had nightmares about getting taken away by humans sometimes even while he was perfectly safe in his own bed. He could only imagine what his dreams would look like here in this unfamiliar place after exactly that had happened. He remembered the first night he ever spent in human captivity, trapped under a bucket on the ground. He'd been helpless to escape, forced to wait until his captor saw fit to let him out. He wondered if Dean would want to confine him like that.

Bowman's wings opened out behind him, in his own stretch. They fluttered a few times, the leafy green membrane catching the light from the computer. Once again the sprite was immensely grateful that Sam had stopped Dean from grabbing him. In his anger and Bowman's complete lack of awareness, Dean would most likely have crushed them completely. Healing a broken wing was possible, but in the meantime Bowman's life would be out of his own hands. Even more so than it was already.

"Where will I rest?" Bowman asked almost cautiously. His eyes wandered the huge room. They lingered on the places where he worried he might be trapped. A drawer on the dresser, a glass flower vase, the immense bag that Dean carried around. Bowman was getting along with the pair of odd brothers, and had even struck up a tentative alliance. But, a small part of him still felt like a prisoner.

Sam thought about his question, glancing around the room. He noticed the worry in Bowman’s voice when he asked, almost afraid of what the answer was. Cringing at the thought of how they’d already trapped Bowman in a pocket, Sam hurried to reassure him. “You can sleep wherever you want. The best place is probably under the nightstand with me. You can use some of the blankets from my bed, and it’s closed in so we can’t be seen by any other humans, but you can always get out. The second bed’s an option…” as he listed off the choices, he gestured at the immense bed away from them, covers neat and undisturbed by Dean. Dean’s own bed had his duffel bag tossed casually on it from when they’d arrived in the room.

Sam continued on. “I mean, the bed’s a little big, but I’m sure the pillow would be comfortable to sleep on. I prefer my own bed, but whatever suits. I’m sure if you don’t like closed-in spaces like the nightstand, the human bed is better. Of course, there’s always the top of the nightstand, the table, or the dresser, but those will be pretty uncomfortable.”

While Sam was going on, Dean pushed his chair out, trying to not disturb the small conversation going on down by his hands. It didn’t work out the way he had planned, with two tiny, scathing glares sent his direction when he accidentally bumped against the table. Hazel eyes and uncannily bright green ones turned towards him in perfect sync. With an apologetic grimace, Dean headed to the bathroom to get himself cleaned up for the night. After spending a day dodging zombies and arguing with sprites, he was probably pretty ripe.

Bowman looked around the room at the things Sam mentioned. The gigantic bed, while almost inviting, would probably be a little overwhelming. Aside from being far larger than any actual bed he'd slept on, it would feel so exposed. He'd only ever sleep out in the open if he had some kind of camouflage to keep hidden against his surroundings. The crook of a tree branch had the perfect cover. The giant bed, with its simply patterned covers in all the wrong colors, would feel like sleeping on the ground, waiting for something to come along and snatch him up.

He kept trying to figure out what one of the words Sam repeated might mean. He thought he knew which piece of furniture Sam referred to. There was a small wooden structure between the beds that was neither a dresser nor a table. But ... "Night-stand?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Human things have some of the weirdest names," he pointed out. He opened up his wings, glancing sidelong at Sam. "If that 'nightstand' is better hidden, I'd like to sleep there. Sleeping out in the open is asking for trouble." He couldn't imagine making himself so vulnerable right where anyone could see him. He was giving Dean a chance but Bowman wasn't that sure about the human.

“Definitely,” Sam said, agreeing with Bowman. The back of his neck itched constantly when he was out in the open and Dean wasn’t around. Too much could go wrong at his size if he wasn’t careful, as he knew far too well from experience.

Bowman paused, wondering if he should wait for the once-human to begin climbing. But, Sam's trek across the room would take ages, and Bowman felt some of his curiosity surfacing again. He snickered. "I'll race you," he challenged before walking briskly to the edge of the table and stepping right over the side.

Sam rolled his eyes as Bowman took off without him, unsurprised. He really was a ton like Dean in some ways… not that either of them would everadmit it.

Bowman's wings were open in seconds, pulling out of his dive and carrying him in a graceful, silent glide across the room. He landed next to the apparent 'nightstand' and paused, eyeing the massive books that were set up to hide the alcove within. Bowman hoisted himself up onto the bottom of the thing and crept into the makeshift home. He paused in the doorway formed by a gap in the books to take in the sight.

There was another squarish bed, only sprite-sized (Sam-sized?), and a large bag that Bowman could only assume held many of Sam's things. What drew his interest, though, was the desk in the opposite corner. They didn't have a desk in his house, but he'd definitely seen one before. Bowman edged up to it. He ran a hand over the top cover of a book that rested there. It was a large, cumbersome-looking thing, and the pages seemed to be so thick. He thought of the human notebooks that he'd seen before; Sam must have gotten his paper from those.

Bowman knew he shouldn't linger over any of the things here. It wasn't his home, after all, and though he was curious he did have manners. Sam, at least, had earned that much respect. Bowman instead shifted toward the entrance again, looking out at the room from the strange vantage point.

As the flap of wings died off over by the nightstand, Sam grabbed his bag from where he’d left it near the laptop, digging out the fishhook. Spotting a crack in the table, he braced the fishhook there and stepped off the edge. Bowman wasn’t the only one who could do a controlled fall. When he was almost at the bottom, Sam tightened his grip on the line, slowing his descent so when he landed it was with a soft thud instead of a crash. He'd been practicing that particular maneuver ever since ripping up his hands when Isabelle and Nicholas had captured him. If he kept it up, he might end up with calluses on his hands like Dean.

Once the line was looped back up in his bag and the fishhook tucked away, he jogged over to the nightstand, unfazed by the immense distance he had to travel. That was something he’d been used to long before Dean. In fact, getting used to having someone whose shoulder he could perch on whenever he wanted was a lot tougher for him. Dean wasn’t small for a human, so from Sam’s point of view he was practically the size of a building, yet he had no problem offering a hand to Sam or one of the other people Sam’s size (not that they accepted very often; Dean was a lot to take in even when he was trying his hardest to not be intimidating).

When he finally arrived at the nightstand, snug between the two enormous human beds, Sam clambered in with a grin, spotting a green-veined wing catching a bit of light in the space between the books.

“So, what do you think?” Sam asked as he came into his little abode.

Bowman glanced around the miniature room once more. "It's interesting. A normal-sized room in a bigger room. Lots of square angles, though I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Aside from the rather high 'ceiling' and the straight angles in every corner, the room did seem similar to one he might see at home. If he pretended the walls weren't made of long-dead wood, it was as close as he could find to a familiar place in the huge 'motel.' Still a little like sleeping in a box, but at least they hadn't trapped him.

"What's that book for?" he asked, pointing to the thick journal on the desk. Now that Sam was actually there, he could be curious without snooping around. Bowman had known without even opening the cover that he wouldn't have been able to decipher the human's writing. But he did wonder what use Sam had for such a tome.

Sam walked past Bowman, going over to his bed. Without any wasted motions he began to strip off the covers so Bowman could have some cushion to lay on.

"That," he said as he worked, "is a book I found before Dean found me. Back when I was living away from humans completely. I write down anything important... a lot about how to take down the monsters we encounter. Plus what it's like to be so small. It's... one thing I did as a human that I can still do now." Sam stood up with the extra blankets in hand. "You can imagine I have a unique perspective on this size. Though... honestly most days I can't remember what it was like to be human at all." With that said, Sam offered the blankets to Bowman.

Bowman took the offered blankets, one hand absently pinching the material with his thumb. They were softer than they looked. His eyes drifted back to the book as he thought about what Sam said. After spending more of his life small than he'd spent it human-sized, Bowman wondered if there was any frustration left. It was difficult to tell from his tone.

But, he could almost understand what it felt like. Bowman had dealt with a frightening new perspective before, too. "Before humans showed up in the forest, I didn't even know they existed," he explained, looking back at Sam. "I grew up thinking I was pretty tall for my age, and my wings developed so well. I never once thought that we were small." He crouched to lay the offered blankets on the ground, setting up a bedroll for himself.

Learning that there were gigantic beings out there, so widespread and dangerous to the sprites, had been quite a shift. It was impossible not to go from feeling 'normal-sized' to feeling so small when dealing with people that could hold you in one hand. "I discovered Jacob and his friends, Chase and Bobby. People back home almost didn't believe me when I told them Jacob was a whole six feet tall."

Sam shifted uncomfortably at the turn of conversation. "I know just what you mean... Back when I was a kid, before all this happened," he gestured widely at his own body, "I used to think six feet was a normal sized person. But now..." he trailed off, glancing up at the ceiling. It was above their heads, but he knew if Dean walked over to them, the top of the nightstand wouldn't even reach his waist. Once again, Sam found himself wondering how tall he really was compared to his brother and father. He might never know the answer.

"I mean, Dean's a big guy. An inch over six feet, if I'm not mistaken. Not long ago, after he saved me and the others from those disgusting humans who wanted to sell us, he took them back to the motel I used to live in. We knew they'd be safe there, and it was Bree's home originally. She'd been stolen away as a kid by those same humans, given to their daughter as a 'birthday present.' When we were there, Dean finally got to meet my adopted father face-to-face, for the first time ever. You could see how happy he was to be able to thank the man who saved my life and raised me to survive like this, but it took a long time for Walt to get used to Dean. When Dean gets excited about something like that, he kinda reminds me of an overeager giant puppy... he wanted so bad not scare any of them off, but you know his size worked against him..." Sam gave a sigh when he remembered Dean trying to 'help' by getting them food. Size didn't matter to Dean, but Walt and others didn't want him thinking of them as pets...

Sam laughed as he realized how far he'd digressed. He rubbed the back of his neck, sinking into his bed. "Sorry... I guess I never really had anyone my size to talk to about that..."

"It's alright," Bowman answered quickly. He'd been surprised to hear so much out of Sam, especially regarding his reduced size. Sam and Dean clearly got along and trusted each other. There was no doubt of that in Bowman's mind. But, he could also completely understand what Sam was saying. It was tough to have to actually look up at someone all the time just to hold a conversation. No matter how hard he tried, Dean would never quite be able to understand what he looked like to someone sprite-sized.

Sam let out a far more heartfelt sigh, glad Bowman understood. It was hard, not being able to talk to anyone his own size most days. He was at peace with his size for the most part, after discovering that no matter his size he had a family that cared about him. Dean, Bree, Bobby, Walt and John... they would always be there for Sam. Even if John was an intimidating bastard to this day.

Bowman bunched up part of the blankets to work as a makeshift pillow. He settled on his side, tentatively unfurling his wings to rest them on the floor behind him. He remained propped up on one elbow, looking pensive for a moment. "It seems like the bigger the human, the less they realize just how blasted big they really look," he mused. "Jacob is easy to find when he's in the woods, because he stomps around so much. But ... I guess he's okay, for a human. But I can't bring myself to let him near the village, no matter what Rischa says."

Bowman raised his eyebrows, realizing what he'd just said. He knew perfectly well that Sam would have been observant enough to pick up the name Bowman had dropped. "That's my little cousin," he explained after a pause. No point in keeping it a secret when Sam knew about the whole village anyway. "She's got the Voice, so of course every time Jacob visits she reads his heart and has to remind me how trustworthy and careful he is, and how he'd never do anything to hurt anyone and I should let him see the village."

"He sounds a lot like Dean," Sam allowed, putting his confusion about Rischa's 'Voice' to the side for the moment. "Dean would be nervous around a place like that. He's already afraid of taking one wrong step, especially after one time he found a little girl hiding from him. He caught her for the sole purpose of knowing where she was so he wouldn't step on her - she was barely two inches tall. Dean was terrified of hurting her by accident." He smiled at the memory. "Now Kara can't get enough of Dean. She loved coming to our room to play with him while we were holed up with my broken arm healing."

He got settled in his bed, pulling the one cover he'd saved for himself up. "You know, Rischa's probably right, if he's like Dean. A friend like that would never let you down, and he'd probably love to see his friend's home." His smile turned sad. "I know how much Dean wishes he could, but he would never be able to even fit in the places I grew up."

Bowman paused, thrown off by Sam's suggestion. Having someone else in a similar situation put it to him like that, he almost wondered. He knew that Rischa was right. She always was. That was part of her gift, the ability to see the hearts of others thanks to her strong connection to the Earth Spirit. But Bowman had been adamant against a human coming near the village just on principle.

It was the last place that they hadn't changed just by being there. In the village, he still felt normal, not small and fragile by comparison. But, humans or not, his home would still be his home. "Maybe you're right," he answered, laying his head down on his arm. He had left all of the blankets beneath him, and now that he lay down he lifted one wing and draped it over himself.

Jacob probably had earned a glimpse of the village. The human had risked his life to protect the sprites, and Bowman could never repay that. Without Jacob's help, Bowman might have died and Rischa would have been carted out of the forest in a cage to be studied or sold as a pet. Just the thought of how close that had been made Bowman fidget uncomfortably.

"Rischa would probably really like to meet both of you. Maybe ..." he trailed off, still unsure. Really, if Sam and Dean were going to such lengths to help protect a village full of sprites they'd never met, they deserved his trust. Bowman sighed heavily. "Who am I kidding. That kid will probably fly out to find me and lose her mind when she sees I've met new humans. She'd probably try to lead you by the hand right into the center of the village and give you a tour." A smile came to his face as he talked about his young cousin. He really could picture her welcoming Sam and Dean without hesitation.

"She sounds nice," Sam said. Bowman had sounded so worried when he'd mentioned her by accident, she must be very important to him. Like Sam's family, back at the motel. A jolt hit him, making him glad he'd left Dean's contact information with them, in case any problems cropped up. No matter what happened, if a hunter or pest control came there, he and Dean would find a way to save them. They were his family, no matter what came.

Dean shuffled out of the bathroom, brushing his hands through his short, spiky hair. With no way to know where Bowman and Sam had ended up, he cautiously stepped into the room, watching his step like a hawk. His eyes scanned the room, searching for a sign of either of them.

With no one in sight, he grabbed a cup, filling it with water, and dug through his duffel bag. Finding one of his new handkerchiefs (he had to keep a ready supply on hand, they got ruined fast when cleaning monster blood off his equipment on a daily basis), he made his way over to the nightstand.

His socked feet paused right outside the opening between the books and Dean knelt down. With a light, gentle knock, he warned Sam he was outside (as if either of them could miss the giant in the room, but it was polite) and nudged a book out of the way so he could see in.

Sam was already sitting in bed, a cover draped over him. Bowman had his own bed on the floor, one glistening green wing covering him, the other stretched out.

"Sorry to interrupt the slumber party over here," Dean said, a bit of his typical smirk showing through. "Here's another blanket if you need it." He dropped the handkerchief in the entryway with the books, and left the cup of water next to it. He didn't mention it, since he did the same thing everyday. It didn't bear mentioning, just one thing that Sam was too small to do on his own so Dean took care of it for him. If Sam stood straight up, the water would come to mid-chest on the guy, so Dean wasn't worried about them running out during the night. "Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

"Slumber ... party?" Bowman muttered, a bemused look settling on his face. Humans so would celebrate something like sleep, he thought to himself. But he didn't bother asking about it. He propped himself up a little to watch Dean's hands as they set down a huge cup and folded cloth.

With Dean's face leaning in, the illusion of the room was momentarily shattered. Now it was just a box with some sprite-sized furniture in it. At least there wasn't a glass pane or grid of bars on that fourth wall. Just some books. And a really big human.

"Such a gracious host, I'm so glad you invited me," Bowman quipped, unable to resist the snark. Humans tended to inspire that in him. And since Dean and Sam had already agreed to let him go and warn the other sprites before continuing the search, he wouldn't need to worry so much about his smart mouth getting him into trouble. Not that such worries would ever actually stop him from throwing sarcasm around. But it was one more stress he didn't have.

All jokes aside, Bowman was grateful not to be trapped. Well, not as trapped as he could be; the motel room still felt like an oppressively closed space. "Thanks."

"Anytime, small fry," Dean said, letting the snark slide by. "Sam, you good?"

Sam tried to wave Dean off. "You know I can survive the night without you, right?" He saw a flash of hurt flick over Dean's face and sighed. Dean reallywas just worried for Sam. "Don't worry, Dean," Sam said gently, "we'll be fine."

He settled into his bed, pulling his cover up. The small nightstand room shook around them as Dean picked himself up off the floor, getting into his own bed above them. The rustling of the fabric above them died off as Dean got comfortable.

"Goodnight, Bowman."

With a soft click that echoed above, the room went dark.

Chapter Text

It took Bowman a long time staring at the books walling them into the nightstand to fall asleep. But once he was there, he slumbered like the dead. He had incredibly vivid dreams, most of them unpleasant replays of the day's most frightening moments. Sickly auras hung in the air of his dreamscape while fingers the size of his body coiled inescapably around him until he could barely draw in a breath. Snarling wolves with rotting teeth darted around in his peripheral vision as he was held before a face that he recognized, but that wasn't Dean's.

Logan...!

Bowman's dreams lurched to new scenes that hadn't happened but might have: snapped up and eaten by a life-sick wolf, grabbed in a fist that crushed his fragile wings beyond repair, trapped in a box that let in no light or air for misbehaving.

As the night wore on, Bowman curled up a little more. Eventually, the only part of him not covered by his own wing was his head and shoulders. It wasn't the cold that made him retreat beneath the leafy covering. The strange surface he rested on made him draw into himself. He'd slept covered by his wings many times before; they were familiar, safe, and made decent insulation against the chill.

Even despite the nightmares, Bowman didn't stir or mumble much in his sleep. The only real indication that he dreamed were the slight pinch of his brow and the occasional flutter of his eyelids. The morning approached and he continued to slumber, undisturbed even when some light leaked into the room.

Scattered sunlight filtered through the blinds as the sun rose in the sky. Dean groaned when one ray of sun swept gently along and landed directly on his face, drawing him out of a deep sleep. With a stretch that elicited a few satisfying pop!’s from his shoulders, he sat up, rubbing his hair to straighten it.

It took a few minutes of recollection to remember everything that had happened the day before. The woods, finding the little sprite hiding in the bushes, the wolf attack... Dean cracked his back, trying to clear his head.

He slipped out of the bed, bending down next to the nightstand. Sam would be pissed if he knew Dean was peeking in, but Dean figured with the unknown sprite in the equation, he could make an exception. Leaning down, he peered into the small area, nudging one of the books out of the way so he could make out Sam's room.

Bowman was curled up into a little green ball, using all the blankets Sam had offered him as padding. His delicate green wing was wrapped around him for warmth, shining where a few lost rays of sun hit it once Dean moved the book out of the way. It twitched as if in response to the change, but otherwise Bowman didn't stir. Sam was sprawled out on his bed, cover tossed on the floor with his arms and legs haphazardly hanging off the edges. He snored on, hair a mess, oblivious to the world around him.

Dean's lips quirked in a smile. The day before must have taken it out of him. Usually Sam was up at the crack of dawn, jogging around the outskirts of the room. Sam was determined to beat Dean in training at least one time. As far as Sam was concerned, every bit of ground he could gain on Dean was worth the extra work. Dean was just as proud as Sam was for the progress he'd made.

Pushing the book back into place, Dean stood and strode over to the small kitchenette. He started a pot of coffee, then went into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Within ten minutes he was freshened up, sitting at the table, waiting for the ding that signaled it was time for coffee.

He set to cleaning his weapons, starting with the handgun that he'd be using later on that day, and waited patiently to see who would wake up first.

Bowman's breath caught in his throat and he woke with a subdued start, quickly forgetting whatever nightmare it was that startled him awake. Other than that, he was as sluggish as he always was in the mornings, and with his eyes clenched shut Bowman was tempted to let himself fall asleep again.

But, the things around him were different enough to hold his attention. Instead of the rustling of leaves and incessant calling of birds, he heard the measured sounds of large items being set on an enormous, faraway table. The room he rested in didn't sway in the breeze because he wasn't in a house Prayed out of a tree branch. And it was dim, very dim.

Bowman rolled onto his stomach and groaned quietly as he pushed himself up. He slowly drew his wings back towards himself, but they still hung rather loosely and rested heavily on the floor. Blinking owlishly, the sprite took several long seconds to remember where he was.

Humans. Wolves. Lich. Ugh, his thoughts managed to churn out. Mornings never got easier, no matter how urgent things became.

Bowman heaved himself to his feet and shuffled towards the opening between the gigantic books. He didn't even look back to see if Sam would wake. All of the other things he could tolerate. But not getting any sun in the morning was just wrong. It was like waking up to a stormy sky. He slipped past a huge cup of water and through the opening between the books.

Bowman's lack of awareness became starkly obvious when he stumbled right over the edge of the bottom shelf of the nightstand (was he still supposed to call it that now that it was daytime?). He landed with a surprised huff on the carpet, a momentary tangle of limbs and wings. "Blast it," he muttered to himself, still barely coherent.

Just inches in front of him, a bright sunbeam lanced all the way to the floor. Bowman crawled towards it and then lay himself back down on the tolerably-soft carpeting. He lay on his front now, wings spread out on the floor to soak up some of that light. It would help him wake up a little faster, and then he could worry about what the humans were doing.

Dean paused in his strategic reassembly of his handgun. He could've sworn he'd just heard a thump... he took a moment to slide the pieces in his hands back together with a metallic click, then stood so he could take a peek at what was happening.

Inching forward, Dean crept to where he could just see the nightstand. Then paused.

"You, ah... you alright there?" he called out when he spotted the sprite practically spread eagled on the floor in the only spot of sun that made it into that corner of the room. Even Bowman's wings were spread wide. Dean couldn't help but think how vulnerable that position made the little guy, especially considering his size and the fact he was lying flat on the floor. Either he wasn't thinking, or he truly wasn't used to the danger of humans walking around.

Normally, Bowman ignored people that talked to him too soon after he woke up. Most of his family knew better than to expect an answer. But, when the voice belonged to a human, he had to pay a little more attention. Even though all he wanted to do was ignore Dean's question, Bowman made himself stay awake. He slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees, and then shifted so he sat on the floor with his wings still splayed out around him.

He blinked quickly and slowly tilted his head back to look at Dean. Humans are big, his mind supplied helpfully. Dean only looked larger thanks to Bowman's choice to rest on the floor. The thought of how disadvantaged he was galvanized Bowman to at least try to wake up faster. He ducked his head to rub his eyes.

"Oh, y'know, I just love it here. I should get carried off by self-righteous humans more often," he answered back, snark coming to him despite his slow waking. Even so, he sluggishly sat up straighter and stretched his arms over his head. His wings stretched out to either side, lit by the sun and looking more like leaves than ever. Shards of light tinted green, a vague semblance of the way the canopy back home colored the sunlight. The process of photosynthesis was slow, taking hours to get the energy equivalent to a full meal. But it was helping him to get started after such a rough day.

With the coffee finished behind him, Dean strolled casually back over to the kitchenette. He poured out a cup for himself while he was talking, "Not much of a morning person, are you?" Dean gave a small laugh. "I know the feeling."

Once his cup was ready, he grabbed the bottlecap and headed back to the beds. He put the bottlecap down an inch away from Bowman's small form and sat down on the bed closest to the sprite. "Honestly, I don't feel myself without a cup of joe in the morning."

Bowman realized belatedly that Dean's hand came very near, and his wings tensed before relaxing a little again, still spread wide to catch light. He leaned slightly to look at the bottlecap Dean had set down next to him. He didn't recognize the dark liquid in it, though it certainly had a strong aroma about it. He held a hand over it to feel the heat rising from the recently warmed drink.

"Cup of ... didja say 'joe?' " Bowman asked. He looked up, blinking a few times. The only human drink that Bowman had ever tried was beer. He'd seen how it made them sleepy and a little funny in the head. Dean had said this 'joe' was meant for the morning. So humans had concoctions to make them sleepy and concoctions to wake them up in the morning ... He had to wonder with quite a bit of exasperation if the blasted things ever slept normally.

Dean held a cup that Bowman or Sam would easily fit in. After seeing him drink down a gulp of the stuff, Bowman was tempted to try it. "Does it, uh, do anything? I tried beer before and it made my wings heavy and wobbly." He lifted his wings over his head slowly, mimicking the way they'd felt when he'd been 'drunk' the first time.

Dean took another sip before answering. The thought of the sprite drinking... he shook his head ruefully when he recalled Sam's first time drinking. Even for a little guy he'd been trashed. Dean had ended up spending the entire night by the bathroom sink where Sam had taken up residence until he'd worked the alcohol out of his system. The next day had been just as painful. Neither brother had any idea the effect human medicine would have on Sam, so although Dean had offered to crush up some ibuprofen, Sam had turned him down, trudging through the pounding headache on his own.

"This is nothing like beer, I can tell you that." Dean hefted his cup in a toast. "Kinda the opposite reaction. Perks you right up in the morning. Can't live without it, personally. Sam likes it too, so I've got more brewing, only he likes it with so much milk and sugar you can't tell what it is anymore." Dean wrinkled his nose at the thought. The only way to drink it was hot and black, in his opinion.

Dean nodded at the small bottlecap he'd left next to Bowman on the floor not far from Dean's feet. "Give it a try. You might like it. What's the worst that can happen?"

Bowman raised a critical eyebrow at the bottlecap. Last time he had tried a human drink, he'd been underprepared for the effects. The alcohol in the beer had been quite effective on him, and he couldn't help but wonder how extreme this 'joe' was supposed to be. Dean had said it would perk him up, which Bowman thought might be kind of useful if he was going to be around humans, and investigating undead wolves later.

He picked up the bottlecap carefully, noting the warmth still radiating off the dark liquid, seeping into his fingertips through the container. "Questions like that just invite disaster, don't you know that?" Bowman warned, before taking a tentative sip.

It was bitter. The warm liquid reminded him of pine tea, but it was stronger than that. It was a far cry from the intense turpentine bitterness of pure pine sap, though, which was Bowman's favorite. He took a deeper drink of the stuff, enjoying the new flavor. Then he lowered the cap to the floor next to him, already feeling the warmth in his belly. "That's good. Dunno why someone would add sugar, it's mild enough as it is. And why's it called 'joe?' "

Dean raised an eyebrow at Bowman's description of coffee as 'mild.' He certainly hadn't mixed it any weaker than he usually did. "You'd have to ask Sam why he adds sugar. As far as I'm concerned, it's perfect just the way it is." He thought back on Bowman's coffee question. "I think, back ages ago there was this one guy who ruled that coffee was the strongest drink they could serve in the navy. Since his name was Joe, that ended up becoming the nickname of the drink."

Taking another long sip, Dean thought back over what the sprite had said so far. "So, you've had beer before?" Dean tried to suppress a smile. "Sam gave it a try. The first time didn't go so well for him. He got mad when I took it away and told him he'd had too much, so he tried to grab it back and tripped over the pillow. Fell right into my own cup, headfirst." Shaking his head, Dean thought back to that night. "He claims he doesn't remember what happened, but he turns bright red whenever I bring it up."

Bowman frowned faintly, thinking that it sounded blasted awful to have fallen into a human's cup. "Wouldn't you want to forget that, too?" he quipped. Especially with something as strong-smelling as beer; he liked the stuff but it was a very pungent drink. Much like the drink next to him, which he realized was actually called 'coffee.' Humans and their stupid extra names for everything. Bowman could hardly keep up when he was fully awake.

As it was, he was becoming more aware of his surroundings. And, most notably, he was aware of how much he had to look up to talk to Dean. How had he just sat there while the human walked right up to him? The sunbeam warming his wings shifted only slightly as if to remind him why he was on the floor in the first place. But, there were much more sensible places to get sunlight. He'd been too half-asleep to seek them out until now.

Bowman got to his feet, expecting to be a little more sluggish. Instead, as Bowman hoisted himself up and fluttered his wings a few times, he noticed that the tips were quivering a little. That was weird. He brushed off the feeling and got into the air with a swift leap, angling towards the unused bed opposite where Dean sat. There was more sun there, and Dean wouldn't be able to kick him by accident.

"Humans are weird when they have too much beer. I like them even less that way," he announced with a mild scowl as soon as his feet were on the springy surface. He noticed, as he opened up his wings to catch more morning sunlight, that the limbs were still rather shaky. And his hands felt a bit wobbly, too. He ignored it for now to look over at Dean, one eyebrow raised. "So Sam becomes clumsy and forgetful. What kind of stupid do you get when you're ... what is it ... 'drunk?' Or does it even have any effect?"

" 'Stupid' is for lesser mortals," Dean stated plainly. "Beer just... takes the edge off things. Makes this job a little easier to bear, considering how many times our lives are on the line for others." Dean reflected for a moment on his other reason for drinking while he took another sip.

Losing Sam.

Hell - finding Sam and discovering his brother stood barely four inches tall. Small enough that if Dean wasn't careful, he could easily hurt his own brother.

Drinking took the edge off the guilt, piled on top of all the self-blame and self-loathing he'd built up over years. No matter how often Sam reassured Dean it wasn't his fault, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. He sure as hell couldn't accept it.

In fact, Sam had stopped actively searching for a way to break his curse, to Dean's astonishment. It was painful to remember Sam's statement that he was happy just as he was - "Dean, what would I do if I was human? I've been 'dead' going on fourteen years now. I don't know what to do with money, I can't drive a car... and I don't know how to interact with other... humans... anymore. We're wasting our time trying to break the unbreakable. People need help. We need to focus on that. I have people who care about me, I have a place to live, and I've got you. This is what I am and you need to accept that."

And so Dean drank.

"...It has its uses," he finished after a brief pause.

Chapter Text

Dean's answer, or lack thereof, had been unexpected. The few humans Bowman had met, Jacob and his friends, drank beer for fun. They were just goofing around. But Dean ... it was clear from the pensive weight of his voice that Dean's reasons were vastly different.

With the sprite safely off the floor, Dean stretched out his legs. He still found it odd neither of them had heard a peep out of Sam. Usually the smell of coffee was enough to draw him away from sleep.

Whatever the reason, Dean intended to take full advantage of having Bowman to himself for the moment. The little sprite didn't seem as mistrustful of Dean this morning. There were questions Dean had.

"So Bowman," Dean started, using the sprite's name to show he was taking this seriously. "I've been meaning to ask you; you were awfully close to the outskirts of the forest when we ran into you. What brings a little guy like you so close to humans? Isn't it dangerous?"

Bowman was so caught up in wondering what could be on the human's mind that he almost missed the question directed at him. Dean was looking at him intently, his face unreadable. Bowman shifted his jittery wings a little in the sun, but didn't flinch back. "Humans are dangerous whether they're five steps or five miles into the forest," he answered confidently. And, between the two scenarios, he'd much rather know about the giant intruders before it was too late to evade them or do anything about them. "Someone has to patrol beyond the fence, and no one else volunteered, so..." He shrugged.

Bowman crossed his arms to curtail some of the tremors in his hands, though he still idly drummed his fingers on his arm. "As for what I was doing - inmy own home, by the way, thank you very much - I felt something, uh, wrong in the air. I followed it to that boulder. That was where that wolf crawled up to die, and where this lich thing violated its life energy." It seemed his snark was weaving its way into his answers again, so Bowman could only assume he was fully awake now.

However, he didn't remember ever shifting his feet so much or feeling so ready to spring into the air before.

"I was going to go and warn everyone about the weird magic in the air, and about the weird humans running around. But then you got so generous and invited me back here and, Spirit save me, I didn't want to be rude." He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a pointed look at the human. If Dean was going to ask questions, he was going to get his answers, but not without the sarcasm he had definitely earned.

Sam rolled over in his sleep, enjoying a dream where he was eating from a human-sized candy bar, having it all to himself. Just as he went to grab another piece --

He fell out of bed.

With a moan, Sam rolled onto his back, blinking in the light. He was confused for a minute as to why his bed was completely coverless, then he spotted the covers lying nearby.

Oh, that's right. Bowman's here somewhere.

He heard Dean's voice rumbling in the background, clearly talking to someone else that Sam couldn't hear. Hey, at least they're not killing each other. Maybe there's hope for them yet. Hauling himself to his feet, Sam wandered over to his cup of water, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Outside the nightstand, Dean shrugged, unaffected by the annoyance directed at him. "We can't be too careful in our line of work. Letting you escape when you could have been the source of this problem... that might have gotten other people killed, and that's not gonna happen on my watch. You'll get to warn your village, you have my word. We'll make sure of it, whatever it takes."

He peered over at the nightstand when he heard a small thump, curious what Sam was up too. But Dean gave him his privacy back there (at least now that there wasn't a small, unknown sprite with him) and settled back to watching Bowman.

"So, how long will it take to warn your village while we're out there? I want to get this thing taken care of, before it goes after anymore humans orsprites. We're gonna need you backing us up out there."

"Ha," Bowman scoffed, a cocky grin appearing on his face. "You're looking at the fastest flyer in the woods." He held himself more proudly, displaying his wings at their maximum wingspan. "I might be able to out-dive a falcon if the wind was right," he boasted. This was something he'd never try, of course, but he was fairly confident nonetheless.

He thrust his wings downward in one powerful motion, repeating a few times to put himself in the air above Dean's eye level. "The only reason you caught me in the first place is because I underestimated you. I won't make the same mistake again." That said, Bowman darted to the side and within seconds had landed atop the TV. Flying even that short distance brought a bit of a rush. His heart was beating pretty fast, but it wasn't from fear.

Dean really hadn't been lying about that coffee perking someone up in the morning. Bowman was wired.

"Even sprinting on your giant legs, you couldn't cross the forest half as fast as I can," Bowman assured the human. He'd never seen a human at full sprint, but he was quite confident in his own swift wings. "I can probably make it back before you're even done investigating that campsite." That, he knew, might be less likely, considering how long it'd take to explain everything. But that didn't mean he wouldn't brag about it.

Dean's cheek twitched as he tried to hold in a smile. But it was a losing proposition as he watched the sprite dart around the room. "Maybe you can," he allowed. "Just make sure you're careful. We don't want you getting in any trouble when you're out there on your own." He let a little respect slip into his voice for the little sprite. "You must do a good job as sentinel, then." Bowman looked surprised, then pleased with the assessment.

Sam finally managed to shuffle out from under the nightstand with a hand trying to brush his hair into some semblance of normalcy.

"Hey, lookie here," Dean said, grinning broadly. "Sleeping Beauty's decided to grace us with his presence."

Sam glared up at him, disoriented by how even Bowman was looking down on him. So not fair... he thought grumpily. He came up next to Dean's leg, which arched over his head the way it was stretched out. "Dude, it's like five-thirty in the morning. Normal people don't wake up at the ass-crack of dawn peppy." His eyes switched to Bowman, who seemed jittery even from a few feet away. Sam groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Both of you? I can't escape..."

Dean lowered a hand down next to Sam. "Then, in the interest of getting some coffee in you, maybe you'll make an exception and catch a ride?" He arched his eyebrows innocently down at Sam when the little head pointed up at him, considering the offer.

Sam stepped onto his rough palm with light footsteps. "I guess I can make an exception. Just because you're so freakin' annoying without at least alittle energy." He held out his arms for balance as the hand lifted away from the ground, Dean extending to his full height with Sam held at roughly chest-level. He dropped Sam off on the edge of the table and filled a little bottlecap with some of the hot, black coffee. Dean opened up some creamer for Sam, but left his brother to mixing the coffee up himself. They both knew Dean had no luck with mixing up a drink for Sam.

Bowman watched from his vantage point on the gigantic movie-box, once again amazed at how trusting Sam was in Dean's hand. Bowman trusted Jacob to hold him steady, but even if the human dropped him, Bowman needn't worry about the fall. His wings were strong and he could recover from a drop within inches. Back home he was the best at it.

Sam, sadly, could not. And there were even more people like him. People that were sprite-sized, but without any of the advantages of being a sprite. No Spirits to Pray to. No natural adaptations to make them suited for their environments. Only their sharp wit and a hope that the humans wouldn't notice them taking anything.

Bowman, seeing that Sam was by himself on the table, stepped forward off the TV. His wings snapped open just a moment later and he swooped in a graceful glide to the tabletop to join the small human. He stumbled a little, when a full shudder in his wings made his landing less elegant than his initial dive.

With his quivering wings folded loosely to his back, Bowman peered at the plastic container that Dean had left with Sam. Even a few drops of its contents had turned the black coffee a much lighter brown, though Sam certainly had added a generous amount. "I tried some of that coffee ... joe ... whatever it is," he commented. "I'm not used to being so awake so fast."

Sam managed a grunt at the comment. On a normal day, Bowman might have been just as groggy as Sam, if not more so. As it was, his quick sprite metabolism had sent the coffee's perk-up properties careening through his bloodstream. He tapped his fingers rapidly on his arm and glanced over at the metal pieces arranged on one end of the table. He approached them, but stopped cautiously when he realized what they were. Dean's weapon from the day before, the one he'd used to injure the wolf, lay in pieces on a thick piece of cloth.

"That's a ... 'gun,' right?" he asked, looking over at Sam for confirmation.

Normally Sam was more of a morning person than Dean, but Dean waking up before him, plus already having had his coffee, put Sam at a disadvantage. Sam took a long sip from the sweetened coffee, satisfied with the amount of sugar and cream in it.

"Ye--," rasping, Sam paused to clear his throat. "Yeah, that's a gun. It's, a... Colt...? I think? He told me about it before, but it's hard to remember all the details. Yesterday Dean was packing silver bullets, but against the..." Sam laughed, remembering how Dean had put it. "...undead wolf apocalypse, any bullet will do. Silver slows them down but a well-placed shot to the head will take them down, hopefully for good."

Dean walked over to the side of the table that had the pieces of his gun strewn about, heavy boots thumping on the ground and sending the faintest tremors through the table. Sam hadn't even noticed him slip out of the room to get dressed while hunched over his coffee. "With this many wolves, I'm planning on having the sawed-off with me too. It's not gonna be easy taking on a pack."

Dean sat heavily in his chair, large hands curling naturally around the scattered pieces of the gun. Sam and Bowman both watched with fascination as he put the gun together as naturally as he breathed, reassembling it in record time.

The metal pieces looked like nothing to Bowman on their own. Just scraps of shiny material that couldn't possibly be useful by themselves. But the gun took on its more familiar shape right before his eyes. Small bits of metal that Bowman would have thought too small for Dean to grasp were easily slid into place.

The finished product was a weapon with elegant designs engraved into the side of it. It was much more beautiful than the stark black guns that Logan and his partner had brought into the forest. This weapon, this 'colt' still looked fearsome, though. Bowman had seen the kinds of wounds it could inflict on someone, the kind of destruction that followed it.

"I don't know what a sawed-off is," he admitted. "And I never actually saw a gun used until yesterday. But I know that thing will really do some damage. I hope you're careful with it." He made an effort to still his wings. They were practically pulsing, wanting to carry him into the air in restless flight. But with the gun all put together, he would rather keep them tightly furled.

"So when are we going? I don't have to stay in that blasted pocket again, do I? I hated that."

Dean chuckled apologetically. "Unfortunately, the pocket's the only safe place for you and Sam, at least until we're in the Impala. The duffel's bigger, but I have it full of weapons and gear. I don't plan on risking either of you in that."

Standing, Dean tucked the gun away into his pants, hiding it expertly from view. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about me being careful with the gun. I've been handling these since I was a kid. You gotta know what you're doing if your life depends on 'em on a daily basis. The sawed-off's bigger, better for taking down larger monsters. Normally I use salt rounds in it against spirits, but today I'll make an exception. I've got standard ammo in the trunk. Maybe it'll help me hold off the Lich until we can break that phylactery."

Dean grabbed a few more items from around the room, readying himself for the hike. Today he was sure to toss a few extra water bottles in the duffel, along with more of Sam's granola bars. He'd have to restock next chance he got. From what he'd garnered from Bowman, the village wasn't close to the outskirts of the forest, where they'd been the day before. They needed to be prepared.

"Sam, you got everything you need?"

It was almost cute, watching Sam mirror Dean's movements as he checked his knife and the equipment he had stashed in his little satchel. He also had one of the little leather canteens his adopted father had given him on hand and filled. "Ready as I'll ever be," he called up to Dean confidently.

Dean held out a hand, letting Sam climb on it on his own. Sam dropped into the side pocket of Dean's jacket without a qualm, trusting his big brother implicitly. Dean turned to Bowman. "You can come out as soon as we're in the Impala, but until then this is the only safe way to get you there without being seen." Slipping two fingers into the pocket with Sam, he propped it open so the sprite would be able to get in on his own.

Chapter Text

Bowman gave the pocket one last critical look, shifting slightly on his feet. From the outside it looked so small compared to Dean. It was a reminder of how much advantage the human really had, even without ever mentioning the weapons he carried. After being stuffed in the pocket despite all protests last time, confined against his will, he couldn't help but feel a little cynical. He had to take a steeling breath before deciding to trust that Dean wouldn't go back on his word; Sam trusted Dean. So Bowman should try as well.

"Fine," he groused, opening his wings smoothly and making the short flight to the edge of the pocket. This time, he could perch on the edge, one hand braced against Dean's index finger, and fold his wings securely. Last time, he'd almost sprained them against the edge thanks to their awkward angle sticking out of Dean's fist. Once he was sure they'd be at least marginally comfortable, he slipped into the dim cloth enclosure.

Almost immediately he wanted to get back out again. It just felt wrong to allow himself to be cooped up in such a small space. But Bowman, after nearly falling over in the swaying pocket, managed to get to the corner and settled down. His wings fidgeted restlessly around him, unable to find a comfortable position. "At least this time he's gonna let me out," he muttered, glancing up when Dean's hand stopped propping the pocket open and left them with even less light.

Something that Dean had mentioned offhand came back to bother Bowman. He looked across the pocket at Sam. "Dean ... he said something about fighting against 'spirits.' What did that mean?" he asked, his brow pinching slightly with concern. He wasn't aware of any Spirits except those that made the sprites. And Bowman could not fathom anyone attacking the Earth Spirit, or even wanting to.

Sam settled back in the opposite corner from Bowman, welcoming the enclosed security he felt in the pocket. He hated being out in wide open spaces, feeling exposed and unprotected. Except for when Dean was around. His big brother was the only safety he could find in such a big world.

The pocket swung into motion, Dean clearly on the move. Sam focused on Bowman, knowing whatever was going on outside the pocket was out of their control. "We run into vengeful spirits more than any other monster out there. A lot of times, a human can't let go of their anger, or they refuse to move on. Because of that, they get trapped in our world, lashing out like a wounded animal. Salt can disperse them, and burning their bones cuts their ties to this world." Sam thought back on what Dean had told him. "Another thing that works is iron. Dean got me an iron screw for if one ever goes after me. One touch disperses it, no matter how small the iron is compared to the spirit."

Bowman sighed with relief. Apparently, the spirits that Sam and Dean dealt with so regularly weren't related in any way to the Spirits that the sprites revered and Prayed to. He didn't fully understand how a human's essence could linger in the way that Sam described. But, from what Bowman could tell, the brothers righted a wrong every time they helped to put a restless echo of a life to rest. They were doing good work, something that the Earth Spirit would approve of.

He had to begrudgingly accept that perhaps they were more trustworthy than he'd thought. That didn't mean he liked being stuck in a pocket, however, nor did he appreciate getting called 'small fry.' Yet Sam and Dean respected life, so Bowman found some respect for them.

While Sam was explaining the intricacies of fighting vengeful spirits in his pocket, Dean finished gathering up any supplies he might need out in the wilderness. He gave one last look around the room before deciding he was as ready as he'd ever be, then scooped his car keys from the nightstand.

Before leaving the room he had to stop himself from patting the pocket Sam was in to reassure his little brother. It was a habit he had gotten into that he doubted Bowman would appreciate the same way Sam did. Slinging the duffel over his shoulder, he strode out of the room into the early morning sun.

Dean shaded his eyes, blinded for a moment by the brightness. "Good morning!" came a cheery voice to the side.

Not expecting anyone else to be up this early in the morning, Dean did a slight jump of surprise as he turned to see another patron of the motel standing outside his room, smoking a cigarette. In his pocket, Bowman flinched in surprise at the sound of a new human speaking so close by. He sank further into the fabric and watched the opening of the pocket intently.

"Up early, aren't we?" the guy called out in a polite voice.

"Uh, yeah." Dean gave him a half hearted wave. "Got a lot planned today," he explained, taking a few steps away, hoping the guy would get the hint. Dean had no intention of keeping his brother and the sprite in his pocket any longer than he had to. Ignoring another call from the man, he made it to the car. He grabbed extra ammo from the trunk and slid into the driver's side. He didn't care if he came off as rude. Maybe the guy would just assume he wasn't a morning person.

With one last glance to make sure there were no other onlookers within the line of sight of the car's interior, he slipped a finger back into the pocket. "All clear up here," he called, hoping Bowman would get the point.

Bowman almost expected to be lifted out, but thankfully it didn't happen. He shifted so he could stand, though he had troubles with his shaky wings and legs. He almost lost his tenuous footing, and one of his wings opened up to keep his balance. He pulled it back hurriedly when it almost bumped right into Sam, and Bowman looked over guiltily. "Sorry ... can't get my blasted footing," he explained lamely.

"Don't worry about it," Sam said, grinning at the sprite's clumsiness. He might not have wings, but he definitely had a better sense of balance in here compared to Bowman. Despite being the same size, their experiences were so different.

Thinking it would be best to get out of the cramped space sooner than later, Bowman got his hands on the edge of the pocket and hoisted himself up with his legs scrambling for purchase on the fabric wall. He struggled a little with getting himself back up onto the edge of the pocket, but as soon as he could move his wings more freely they helped immensely, the wide limbs acting as extra hands to hold him steady. They curled a little as Bowman used them to brace against the edge of the pocket.

He hopped down, stumbling onto the wide bench seat of the Impala. He stepped away in a rush, giving the human plenty of space, but looking around avidly at the same time. It was a much better view of the interior of a car this time around. His restless wings were constantly opening and closing as Bowman took in all of the switches and dials arrayed in front of the seat.

Bowman disappeared from the top of the pocket fast enough, out into the open with Dean. Sam debated for a moment trying to climb out on his own, but before he could give it a shot his brother's massive hand slipped into the pocket. Sam tumbled into the hand as the fingers curled around him, scooping him gently out.

Dean lowered him to the seat next to Bowman, letting Sam slide off. "Hang on down there, you two. I don't need either of you flying off the seat."

Dean turned on the Impala, starting up the familiar rumbling purr. As he backed the car away from the motel, Sam turned to check on Bowman. "So, feeling better out in the open?"

Bowman watched with fascination as, behind glass covers, spindly needles of painted plastic responded to the car coming to life. And all it took was Dean putting a piece of jagged metal in a slot and turning his wrist. It was with reluctance that the sprite took his gaze away from the instruments there to answer Sam's question.

"We're still technically in a box," he replied with a smirk. After all, if for some reason Dean was incapacitated, Bowman and Sam wouldn't really have a way to get out of the car very easily, that Bowman could see. That was mildly unsettling, but it was still infinitely better than being there trapped in a human's pocket against his will, with no idea if he'd ever have his freedom again. "But, yes. I've seen the inside of enough cages and traps. This is much better." This thing was going to carry him back to his forest. It hadn't even been a full day away from home, but he knew he'd feel much more at ease back there.

Except for the jittering. He was still shaky in his wings and hands. Bowman shuffled towards the towering back of the seat, aiming to brace himself against it for balance on the sloped surface. The Impala turned, and Bowman wasn't ready for it. He tipped right over, even with his wings flaring out to stop the fall. "Blast it," he muttered, bronze cheeks darkening slightly in an embarrassed blush. He knew it was a combination of an unfamiliar environment, his bad knee, and the excess energy buzzing around in him. But he still rather wished that hadn't happened.

Still, the sun was shining into the glass windows above. Bowman sat up, and left his wings laying out on the seat around him. Might as well catch some of that light while he waited for them to get there. The tips of his wings were still quivering. "How can you stay standing like that?" he asked, gesturing to Sam and the way the small once-human still kept his balance in the moving car. If Bowman couldn't feel the movement all around them, he'd think Sam was standing on solid ground.

"Practice?" Sam guessed, watching Bowman's trouble. "I dunno... it just feels normal. Aside from the years I spent away when I first got cursed, I've been in this car constantly, both as a human and after getting shrunk."

Normal. Standing on something constantly moving is normal, Bowman thought critically, watching as Sam walked closer to Dean like it was nothing.

Sam hated being so far down on the seat like this and didn't plan on staying there any longer than he had to. "You don't have to stay down on the seat the whole time. Just make sure you're careful if you move around, and make sure you don't block Dean's view while he's driving."

With that, Sam hauled himself up the side of Dean's jacket, all the way to the familiar shoulder so he could watch where they were going. Dean didn't react at all, used to having Sam there. In fact, most days it felt weird if Sam wasn't sitting there. They might not be a normal set of brothers, but they made their own normal.

Bowman's cynicism quieted immediately at the ease with which Sam settled up on Dean's shoulder. He'd seen him perched up there before, but Bowman still hardly believed it. He wondered how long it had taken Sam to get used to sitting on his brother's shoulder like that, so high above the ground without much of anything to catch him should he fall.

As unfamiliar things passed by the windows above, Bowman couldn't ignore his curiosity any longer. Or his urge to just fly. His wings were practically vibrating, and as he shifted so he was crouching on the seat and spread the limbs wide, they fluttered with excess energy. "That's the last time I let a human convince me to try one of their drinks without knowing what it'll do," he griped.

Then, he was in the air. He landed just beneath the huge window in the front of the car. It was disorienting to fly inside the car. He couldn't tell what speed he was flying at, with things rushing by on all sides. Bowman remained crouched low, getting himself accustomed to the view out the window. If he tried to fly too much in that enclosed box with that view speeding by, he risked smacking right into the glass.

Dean's eyes flicked over to Bowman on the dash. "You loved that coffee and you know it," he said dryly. His fingers flexed unconsciously on the steering wheel, renewing his grip. Sam was leaning against his neck, his fluffy hair tickling Dean's neck if he moved at all. After months of having him there, it wasn't a distraction at all.

Dean focused back on the road. They were only just out of the motel parking lot, passing the restaurant strip of the town speedily. With the two tiny people in the car, he kept his speed a bit lower than normal. Braking at the wrong time would end bad for Bowman. Sam was a little safer where he sat on Dean, but he could still potentially be thrown from his perch.

Reaching forward, Dean switched the radio on low. Driving in silence was driving him nuts. He needed a little old school rock to pass the time. Ignoring the world-suffering groan in his ear (Sam never seemed to appreciate the finer things in life), he found a station playing 'Smoke on the Water' and started to drum his fingers on the wheel in time with the beat.

Bowman flinched when faint sounds vibrated up through the surface under his feet. He looked for the source and inched towards the middle of the dash. He remained just outside of Dean's reach, before kneeling down. He gripped the edge with his hands and peered over the side, looking at the device that Dean had poked at. He couldn't figure out how such a relatively small thing was able to make so much noise. It was a fraction of the size of the Impala, and yet it made as much noise as the car's growling.

He knew that it must be an example of sounds being sent from somewhere far away, or a recording. Like with phones. Jacob had explained a little bit about those. But, the sounds coming out of the car really didn't make a lot of sense. He glanced over at Dean, seeing that he tapped his hand along with the rhythm. Bowman remembered Jacob having him listen to some other samples of human music. He wasn't sure what he thought about the sounds, but he definitely had an opinion on the words.

"None of this makes any sense!" he blurted, almost looking bemused. "Do humans just string random words together for music?" It was a rhetorical question; to Bowman, many of the words might as well have been gibberish. He sighed and shook his head, pushing himself back up to watch out the windows some more.

It felt very strange. Large, angular human buildings sped by, but Bowman didn't feel very much like he was moving. Eventually, he got to his feet and decided to give flying a try again. He hopped over the side and opened his wings. They filled with air and he glided the few feet to the back of the seat, landing with less of a stumble now. He was getting better. Flying, at least, was something he always did very well, regardless of the conditions he needed to adapt to.

"You travel far in this, uh, 'Impala,' don't you?" he asked, looking over at Sam. Sam was just near level with Bowman, perched as he was on Dean's shoulder. "Why is it called an Impala? Is that like a pet's name? Is that also why you call it a she?"

Sam shifted in place so he could see Bowman better, thankful how broad his brother's shoulders were. He had no problem balancing, even with the constant sways that came from sitting on another living being. Dean's neck twitched under his light, ticklish movements, but aside from that, there was no other sign that he was even paying attention to what Sam or Bowman were up to. Once he was sitting so he was facing Bowman, Sam got into a comfortable position, one hand slung around Dean's thick jacket collar for a safety anchor.

"We travel everywhere in the Impala," he explained honestly. "She's our home, the one place that's always there for us, no matter what. Dean's been all over the continent, and I'm getting there now that I'm with him again. And, the reason we call her the Impala is that's the name of the type of car she is. There's a ton of different varieties out there."

Sam gave a brief glance at Dean's face, or at least his profile. Sam couldn't make out much past his chin and cheek from where he was sitting. But so far Dean hadn't reacted to anything Sam had told Bowman. With a shift back to Bowman, he went on. "As for the 'she'... I think it's more a human thing. They often call cars or ships 'she.' And it fits. Sometimes she almost has a mind of her own. One time Dean got knocked out and stuffed into the backseat by some people sacrificing innocents a pagan god. She felt so pissed when they drove her, like she knew her beloved driver had been attacked by the bastards."

"You never told me that," Dean said in surprise, shifting in his seat.

Sam shrugged, reflexively tightening his hand on the collar at Dean's movements. "It never came up. At the time I was more worried about getting you free."

"A home that moves," Bowman muttered. It was very intriguing. And he couldn't help but wonder at how easily Sam made that statement. He really believed it. Motels may have been a 'home away from home' for these brothers. But this Impala, a car of all things, and the road speeding by was more of a home to them than some boxy, stationary human house.

Fittingly strange for some strange humans.

Chapter Text

Bowman frowned and glanced over the side of his perch at the back seat of the car. Somehow, even a human like Dean had been overpowered and stuck back there. It was tough to imagine someone so large actually getting knocked out, even though he had seen it happen before. It had been surreal then, too, to see Logan, a human even larger than Dean, actually fall to the ground unconscious. Sometimes Bowman still couldn't believe that he'd been the one to deliver the decisive blow.

Up ahead on the flat ribbon of stone that the car rode upon, Bowman could see another car in the way. It looked very different from the Impala, and he got what Sam meant about there being different varieties out there. They were only alongside each other for a split second before the other wheeled contraption sped away in the opposite direction. At these speeds, Bowman couldn't help but be glad that the humans seemed to have this unspoken agreement to keep to their own side of the path.

Feeling restless again, Bowman took flight, this time fluttering to the far back window of the Impala. There was some dust back there, and he left faint prints in it as he edged up to the glass. "This car moves very fast. I can barely look at something before it's too far away to see. How can humans have made something that moves so blasted fast? Even a deer probably couldn't outrun this thing."

Dean chuckled, overhearing the comment from the back. He saw Bowman standing in the back window through the rearview mirror, tiny hands creating faint silhouettes against the glass. "No, it couldn't. This car could run circles around a deer any day."

Sam watched Bowman flit around the interior of the car effortlessly with a slight jealousy. He pushed it down, knowing he had his own ways around that worked for him. It just took him a little longer. He twisted all the way around so he could still see Bowman. "So how far into the forest is that campground we need to check out?"

The scenery outside began to change. Houses and human developments were becoming more sparse, replaced with a thickening treeline. The Impala drove into the deepening shade thrown by the trees.

Bowman looked over his shoulder. "It should be ..." his eyes were drawn away from Sam as the scenes speeding past the Impala's windows grew more familiar. He didn't know these trees, but they were a far more welcome sight than the human buildings had been. He took flight again and hovered by the side window, well behind Dean's other shoulder. He would still be easily visible to Sam, though Dean would have to turn his head to get the sprite in his peripheral vision.

Bowman put his hands on the glass, hesitant relief on his face. He hadn't even been away from the forest for a full day. But it took so much tension out of his shoulders to be back near the trees. He thought about the last time he'd had to view the trees through glass. Things had been far less hopeful for him then. He'd been in a glass enclosure that he was sure he'd never escape before being taken away for good. His whole life had nearly been changed irreparably back then.

He'd probably never stop thanking the Spirit that, even though Sam and Dean had actually succeeded in taking Bowman away, they were bringing him back home again.

He finally remembered Sam's question and turned his head to address him while his fingertips still touched the window. "From the boulder, that spot should be a little more than half a mile farther into the woods. Humans don't usually go that far. I guess they thought they were getting a better camp experience." He shrugged, something that looked a little strange in midair with the movement of his wings.

"Good, shouldn't take us long to get there at all," Dean said confidently.

Sam shook his head. "Those hikers probably thought they'd get some stories to tell, going further into the forest than the accepted norm. Didn't pan out the way they hoped." He sighed, thinking about how many people this lich, or whatever it was, had killed already. And it was still out there, in a forest full of innocent sprites, all in ignorance of their current danger. Sam hoped it wouldn't be too late when Bowman got there to warn them.

He clung to the collar of the jacket when the Impala took a sharp left, turning deeper into the trees. "Sorry about that, pint-size," Dean said as a hand reached up to help catch Sam's balance against falling. "Didn't see that turn coming so soon. These trees are getting thick."

Sam realized he'd lost sight of Bowman in the brief excitement. "Hey Bowman, you all right back there?" he called out as he sat back up, pushing Dean's hand away.

"Oh, I'm just sunny," Bowman groused from the backseat. The sharp turn had pushed him away from the window suddenly, and Bowman had fallen to the seat between the edge and the huge bag Dean had filled with supplies. His wings fanned in agitation as he stood precariously at the edge.

He leapt into the air again, coming to land on the back of the seat once more. There just wasn't enough room in the interior of the car to really do much flying, and Bowman's anxious energy showed no sign of dissipating. Even so, he crouched there for balance with his wings partially folded, determined to wait there until the door was open and he could get out.

Bowman had to remind himself that he wasn't strictly trapped in the Impala. He just couldn't help but notice that, over the growl of the machine and the bizarre music coming out of the front of the thing, the air felt stifling. Closed off. He peered out the windows, turning his head this way and that. These trees were still not familiar. Despite the fact that they grew closer and closer together, they seemed far more inviting than the car.

Sam scooched a bit over on Dean’s shoulder, now that Bowman was sitting closer to him and there were no sharp turns coming up. Sam remembered from the first trip in that once they turned off the main road it was a straight shot to the pull-off used by the hikers in the area. With the trees passing by at a breezy 40 mph, Sam turned back to his curious questioning.

“So, what’s your village like? I mean, I’ve only ever been around human places. Even when I lived with my adopted family, it was in the walls of a motel. What's it like to have an entire place with everyone the same size?” Sam’s voice was slightly awed at the thought. It had been almost 14 years since he was surrounded by objects catered to his size.

Dean shifted uncomfortably under him, hating the fact that he was part of the ‘human’ world that Sam had such trouble fitting in.

Bowman remained silent for a few long seconds as he thought about it. At this point, both Sam and Dean knew about his home. It wouldn't do much more harm to tell them what it was like. He tore his gaze away from the trees speeding by to look Sam in his inquisitive hazel eyes. "Well. A lot of that human settlement back there was all lined up and angular. The village isn't like that. There is a cluster of trees together, and they all have homes Prayed from the trunks or out on the branches."

He shifted so that instead of crouching, he sat down on the back of the seat, with his wings propped open slightly for balance. "There are stairs on the trunks to get up to the houses, for the nestlings whose wings aren't big enough to fly yet. On one side of the village there's a wild rosebush, and past that is a clearing with a big oak tree. It's the tallest tree in the forest, from what I can tell. That's where most people go to get sunlight." He shrugged again, lifting his wings slightly to show them off. They were the main reason people went to the clearing around the big oak, after all.

Bowman paused, wondering whether he should continue. But, Sam looked so eager to listen. And Sam had shown Bowman that he could be trusted, more than once. Plus, Bowman loved his home and found it strangely satisfying to talk about it to such a captive audience. "The big oak is surrounded by a circle of other trees. Too tight for a certain giant to fit between them, probably," he quipped, glancing once at Dean's profile. "And under the oak there's our Well. It's where we get the name for our forest: Wellwood."

Dean wanted to make a comment at Bowman's joke at him. I'm not a giant, he grumped to himself. And yet here he was, miniature brother on his shoulder and a tiny sprite sitting nearby.

In the end, he held in his comments. Sam was riveted on every word coming from Bowman's mouth. The last thing Dean wanted to do was ruin this for his brother. Sam didn't get enough chances to spend time with people his own size and living in the human world at his size could be very stressful.

Sam had so many questions he didn't know where to start. For a second he thought he could see it: sprites outside stretching their wings to get in sunlight and casting green-tinted shadows in every direction. Beautiful trees full of vitality acting as silent sentinels to the homes built in their branches. "Prayer?" slipped out of his mouth. He could have sworn Bowman had mentioned that before. "The well?" He tried to form the thoughts in his head into questions.

"What's the well for? And what's prayer? I knew you've mentioned it before, but do you mean stuff actually happens when you pray?"

A look of surprise worked its way onto Bowman's face. Of course he doesn't know what Prayer is, he realized. Jacob hadn't known what it was, either, and had always assumed Bowman himself could 'do magic.' But the wood sprites, and any sprite that Prayed to a Spirit, didn't have magic of their own.

"Well, uh," Bowman began, wondering how on earth he'd put it into words. It was something that people back home usually just understood. It was something so innate that it rarely needed to be said aloud. He tilted his head as he thought about it. He tried to remember how he'd attempted to explain it to Jacob. "Prayer is how we kind of 'talk to' the Spirit, I guess?" he tried.

"I mean, we say words, but She doesn't really need them to get what we're asking for. But She lets us use Her magic. We use it to coax the shapes of our homes out of trees, or to help heal sick plants." Bowman absently rubbed his arm and wondered if he'd ever be able to answer that question in an eloquent way. So far he still hadn't managed it.

"The sprites ... we all have this connection to the Earth Spirit. And other sprites Pray to their own Spirits. The Well, that was made by a water sprite that came to the village ages ago. He Prayed to the Water Spirit, and blessed the Well." That water sprite had stayed in the village. Bowman himself was distantly descended from him, but almost all traces of his genes were long since diluted.

"I'm ... not usually very good at Praying," Bowman admitted with a sheepish half-smile. "But, I have received a blessing before." He pulled up the left sleeve of his shirt to show Sam his forearm and palm. A jagged scar ran from his palm all the way to the crook of his arm, and against his amber skin it was easy to see that the scar was tinted green. "My wings were ... " he frowned and subconsciously folded the wings in question to his back. "... Hurt. And I had this cut. But She blessed me so I healed without someone Praying."

Sam listened intently, amazed at the thought of answered prayers. He'd seen healing with magic before - even got a taste of it himself after a severe injury received when fighting Ilyana. Nixie had healed an injury that, left on its own, would have left him at least partially crippled the rest of his life. But from what Bowman was saying, these sprites had to rely on the magic of others, praying to them to harness their energy.

"That's amazing," he admitted. "I mean, humans have prayers they say, but there's no way to know if anybody's listening. They have to take it on faith that someone out there cares. When I was growing up, after my curse, I always used to pray at night. That there would be a way for me to go back to normal, that this curse wouldn't last forever. Or I'd pray that my dad and Dean would come back to the motel. That maybe, one day, I might be able to be around humans that wouldn't want to keep me as a pet, or sell me, or hurt me."

Sam paused. Belatedly he realized he'd never told Dean any of this. His ears turned bright red in embarrassment. All the times Sam had sat up at night, wishing he could be held by safe hands. Hands that would never dream of hurting him, hands that thought of him as an equal. Maybe someone out there was listening to his prayers, and had sent Dean to that motel.

He glanced over to the side, watching Dean's hands on the steering wheel for a moment. Those hands, huge as they were, would never hurt him, and he never had to be afraid of Dean. That was something to be thankful for by itself. His family had come back for him.

"I don't think I ever said thanks for that, Dean," Sam said, glancing up at the ear he was sitting under. He patted the thick skin he was leaning against, ignoring the way it twitched at his touch. "Without you, who knows where I would have ended up."

Dean was quiet for a long moment. "Sam..." he said, almost hard to hear. "You're not the only one who wished things could have been different growing up."

Sam found himself quieted by Dean's own admission. It wasn't something Dean ever talked about, those years they'd been apart. He turned back to Bowman, seeking a distraction from those thoughts. "Your home sounds like nothing I've ever seen before..." he managed before trailing off.

Bowman glanced between Sam and Dean, appraising their expressions. Or, at least, what he could see of Dean's expression. If he'd had any doubt left that they were real brothers, they erased it now. Even with the difference in size, these humans were loyal to each other in the way only family could be.

His eyes settled back on Sam. He tilted his head slightly and smirked. "If that human village is like all the others out there, then mine probably is something you've never seen before. I never realized humans were so obsessed with squares." He rolled the sleeve of his shirt back down, covering the blessed scar once more.

"I know for sure that none of the six major Spirits are connected to humans," Bowman continued, some curiosity of his own striking him. "And Jacob had no idea how magic worked, so I didn't think humans could do it. So if Praying wouldn't work ... where would things like this lich get their magic? Where would that curse come from?"

Sam thought about that for a moment, wondering where he should start. Magic was a long, complicated subject to take on, one that had some very painful connections in his past. "Most humans can't," he began. "And not many people even know it's out there. Hell, my dad never wanted me to know any of this existed. If it wasn't for Dean caving in and telling me about it when we were kids, I would have been cursed before I even knew bad things lurked in the dark."

He sighed briefly, thinking about that night. Learning what their father hunted, giving Dean that amulet... his life would have been far different without that one, pivotal night. Dean might not have even realized what... who... he had, clenched in a fist. Neither of them knew what Dean might have done, and even thinking about the possibility scared Sam. He leaned further against Dean's neck, seeking comfort from those thoughts.

"One of the most prevalent types of magic out there is used by witches. They borrow magic from demons, using it for their own, twisted needs." He held out his arms, gesturing at his body. "A witch is what did this to me, and she goaded Dean with the fact that this type of curse is permanent. Nothing we've been able to find can fix me.

"Another way of using magic is items that have curses or boons imbued in them. Cursed objects need to be destroyed or contained to keep people safe from harm." He gestured over his shoulder at Dean. "Dean has an amulet I gave him back when I was a human. It's a powerful charm, but so ancient the boon it gives was lost in time.

"Symbols have power as well. The right symbols can keep certain monsters out, or stop a demon in its tracks. I'm still learning them myself, but every little bit counts." He held up his left hand, showing off the leather ring he had on it and gestured at the matching twin on Dean's pinkie (Walt had tried his best to make it as large as possible, but he hadn’t been able to ask Dean's ring size without ruining the surprise). "These are anti-possession symbols. My adopted father made us these rings, and they'll keep us from getting possessed and controlled by a demon."

Sam shifted back so he was leaning against Dean again. "Whatever magic this thing uses sounds close to the cursed objects. Only instead of a curse, he's trapped his soul instead." Sam wrinkled his nose. "Too bad he couldn't give himself eternal youth to go along with the eternal life."

"Right," Bowman answered absently, mind churning over the things Sam told him. A lich having eternal life was suddenly the least of his worries. There were things out there, people that could borrow some sickening magic to do horrifying things. That wasn't what magic was meant for ... at least not according to the Spirits.

Symbols and objects, simple things, having power in them was also a new concept. The water in the Well back home carried a blessing on it, but the structure itself had nothing to do with it. The water, an element of the world around it, was imbued with purity by the Water Spirit. There wasn't anything drastically amazing about it, aside from being the healthiest water around to drink. It cleansed what it touched.

But eternal life, and curses to permanently change someone's body as drastically as Sam's had been ... these had to take incredible amounts of magic. Much more than the average sprite could channel in their bodies. Bowman wondered idly if Rischa, his gifted young cousin, would be able to tell there was magic on Sam. Her connection to the Earth Spirit was one of the strongest the village had ever seen.

"You said these 'demons' give their magic to witches," Bowman finally began, a perplexed frown on his face. "But they don't sound like the Spirits at all. The Spirits grant their magic to help the sprites. But witches ... it sounds like they only use their borrowed magic to do harm." He scratched his head absently. "I guess I never thought that magic could be used for such awful things," he finished in a quieter tone, almost sounding discouraged.

“It’s not all bad, Bowman…” Sam said, trailing off at the discouragement in Bowman’s slumped shoulders.

...Just most of it… Dean thought to himself. Spotting the area he’d parked in the day before, he slowed the car down, pulling off the road. A few beams of sunlight slipped through cracks in the canopy above, giving off a luminous contrast to the darkness of the forest. Dean switched into park, turning off the engine's reassuring purr. Silence fell around the three of them.

With no time to waste, Dean opened the car door, pausing only to make sure Sam was stable before he stood up, leaving the door open for the little sprite.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad a ride now, wa-- Son of a bitch! ”

Chapter Text

Bowman hardly registered that Dean was speaking at all. In fact, as soon as he had the opportunity, he spread his wings and darted out of the Impala and into the fresh air. He heard Dean's voice abruptly shift to a surprised tone, but his words didn't matter, because Bowman was back home.

He shot into the trees, wheeling around thick oak trunks and ducking under shining maple leaves. The air was filled with familiar smells of fallen pine needles and sun-heated maple sap, even out here where he didn't usually venture. And it was free. There were no oppressive walls keeping him trapped in a single space. No completely inorganic right angles stifling the flow of the air and the gentle curves that near-untamed nature was made of.

Being back erased much of Bowman's tension. Until now, he'd held onto a lingering fear that they wouldn't really bring him back to where he unequivocally belonged. That he'd have to spend more time stuck in Dean's pocket, or squashed in his hand. Unable to fight anything that Dean decided. But here he was. He was home, and he felt safer here even knowing the threat that lurked out there. At least here Bowman could do something.

After spending a lot of his pent up energy by darting around at high speeds, Bowman glided downward in lazy circles. He hovered just above Dean's eye level, waiting in the shade of a maple tree. His smile dropped into a surprised expression when he saw the look on Dean's face. "What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What. He says 'what.' " Dean tossed up his arms in aggravation, stalking around in a circle. His frustrated steps shook the blades of grass around every footfall. "Darts off into the sky, no idea where he's going and it's 'what?' " His motion carried him under the hovering sprite as he paced around the clearing.

Sam had to hide a grin at Dean's disgruntled rambling. Admittedly, he'd been just as worried as Dean when the green blur buzzed past them out of the car, but now that Bowman was back, looking entirely unsympathetic to Dean's frustration, it just made Dean's annoyance that much funnier. Although he did have to hold on tighter than normal with Dean's cussedness making his movements hard to predict.

"What he means is, with the way you blazed past us, we didn't think you'd come back, Bowman," Sam called up, hoping to keep the peace. He was starting to suspect it was a losing battle to try. Dean and Bowman just seemed to know exactly the buttons to push to get a volley of banter started. "It looked like you were just going to dart off into the trees, leaving me and Dean high and dry without your help. We'd have a hell of a time tracking through the forest without you."

Bowman rolled his eyes and dropped a few inches so he was somewhere between Dean's eye level and Sam's. "After all that talk of going after this lich, which is threatening my own home, you thought I was just gonna leave?" He glided around the irate human in a quick circle on wings spread wide, keeping himself outside Dean's reach in case a swat was aimed in his direction. Bowman was much more at ease knowing he'd have a better chance evading the human now.

"Last thing I need is some irked giant stomping around in here," Bowman added with a snicker. He couldn't believe he'd actually worried the human so much. Dean looked so aggravated. The day before, that expression had been heart-stoppingly frightening with no idea how Dean would respond. Bowman still felt a faint chill of intimidation creeping up his spine. It helped that even Sam was having a hard time keeping a straight face and clearly not taking Dean seriously.

"Well, do you have yourself in order, or do we need to take a break already so you can write down your laments?" Bowman teased with a grin.

"Nah, we'd be here past sundown if we waited for him to finish," Sam laughed jokingly. "He could grumble all day if you let him." As big and intimidating as Dean was, he was completely harmless, even in angry mode (at least to Sam and Bowman, zombie wolves beware), so Sam joined in with Bowman's teasing wholeheartedly.

"Hey! It was a perfectly valid concern!" Dean grumbled, annoyed he was being ganged up on. Sending a withering glare in Bowman's direction, he stalked over to the car, hefting his duffel out of the back seat. "Can we just go?" he griped.

Bowman snickered, though he pretended to back off when Dean turned his scathing glance back in his direction. The sprite turned the motion into a backwards dive, turning in the air to open his wings, bank upwards, and get himself back up to comparable height once more. He flew through the air like a fish swims through water, and it was clear that Bowman loved it. "Fine, fine," he conceded.

It took a short trek, but Bowman quickly found trees he recognized. He led Dean towards the boulder first. He wanted to see if that sickly feeling still lingered in the air, and he thought that maybe familiar ground would help the humans in the long run. If they could get back to the boulder, they'd be able to get back to their car.

Bowman had to fly a little bit slower than he was used to, and he stayed a little closer to the ground as well. Normally he'd be flitting through the canopy, blending in with the leaves. But Bowman had to make sure he didn't lose Dean in the woods. No need to give him a second panic, as entertaining as the first one had been.

"Watch your step for buried rocks," Bowman warned idly, remembering one or two occasions when Jacob nearly fell flat on his face. As he spoke, he swooped under an outstretched pine branch, disappearing behind the needles for a second. "At least you don't have to worry about spider nests, like the one Sam almost stepped on yesterday."

Dean walked carefully through the forest, keeping Bowman in sight as much as he could manage under the green canopy. The sprites warnings were useful, calling Dean's attention to sharp-edged rocks, jutting from the ground. Under all the undergrowth, he never would have noticed them.

Sam had stayed quiet most of the way, concentrating on keeping his balance on Dean's shoulder while his brother navigated the uneven ground. At least until Bowman's last statement.

"Spider nest?" Sam gasped in surprise. Memories of getting trapped in a spider web rose up inside him. If Dean hadn't found him, he'd have been spider bait, too weak to escape on his own with an injured arm.

"You almost stepped on a spider nest?" Dean demanded in surprise. "When did this happen? Why is this the first I'm hearing about this?"

"I - I don't know," Sam's eyebrows lowered. "I don't remember any spider nest..." he trailed off, eyes darting to Bowman. "What do you mean I almost stepped on a spider nest?"

Bowman turned his head to look over at Sam. His own face matched Sam's confusion, but for different reasons. Had Sam really not noticed at all?! "What do you think I shoved you for?" he asked slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Did you think I was picking a fight or something? You almost got yourself bitten by a funnel-web spider, Sam."

He focused on where he was flying again for a time, occasionally darting through a tuft of leaves and enjoying the way they brushed past him. "Those things have a pretty nasty bite, but their nests aren't that hidden," he mused. He supposed, if Sam was singularly focused on following Bowman, it would make sense. The guy had jumped into the foliage without hesitation to keep track of the sprite. He hadn't been on the lookout for spiders because he was on the lookout for Bowman.

In retrospect, Bowman realized that he hadn't ever pointed the nest out to Sam. He had just assumed that the strange small human would notice. And then that shiny knife had been drawn, and then ... Dean was looking right at him. "Guess I thought you knew."

"I guess I just thought you were mad I was following you," Sam mumbled under his breath, embarrassed. With everything that had happened, he'd forgotten how Bowman had come straight at him, almost shoving him off balance. If that was true... Sam had threatened the guy with a knife for the attack! Not to mention if he'd known Bowman was trying to help he might have been able to convince Dean to take it a little easier on him. Less grab-y, more talk-y.

"I'm sorry Bowman, I really thought you were attacking me back there," Sam said, trying to keep sight of the sprite flitting through the branches. He could feel Dean looking at him. "What?" Sam snipped.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing... just we should look into some basic wilderness training for you. Maybe find some borrower boy scouts so you know what to look for down there." By the end, he couldn't hide his grin.

"Ha, ha. You're just a regular comedy act, Dean." Grumbling, Sam sat back against Dean's neck so he couldn't see the amusement in Dean's eyes. He peered off the edge of the shoulder, staring down at the foliage below. Dean cleared a ton of distance with even one step, most likely crushing dangers to Sam without even noticing. Another point against being four inches tall in the forest, unless you had wings like Bowman or size like Dean.

Then again, that wilderness training might not be such a bad idea, Sam admitted to himself.

Bowman raised an eyebrow. What on earth is a borrower-boy-scout? he thought to himself. But the term was so casually dropped into the conversation, that he assumed it was common knowledge among humans. Bowman was curious, but he didn't want to look ignorant, especially now that he was back in his element.

"It's not so hard if you watch your step," he answered. "Even this giant has to watch where he's stepping." To demonstrate, Bowman flew several feet ahead and dived down towards a patch of undergrowth. He swept past it, brushing the topmost leaves with his arms. The waving of the thin branches revealed a large stone jutting out of the ground, well hidden by the shade of the plants when they weren't moving. Tripping on it could have sent Dean sprawling.

"I guess if there's time later I'll show you some things to look for," Bowman added, but he turned a critical eye back to the pair of humans. "But if you're not gonna camouflage your appearance, you'll at least want to hide your scent." No doubt the both of them just reeked of humanity, of things far beyond the forest. For Dean, that wasn't such a danger. For smaller folk, it could make a crucial difference. After spending the night away, Bowman realized even he probably picked up an extra scent or two, which would make him stand out despite his leafy wings and earthy toned ensemble. He brushed past some pine needles to help dispel the sudden concern.

"Scent?" Sam asked, taken briefly off guard. He'd never thought about hiding his scent. From being with Dean all the time, he knew very well that humans had their own scent. Dean's was a combination of leather, oil, aftershave and his own particular musk. It wasn't bad... in fact, it reminded Sam of home. He spent so much time hanging out on Dean's shoulder or in his pocket, it was unavoidable. Nothing worth mentioning, just part of life with a human brother when you're four inches tall. Sam clearly must have his own scent, if Dean's was so strong, and in the natural environment of the woods, they'd both stick out like sore thumbs.

"If we get a chance, I'd love to take you up on that," Sam said to Bowman. "I've only been out in the wilderness a few times, but it's pretty harrowing without Dean around."

Bowman glanced over his shoulder and gave a nod of acknowledgement. In the meantime, they had a task ahead of them. "We're almost to that boulder," he announced.

The boulder came into view only minutes later, the bushes still showing some of the blood splatters from the death of the wolf. The early morning dew hadn't completely evaporated into the air, leaving the leaves glistening in the dark brown shades of blood. Dean made his way back over to the boulder, examining the ground. The decaying spots from the wolves footsteps were still there, but without the catalyst of the wolf the decay had halted at the same six inch radius. "Small favors," he murmured to himself thoughtfully. The last thing they needed was the forest to decay even after the wolves and the lich had been handled. Dean didn't want the sprites that lived in the lush forest to have to relocate because of that.

Once he was certain there was no other sign that the wolf had returned, Dean swiveled around to catch Bowman in his gaze. "So, you said you could find that other campground from here?"

Bowman jolted slightly. The human's intensity never seemed to waver, and now that he was on the trail it was more prevalent. Bowman was glad he'd struck up an alliance with the guy, because all snark aside, Dean could certainly be intimidating. Despite that, Bowman scoffed quietly at the question.

"Ha. Well, I dunno, can you find the back of your own hand?" Bowman retorted. When in doubt, sarcasm won out. His voice was confident as he turned in the air to lead the way. "Just try to keep up," he called back over his shoulder, a faint smirk on his face.

Bowman knew, thanks to Jacob's input, that he could be tough to see at times, so he tried to fly a little lower for Dean's benefit. He darted through beams of greenish gold sunlight and glided under low hanging branches. It was nervewracking to stay out of the cover of the leaves so much, but he didn't want Dean to start shouting and drawing all attention in their direction.

"That picture in the, uh, alert, it showed some birch trees I recognized," he explained, making noise so it'd be even easier to follow him. It was completely counter-intuitive to the way he'd grown up. He might as well be walking on the ground for all the good his stealthier skills were doing him. "I probably know this forest better than anyone, even the other patrolsprites don't fly out this far."

Leading new humans further into the forest ... Bowman knew he needed their help. But he still felt like he was placing a lot of trust in Dean, so soon after the human had grabbed him and kidnapped him. Even though they came to an agreement, Bowman was cautious. At least the sooner they dealt with the problem, the sooner that lich would be gone. They might even solve things without ever revealing the village to the odd humans.

Sam tightened his grip as Dean huffed along in the sprite's wake. At least while they were on this case he didn't have to worry about staying out of sight and in the pocket. It wasn't easy, but Sam had become so adjusted to staying on Dean's shoulder that he no longer had issues keeping balanced, as long as there were no sudden jerks or jolts from the massive human. He was like a sailor on a ship.

No way better to travel than by shoulder, Sam thought wryly to himself.

Dean was too out of breath from keeping up with Bowman flitting in and out of sight so Sam took it upon himself to continue talking to the sprite. It wasn't like he had anything better to do with Dean doing all the hard work.

"So Bowman, how come you're the only one that travels this close to the outskirts of the forest? Wouldn't it be smart to keep a constant watch on the area, in case any other humans come near?"

Bowman's flight took on a meandering pattern. He was letting himself enjoy the simple feeling of flying, despite how dire the situation really was. He glanced over his shoulder to look at how casually Sam rode upon Dean's shoulder. Like it was the most natural place for him to be. Seemed they were both in their element.

"That's what I said," he replied. "But nobody else wants to fly this far out here. It was hard enough to convince them to expand the patrol radius to the fence." Before Jacob and his friends had crossed the fence and met Bowman the first time, the sprites hadn't even known the metal structure was even there. In a way, ignorance was bliss. But Bowman didn't regret knowing these looming threats existed beyond the forest.

Bowman had 'discovered' humans, and alerted everyone to the need to pay more attention to the world beyond their village in the center of the forest. "Technically we're not supposed to fly past the fence," he finally admitted, turning a sheepish smirk back at Sam. "Humans are allowed on this side, but they're not supposed to go past it. It's safer. But I wanted to see the forest, so I did. This way I know about trouble before it gets anywhere near home."

“It’s a good idea to keep an eye on things, see if anyone gets too close to the fence,” Dean allowed. “But you should be more careful. If the wrong humans catch sight of you, it could put your entire village in danger.” He cocked his head at Sam. “I’ve heard of people going after people like Sam just because they’re not ‘human.' Trying to exterminate them just like pests…” Dean shook his head, aggravated. “As though they’re a threat to anyone. They’re just trying to live their own lives.”

He frowned at the memory of Sam’s family, allowing himself to worry about them once more. It would kill Sam if anything happened to them, and Dean would take it just as hard. Thank god they’d left his number if anything was to happen… he'd go back there in an instant if they called.

Bowman threw Dean a flat look. "Oh, Spirit's dance, you're totally right. Anyone could just snatch me out of the air and drag me out of my own home against my will," he replied, his voice filled to the brim with sarcasm and erasing any doubt about who he was talking about. It was like Dean forgot about how they had met in the first place. Almost subconsciously, Bowman flapped his wings a little harder to put himself higher in the air as he flew along.

Normally, Bowman didn't get anywhere as close to the ground outside the village as he was even now. He stayed high in the trees, where a human would have little hope of noticing him against a backdrop of rustling green leaves. And, towards the edge of the forest and the actual camping area, if Bowman heard signs of humans, he turned back before ever seeing them. Better to be safe than sorry.

He hated being caught in a human's hand. Having no control over what they did with him. More often than not getting his wings pulled open by someone too curious to leave them alone. It was a nightmare.

"Besides. Someone already came in planning to exterminate us. And he didn't care about the fence," Bowman added, a resentful tone creeping into his voice to replace the sass. "He was going to try to take me and my family out of the forest to prove we exist and bring more humans back to round up the rest." Bowman sent a hard look over his shoulder, bright green eyes focusing steadily on Dean's own. "It didn't work. Now I watch to make sure no one comes close to getting their hands on my family again. Dare you to say I shouldn't," he challenged.

Green eyes meet green eyes in a look of shared understanding. If there was anything Dean empathized with, it was protecting your family. "The last thing I'd ever tell you is to not protect your family," Dean said. "There's nothing in this world that matters more."

His eyes sought out Sam, but couldn't make him out the way he was leaning against Dean's neck. A comforting weight to have there, forever reassuring Dean that he was alright. Safe. "Family is family, no matter their size. No one can ever tell me Sam is anything less, or his family doesn't deserve to be treated like equals. Every one of them matters just as much as I do, and I'll be damned if I ever let any one of them get hurt," Dean continued. "You do whatever it takes to keep your family safe, Bowman."

Bowman fell silent for once, thinking heavily about Dean's words. It seemed that they had the same idea about what was important. Bowman could hardly believe that he'd found common ground with the human so soon after their rough start. But, it did track with his own views on humans. If they could just stop grabbing for a second and open their blasted minds a little, it was quite possible to get along with sprites.

That didn't mean it'd be safe to seek out their friendship, of course. Bowman knew well that it really only took one bad human to nearly destroy everything he cared about.

"We're almost --" he started, but the words cut off when he saw a flash of bright yellow ahead. In moments it was revealed to be a bright yellow plastic twine. The thin rope was wrapped around two tree trunks, creating what Bowman guessed might have been a clothesline. Beyond it was a tight clearing in the woods, and the obvious site of the last wolf attack.

There were still a few shredded human things strewn about, and the white trunks of the birch trees nearby were splattered with the rusty color of dried blood. Bowman made a disgusted face to see the violent scene, and his mind's eye reenacted what must have happened without him willing it to. The air still carried traces of the dark magic that accompanied the undead wolves wherever they went.

Bowman flitted down to hover near a fern that had completely withered, its leaves shriveled and black. He brushed his fingertips over the deadened leaves, and looked back up at Dean as he arrived at the yellow string. "We're here," he announced.

"Awesome," Dean muttered. He dropped his duffel on the ground, glad to relieve himself of the weight. He reached up, scooping Sam into his hand. Sam slid off near the edge of the shredded tent so he could start examining the scene.

Dean straightened and turned back to the sprite. "We'll be here when you get back. Just be careful, alright?" He winked at Bowman. "We need you backing us up."

Bowman looked up from the deadened plant and nodded. "You'll barely blink," he assured the human confidently. He flew to the opposite edge of the clearing and paused to look back. Sam, though sprite sized and seemingly perfectly capable of looking out for himself, seemed so far away on the ground. The way he stood out, it was far more obvious to Bowman. At least he had Dean nearby.

The sprite turned and disappeared from the clearing, darting away towards the fence as quickly as he could. He had a lot of ground to cover, but thankfully Bowman was a swift flyer and he should be able to get there in little time.

A strange, familiar feeling suddenly struck him. Foreboding. The kind he felt at night when he knew an owl was nearby, stalking on silent wings. The kind he felt when he knew a fox was keeping watch.

And, of course, the kind of foreboding one might feel if undead wolves were on the hunt nearby. Bowman hovered in the air, far above the ground, and listened.

Sam set himself to examining the patch of deadened, blackened ground near where Dean had dropped him off while Bowman took his leave. Being so small came in handy when searching for clues. He saw details that Dean would never even notice.

Dean's long shadow fell over the area Sam was examining, blocking the sunlight from hitting the ground and casting the decayed ground into darkness. Sam gave a sad sigh as he realized the decay extended down into the earth, creating a radius of death. Even the earthworms had the life sapped from their bodies.

Sam was distracted from these thoughts when he realized Dean hadn't budged an inch since Bowman had flitted off. He was silent, sharp eyes examining the campground far above Sam's head.

"Dean? What's...?" Sam was cut off with an abrupt gesture as Dean motioned for silence.

They both listened to the forest. Sam slowly realized what had Dean on edge.

"You hear that?" Dean asked, his voice hushed.

"Yeah." Sam's hand went to his knife, unconsciously tightening on the handle. "Not even crickets."

A crackling in the bushes behind Dean had him whip around, senses on red alert. His handgun was out and ready to fire before he'd turned fully in place.

There was nothing there.

Dean was baffled for a moment. His instincts never lied... yet the forest behind was as peaceful as it had ever been, mocking him in the silence.

"Dean?!"

The alarm in Sam's quiet voice had Dean twisting back around as fast as he could, bringing the gun to bear. Something was wrong.

He locked eyes on the wolf that had been skulking up behind him. It froze at his glare, a low, rippling growl escaping the decaying throat.

Movement to the side heralded the arrival of two more wolves, one sniffing the air in Sam's direction.

"Oh, hell no," Dean growled, just as vicious as the animals before him.

The silent standoff shattered. Dean pulled the trigger on the wolf eyeing his little brother up as an early morning snack. It went down with a sickening thud as the other two leapt at Dean, lips drawn back into snarls as they lunged in unison for his throat.

"Sam! Get under cover!"

With the abruptness of the attack and pandemonium that ensued, neither of them noticed the fourth wolf, stalking Sam.

Chapter Text

Bowman whirled in the air just when the unmistakable echo of a gunshot rang through the woods, rattling the leaves and bouncing off tree trunks. His instincts were on high alert, the instincts of something that knew what it was to be hunted. He darted back towards the clearing, his wings a green blur.

Have to make it back, he repeated in his mind over and over as he hurtled towards where he'd left the humans. The village needed to be warned, but those two were in danger now.

He halted at the edge of the clearing, bright green eyes surveying the situation in a matter of a second or two. Dean had two rotting but vicious wolves leaping at him at once. One lay dead with disgusting, dead blood oozing from its skull.

A fourth was crouched low to the ground as it inched towards Sam.

Sam, the small human that didn't have wings of his own to get out of there. Who didn't even notice the predator ready to make a meal of him, because he was so preoccupied with watching his massive brother. Who had been kind to Bowman, even when Dean suspected the sprite of causing this mess in the first place.

"Sam, look out!" Bowman cried, diving for the ground. His wings opened, making a low snapping sound as they filled with air and halted his dive. He landed on the ground, halfway between the wolf and Sam. The wolf had just tensed its legs to spring forward, but it almost stumbled over itself thanks to Bowman's distraction. It made a low, frustrated chuffing noise before growling quietly.

"That's right, I'm a bigger target, huh?" Bowman goaded loudly, spreading his wings wide and effectively hiding Sam from the wolf's captivated view. Bowman's heart fluttered in his chest, demanding that he get as high as he could to avoid the teeth and claws of the creature observing him.

With Sam so vulnerable on the ground and Dean too preoccupied to get him to safety, Bowman couldn't rely on his usual strategy. He glanced over his shoulder to meet Sam's surprised gaze. It was a brief look, barely long enough to tell Sam with his expression to Hide, blast it, before Bowman's wings beat downwards and swiftly carried him off to the side. The wolf's growl grew louder as it gave chase, heavy paws stirring up the dirt as they launched the wolf after the sprite.

Bowman kept himself only two or three feet from the ground, zig-zagging away from Sam to give him time to find cover. "Come on, you mangy thing," he called, looking over his shoulder at the foul creature. The air was full of that dark magic, and Bowman thought if it were any thicker he might actually choke on it.

One of the wolves attacking Dean jumped back, ready to pounce at the human again. It landed in Bowman's path, prompting him to bank sharply to the side in alarm. The pack mentality of the wolf pursuing him led it to dart aside as well, as if practicing a dance with its fellow wolf that they'd memorized years ago. Bowman, still watching the wolf that leapt at Dean, didn't see a powerful paw swiping at him until it collided heavily with his side.

No! He spun a few times before hitting the hard ground and rolling over and over. Somehow, he avoided snapping his wings, though his whole body felt like a bruise after that fall. In a daze, Bowman sluggishly pulled his wings towards himself protectively and pushed himself up with one hand to look for where Sam had ended up.

Dean grunted as the wolves slammed into him. One locked its jaws around the arm he'd thrown up to protect his upper body, the other knocked the gun from his hand, skidding away a few feet on the ground. With a reckless lunge, Dean slammed his shoulder into the second wolf to knock it away, taking advantage of the moment its teeth weren't pointed in his direction. He could feel how easily his blow forced bones and muscles into unnatural angles for a moment. The wolf was barely held together.

The other wolf tightened its grip on his arm, an icy cold seeping through the jacket where the rotting teeth broke skin. It let out a victorious growl with the realization it was winning, even while one of its back paws scrabbled against the denim of his jeans, claws too dull to tear it.

While the second wolf twisted itself back onto its feet, Dean punched the wolf attached to his arm on the snout. It was knocked clear with a surprised whine just as Dean heard shouting come from where Sam had been before the fight started.

He twisted in place, yanking out a silver dagger from his jacket as the wolves closed in on him again. A flash of green wings and the shaggy coat of another wolf was all he had time to make out as the two wolves double teaming him lunged again, completely in sync.

Dean didn't have time to wonder about the unnatural actions (what part of this was natural, anyway?), far too busy slashing with the knife. He caught the second wolf across a front leg and its dead black eyes widened in surprise as the silver sank into its skin. The silver would slow its recovery, giving him time to get his hands on his gun and put it out of its misery. The first wolf danced backwards out of Dean's reach, right as the fourth and final wolf barreled through, chasing a green flash with a determined glint.

That was all Dean had time to make out before the first wolf went for him a third time. He dove to the side, misjudging the distance between him and the gun. Falling with a heavy thud, his fingers clawed in the dirt and patches of grass that had managed to avoid the decaying footsteps of the wolves. As the snarling wolf closed in, the second recovered and was on its feet again.

The smell of rot almost had a physical presence, like a heavy hand placed over Dean's face. It tried to gag him while he scrabbled for the gun, and the wolves seemed to slow down as they closed in on him.

They were certain they'd won.

Sam's mouth was an 'O' as Bowman yelled, diving between him and a wolf he'd never seen approaching. For a few brief seconds, it reminded him of the way he'd stood in between Dean and the sprite when his brother lunged for the tiny guy in the vent.

The illusion shattered as the wolf growled. The dangerous, chilling sound rippled all around them. The stark difference between the two situations stood out with the realization that if the wolf got its fangs on either Bowman or Sam, they wouldn't stand a chance. One snap of its jaws would make them into a bite-sized snack in the most literal way.

Sam watched in amazement as Bowman goaded the wolf into following him. He was too shell-shocked to move, feet almost cemented to the ground. The flight of Bowman combined with the sight of Dean's immense, desperate struggle above them combined into the sense that Sam was reliving Godzilla vs. Mothra, with the same front row seat the city goers in the movie had had while two monsters tore through their homes. Suddenly, the memory of Bowman's awestruck concern as he watched the film didn't seem so out of place.

Sam was broken from his stupor when Dean slammed to the ground, the thud of his landing knocking Sam's feet out from under him. Scrambling back up, he saw a wolf swipe Bowman out of the air. The sound of a gunshot drowned out Sam's voice as he yelled "Bowman, LOOK OUT! " while running towards the sprite. His own safety never occurred to him as he ran towards the fight, desperately wishing he was fast enough to help out. Why couldn't his legs be longer?!

Two inches just wasn't cutting it.

A second gunshot rang out. A pair of bright green eyes locked with his. The sprite, dazed on the ground, only seemed to come to his senses and realize his plight when the wolf's disgusting breath was already bearing down on him. His expression, so far away, filled with horror, only to disappear as Sam saw the fourth wolf closing its jaws around Bowman.

And then, like he was little more than a stray piece of food, the wolf snapped Bowman up off the ground.

There was no room for rational thought as panic surged through every vein in Bowman's body, from the soles of his feet to the tips of his wings. He cried out in unfathomable terror and writhed in the damp, tight space within the wolf's mouth. He barely noticed the icy pain when he scratched his leg on one of the beast's teeth, so overwhelming was his fear and disgust. Hot breath that smelled of decay made Bowman gag and cough between his desperate cries of fear.

Spirit, no, no no, I didn't warn anyone yet, now I'm going to die, oh please no!

He had pulled his wings close to himself. By some stroke of twisted luck they were caught somewhat crumpled at his back, but hadn't been punctured on the rotting teeth that caged him in. They pulsed weakly in time with Bowman's desperate struggles, even as the mouth around him inevitably soaked him in disgusting slime, making his hands slide as he desperately pushed against the restraints around him. Barely any light seeped in, but Bowman anticipated that at any second, the wolf would snap its jaws shut and end his life in one simple motion. That's what happened to sprites that got caught unaware by wolves.

Bowman felt the creature raise its ugly head, still not biting down on him. He continued to struggle and yell in a blind panic, even as the wolf paused for an instant. All he heard was a low rumbling growl that rattled in his heaving chest, and all he felt was the oppressive confinement and the sickening presence of that twisted life energy. What is it waiting for? No matter what anyone did now, the wolf had him. Bowman was a goner.

He was going to die and his family would never know the threat that stalked in the woods.

It turned rapidly, whipping its head away from the clearing. "NO! " Bowman screamed, feeling the first steps that the beast took as it began to carry him away.

Away from Sam and Dean.

Away from any hope of help.

Dean shoved the corpse off of him angrily, pulling himself to a stand. A few brief seconds to register what was happening was all he needed.

Bowman had saved Sammy. Sammy was running along the ground, waving his arms desperately at the fourth and final wolf. The last wolf's sunset-orange eyes glinted at the brothers as it picked its head up off the ground, something green and struggling in its jaws.

That was all the time Dean had before the wolf growled a warning at them, whipping around to dart off into the woods. Dean brought his handgun to bear, realizing the sprite he had to thank for Sam being alive... stupid fourth wolf, how did I miss it? was trapped in its jaws, still struggling, still alive for the moment.

He aimed. The wolf started to run. Dean cursed under his breath, knowing any shot he took at the head could hit Bowman. From this line of sight, he couldn't see where the sprite was being held. "C'mon... c'mon, you sick puppy..." Dean muttered, searching for a shot.

He tracked the wolf steadily, aim unwavering. C'mon... The wolf didn't slow. Its long, loping strides were carrying it speedily away.

No time to waste. Dean saw his chance, and took it.

Two gunshots echoed through the silent, still forest.

The first shot drilled into the wolf's back, cutting through bone and sinew alike. It severed the spine, snapping the wolf's jaw open. Bowman was thrown through the air like a ragdoll, landing in the bushes. The second shot slammed into the back of the wolf's head, killing it. The last wolf dropped to the ground, dead.

Again.

Breathing heavily, Dean lowered his gun. He surveyed the scene, taking in the scattered corpses of the wolves. His left arm ached with an icy, numbing pain where one of the wolves had bitten him. Sam was still running on the ground, trying to reach Bowman with a desperate sprint. It took three easy strides to reach the small, running form. Dean scooped Sam up on the way, lifting him to his shoulder. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, fine." Sam didn't even gripe about being grabbed off the ground without warning, he was so worried about Bowman.

Dean reached where Bowman had landed. Gently, he scooped the small sprite out of the foliage into his hand. Lifting him to his eyes, Dean checked to make sure he was still breathing. The small chest rose and fell under his watchful eyes. Oh, thank god...Dean thought. With a careful finger, he straightened the delicate wings so they weren't lying twisted on his palm. "Hey..." he said softly. "Bowman. C'mon man, you gotta be okay."

Bowman's thoughts lagged far behind in his semi-conscious state. The complete and absolute terror of finding himself caught in the maw of the forest's most fearsome predator still ran rampant in his mind and body. Uncontrollable shivering left his arms and legs and wings feeling like they were made of jelly. The canopy so far above was a blur of green, gold, and blinding white where the sunlight lanced through, but Bowman could still hardly believe he was seeing that again after his brush with death.

He hadn't expected to be released from the wolf's sharp clutches. He hadn't expected to fly through the air and hit the foliage, somehow with all of his limbs in place. He hadn't expected to be scooped up in a gigantic hand...

Aimless fear shifted focus for a second. Bowman came to with a sharp gasp and a strangled yelp, trying to sit up but falling right back down as he scrambled back in surprise. He leaned against Dean's curled fingers with one hand half-raised in front of him in perplexed defense.

"Huh? Dean?" The fog of terror began to dissipate as he caught up with himself, and Bowman stared in shock at the huge face before him. Dean hadn't grabbed him. Even when touching his wings with powerful fingers, Dean had merely freed them from an awkward angle.

The sprite lowered his hand and his gaze, and checked over himself for injury. He grimaced faintly at the gash on the back of his calf, a cold, stinging feeling radiating from it. But, when Bowman tried to fold his wings to his back and found them still damp and sticky from the wolf's mouth, a look of pure and utter disgust came to his face. He ruffled them, trying to get the leafy appendages dry.

Terrified. Disgusted. Alive.

Bowman looked back at Dean, and then he rapidly searched for Sam, finding the smaller human perched on Dean's shoulder. Bowman's breathing still came rapidly and his throat was sore from screaming his lungs out in fear. A few lingering tremors swept up and down his spine as he thought about just how close he had come to being eaten.

"C-can't leave y-you guys alone for a s-second, can I?" Bowman remarked wryly, lingering fear shaking his voice. Alive. He was still alive. The cut on his leg was painful, and he was battered from falling, but he had survived. Thanks, it would seem, to the human that held him now.

"At least I wasn't the one substituting for puppy chow," Dean snarked back. Despite his words, his voice was quiet and full of respect for what Bowman had gone through for them. It wasn't everyday you almost got eaten. Noticing the sprite's discomfort, he slipped his free hand into his jacket, wincing at the icy pain in his arm. He withdrew a clean handkerchief, offering it to Bowman, who took it gratefully. The sprite wiped himself off the best he could, lips pursed in a disgusted pout.

Sam braced himself against Dean's neck, pulling himself to an unsteady stand with Dean standing still. He took note of the pained movements in his brother and Bowman while he addressed the sprite. "Bowman, what you did back there... thanks. Really. You didn't have to put yourself at risk like that, but I'm glad you did."

"Y-yeah, anytime," Bowman muttered back, sparing Sam a glance before returning to his task. He thought he might never get rid of the gross feeling. His wings still trembled with adrenaline. "You needed help and the giant here was busy."

The sprite carefully wrapped his wings around to rest them on his lap to get them clean. He made sure not to miss anything, also lightly checking the bones for any sprains. That done, he folded them to his back and sighed to release some of the tension wound up in his shoulders. His wings were unscathed. Now for the rest of him...

"First sprite in the woods to get caught by a wolf and not get eaten," Bowman grumbled.

"You'll have some stories to tell after today, that's for sure," Dean said.

Bowman grimaced and bit back a hiss of pain when he pressed the handkerchief to the gash on his leg. The icy, almost deadened feeling didn't let up. In fact, Bowman suddenly got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Did, uh, either of you get scratched or anything?" Bowman asked, regarding both brothers in turn. Sam seemed unhurt, but Dean had fought two wolves at once. And the fact that the sickly feeling of that dark magic didn't recede filled Bowman with a new, subtle dread. "I think ... some of that magic got on me." He was almost positive. It was not magic that his body was meant to deal with. Bowman felt a rising discomfort spreading from his wound to the rest of him.

Dean winced at the icy pain in his arm. "Yeah, one of those undead creeps sunk their fangs into me before I ventilated it."

Dean extended his arm for Sam and Bowman to see. The wound itself was hidden by the thick sleeve, but the places fangs had broken through were clear. A good portion of his jacket sleeve was blood soaked, punctures through the jacket smack in the center of the blood. He could feel Sam's small hand clench where it braced against his neck at the sight of the massive wound. "It just feels... cold. Like ice shooting into my arm."

Bowman winced, recognizing the description. Dean's sleeve looked like it had seen better days, and the sprite could only imagine how bad his arm looked. "Those things spread death and decay where they step, and where they bite, apparently," he answered hesitantly.

Bowman knew of something that could probably help. He was hesitant to mention it, because as he'd told Sam, no human had come to the village before. But, he and Dean both needed the help of a wood sprite gifted in Prayer to flush out the twisted life energy that snuck into their systems.

"... We should go to my village," Bowman finally replied. "I'm sure there's a Prayer to fix this. And there's definitely one to help with healing." He tore his gaze away from Dean's injured arm to meet Dean's gaze before looking to Sam. "I guess you'll get to see it after all."

Sam couldn't help the amazement on his face, despite everything else that had occurred. "Really? You'd bring a human back there?" It was clear he understood the gravity of what Bowman had said. After all, his own people were properly wary of humans. It had taken Dean rescuing Sam and four others to earn enough trust to find out where Krissy lived. Their father had been with them at the time, and Sam knew John Winchester would never be trusted with that much vulnerability. He was too unpredictable, too dangerous.

For a moment he let himself imagine what it might be like. A place in the forest, sequestered from humanity. Being surrounded by people his size, no matter that they had wings or not. He might stick out like a sore thumb, if they all were close in appearance to Bowman, but that didn't matter. The opportunity was one he couldn't pass up.

He came back to the conversation right as Dean was talking to Bowman, asking about his wings. "If you want to give them a rest, after..." Dean nudged the wolf's corpse out of the way with a look of disgust, "that, you're welcome to sit on my shoulder." He gave an attempt at a cocky grin, offset by the clear pain in his eyes from his injury. "It's not like either of you will weigh me down."

Bowman was still a little hesitant to be taking Sam and Dean right up to his home. After all, he hadn't even brought Jacob to the village before, no matter how much the human asked. Now he would probably have to bring the guy back whenever he returned to visit, if he was taking these two there.

But, he had to remind himself that, after saving him from the literal jaws of the enemy, Dean could be trusted with the knowledge. Now his only dilemma was whether or not he should take up the offer to sit on the human's shoulder. The thought of relying on a human to take him somewhere clashed with his own pride and independence. But, his wings were a bit sore from all of his recent falls and from getting rumpled up in a wolf's mouth.

Ugh. Of all the reasons to have sore wings.

Bowman's eyes strayed back to Sam, who made standing on a human's shoulder look so easy. "I guess, that would, uh, be a good idea," he relented. "I'll point you in the right direction. But before you get too close I'll have to fly ahead and, y'know, give everyone a heads-up. There's never been a human there before."

And, Spirit help me, I'm the one breaking that record.

"Do what you have to," Dean said reassuringly, willing to trust Bowman after watching him almost sacrifice himself to save Sam. Bowman had earned that much from them.

Before lifting Bowman to his shoulder, Dean grabbed the duffel where he'd left it at the edge of the clearing. Sam was used to him moving like that but he didn't want to risk tossing Bowman off so soon. He could feel Sam hunker back down when he grabbed the duffel, getting into a safer position while the larger human ducked down.

That done, he lifted the hand holding Bowman up to the left shoulder, opposite from where Sam was sitting. "Just tell me where to go and we'll be there in no time," Dean said confidently. He ignored a sharp, icy pain from his arm, shifting the duffel to his good arm as soon as he could. It took all he had to keep from rolling his shoulders in discomfort from the pain.

Trying to ignore it, Dean focused on the task at hand. "Ready when you are, small fry."

Bowman sighed quietly, a flat look on his face. "Sure thing, Godzilla," he retorted, hoping he was getting the reference right. He shifted on his perch, making sure to keep a steadying hand on the collar of the jacket Dean wore. For balance, he tentatively unfurled his wings and let them rest over the back of Dean's shoulder, swaying a little in every breeze.

After finally settling himself on his strange perch, Bowman looked up to survey the area. He tried to ignore the fact that he felt every little twitch and sway the human made beneath him. It was entirely different from sitting on a human's hand. Up here they were almost level with each other, even without Bowman putting effort into hovering.

"That way," he announced, pointing one hand in the direction he knew led to the fence. He hurriedly put his hand down and braced it on the jacket beneath him when Dean started in that direction. It was so bizarre to think that, on just the other side of Dean's neck, Sam could be snoozing for all Bowman knew. He was used to this.

Baffling.

They traveled like that for some time. If Dean veered too far to one side or the other, Bowman would correct him with a snarky statement. Dean usually had a sarcastic response to match, though Bowman got the sense that he was beginning to feel the strain as time went on. It was a long hike, even without a strange, deathly magic weighing down one arm.

Bowman glanced at his leg, feeling the same heavy cold feeling in it. He could only hope they would arrive on time to halt the slow spread of that decay before it did lasting damage. He wiped some sweat from his brow. The twisted magic clashed with Bowman's body, being the exact opposite of what he and all wood sprites were made for. Life energy, and the magic of the Earth Spirit, unspoiled by the lich's foul designs.

Getting past the fence was simple. Bowman directed Dean to the gate, which was often left unlocked. Once beyond it, the trek was a little more straightforward. Bowman wondered if any of the other patrol sprites had noticed Dean yet. The closer they got, the more likely it was. Soon he'd have to go on ahead and announce the human's approach, so no one panicked.

"Okay, Dean, stop for a second," Bowman finally said. When the massive steps halted, he pushed himself forward off of Dean's shoulder, quickly catching himself with his wings and flying up so he was eye level with the towering man. "I'm going to go ahead and let them know you're coming." He glanced up at the canopy, judging the angle of the sunbeams that peeked through. "Give me, maybe, twenty minutes to spread the word. Then just keep walking straight ahead. You, uh, probably won't miss it. There's going to be a cottonwood tree near a stand of pine trees, and you'll be able to see our homes in the branches. There's a stream that runs alongside the village. Wait by that?"

After his explanation, Bowman waited to make sure the brothers didn't have any questions before he left them on their own. And then, he turned and darted away.

Chapter Text

Sam watched the sprite flit off into the trees, leaving them behind. Dean let out a heavy sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow with his good arm. Sam held tightly to the collar at the unexpected movement, but didn't complain. He didn't have the heart for it any more than Dean did.

Over the last hour, Dean's movements had become more sluggish, his snark slowing down compared to normal. Sam could feel a pang of fear whenever he caught sight of Dean's arm. His brother had tied a tourniquet to slow the bleeding while he was walking, but the red stain had continued to spread.

Dean was weakening, and there was nothing he could do.

"Dean, how--" Sam's query was cut short when the massive hunter suddenly dropped down, going to a sit with his legs crossed. He leaned back against a tree, closing his eyes to the silence of the forest.

It took Sam a few moments to recover, shoulders slightly shaking from the terror of the ground dropping out from under him. It gave the effect of being trapped in free-fall, with no seatbelt to secure him in place. Dean had never done anything like that without warning, or making sure Sam was secure.

"Dean, you alright?" Sam asked worriedly once he caught his breath again. The huge hunter was paler than normal, his lips a brighter pink against the whitened skin.

A green eye cracked open, searching out Sam. "Yeah, Sammy. I'll be okay. Just... gotta rest for a bit..."

Worry spiked in Sam even more. It wasn't like Dean to just rest like this... not on a case... and with his injury beyond Sam's ability to handle, Sam couldn't risk him dropping off into a deep sleep. Most of the time, Dean was an extraordinarily light sleeper, waking at the smallest noises around him (like Sam, arguing with his father by Dean's laptop that first time they'd met up again), but other times nothing could budge him, come hell or high water.

Standing precariously on his perch, Sam shoved roughly against Dean's cheek. It was clammy to the touch, ratcheting Sam's worry up another notch. "C'mon, Godzilla. No falling asleep. You have townspeople to terrify."

This elicited a grumble from the hunter, but nothing more. Thankful that Dean was still responsive, Sam started to climb down the long sleeve to where Dean's hands were folded on his lap.

He had an idea.

During the climb, Sam kept up a steady stream of words, hoping to keep Dean's attention focused on him and away from the lure of sleep. It was worth a shot.

"Y'know, I always think of you as more of a Mothra than a Godzilla. After all, you're the one who's supposed to be saving everyone, right? Protecting the little guys. Meanwhile, we've got Godzilla and his undead pet wolves roaming the woods, happily eviscerating campers and hikers on sight."

Sam paused in his meandering when he dropped down from Dean's arm, landing on the thigh. "But not eviscerating sprites..." he said in slow realization. "Bowman's in one piece, and that wolf had plenty of opportunities to chow down on him."

Shaking it off, he dropped down from Dean's leg into the foliage below. He kept himself more alert this time, remembering Bowman's admonishments. Not to mention if he got himself into trouble here, Bowman wasn't around to shove him out of it and Dean was in no condition to help. He was well and truly on his own.

Luckily, it seemed as though Dean's proximity alone (shown by the huge denim wall arching up behind Sam) had scattered away any creepy crawlies, all of the bugs keeping a wary distance from the dangerous hunter. After all, it would only take one short movement for Dean to squash any of the critters down here with Sam. He was glad he didn't have to be worried about that. Dean would never let anything happen to him, even in his injured daze.

He jogged over to the duffel bag nearby, which Dean had dropped a foot away when sinking to the ground. Climbing it, he continued to verbally prod Dean away from sleep.

"Plus, you should be ecstatic to be Mothra. You're the Good Guy, protecting Tokyo from the big bad Godzilla. Just imagine all the Busty Asian Beauties around once you save the city." Sam rolled his eyes at the thought. "Honestly, you should probably try for abit more variety in your porn. You're getting predictable, Mothra."

The edge of the duffel had the zipper open a crack. Sam had an easy time dropping in, landing on the shotgun Dean had packed earlier that day. He slipped off with a curse, losing his footing in the dark space. The ground crinkled around him when he landed, the M&M's Dean had bought at the Gas 'n Sip 'cushioning' his fall.

With a grumble, Sam stood up on the unsteady ground. The M&M's beneath his feet shifted, almost making him lose his balance again while he made his way to more solid ground. Before he stepped off, he did make sure to slice the bag open, grabbing one of the head-sized candies to tuck away in his bag for later. Or for chucking at Dean. Whichever worked.

Spotting what he had come for, Sam clambered back up the shotgun. One of the granola bars was balanced precariously on the edge, not far from where he'd jumped in. It was an inch longer than he was, making it unwieldy as he attempted to maneuver it out of the duffel. He was lucky it wasn't too heavy for him to lift. That would make the entire trip pointless.

Eventually he managed to push it onto the top of the duffel bag. Sam froze when he sensed eyes on him, then relaxed when he saw it was just Dean, staring down at him with his green eyes open barely a crack. Dean relaxed a hair when Sam emerged, his posture tense and high-strung.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Sam called up as he grabbed the granola and started to haul it towards his brother along the unsteady canvas.

Dean's voice was unsteady while he talked. "Got worried." The green eyes closed again. "You stopped talking... then I looked for you and you were gone! " Sam was surprised to hear naked fear in Dean's voice. The injury must be hitting him harder than he'd first thought. Dean almost never showed emotion so freely. "Didn't want... to chance you going off and getting hurt..." Dean's voice trailed off.

"I was just getting you some food, that's all." Sam hefted the granola bar to demonstrate. He kept his tone calm and level, hoping that it would help Dean relax a little. "We've been out here hours and I don't think you ate anything at all this morning unless you went out while I was asleep." Once he saw Dean shake his head in a silent 'no,' Sam lifted the granola bar into his arms. "So why don't you share one of these with me? Might help keep your strength up until we get to the sprites."

"Thankss... Sammy."

Sam jumped when Dean's huge hand reached for the bar, not only scooping up the granola, but taking Sam along for the ride in a clammy hold. "Hey, what's the big idea!" He did his best not to struggle. It had been ages since he'd been grabbed like that.

Some of Dean's normal personality showed through in a snort. "Like I'm gonna let you go trekking around on the ground again, Mr. 'I didn't notice a spider nest when I was right on top of it.' "

"That's not the point!" Sam grumbled, squirming against the powerful fingers. Dean released him, letting Sam drop to one of his bent knees. "You should have at least warned me!"

The green eyes overhead rolled. "You survived fine, pint-size. Chill." He tore into the granola bar Sam had given him, breaking off a little chunk for Sam before taking a huge bite of the snack.

Sam accepted it, digging into his with far smaller bites. All was quiet for a few peaceful moments. Despite his arguing and temporary annoyance with Dean, Sam enjoyed knowing his brother was okay for now, reacting to his jabs like normal.

Once they were both finished, Dean tucked the wrapper in his jacket pocket and held a hand out to Sam. Some of the color had returned to his face so Sam knew his injury had been compounded by the lacking food. He climbed onto the hand, letting Dean lift him back up to his shoulder.

"You think it's been twenty minutes?" Dean asked.

"About that, at least. Plus we've still got some walking left. We should head out," he jerked his head at Dean, "before you go nodding off on me again."

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled. He hauled himself to his feet with a slight stumble. A flash of pain showed on his face before being covered up by stubborn determination. He grabbed his duffel and started trudging in the direction Bowman had indicated before leaving them.

“So, do you have any idea what a cottonwood tree looks like?” Dean asked as he trudged along.

Sam pursed his lips. “Not a clue,” he admitted. “I’m not exactly the wilderness expert over here, remember?”

Dean gave a slight shrug. Not enough to knock Sam off balance, luckily. Dean wasn't acting like normal at all. It was like he kept forgetting where Sam was sitting.

“Can’t be that hard to spot, right?”

Sam scoffed at that. “This is coming from the guy that almost got us lost going back to the car.”

“Hey, I knew exactly where I was the entire time!" Dean shot back. "Besides, how would you have any idea? You were in the pocket the whole way!”

With the constant bickering, Dean’s spirits stayed up, making the last small distance easy to cross. Sam was successfully keeping his mind off the injury.

The little stream came into view, trickling along past the trees. What Bowman had dubbed a cottonwood tree was made clear in the strong, pale-barked branches and verdant, spade-shaped leaves and small puffs of pure white fluff spreading out over the landscape. Small homes were visible in the branches in the area, as natural as though they’d been grown with the trees.

For the moment, Dean paid no mind to anything past the crystal clear water. He reached it at last with a sigh, sinking to the ground. He scooped up a tiny amount in his hands, splashing his face clean with a relieved smile.

The village seemed to stand still when it came into view. Bowman could only guess that every patrolsprite on duty had been on high alert since Dean passed through the fence. Not all of them would have looked closely enough to see Bowman on the human's shoulder, either. Patrol was, if nothing else, quick to spread the word. There was nobody doing their washing at the stream, and no young sprites played on the ground between the cluster of pine trees. For the middle of the day, the village was awfully quiet.

Everyone had retreated into their homes to hide, no doubt waiting for word from the nobility on what to do. Barely more than a year after the last time unknown humans had trespassed on the forest, the memories were fresh in everyone's minds. The evacuation, the fight, the loss ... it was not a thing easily forgotten. And that time, the humans hadn't even come close to the village itself.

Bowman went straight for the cottonwood at the end of the village. The homes grown from the pine trees were small and efficient, useful for the families living within. By comparison, the shapes coaxed out of the warped cottonwood tree created a palatial structure. Rooms and halls wound within the trunk and branches themselves, while several apartments could be seen nestled in the crook of the higher branches. At the fork of the lowest branches stood a wide wraparound porch, where several sprites watched and waited for Bowman to land.

"Leafwing! What ... ?" one of them asked. Bowman recognized his fellow patrolsprite, and noticed his wary gaze at Bowman's leg when he stumbled. Bowman felt like everything below his knee was a block of ice. The feeling only crept further up his leg, and it took everything he had not to topple over and succumb to the sickly magic.

"Send a few sprites around to let everyone know we're safe," Bowman ordered quickly, limping towards the huge knothole in the tree that served as an archway into the interior of the tree palace. "I led the human here. He can be trusted. I have to let the nobles know, and then get someone out there that knows their way around a healing Prayer." He didn't waste much time elaborating. A single glance over his shoulder and a serious expression told the confused sprites they weren't going to get more of the story just yet.

Thankfully, his confidence and his history as a trustworthy patrolsprite convinced them. Bowman made his way inside while he heard several wings fluttering off of the porch to spread the word. He had to find Lord Cerul of the nobility, and alert him to Dean's presence. Cerul would need time to gather himself and some other healers to meet the humans by the stream.

Just as Bowman was leaving the cottonwood, one of the other patrol sprites returned and ducked into the large doorway. Her eyes were wide and she looked like she'd seen a ghost. "The human is heading this way," she told him, and Bowman nodded. He had one more stop before he could go and greet Sam and Dean. He darted across to one of the pine trees, landing at one of the houses on a lower branch, and walked in.

"Bowman! " A jovial voice piped up, just before a girl of nine practically slammed into him in a tight hug. Rischa's breath hitched and she tensed up almost immediately, and Bowman knew that she must be feeling empathetic pains in her leg. But she continued to embrace him tightly anyway. He softly ran a hand along her straight brown hair, soothing his young cousin. Her gift of empathy was sometimes a curse, it seemed. She was getting better at controlling it, but more often than not she felt someone's physical pain until it was gone or they were out of her range.

"They say you're the one who brought the human here? And he's hurt?" Candara, Bowman's aunt, came to the entryway, a stern look of concern on her face. Her bright green eyes matched his own, and they peered at him critically. "Does this human have anything to do with you not coming home yesterday?"

Bowman raised his eyebrows but chose not to answer. He didn't feel like getting into where he'd been all night, no matter how much his aunt pried for information. With an empath as powerful as Rischa clinging to him, any attempts to sugarcoat his reply would go even worse than usual. Bowman changed the subject. "I just came here to let you know I'm fine. But I need to get back."

"I wanna go too!" Rischa stepped back, her golden eyes peering up at Bowman pleadingly. She was bouncing on her feet and her dainty wings practically vibrated. "Please, Bowman? I wanna meet your new friend!"

Candara frowned faintly. It was just in time for Larxe, Bowman's uncle, to join them in the entryway. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Rischa. Maybe later, when the human isn't hurt, and when Lord Cerul has had a chance to talk to him." Candara looked like she agreed. Even though they were nervous, they trusted Bowman's judgement when it came to humans. Of all the sprites in the village, Bowman had the most experience with the large wingless folk.

Rischa whirled around, hands on her hips, and resolutely stared up at her parents. She was not cowed by their expressions. "But Bowman's hurt too! And if he and his new friend need help, I wanna be there! Mama, I can help!" Candara's glance wavered for just a moment, lingering on the leg that Bowman wouldn't rest any weight upon.

The kid was right, of course. Bowman was always amazed at how gifted Rischa was in her Prayers, especially for someone so young. If anyone would be able to drive out the nasty magic that tried to take root in his leg, it would be her. Bowman heaved a quiet sigh, but didn't try to convince his aunt and uncle of anything. He wasn't fully sure he wanted Rischa going out there either. "Maybe they're right, Birdie," he said softly. "Cerul has the Voice too, you know. He and the others should be able to-"

She turned on him now. "Bowmaaaan!" she whined. "Please let me come and help! You have something dark clinging to you. It'sbad. I can Pray to get rid of it. If the human has it in him too, all the help offered is going to be needed." It was amazing how the girl could shift so easily from petulant child to selfless and wise in a single breath. Sometimes it was hard to believe she was only nine years old.

Bowman shrugged and opened the door again. "Only if your Mama says it's okay, Birdie," he relented as he limped back outside. He met Candara's eyes and saw caution there. Of course she'd be worried. Her baby girl was talking about going up to someone that could trap her in his hand with no effort. "He's trustworthy, Aunt. I wouldn't have led him here if he wasn't. You know that." He held her gaze for a second longer. "But I need to go and greet him now."

Rischa followed Bowman out onto their narrow porch, stomping her little feet for emphasis. Candara and Larxe followed too, their wings twitching in agitation and concern. They glanced around as if expecting to see Dean standing right in the middle of all the pine trees. "I'm going with you," Rischa announced. "If Mama and Daddy want to come too, they can."

Larxe and Candara looked at Bowman, their brows furrowing. He shrugged exasperatedly, trying really hard to restrain the chuckle that wanted out. "Hey, you know I don't put any of these thoughts in her head. I'm staying out of this battle," he insisted, opening his wings wide and stepping off the porch. He almost immediately felt some relief again to have the weight off his leg.

Bowman smirked softly to himself as he righted in the air. He could hear Rischa giggling as she took flight after him. Her wings were on the small side, and they fluttered quickly as she followed Bowman's easy flight. A glance behind showed that Candara and Larxe weren't far behind, though they didn't seem like they would stop their determined daughter.

They may have been worried parents, but they did trust Bowman. They'd raised him too, after all.

As soon as the four of them cleared the pine needles sheltering their home, Dean was easily visible at the stream several yards away. Bowman winced at the sight of the human, particularly the way he held his arm. When they had halved the distance between the village and the stream, a whimper behind him made Bowman halt and turn towards Rischa.

She was hovering in the air, and her brow was pinched with concern. Bowman saw her rubbing her arm absently as she stared past him at Dean.

"It's okay, Birdie," Bowman said softly. "He's safe."

Rischa glanced over at him, and an amused smile played softly at her worried features. "Bowman, I know that. He's hurt," she answered by way of explanation. Then, before her mother or father could reach out to comfort her, Rischa flew forward past Bowman to approach the human kneeling by the stream. Bowman followed with a look of surprise on his face.

Rischa landed on the same side of the stream as Dean, a few feet away to give him respectful distance and so she could actually see his face when she looked up at him. Bowman and Rischa's parents landed near her, but she didn't look at them as they kept an eye on the scene unfolding as Rischa, barely two and a half inches tall, stepped forward and introduced herself loudly. "Hello, Bowman's new friend. My name is Rischa. You're hurt, but don't worry, okay? You're going to be alright. I'm going to help."

Surprise flickered over Dean's face when not only Bowman, but other sprites came out to greet him. He'd seen others, flashing through the trees a distance away while they kept an eye on the threat near their homes. He couldn't blame them, of course. He'd seen first-hand what humans would do to people like Sam just because they were a little smaller, and from what he'd gathered from Bowman over the last day, many of these sprites had been through hell recently. Because of humans.

Dean shifted so he was facing the newcomers and Bowman, pain flashing over his face again. The arm was turning into an entire block of ice, straining the muscles near as it began to shut down.

Sam moved on his shoulder, reminding Dean he wasn't alone. The pain was so intense he kept forgetting about Sam - like when he'd sat down, forgetting to warn the little guy to hold on.

He'd kill me if he heard me call him that flashed through his mind briefly.

Dean couldn't help leaning down to see better as the most absolutely miniscule sprite stepped forward and introduced herself. His eyes snapped to Bowman in disbelief. She was so brash for her size, only a little bigger than Kara had been.

"Hi Rischa," Dean managed to get out without his voice wavering, "I never doubted," he continued on, not wanting to show how afraid he was of losing his arm or worse. Who knew what that undead creep was doing to him and Bowman. Dean could see the sprite continuing to favor his leg. His thoughts were disjointed - confused.

"M-my name's Dean," he introduced himself, stammering slightly with pain, then reached his good hand up to his shoulder. Sam got on without a word, already knowing what his big brother planned.

With Sam on his palm, he lowered the hand so it was less than a foot from all the sprites to let Sam climb down. Sam would be safer away from him, the way his head was aching, and his mind playing tricks on him. If he forgot Sam was on his shoulder again, he might knock him off before he realized it. "And this is my little brother, Sam."

Sam gave a nervous wave, overcome by how odd it felt to be surrounded by people his own size. "Hey."

Rischa took her gaze away from Dean and stared at Sam, and returned his wave. An awed smile gradually widened on her face. "Hello, Sam. Bowman never brings his human friends here," she greeted conversationally. "I didn't even know humans came in sprite size! After your big brother and Bowman are better, you should come and see the village."

Bowman's leg finally gave up on holding his weight. He abruptly fell to a seated position. He grimaced and stretched the deadened limb out in front of him, while Candara and Larxe knelt to examine it.

"What ... what is this?" Bowman's aunt breathed, her hands flinching away from the wounded limb almost as soon as she touched it. "Bowman...?"

Bowman shook as the gash stung worse and his leg felt heavier and heavier. "I'm thinking there will be more time to explain after it's gone," he suggested. He had only been grazed in comparison to what Dean endured. He could only imagine the pain the human was in. "I didn't get it as bad as Dean."

Rischa glanced back, and the smile dropped off her face. Her demeanor shifted almost instantly. Golden eyes gazed up at Sam. The happy child that had greeted him seconds ago was still there, but she was tempered with a sense of responsibility, of purpose. "Sam. Your brother has some kind of ... really bad energy clinging to him. But I'm gonna get rid of it." Rischa walked towards Dean, ignoring the faint concerns she felt coming from her family behind her. The human's pain was so much louder than their mild worries. And a human that Bowman trusted was a human that Rischa trusted.

This was something Rischa could do. Last time, she had been too young, too inexperienced with her gifts to help Bowman and his human friends. This time, Rischa was going to do something.

This close to him, the pain in his arm was echoed in Rischa's own, and she had her hand clamped over it in the same place Dean sported the bite. "Dean," she said, looking up at the human with restrained pain on her face. "Please let me see it. I'm not going to hurt it, okay? I need to see your arm so I can help. There will be more sprites coming to Pray, too, but I want to get started right away."

Tears started to fill her eyes from the pain that she shared with the human. "Don't be scared, okay? You'll be fine. I promise." The fact that Dean was over twice her age didn't make Rischa falter in the least. She could feel the fear in him, twisting around his pain like a braid of thorned vines.

Bowman turned a strained face towards Sam. "Sam," he murmured. "If it ever looks like Dean is about to faint, make sure she's not in the way?" Bowman loathed not being mobile enough to take that precaution himself. Rischa looked so tiny, standing in front of Dean and talking gently up to him. Bowman could see her little wings quivering. If Bowman's own pain was any indication, there was a distinct possibility that Dean could slump over at any moment, and Rischa was so close to the massive human.

He knew, just like Candara and Larxe, that she wouldn't be swayed at this point. But, just like Candara and Larxe, Bowman worried for the girl anyway. It would do no good to give her any less than their full support. But, seeing the way she shuddered from the pain she couldn't help but mirror, Bowman's brow furrowed with worry.

"I'll keep her safe, Bowman. I promise," Sam responded just as quietly.

He glanced back at Dean with the others, seeing that the color in his face was almost completely gone. He'd pushed himself too hard to get here, but if he hadn't he might never have made it, a no-win scenario for everyone. Dean’s own private Kobayashi Maru.

Sam jogged over to where Rischa was standing to give Dean support while she healed him. He froze when he realized something was wrong, the feeling of danger slicing up his neck.

The recognition in Dean's eyes was gone.

Chapter Text

Dean was clutching his arm, fearfully looking around his strange surroundings. He didn't even seem to realize Sam and the tiny sprites were standing nearby. Rischa stood almost frozen as she stared up at the human with wide eyes. A worm of fear embedded itself in Sam's gut. If Dean didn't know what was going on, he could be dangerous in a million different ways... to the sprites, their homes, to Sam...

Taking a few steps away from Rischa, he approached his brother. "Dean." His call had no effect. "Dean! Look at me!" Sam commanded, as loud as he could.

The green eyes turned down to him, full of confusion and no sign of recognition of Sam or where he was. Sam pushed down his own fear, a chill going up his neck that he hadn't gotten from Dean in ages at the scrutiny.

Dean needed help and he might be the only one that could draw him out of his fear.

Taking a deep breath, Sam gave a quick prayer this would work. "Dean, you need to take off your jacket. Rischa can help you heal, but you're gonna have to trust her." He turned up his most trusting face at Dean, willing him to understand. Sam's eyes glistened. "We need you to let us help."

Dean shook his head, backing away from Sam. "No... no..." he rubbed his forehead with his good arm. "I don't understand... what's going on? Where's Sammy?"

The worm of fear started to blossom, building strength in Sam's stomach. That couldn't be good. "Dean, don't you remember? I'm Sammy. It's me, your little brother."

"But... Sammy died. We lost him and Dad... Dad says I have to be a better hunter. He says if I don't stay sharp, I'm asking to die. Just like Sammy." Dean pinched the skin between his eyes, squinting as though he had a headache.

Sam stared into his big brother's face, seeing nothing but the truth there. "Dad told you that? He actually goaded you on with my death?" Hurt shone in his own eyes. "Dean... I never realized..."

He was so caught up in what Dean had said, he didn't see it coming at first. It was so unexpected, so abnormal for them. Dean's hand grabbed at him lightning quick, sweeping him off the ground as easily as if Sam was just an action figure. It was nothing like the way Dean normally handled his tiny brother, the thick fingers wrapping securely around Sam's small body and giving him no room to breathe.

Sam tried to thrash, suddenly relieving the fear he'd felt being clutched in Isabelle's hand... right before she almost crushed him and broke his arm.

His thrashing did no good whatsoever. Dean's grip was too strong to break, Sam far too small to stop him. All he was going to do was get Dean to hold him tighter.

Sam was lifted directly in front of the glazed, probing eyes. "What are you?" Dean asked wonderingly, a childlike amazement mixing with the pain in his expression. A thumb slid under Sam's arm, lifting it up as far as it could go without snapping and then down again. Like he was trying out a new toy and wanted to see what it could do. Sam could do nothing to resist the massive fingers as his arm was toyed with. Dean stared in wonder at the miniscule fingers as they flinched in fear.

Sam twisted around even more, trying to free his arm from the unrelenting grip. All Dean had to do was push a little too hard in the wrong direction... his arm had only just healed. "Dean, don't you remember? I'm not dead... you found me at a motel. You saved me. I'm cursed. It's me. It's Sam. I never died, you and dad just thought I did. You have to remember." Sam tried to push any trace of fear at the hunter's careless handling of him, his words speeding up as he went.

Dean really didn't know it was Sam in his hand. If he could just look at who he was holding... maybe he'd understand. Maybe he'd remember. Sam's heart thudded uneasily in his chest, knowing how vulnerable he and the sprites would be if Dean was lost to them. One hunter, especially a hunter with Dean's training, would be able to destroy the village without a problem, maybe even go as far as kidnapping sprites like Rischa and Bowman from the forest, taking them to show other hunters. Life here would never be the same if that happened, and they would be to blame.

It's Dean... no matter what, no matter how far he's gone, he's still your brother and he won't hurt you. You need to trust that. He needs your help, now more than ever and you can't let him down.

Sam managed to quiet his struggles, solidly meeting the confused and fearful eyes of his brother. His brother was in there somewhere, lost and afraid and so alone… convinced that Sam was dead and John was shoving that fact in his face.

Sam needed to be there for Dean, just like Dean was there for him.

"Dean. It's me. It's Sammy. You need to trust me... you need to let me in. Dad's not here anymore, and you never have to worry about that again." He pushed away his own fear, letting a smile cross his face despite how afraid he was right now, in his own brother's hands. "I'm here for you, and I'm never leaving again. I promise."

Grabbing one of the fingers wrapped around him, Sam used it to muss up his own hair, just like Dean always did to piss him off. The finger pulled out of his hands in surprise, then came back to gently ruffle his hair of its own accord. The confusion on Dean's face began to clear at last at the familiar motion, melting into understanding and recognition.

"Sammy?! "

"Yes, Dean, that's right! It's me!" Tears rose to his eyes unbidden when he saw the recognition bloom in Dean's face and the sense of danger vanished from his neck. "It's Sammy!"

The fingers released around him, freeing Sam so he could crouch on Dean's palm. He surreptitiously rubbed his sore ribs while Dean apologized desperately, panic welling up in his green eyes as he realized what he'd been doing. "Sam, are you okay? I'm so sorry! I didn't... I didn't mean to grab you." The other hand rose up, a finger gently touching Sam's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. Desperate worry had replaced the confusion in those green eyes.

Sam let out a laugh, brought on by the release of all his pent up fears. His big brother was back and that's all that mattered. "Don't worry. It wasn't your fault. But we need your help now. We need to see how bad your arm is. You're gonna have to take off your jacket for Rischa."

Fear crossed over Dean's face at his words before being replaced with determination. He lowered Sam down, sliding the smaller Winchester safely off his hand near Rischa, who'd stood her ground the entire time.

Rischa's heart pounded. Though she had tried to remain collected like she'd always been taught, seeing Dean's huge hand coming in her direction had brought a spike of her own fear into the dissonant symphony of confusion and pain roiling all around. Dean's pain and fear had shifted into an uneasy fog of nearly crippling loneliness and guilt. Tears still left their trails on Rischa's cheeks, though the waves of grim emotions had subsided. Somehow, Sam had stemmed the flow before his gigantic brother's mounting fear had caused more damage than had already been done to the pair.

She wasn't sure when her father joined her by her side, but he was there before Sam returned to the ground. She was as grateful as he was wary. It was easy to tell he wanted to lead her out of the human's reach, but he didn't say anything, instead placing a supportive hand on her shoulder.

The lingering emotional pain that Dean had laid bare still hung in the air like the shrill, echoing cry of a starving bird of prey. Rischa turned to look over her shoulder at Bowman. His injury was less severe and further from his center, but she knew that soon he might experience the same symptoms as Dean: forgetfulness, despair, pain. Hopefully he'd returned to the village in time for both of the wounded to be saved.

Sitting up, Dean started to untie his handmade tourniquet. It was a slow process, hampered by his sweaty hands from the infected magic in him. But it eventually came off. Dean gasped with pain as the tourniquet slid free, letting the blood start to flow back into the arm.

Sam found himself clenching his fists as hard as he could, fingernails digging into his palms. If he was normal, he could help Dean here. Take off that tourniquet, remove his jacket, help support him, clean away the sweat and the blood. As it was, Sam was reduced to a mere onlooker, unable to affect the outcome. Forced to watch his brother struggle to simply take off a jacket.

Useless.

Dean bit his lip nervously, and started to actually peel his jacket off. Sam unconsciously took a few steps forward, knowing that if Dean was to fall over, he'd never land on Sam. No matter what, he'd find a way to twist away from Sam. It was the best way to protect Rischa the way he'd promised, having him right there. The urge to 'protect Sammy' was so ingrained in Dean it was an instinctive reaction.

It was a good thing he did. As soon as Dean reached the injured arm to pull it out of the jacket, a slice of pain hit him. He wavered, one hand slamming into the ground inches away from Sam as Dean barely stopped himself from toppling over. Rischa turned in surprise as the impact shook her small feet. Sam stared up trustingly at Dean, ignoring how his brother's hot breath sent the dirt scattering away from him. Sam touched at the huge hand next to him, trying to support Dean as best he could.

Dean took a moment to compose himself, then pulled the jacket gingerly off, revealing the bite wound at last, completely visible now that he was only in his black tee. Flinching, he held the arm out next to Rischa and Sam, letting them see the damage as he leaned down all the way on his knees.

Rischa looked up at her father. "Daddy, it's okay now. I can do this." She saw in his eyes that he didn't want to let her remain so close to the volatile giant. But, she also saw that he believed in her and he nodded softly.

A massive arm was laid in front of her, and a new wave of pain washed over the young empath like a gale strong enough to bow even the big oak. A breath caught in her throat as she beheld the blackened veins snaking away from the festering, bleeding bite. Rischa drew her own arm close to herself and several new, heavy tears raced down her cheeks.

Rischa inched forward, taking slow breaths as she prepared herself to Pray. She would need to channel the Spirit as much as she could to drive away the sickly magic that seemed to be decaying Dean's arm from the site of the wound.

"Earth Spirit," she began, willing her voice not to waver through her weeping. "Lady of Life. I beseech you. Guide my hands and bless me with your healing touch, that I may ..." She was right in front of Dean's arm now, her right hand shaking as it reached forward. "That I may ... !" She gave a low yelp of pain and her entire body shivered as she made contact.

The full brunt of Dean's pain flared up in Rischa's left arm and more tears kept coming. It hurt so badly, and the twisted magic of decay made her sick to her stomach. "That I may right what has been wronged," she forced out, though the Prayer was already coursing through her. Magic from the Lady of Life immediately battled the decaying life energy that clung to Dean like cobwebs.

Bowman watched, amazed. He knew that Rischa hadn't yet learned how to tune out the empathetic pains she received from others, and Dean's wound looked painful indeed. Yet she didn't take her hand away, letting the Prayer connect her to the Spirit so the Lady of Life could lend her life energy to combat the decay.

His own wound only continued to worsen. Bowman's vision swam and sweat beaded on his brow, but he tried to remain calm.

Humans in the forest, his instincts yelped. Fly.

He heard Candara whispering soothing words to him. She was even Praying, though without Rischa's gift it would take more than one sprite to drive off the magic destroying Bowman's leg.

Just as he thought that, a voice off to the side drew Bowman's fevered gaze. Several sprites were crossing the stream, making quick hops with their wings. Bringing up the rear, walking on stepping stones that remained above water, was Lord Cerul himself, the only other sprite in the village gifted with the Voice of the Spirit, the strong connection to the Spirit that enabled Rischa to use the healing touch.

It always broke Bowman's heart a little to see Cerul walking. He looked so ... lopsided with only his right wing folded to his back. He was a sprite who would never fly again, a fate Bowman could scarcely imagine.

"Bowman," Cerul greeted with a nod. But, like Rischa, he decided to save further greetings. He quickly directed most of the sprites he'd brought with him to gather near Bowman and Pray. They would be able to hold the damage at bay until Dean's much more dire wound was attended to. Bowman's eyes pinched shut as he felt the Lady's soothing life energy begin to seep into his wound, like a trickle of water in a bed of coals that danced with sickly fire. Even that small relief was better than the feeling trying to creep up his leg into the rest of him.

Rischa's heart fluttered and her wings fanned open and closed restlessly. Her daddy was there, gently stroking her head, but little could comfort her. That magic had spread so much, and it took all of her energy to stay standing.

"Rischa Songbird." The voice drew her teary gaze to the side. Relief flooded out of her to see Cerul there. He could help. He quickly muttered the same Prayer that she had, and placed both hands on Dean's bleeding arm. His jaw clenched but he bit back his own grunt of pain in a show of self-control. Even so, his single wing flared out behind him.

Dull gold eyes glanced to the side where Sam stood. "Human," Cerul greeted tightly. "Are you injured?"

Sam couldn't help stiffening when he was addressed. All his focus was on Dean and the injury he'd been suffering through for hours. Dean's eyes remained locked on Sam, drawing strength from the sight of his little brother, alive and well after his lapse.

He hadn't realized how bad the bite was. Black veins spidered up his thick arms, longer than Sam and the sprites were tall. Dean's arm shook in place as he concentrated on keeping it steady for Rischa. Or, as steady as he could manage through the obvious pain covering his face.

Turning to the new arrival, Sam shifted his focus away from Dean for a moment. He took in the crippling injury on the sprite's back with surprise, remembering what Bowman had told them about how the wings functioned. To lose a wing must be one of the worst things a sprite could go through.

He teetered on the edge of correcting the sprite. I'm not a human, he wanted to say. But the words died before crossing his lips. Who was he to tell them what he wasn't when he didn't know what he was?

Sam addressed the newcomer. "No, I'm fine." His eyes flashed between Dean and Bowman. "They're the ones that got hurt. Bowman got his injury saving my life and Dean bore the brunt of the attack."

He glanced back up at Dean, locking eyes with the injured hunter. Sam wanted nothing more than to put his hand on Dean's arm in support, but was afraid he'd make the pain worse. He clenched his fists, hating the feeling of uselessness that hit him.

Cerul nodded and looked back at the injury he tended to. On his other side, Rischa continued to shudder. "D-don't worry, Sam," she chattered. "You don't h-have to be afraid. It's w-working." She had both tiny, trembling hands on Dean's arm now, and both of them were red from the blood coating his skin.

Both sprites continued to channel their Spirit as much as they could. The Spirit's life energy surged into Dean, slowly but steadily replacing the magic that had taken root there. The blackness creeping in the human's veins halted, and then began to recede as unnatural decay was reversed. Rischa gasped as the tide slowly turned in their favor.

"Remember, Rischa, you can acknowledge the pain without letting it take over," Cerul murmured kindly, glancing down at the sobbing child.

Rischa nodded and sniffled. "I'm trying." And she was. Channeling this much was only possible for sprites gifted with the Voice. The sprites gathered around Bowman probably wouldn't be able to channel as much together as Rischa or Cerul could on their own. But, against so much insidious, twisted magic, it pushed both of them to their limits.

Bowman bit back a strained sound as his wound struck him with a wave of pain. He kept his eyes fixed upward while the other sprites continued to Pray. His eyes almost matched the vibrant color of the canopy, though they shone with pain. He thought he could feel the decay waning. But it was so slow.

He looked over at Rischa. She and Cerul were so focused on the task. Dean's wound had opened him up to so much more of that bad life energy. Through the feverish haze, Bowman couldn't help but be so proud of his young cousin, so fearlessly volunteering to help despite how much it hurt her.

"You can do it, Birdie," Bowman muttered.

Pain.

An icy pain threatened to overwhelm Dean. It pulsed in his veins, threatening to wash his mind away again in the icy tide. Trying to steal his self, his very identity away from him.

No.

Dean pushed back, refusing with a stubborn determination. The hunter drew on years of training, years of fighting, to give himself the focus he needed to resist. His eyes were glued on Sam, drawing the strength he needed from those small hazel eyes, as determined to overcome this as Dean himself.

Have to hold on. For Sam.

Dean wrapped what little was left of his mind around that single thought, guarding it as though it were the most precious gemstone he'd ever found. It was the thought that kept him centered. The thought that kept him sane through the flickers of black spidering across his vision. He wouldn't let that thought slip away from him. Not again. Not with Sam so vulnerable and trusting near Dean. Not with no one around who could stop him if he slipped. The image of Sam, clenched in Dean's own fist like he was nothing more than a toy, drove Dean, fueling his determination. He couldn't let that happen.

Never again.

So Dean kept his eyes locked down on Sam's small form. Sam didn't react to the heavy gaze above, staring up at Dean without faltering. Dean would have done anything to get that reaction out of Sam when they first met, and now here he had it when he needed it the most.

Everything past Sam was merely a distraction, threatening to pull him away from the concentration he needed. Anything else...stream... sprites... cottonwood tree... could help the poison steal away his mind, his very self. Again.

The poison would steal away the only real family he had left in the world if left unchecked. The brother he'd thought lost for so many years, and finally found long after he'd given up hope. Dean would do anything for Sam, anything to keep him safe.

Slowly, the ice in Dean's arm began to recede. A warmth began at his fingertips and worked its way up his arm as the poison was cleansed from his system. He found himself unconsciously flexing his fingers, amazed as his former dexterity began to return.

The haze brought on by the blight lifted. The blackness covering Dean's vision cleared and he realized with a start Sam wasn't alone down by his arm. Of course he isn't... don't you remember what happened when you arrived? A sprite with a missing wing had his small hands braced near Dean's injury, standing next to an absolutely tiny sprite he felt like he should know... he could remember flashes from his daze and she appeared in more than a few.

Once his mind had cleared and the pain in his arm had turned from the icy cold to a normal throb, Dean drew his arm back from his brother and the sprites, afraid of staying near so many small, vulnerable people with him not at his best. His memories started to return to him, detailing his last hour in painful recollection. Losing his grip... almost collapsing... that image of him grabbing Sam like he was simply a toy to play with...

Afraid, Dean looked down at everyone around him. "I'm... I'm sorry," he gasped out, rearing himself up from the ground. He recoiled from them, backing off.

"I didn't mean it, I swear... I'm sorry..."

Chapter Text

Rischa looked up at Dean, concern on her face for the wavering fear that still escaped him. She could tell that his arm still hurt, though it seemed like it would be much more manageable now. "Dean, you're gonna be okay now. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't worry..." Her voice trailed off and the girl stumbled backwards. Cerul turned towards her but her father was already there, catching her in his arms and scooping her up.

"Daddy, I did it," Rischa announced proudly, her tired voice still cheerful.

"You did, love. I'm so proud of you," Larxe replied, touching his forehead to hers and humming one of her favorite tunes, the barest sound almost snatched away by the breeze.

Rischa squirmed to peer around her father's strong shoulders and saw that Cerul was already walking briskly towards Bowman. Rischa wanted to Pray over Bowman's wound too, but she was so, so tired ... her little body couldn't channel the Spirit anymore without her passing out.

She turned back to look at Sam. Her hands, still bloody from resting on Dean's arm, sat in her lap. "Your brother is getting better, Sam. I told you!" she reassured him, more than a little pride in her voice. Now that the urgency of the situation waned, she allowed herself to look him over curiously while her head rested lightly on her daddy's chest. She glanced up at Dean a few times, as if thoughtfully comparing the brothers' sizes. "You're really brothers? That's amazing!" She looked up at Dean again. "I'm sorry that your arm hurt so badly. I'm glad you're feeling a little better."

Behind her, Bowman hissed when a new hand made contact with his leg. A new wave of fiery cold washed up his leg and into his abdomen from the cut. The dark magic clashed harshly with his body, which was meant to contain much purer life energy. Life energy like what he could feel pouring into him, as if a floodgate had opened.

Bowman's vision cleared and he saw that Lord Cerul had come to him. The healing Prayer he'd used on Dean worked much faster on Bowman's smaller wound. It took less than a minute for it to make the dark magic retreat and dissipate, leaving a normal cut on the back of his leg. It would heal normally now.

"Thank you, sir," Bowman said hastily, before getting to his feet. The other sprites hung back but he limped past them to see Rischa. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the state she was in, cradled in Larxe's arms with her hands covered in drying human blood. She was still conscious and absolutely beaming at Sam and Dean.

"Bowman! You're okay! You two are lucky you had Bowman to guide you here so you could get better. He's my cousin but he's kind of like a big brother. He's the best flyer in the village, did he tell you?" she chirped, sounding exhausted but so ecstatic. Bowman smiled faintly but his amber cheeks darkened slightly in a flattered blush. Rischa had just performed the most powerful Prayer available to the wood sprites, and yet she praised Bowman.

"Be that as it may," Cerul cut in, taking hesitant steps forward to join the few standing closer to Dean. "Perhaps some proper introductions are in order?" He kept his eyes on the brothers, the large and the small, not untrusting but wary nonetheless. He read the situation carefully, as he usually did. His remaining wing flexed as if sore, which it probably was.

Sam took a step forward, slightly overwhelmed. He wasn't used to so many people talking to him at once, after spending so many years around just his adopted family. Since joining back up with Dean, the most people he'd been with was at Krissy's, after he and the others were rescued, and he'd been given space to recover, along with Bree who needed to adjust to living with people her own size again.

Dean hadn't made a sound since being healed. His bright green eyes darted around their surroundings, trying to take it all in. One hand was holding his injured arm gingerly, cradling it to his chest. The injury was much healthier looking than it had been a few minutes ago, from what Sam could see. The black tendrils were all gone, replaced by the healthy flush of healing skin. The fear and panic was starting to clear up from Dean's face, replaced by a slight anxiety.

"Well, my name's Sam," Sam started. He cocked his head up at Dean. "And that's my brother, Dean.” The sprites listened as Sam began his explanation, curiosity on their faces. Numerous glances passed between the brothers, more intrigue than disbelief in the many eyes watching. “We're hunters, and we came here to stop the thing that's been killing off campers and hikers that are in the woods."

As soon as the word 'hunter' came out of his mouth, the sprites collectively stiffened. Bowman's gaze turned sharply to Sam, open shock all over his face. Larxe, with Rischa in tow, took some careful steps away from Dean, slowly wrapping his wings around in front as if to shield the girl in his arms.

Rischa flinched as the worry from the others all but slapped her in the face, and she frowned, confused. Hunters at the village? She hadn't sensed any ill intent from either of them. Only pain and urgency. And Bowman trusted them.

"You didn't tell me you were hunters," Bowman replied, a hard edge to his voice. He didn't want to believe they could be the same as Logan ... the man that had nearly destroyed the lives of every sprite in the village. A hunter that came to put his tracking skills to use against the defenseless wood sprites. A hunter that didn't care who he hurt in order to have his way.

Surely Sam hadn't meant the same kind of hunter. It just didn't fit.

Bowman and Cerul were the only sprites to remain closer to Sam and Dean. The others hung back, warily staring up at the human. Candara and Larxe stood close, with Rischa still curled up in her father's protective arms. He hummed quietly to her to try and comfort her as everyone else's fear washed over her.

Bowman's wings twitched in agitation. He was confused. Sam and Dean hadn't seemed like they were barging into the forest to look for sprites. But they'd captured him easily enough anyway. And then they'd struck up a deal to get help finding this 'lich.' He wasn't sure what he should think about the humans that he had so easily led up to his home.

Cerul looked slowly between the brothers. Bowman could tell he was thinking about his answer, and most likely reading the pair for any ill will. Despite wanting to really let them have it for not telling him that about themselves, Bowman kept his mouth respectfully shut.

"These hunters are not the same variety as the one we are familiar with," Cerul announced. The sprites gathered near relaxed only a little. He gazed at Sam, a faint look close to sorrow in his eyes, before turning a steady golden gaze upwards at Dean. "Humans," he greeted. "Please understand. The last human to call himself a hunter and come in our midst was the greatest enemy we have ever faced." His right wing fanned open, making him look so asymmetrical to lack a matching wing on the left. "There was heavy loss. We are not a fighting people, and even our strongest warrior fell to his attacks.

"But, I have seen that you bear us no ill will, and I know that Leafwing's trust in you is well-placed." Cerul inclined his head in Bowman's direction. "Not everyone has my ... sight, however. Please don't take fear as a judgment."

Dean finally began to get a handle on the situation at the one-winged sprite's words. He heard what the sprite was saying and realization set in. His head was finally clear enough for him to concentrate, the fear and nervousness dissipating as he saw a larger roadblock ahead of them. Trust. There was no time for him to sit around wrapped in doubt.

Sam was floundering, hands shifting restlessly. With everything that had happened, all his worry for Dean, he must've forgotten the normal reaction to hunters that people his size had. The poor kid had been beside himself with worry for Dean.

Dean dropped his good hand down behind his little brother, drawing all eyes to him at the movement. And away from Sam, who didn't know what to do with himself and could probably use the support. "I know what you're talking about," he addressed the small sprites, putting every ounce of resolve into his tone that he could. His deep voice captivated every sprite’s attention. "I've heard of hunters like that before."

He nodded sadly down at Sam. "My brother here... his people live near humans, keeping their heads down and trying to live their own lives in a hostile world. They're harmless, spending their time out of sight of any humans around. There are..." his lips curled angrily at the thought, hating every word that came out of his mouth, "hunters that go after them. Killing them... capturing them. Destroying the lives of innocents for no reason other than them being different."

His steady eyes passed over each sprite that was near him, landing on the one with the missing wing last. "I would do anything to protect them from that fate. I promise you, you'll never have anything to fear from Sam or me. We hunt down the monsters that go after innocents like you, nothing else."

The sprites listened with upturned faces, drawn in by his sincerity. By the time his short speech was over, the fear in their eyes had waned into quiet wariness or grateful awe. As their fears died down, Rischa's mind cleared and she smiled faintly.

Cerul also smiled softly, a look of approval on his face. He nodded respectfully at Dean, completely unconcerned to have the human's attention on him. Bowman couldn't help but admire his fortitude. Even Bowman had flinched away from Dean's intense stare when they first met.

"I don't doubt it," Cerul replied. He tilted his head and looked at Sam. There was some curiosity underlining his steady expression, but he didn't voice it. "As a member of the nobility, I, Lord Cerul Elanwyn the Far Seeing, welcome you to Wellwood. You say there's something threatening the innocent here?" His question invited explanation from whomever might be able to give it.

Bowman interjected first. "There's something out there that's forcing life back into wolves that have died. That's what was in our injuries - Dean got bitten trying to fight them and I ..." Bowman trailed off with a disgusted grimace as he remembered the harrowing moments trapped in that wolf's jaws.

Rischa suddenly squirmed in her Daddy's arms until he relented and set her down again. She stumbled a bit, but hurried up to Bowman to look him in the eyes. "Bowman, did you get bitten? Is that why you had it, too?"

"Bowman... got that saving my life," Sam spoke up suddenly. Having Dean's hand right behind him, offering support as unobtrusively as he could, helped a little. He hesitantly met the eyes of the sprites nearby, fearing rejection for what he was. He hadn't even thought how they'd react to him and Dean being hunters, an oversight that had nearly cost them the trust of the sprites. That was stupid... You should have remembered how your own family reacted to Dean when they discovered he was a hunter. He'd been too proud that he could consider himself a hunter, same as Dean, to think through the consequences. He couldn't afford to make that kind of mistake again. "A wolf snuck up on me and would have had me if Bowman hadn't jumped in front and distracted it. Dean got jumped by three other wolves so he couldn't help us." Rischa's eyes widened in a horrified look and she put her hands over her mouth.

Sam frowned to himself. "That wolf got hold of Bowman..." he said quietly. He remembered how helpless he'd felt. Dean fighting two other wolves... Bowman in the jaws of the last one... and Sam, stranded uselessly on the ground. He hadn't even been able to warn Bowman about the wolf about to eat him. "Grabbed him in its mouth. It looked like it was going to run off with him instead of kill him, like they've been killing the humans. Dean took it down before it got too far and got Bowman out of there."

Rischa's eyes were still shining from the tears that had recently filled them. "You brought him back okay after a wolf almost atehim?! Thank the Spirit you two were there," she blurted, gratitude in the furrows of her brow.

Bowman winced uncomfortably, hoping she wouldn't linger too long on that ordeal. "Y-Yeah, Birdie." He pat the top of her head, ruffling her hair. " 'Almost' wasn't good enough. You don't have to worry, okay?" She looked over her shoulder and smiled up at him.

Cerul had been silent as he thought about what Sam said. "That is unusual, indeed," he finally answered. "Wolves do not usually delay the inevitable if they catch a sprite," he admitted, glancing at Bowman apologetically. "I may need to discuss this with the other nobility, if you don't mind me taking my leave, Sam and Dean." He offered them a respectful nod before going towards the stream and stepping across it carefully, keeping his balance despite only having one wing. After several curious final glances up at Dean, the healers that had come along with him followed, leaving only Bowman and his family on the side of the stream with the humans.

Rischa leaned towards Sam with a conspiratorial smile in her eyes. "He's going because he's also really tired," she said in a hushed tone. "It's really hard work to Pray so hard and make sure Dean will heal faster," she explained with a nod.

Sam glanced behind himself at Rischa’s words, looking at Dean’s injured arm. Sure enough, the bite wasn’t as bad as it had been. From what he could see of the teeth marks past the blood coating Dean’s arm, they were starting to shrink down in size. Amazement covered his face at the realization. “Really?” he asked, his voice as quiet as Rischa’s. “His arm's going to heal faster? That’ll be a big help if we want to get this thing out of the forest.”

Rischa bobbed her head at Sam and beamed. "Yes! That bite would probably have taken, I don't know, days! But now it should only be an hour or two before he's all better," she chirped, letting herself sound a little proud.

With the noble gone, Dean found himself feeling out of place again. Sam was down on the ground talking to the tiny little girl that Dean could remember in flashes of his delirious haze as being one of his healers. None of their words made it up to Dean, as quiet as they were talking down there.

His eyes scanned the members of Bowman’s family that were still nearby. Seeking the slight, tenuous trust he’d felt building with Bowman, he addressed the sprite. “Would anyone mind if I…” his other hand left the ground, wrapping protectively around his injured arm again, “used the stream here to wash off? I’m feeling more than a little gross...”

Bowman looked up, his eyes drifting to Dean's bloodied arm. He looked over at the stream, realizing that he felt quite disgusting as well. The handkerchief Dean had offered him hadn't really gotten rid of the feeling of being covered in wolf drool. "Well, yeah, go right ahead, the stream is for cleaning," he answered.

Saying little else, Bowman stepped back from Rischa and opened his wings, flapping them once to glide the short distance to the water. He made sure to go upstream of Dean, but once there Bowman simply dropped into the shallows. He ducked down to submerge himself and scrubbed his hands through his wild, pine green hair.

Rischa laughed as Bowman fluttered his wings in the water, looking a lot like a bird as he tried to get himself clean. Of course, she could hardly blame him, if he was stuck in a nasty wolf's mouth, probably the only sprite to ever experience that and live to talk about it. The water probably felt good on his cut, too.

Larxe and Candara approached, now that Bowman wasn't standing near Rischa with the two strangers. Candara offered a faint smile to Sam before addressing her daughter. "Rischa, baby, don't you want to go clean off, too?"

Rischa looked at her arms in surprise, suddenly remembering that she'd gotten Dean's blood all over them. She almost looked sad to see the rust colored stains on the scarf she wore around her waist, but soon recovered. "I should," she replied. Before she let her parents lead her towards the water, she looked up at Dean. "You should put your whole arm in the stream if it'll fit, I bet it would feel real good on your bite," she suggested with a grin. Then, she focused on Sam. "You should come to the stream, too, Sam. The water is always so nice, even if you just want to wash your hands. My daddy is one of the sprites that helps keep it clean."

Dean knelt down next to the water's edge, pushing up the sleeve of his black tee. Making sure he knew where everyone was, he crouched down, slowly dipping his arm into the water. The water was just high enough for him to completely submerge his arm in it. He gave a hiss of pain when the water first hit the bite, but found Rischa was right. The water did help the pain a little.

He carefully scrubbed away the blood, filling the water with a red murk that slowly slipped away with the current. The bite was much better now and the pain had been reduced to a dull, aching throb he could brush off like normal.

Once it was clean, Dean sat back with a sigh, surveying his surroundings. Bowman was splashing his wings in the clear water upstream, cleaning off the remnants of the wolf's drool. Sam was still standing alongside Dean, staring uncertainly at the small stream. Which Dean realized that, from Sam's point of view, was much deeper and more impressive. Closer to a river than a little stream.

Dean leaned down so he could talk to Sam, hating how he was looming over everyone. He'd never felt so out of place in his life, even when saving Sam and the others. There had been more of them around, but he'd always been surrounded by objects his size, not Sam's. But even from here he could make out the little homes grown into the branches of the trees, everything tailored to the sprites.

A tendril of fear wormed its way into his stomach. What would have happened if Sam hadn't been able to stop him? If he'd treated his own brother like a toy, what could he have done to a village of tiny sprites? A surge of gratitude hit him that Sam, Rischa and... Cerul... had been able to draw him out of his delirium and heal him.

Sam twisted around to look up at Dean when Dean put a hand down next to him to support his weight. "Dean?" His eyes strayed over to the injured arm. "How's it feel?"

"Fine, it actually doesn't hurt much now," Dean said, glad Sam hadn't flinched away from him. He'd thought there would be a good chance Sam would be jumpy after being scooped up off the ground like that mere moments ago. "Sam, what about you? Are you okay, after... what I..." he trailed off, afraid of the answer.

"Dean, that wasn't you. I mean, it was you, but not you you, ya know?" Sam rubbed the back of his head, trying to sort out his disordered thoughts. "Dean, I know you never would have done that in your right mind, so stop thinking I'll be mad at you." He kicked at the hand next to him, eliciting a smirk from his big brother at the gesture. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to see how the stream feels." He blinked a few times, staring at it. "The last time I saw a stream like this was when we went out hunting with Bobby, before..." he gestured at himself and Dean knew exactly what he was referring to. His curse.

Dean sat back up, switching to a cross-legged position next to the stream. "Think I'll just watch. I don't think they want me damming up the stream." He nudged Sam lightly with a finger towards the sprites. "Enjoy it while it lasts, kid. We can't stay here forever."

Sam tried to bat him off, sending up a glare. But he did go over to where Rischa and her family was, dropping his satchel on the ground. He started to strip off his jacket, intending to give the sparkling water a try. The red clouds near Dean had almost all been washed away by the current, replaced by clean water once more. It was clear why they used the stream to wash in.

He dropped his jacket with the satchel, standing there in his grey tee. Odd how naked he felt without the jacket and satchel... he almost never took either of them off. Kneeling down by the water, he dipped his hands in, enjoying the refreshing, clean feeling he got. He splashed some on his face, clearing off the sweat and panic from so far that day. He definitely needed this.

Rischa lay on her stomach by the water's edge, trailing her hands in the current. When Sam crouched nearby, she offered him a friendly smile. She could still feel a number of emotions on him: worry, bashfulness, pensiveness. "I told you the water was nice, didn't I?" she chirped. "I hope it will help you feel better, too. You've been so worried--"

"Rischa," her mother chided. "What have you been told about reading people and talking about what you see?"

Rischa made an ashamed face and blushed. She turned her apologetic eyes to Sam. "I'm sorry. I can't help it."

Bowman waded carefully to the edge of the water to sit heavily on the bank. "I don't think I'll ever feel like I'm clean enough," he groused. "Sam, be glad you didn't get carried off too." If he never went through that again, it would be too soon.

Before Bowman could complain more, Rischa hopped to her feet, staring across the stream. He followed her gaze, and his mouth opened slightly in shock. Inching toward the stream from the base of the nearest village tree were three cautious young sprites. The oldest was a boy of no more than twelve. There was a girl Rischa's age, and the third was a boy even smaller than her. Other than the oldest boy they were mere nestlings. "Oh, blast it... Someone wasn't watching them closely enough," he muttered, wings twitching with concern.

"It's my friends!" Rischa said brightly. Candara and Larxe watched with subdued worry as their daughter beckoned the other children near. All three of them approached slowly, awestruck eyes fixed upwards on Dean. Rischa positively beamed and turned to Sam. "Those are my friends. Maybe there'll be time to play, since Dean has to rest." Even as she spoke, the other young sprites reached the opposite bank.

Dean watched as the little sprites came out. He couldn't stop a small smile on his face at the sight. They were so small next to him, the youngest half the length of his fingers. It reminded him of why they were here, what he and Sam were trying to protect when they hunted such dangerous monsters, putting their own lives on the line without hesitation.

All three of the kids were absolutely amazed to see the human hunter sitting alongside the stream. He could feel their eyes on him the entire time they inched towards the stream. He scrunched himself down a bit where he was sitting, feeling oversized again. But, at least Sam was fitting in... he almost never got to be out, around other people during their normal cases. Sam spent a lot more time than Dean ever wanted holed up in a pocket, out of sight. It was for his own good, especially after what had happened those months ago, but the necessity of the precaution hurt.

The youngest, barely two inches tall and with tiny, fluttery little leaf-green wings, had his mouth open in complete awe. Bowman leapt to his feet as the boy kept inching forward, forgetting his surroundings. "Wait!" Bowman yelled sharply.

He was too late to catch the kid's attention. He slipped over the side of the bank and into the water with a yelp. Before anyone on the far shore could react, the small sprite's wings caught the stream's current. It started to drag the small boy away, and he struggled against the water, hardly able to keep himself above the surface and too small to reach the bottom with his kicking feet.

Chapter Text

Dean didn't see it coming when one of the kids toppled over into the water. To him, the stream was a gentle, steady flow, hardly life-threatening. But the little boy was sucked right under, fragile little wings caught helplessly in the current he was too tiny to fight against. The water around him splashed as he struggled to keep his head above the water. Sputtering coughs escaped his throat whenever he managed it for a brief second.

"Whoa!" Reacting instinctively, Dean straightened in place, plunging a hand at the little boy.

Bowman’s heart dropped into his stomach and his wings twitched, ready to dart across the stream. But, instead, he looked up at Dean’s arm, amazed by how quickly the human acted. Dean’s fingers slipped into the water around the boy, curling under him so he could be safely scooped out. As carefully as he could, he lifted his hand out of the water, keeping the boy safely nestled in the curve created between his fingers and his palm.

"Gotta be more careful there, sport," Dean said softly. Sharp green eyes checked over the tiny sprite, making sure he hadn't been hurt by either his fall or the water.

Once he was certain the boy was okay, Dean lowered his hand. Seeking familiarity, he held his hand out near Bowman and Sam so they'd be able to check over the child.

The boy was coughing when Bowman approached Dean's hand to check on him, but was otherwise okay. The other two children fluttered over the stream on their more developed wings and landed in small stumbles. Before Bowman could offer the kid a hand, he wriggled and kicked his short legs to get himself sitting upright. He stared wide-eyed at the hand beneath him, struck dumb by the size of it.

Rischa offered her young friend a hand, and he took it so he could get his feet on the ground. "Vel, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Rischa, I'm okay," the boy answered, turning a grin up at Dean. He looked like he'd just met someone famous.

Bowman stood there, completely baffled, as the other sprite children scurried up to check on their friend, completely unafraid of the huge hand so near. Is this safe? Should I send them home? But Dean just saved Vel. Their parents are gonna kill me if they find out about this.

Rischa was not weighed down by such concerns, but rather was quite happy that her friends were there unscathed (if a little damp, in Vel's case). "These are my friends," she announced. "That's Tenner, Nanya, and Vel," she pointed to the other sprite children from oldest to youngest. "And this is Dean," she waved a hand in the larger brother's direction. "That's his brother, Sam." She indicated Sam with a smile.

The sprite children had been focusing mostly on Dean, thanks to his rather obvious presence. But as soon as Rischa pointed Sam out, they looked at him curiously. Tenner's eyes brightened. "Sam, you look strong. You could be a knight!"

Vel by @creatorofuniverses

Sam turned red at the children's wide-eyed looks. "You think?" he asked, surprised. He glanced down at himself, realizing he was pretty bulky next to any of the sprites. He was adjusted to climbing everywhere, and that had combined with his human heritage to give him a stronger physique than any of the thin-framed sprites.

With Sam serving as a distraction, Dean drew his hand away from the bitty sprite children, pausing only to lightly ruffle the damp hair of the little boy he'd saved with a careful finger. He gave the boy a wink and got a grin in return.

Sam knelt down next to the kids, showing off his arm and flexing to display his muscles. This would probably be the one time he got to show off a little with Dean around. Usually Sam came off as the weaker brother, despite his own relative strength, honed from years of climbing. "So, what do you think?" Sam asked, grinning.

Tenner beamed, clearly impressed, and the younger children leaned forward a little to get a closer look at the muscles Sam was showing off. Bowman watched them, amazed by how easily they took a shine to the humans. Tell a child something or someone is safe, and they'll believe you instantly.

Vel inched toward Sam to poke at his arm. "You should be a knight," he agreed. He leaned over slightly to observe Sam's lack of wings. "Even though you can't fly you'd probably be good at it. I bet you could throw a rock all the way across the stream!"

Rischa laughed. "I guess humans are always strong, even if they're sprite-sized," she pointed out. Her face brightened suddenly. "We should play a game! Sam and Dean, do you want to?"

Rischa's mother spoke up. "Rischa, love, don't you think you should let them rest? They've come a long way today," she suggested kindly, though there was a warm look in her eyes for her daughter's unwavering kindness.

"But Mama, Dean is getting better so fast! He can play if he wants to!" Rischa protested, pointing at the bite on Dean's arm, which continued to improve.

Bowman glanced at Dean and then at Sam. He didn't want to seem untrusting, but having the smaller children around just didn't seem safe, especially since they had to sneak out to be there. And he would most certainly get the blame for inspiring that kind of behavior, considering he was prone to sneaking out himself. "Well, maybe that's true, Rischa, but you don't want to bother these guys too much, so soon after they got here, right?" he suggested. "Maybe you kids should go on home and ask your parents if you can come visit, uh, later."

Nanya, the girl Rischa's age, put her hands on her hips and flicked her wings with casual sass. "Well, you're the one who brought them here and is always saying some humans are safe," she countered, tilting her head as if that was that.

Tenner suddenly stooped to the ground and picked up a fallen leaf that was still green and pliant. The leaf was small, barely more than an inch wide, but the boy waved it in the air. "I've got an idea," he announced. "We can race boats!" The other children nodded and grinned, turning their hopeful faces towards either Sam or Dean. Bowman slapped a hand over his eyes at how quickly the children brushed off the adults' rational advice.

It was a little like looking back in time at his own childhood, if he were honest with himself.

Tenner continued, looking rather proud that he'd captured the younger kids' attention. "I'm really good at making leaf boats. I can show you how," he told Sam and Dean. "Don't you want to play?"

Vel took a few shuffling steps toward Dean, his head tilted back to look up at his face. "I don't know how to make leaf boats yet either. They're hard to get right on the first try, but do you want to race?"

Sam rolled the cuff of his tee shirt back down, standing back up. "Well..." he glanced around, taking note of the stress covering Bowman's face. "We're just guests, so we don't want to overstay our welcome." Another quick glance, this time up at Dean showed the hunter peering curiously down at the leaves in the tiny sprite's hands. Dean had his hands folded on his lap, keeping well away from the little kids. Sam knew how much Dean loved being around kids, but even with the ones he knew back at Sam's motel he'd been afraid of ever hurting them. Here there were a bunch of kids Dean had never met before, yet they were perfectly willing to give him a chance, even insisting on it, to Bowman's clear chagrin.

Sam's eyes flashed to Bowman while he talked. "We can play if we're allowed. But..." he looked over the leaves they had. "I don't know if Dean could do much with leaves that small," Sam cautioned with a laugh. "He's a little big for that."

Bowman's eyes widened slightly when suddenly the young sprites had their eyes on him. They pleaded with their expressions for him to relent. He was about ready to insist that no, the kids really should go home and ask their parents. But Rischa caught his gaze. Bowman pursed his lips and knew he'd already lost the battle. He couldn't bring himself to say no to that girl.

He sighed. A glance to the side showed that even Larxe and Candara were leaving this up to him. "You're helping explain this to their parents," he muttered before looking back at the kids and shrugging. He heard a snicker from his aunt and could just hear the We’ll see about that in the sound. "Just be careful," he conceded. Your parents will never let me hear the end of it.

As soon as Bowman's reluctant permission came out, the four young sprites perked up, their wings fanning excitedly. Little Vel looked back at Dean. "We'll find you a really big leaf, okay?" he told him, holding his arms out to the sides as wide as he could, which demonstrated a width less than two inches. With that assurance, the tiny sprite began searching the foliage for something suitable.

Tenner started to fold one of the leaves he held, biting his lip in concentration. As he worked on the first leaf boat, Rischa knelt to find another leaf. She held it out to Sam and whispered, "If we find enough leaves, even Bowman might play ... he's even better than Tenn at making boats." She retrieved her own leaf and folded it slowly, holding it out for Sam to see the process of turning it into a simple little boat.

Sam folded the leaf carefully, following Rischa's instruction. It fascinated him that they could do so much with just a leaf. Walt would love to talk to the sprites. Walt was a tanner, the person who'd made Sam's satchel and boots, sturdy enough that they held up as well as Dean's. He'd love to meet these people, learn some new tricks.

Rischa nodded in approval as Sam's first leaf boat came together quite well. "You're good at this! I bet your boat will go all the way to the end of the stream," she told him with a smile. Her own was a little smaller, but still held together in the correct shape once she was finished. "Look, Bowman," she announced, holding it out towards her cousin. He still seemed a bit unnerved, but she hoped that maybe once the game started he'd feel better.

"That's very good, Birdie," Bowman told her with a faint smile.

Sam shot a glance up at Dean, checking to see how his brother was holding up.

Dean rubbed his injured arm unconsciously. The wolf bite was fading away, healing faster than everything he'd ever seen except Nixie's chant. And considering what Sam had gone through during the healing, Dean was thankful for Rischa and Cerul's gentler method.

They had time before he'd be up and about, so he let himself watch the younger sprites' antics below. They were so tiny! Little versions of Bowman's wings sprang from their backs, fluttering when they got excited. And Dean got the impression from the littlest one that he'd been adopted, from the excited looks Vel sent him over his shoulder while he searched for a leaf.

Checking his surroundings, Dean shifted until he was kneeling, then leaned over so he could see what kind of leaves the sprites were searching for. Maybe he could help... after all, he could see much more of the ground than any of them.

Dean's shadow falling closer over them drew Bowman's gaze upward. He watched warily as Dean observed the leaves that Tenner and Nanya focused on. Vel was still rummaging around for a suitable leaf of his own.

Dean reached over the little sprite that was searching for him, plucking a leaf from a foot away. Bowman tensed from the motion until he saw that Dean was merely grabbing a leaf. A large leaf that was bigger than Vel, and yet it was tiny in his hand. Bowman took a short breath, but couldn't bring himself to gripe at Dean for moving so suddenly.

"Is this what I'd need?" Dean asked.

Vel was smiling in approval. "Yeah, that's just right," he answered. The boy found a leaf of his own and sat down abruptly in Dean's shadow. With the leaf in his lap, he tried to fold it into the proper shape carefully. Bowman saw him struggling with it; the other children seemed preoccupied with their own boats, and it was clear that Vel had never learned how to make a leaf boat before.

Bowman sighed and walked over to kneel next to the kid, ignoring the way it seemed like Dean loomed overhead. The human ... wasn't doing so terribly, he had to begrudgingly admit. "Okay, guys, here's how you do this," he said, swiping up a leaf of his own and folding it into shape so Vel and Dean could follow along. He couldn't help but smirk at the leaf in Dean's hand, wondering if he'd be able to manipulate something so comparably small. "If you can, Dean," he teased quietly, earning a giggle from Vel.

"I can handle it, small fry. Don't you worry," Dean snarked back out of habit more than anything. With his injury healing, his snark was back to normal levels.

Shifting his duffel farther away from the stream, Dean lay flat on the ground once he was sure the area around him was clear of any other sprites. Now he could see what they were doing with the tiny leaves and hopefully figure it out for himself. Dean stretched his arms out so his hands were close to Bowman and Vel, and mirrored what they were doing to the leaves with careful, delicate motions. If he could craft his own weaponry and fix almost any car on his own, he could manage this.

Bowman's lips became a thin line as the ground rumbled softly under Dean's movements. One thing he might never get used to was how much a simple motion by a human translated in the ground. He gave Dean's hands a sidelong glance, noting how close they were. He's not going to make a grab at you, he reminded himself. It was so strange that the same hand that had snatched him out of the air just a day before was now carefully crafting a leaf boat, of all things.

Sam glanced up at Dean's movement too, watching the hunter try and get settled so he was closer to the sprites level. Sam smiled, seeing how Dean was actually starting to enjoy himself. After what he'd been through earlier...

Sam reflected on what Dean had revealed during his delirium... "Dad says I have to be a better hunter. He says if I don't stay sharp, I'm asking to die. Just like Sammy." Even the thought of someone tossing Sam's death in Dean's face made him sick... never mind it being their dad that had said it. No wonder Dean was afraid to let anyone in.

No wonder he closed down whenever Sam tried...

Chapter Text

Sam stared over at Dean with sadness in his eyes. If only you'd open up to me, Dean... I could help carry that burden you've been carrying since I was cursed...

But Dean stubbornly refused to talk about the years they had been separated, and nothing Sam ever said could change his mind. Sam sighed quietly, then blinked down at the leaf in his hands. It was done and he'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed.

"Is this what it's supposed to look like?" he asked Rischa, hefting it up.

Closer to Dean and the others, Bowman belatedly noticed that Vel seemed to have a harder time of the boatmaking task than Dean did. Bowman chuckled faintly despite his nerves and set his own work aside. He took Vel’s little wrists in his own gentle hands and guided the kid's hands, helping him form the small leaf into the correct shape. "Not bad for your first boat," he told him with an encouraging smile.

"Thanks, Bowman," Vel answered with a grin. He got to his feet, his short wings flaring out for extra balance as both hands were preoccupied with carefully holding onto the boat. He held it up in front of himself so Dean could see. "This is the first one I ever made! We got an even better teacher than Tenn, Bowman makes the best leaf boats."

Bowman chuckled sheepishly under the glowing praise. "That's not true. I've just had more practice."

Closer to the stream, Rischa watched Sam's face thoughtfully. "That looks great," she assured him, holding her own boat out next to his to compare them. But she couldn't ignore the conflicting emotions that danced around the sprite-sized human, nor could she ignore the glances he continued to send towards his brother.

On one hand, he was happy. Happy that Dean was okay and on the mend, and happy that Dean could enjoy himself. On the other hand, he was sad. Rischa couldn't see memories, but she could tell that his sadness came from something that stayed with him for a long time. And there was some guilt there, too. Guilt coming, perhaps, from the same source as his sadness.

"You know, Dean's really lucky he's got a brother like you to take care of him," she pointed out softly. "I could feel it earlier, when he got out of his daze. He was so relieved, like a tree feeling the warm spring again after a long winter." She smiled encouragingly and glanced over her shoulder to where Bowman knelt with Vel, quite close to the large human in question. "I have to take care of Bowman sometimes, too."

She looked back up at Sam with a grin. "He's my cousin but he's mostly a big brother to me, just like Dean is for you! Good thing they have us to help them, even if it's just by being here. Right?"

Sam followed Rischa's eyes, looking over at Bowman and Dean. By now, Dean had his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, intent on the tiny leaf between his fingers as he tried to coax the last few steps out of it.

"Maybe you're right," Sam allowed. With him opening up a little, Rischa sat patiently and listened. It was her calling to listen, after all. "It's hard, though. He was on his own for years thinking I was dead, and I think... I think that hurt him in ways that might never heal. And... and I'm afraid if anything ever happens to me again... like what almost happened earlier, before you healed him... I'm afraid it'll break him. He acts tough, but you can see it in his eyes when he takes things to heart."

Sam stared down at his leaf. After hearing what Rischa had told him, he could feel a warm glow inside. At least I helped him that much, if nothing else...

"Ah ha!" Dean exclaimed as he finished off the tiny boat. Sam was dragged away from his thoughts and towards the giant hunter. "I knew I could do it," Dean said smugly down to Bowman, brandishing his boat proudly for inspection. Sam found himself grinning at the obvious pride in Dean's eyes for being able to craft the tiny vessel.

Rischa beamed at the boat pinched carefully in Dean’s fingers. It would probably be able to hold all of the other boats inside of it and still float without any problems. Before she meandered over to join the others in looking it over, she looked back up at Sam. "Hurts on your heart do take a long time to get better. But that doesn't mean they won't," she said softly, and the look in her eyes showed that she was quietly confident in her claim.

"He's got you back, Sam, and I promise that makes a big difference even if it doesn't always feel like it does." With that closing remark, she grinned and darted over towards Dean. Like a switch being flipped, Rischa was a carefree child again, and not a calm repository of quiet, genuine advice.

Bowman smiled at Rischa as she bounded up to him, a small leaf boat of her own cradled in her hands. He ruffled her hair with a hand. "There you are, Birdie. Did you come to see Dean's handiwork?" he asked her.

"Yes!" she answered brightly. She walked right up to where Dean held out the leaf boat he'd crafted. Bowman's wings tensed only a little as the sprite children came so close to the human's hand. Tenner held up his own boat to compare it side by side with Dean's, and it wasn't even half the size. Nanya laughed teasingly and elbowed his side.

"Wow, that's probably the biggest boat anyone's ever made," Tenner commented appreciatively.

Sam watched as Dean responded to Tenner, "You probably haven't had many humans make a boat before, 'cause someone like me might have a little trouble making a boat like yours." Dean held his finger lightly against Tenner's boat, showing how the tip could easily cover the entire boat.

Sam got up from the ground, following Rischa back over to his big brother. He smiled at the way Dean's boat had all the little sprite kids enthralled, knowing how happy it would make Dean. And indeed, Dean's expression was closer to an overeager, oversized puppy who'd just discovered a bunch of new friends than the intimidating hunter he'd been not so long ago.

Dean spotted Sam making his way over and held his boat up next to Vel's. "What do you think, Sam? Pretty good for our first shot, right?" He ruffled Vel's hair again with a finger, grinning. "Kid's gonna be a natural at these, I know it." Vel laughed and tried to fix his light brown locks with one hand, halfway succeeding.

Sam grinned back. "I'd say. Boats look great all around," he said, holding his own up to show it off. It was plenty smaller than Dean's, but just as well-crafted. Both brothers had taken to building them with ease.

Bowman kept his eyes on the kids as they crowded so near Dean's hand. The human was being gentle and playful with even the smallest sprite. There wasn’t a trace of fear on any of the young sprite faces.

Is this really the same guy as yesterday? he asked himself. Seeing all the kids lean forward to examine the honestly huge leaf boat, and seeing the expression on the human's face, Bowman couldn't find it in him to complain much. He knelt to pick up his own boat from the ground, finishing off the last few folds quickly.

"Don't forget, nestlings, you still have to race them," he pointed out. "You did great jobs. Let's see if anyone's boat will float faster than that big one, okay?"

A bright chorus of cheerful Yes!'s was followed by the kids turning to carry their boats to the water. Tenner and Nanya argued about who was more likely to win, all the way up to the bank. They held their boats above the gentle current and waited excitedly for the others.

"Come on, Sam, this is the best part," Rischa chirped, dashing over to the water herself. She lay down on her stomach, hands over the water as she waited for a starting signal. Vel mimicked her, though he was being more cautious; clearly he didn't want to make a repeat performance of falling into the water. Candara and Larxe smiled encouragingly at the kids from their own seats on the bank, keeping up their quiet vigil.

Bowman sighed faintly. These young sprites hadn't seen Dean at his most intimidating, and it seemed like they never would. For that, Bowman could only be grateful. He threw Dean an appraising look before finally admitting, "You're pretty good with these kids." That said, he went over to the stream and knelt next to Rischa, ruffling her hair before holding his own leaf boat over the water.

Dean smiled gently at Bowman's retreating figure. "It's good to see what you're fighting for, sometimes."

Both Sam and Dean watched as the sprites held their boats above the water. Sam wandered over to Bowman and Rischa. "Dean loves kids," Sam told Bowman reassuringly, keeping his voice soft enough that Dean shouldn't be able to overhear. "I've never seen him anything but gentle around kids of any size. It killed him when Kara was afraid of him."

Bowman thought about Sam’s words as he glanced between the two brothers, so different in size, but brothers nonetheless. There was a lot to them, a lot more than he’d imagined when his head was clouded by fear of what Dean planned with him. If they were happy with the nestlings being happy, they couldn’t be so bad. "You two joining in, or are you worried Vel here is gonna leave you behind too quickly?"

At Bowman’s encouragement, Sam held his boat over the water, mimicking the sprites. He was proud of not flinching when Dean's arm unexpectedly passed overhead, holding his own boat delicately pinched between two fingers a few inches out so he wasn't in danger of bumping into anyone.

Speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, Sam asked Bowman, "So, what do we do?" as he realized he and Dean didn't know how to play.

Bowman eyed Dean's arm hanging overhead. It was kind of odd that someone so large had actually been careful enough to craft his own leaf boat, or to ruffle the hair of a child smaller than his little finger. "Once someone gives a signal just drop the boats in the water," he explained simply. "There aren't a lot of other rules; it's just kind of fun to watch them float downstream."

"Can I give the signal?" Nanya asked, her wings fluttering excitedly.

"Nooo, let someone new do it for once," Vel protested, propping himself up on the bank, still carefully cradling his first leaf boat in his hands. "You always do it."

Tenner was practically bouncing on his heels where he crouched. "Come on, can't someone just say 'go' already? I wanna see who'll win!" He had a competitive spark in his eyes. He kept glancing over at the bigger boat that Dean held out, and it was clear he was determined to see it in action.

Rischa laughed at his restlessness. "Vel, why don't you do it?"

The boy looked like he'd been given the world. "Really? Okay!" He twisted around to address Sam and Dean, since they were new to the game. "Be sure to let go of your boats as soon as I say, okay? So they'll be able to keep up with the others," he explained patiently, as though he were describing a very complicated process.

Rischa chuckled quietly as Vel inched back up to the water, carefully lowering his little boat. "Okay. Ready ... set ... go!" Vel announced. Once the boats were released, he and the other sprites scrambled to their feet and jogged alongside the stream to follow the boats as they bobbed along atop the water. Vel turned a grin back at the humans. "Our boats worked! Even though they were the first ones we made!" he said proudly, little wings flaring out and fluttering in his excitement.

Rischa watched the others with a smile, but remained lying by the bank. Her eyelids were a bit heavy, and she lay her head on her arms. Bowman, seated next to her, lightly ran his hand back and forth between her shoulder blades.

"Tired, Birdie?" Bowman asked. His small cousin mumbled an unintelligible reply and squirmed closer to him. Soon enough her head rested on his lap. "You worked hard today," he told her with a smile. He brushed a hand along one of her wings.

Once Rischa was settled, Bowman glanced up at Sam. "Aside from a kid almost falling asleep, that's how most boat races go," he explained with a shrug.

Once the boats were all in the water, Dean took his arm back, leaning his head on it to get comfortable. His injured arm he stretched out to the side. The pain was slowly retreating from it as the bite marks shrank. Whatever magic the sprites used was very effective.

For a few minutes, he let his mind drift, pretending he and Sam were just there to relax. Until his arm was better, he wouldn't do anyone any good fretting, and an outlet for the stress from their case was appreciated. Especially after the pain of his delirium, which continued to lurk in the back of his mind. Whenever his focus was drawn to it, he would look in Sam's direction, remembering how happy Sam was to be with him, even though Dean was so much bigger now.

The tiny boats bobbed along in the water with the little sprites following along, wings fluttering in their excitement. Bowman and Rischa remained where the race had begun, sitting on the bank of the tiny stream. Sam trailed behind the kids curiously, watching their antics with a smile. He had his hands casually in his pants pockets, strolling along. He looked more normal here than Dean had ever seen him, and Dean felt like the outsider. Sam fit right in with the sprites, minus the wings. He'd even left his satchel behind, with his jacket lying next to it. Though Dean supposed it wasn't exactly by itself, with it resting only a few inches from his arm. One bonus about being so big.

It started out slow, but Dean's larger leaf boat began to slip out in front of the others, driven by its heavier weight. The lighter weight of the other leaves worked against them, making any little eddy in the current shift them in place, sometimes pushing them completely back. The kids got excited when they saw Dean's in the lead, nudging each other and whispering excitedly.

Nanya saw one of the smaller boats start to spin in an eddy after Dean's boat went past it, and laughed loudly. Tenner sent her a pouting look. The girl looked back and, seeing Sam coming up behind, pointed at the floundering leaf boat. "Your brother's boat knocked Tenn's right out of the race," she told him.

"That's just 'cause his boat is so big," Tenner countered with a nod, looking like he was confident it wouldn't have happened any other day. He grinned back at Dean. "But a bigger boat will always win."

Vel hadn't run nearly as far as the others before his little legs got tired. He sat down heavily, his wings resting on the ground behind him. Though he was tired out, the boy grinned ear to ear. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, meeting the human's eyes with some ease now that he lay down. "You won your first race!" he announced.

"Yeah, but I was close!" Tenner countered, despite his own leaf boat being woefully behind now.

Vel lifted his wings, a tiny mimic of the way Bowman had flared his wings at Sam in the vent. On the kid, his undersized wings couldn't even begin to look threatening. "But you're not close now, are ya?" he teased, laughing when Tenner flicked his own wings in playful annoyance.

Dean grinned. “Looks like the new guys take home the prize,” he laughed jokingly, secretly glad the kids weren’t mad he’d won because of his size. He held a finger out to Vel, not noticing the way Bowman stiffened momentarily from the motion. “High five!”

Sam had to bite back a laugh of his own when he saw the confusion that passed over the kids’ faces. “He wants you to slap his finger as hard as you can,” he explained. Sam ran over to the hand and gamely slapped Dean’s fingertip to demonstrate. “See? Like that. Humans do it to congratulate each other when something good happens, only they usually use the whole hand and slap them. That’s why they call it ‘high five,' see? Five fingers.”

He turned around and almost jumped out of his skin. Dean had his entire hand extended, stretching over Sam’s head almost twice his height. “What? I thought you wanted to do it the human way, pint-size,” Dean said with a wink. He stretched a finger out to Vel again. “So, how about it, squirt? You’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?”

Bowman couldn't help but tilt his head. It was kind of an odd way to celebrate, but then he couldn't really say that surprised him. Humans did a lot of odd things. And the kids seemed intrigued and delighted.

Vel got to his feet in a hurry, almost knocking himself off balance with his own wings. He paused, and then mimicked Sam's motion and slapped the tip of the human's finger. "High five!" he crowed enthusiastically.

"Hey, I wanna try," Nanya chirped, running back to give Dean another high five. Tenner was last, and once all three of them had completed the gesture, they practiced with each other. "It's like applause but with help," Nanya quipped. "Humans are so funny!"

"It's fun," Vel determined. He turned to Sam, looking up at him with a bright smile and offering his own hand. "High five!"

Sam knelt down next to the little guy. “High five!” he said, smiling as he smacked his hand against Vel’s, albeit much gentler than he’d hit Dean’s finger. Looked like Dean had started a new fad with the sprite kids. It looked like the adults around were in for a lot of high five!’s after the kids showed their friends.

Chapter Text

Dean lowered his hand to the ground, but left it stretched casually out next to the kids and Sam. At least he was careful to keep from hemming them in with his other arm. He’d really gotten much better at that once realizing how nervous it made Sam to be surrounded by massive, muscled arms that could easily trap him where he was, no matter that he wouldn't. Dean put a ton of effort into making sure his brother was comfortable around him, which Sam was thankful for.

Wandering over to the oldest kid, Sam nodded at the boats in the stream. “So, what happens to the boats when you finish racing them? Do you keep them or let them drift down the stream as far as they can go?”

Tenner looked over at the boats as they continued to drift downstream. "We just let 'em go," he replied. "Bowman says a lot of 'em make it all the way to the end of the stream!"

"But that's okay. We can always make more," Nanya pointed out, gesturing to the leaves still scattered around. "Aren't they fun to make?"

Vel inched up to Dean's hand since it was resting on the ground. He stood on his tip toes to see over it. Then, he knelt to look underneath the human's partially curled fingers. It created a small dome that a sprite could easily hide beneath.

Bowman watched with slightly wide eyes and an open mouth as Vel so casually investigated Dean's hand. He almost got up to tell him to step away a little, give the human some space. Before he did, he glanced down, seeing that Rischa had fallen asleep on his lap. After everything she'd done for the day, he couldn't bring himself to rouse her just yet.

When he looked up again, Vel was out of sight. Bowman's heart immediately beat faster as he scanned the area for the boy.

"Hey guys, look at this!" Vel cried, from where he was huddled partially under Dean's hand behind his thumb. "Dean's hand is like a little house."

"Whaaat? No way," Nanya exclaimed, sidling around so she could see the younger kid in his hiding place. She stooped over with a grin, her wings opening slightly for balance as she peered in at Vel. "Vel, what are you doing in there?"

"Hiding!" Vel answered with a quiet giggle, scooting back a little so he was under Dean's hand completely now.

Spotting what Vel was doing, Sam came over to his brother's hand to supervise. "Dean," he called up. He didn't want the kids so close to Dean if he didn't know they were there. Dean was too big to take anything like that lightly. One wrong move was all it would take with Sam or any of the others.

"Don't worry, I see 'em," Dean said soothingly. He smiled, reminiscing. "Reminds me of the games Kara used to play back while you were healing at your motel." He shifted his hand on the ground, arching his palm a little higher to give Vel more room underneath. "She'd hide from Sean and have me close my fingers so he couldn't reach her. She was never even afraid of being trapped," he finished in a wondering tone of voice.

Sam dropped to a squat to peer in the dark space between Dean's fingers, spotting the giggling Vel under there. "How's the view under there?" Sam called to him.

"Kinda dark," Vel answered, peering around. It was strange to sit under a hand so huge, but also fun. "I guess you can come in if you want. He's your brother after all."

Bowman pushed both hands back through his hair as now all three sprite kids were crowded near Dean's massive hand. They were determined to cause his early death by one of two ways: a heart attack, or their parents' wrath. His lips were pursed, and he still couldn't bring himself to tell them to Be careful, blast it, his hand could hurt you if you don't watch. They were just too wide-eyed and joyful to have such interesting new playmates.

Nanya knelt and ducked her head to peer under the dome created by Dean's large hand. "Vel, it's not really a house, you know, people don't need your permission to go in," she pointed out with a chuckle. Vel pulled a face at her, and Nanya returned it, her wings flickering sassily.

Tenner grinned and opened up his own wings. A few seconds of wobbly flight later, he'd landed his feet on the back of Dean's hand. His arms were out for balance, and his wings remained flared, but he grinned triumphantly. "Hey Vel, I'm on your 'house,' " he called.

Sam was torn between watching Tenner and making sure he was careful on Dean's hand or crawling under and checking on Vel. But... Tenner was the oldest. He could watch out for himself better than Vel could. At least on Dean's hand he was only a few inches off the ground, and he could fly. He could probably recover from a fall pretty easily.

Mind made up, Sam shot a look up at Dean. As if he was reading Sam's mind, Dean opened up the crack between two of his fingers so Sam could fit under, if just barely. Squatting down, Sam crawled under. He was much larger than the itty bitty Vel, so he had to stay hunched over, and his head still brushed against Dean's palm, tickling the skin overhead.

Sam peered around curiously. In all the time he'd been with Dean, he'd never thought of doing anything like this. It was dark, but it was also warm and safe.

Scooching up next to Vel, Sam wrapped his arms around his legs to make himself smaller, if possible. "I like it under here. It's cozy," he said, giving Vel a warm smile.

Dean watched, amazed all over again as he watched Sam slip under his hand. It never ceased to amaze him how small Sam was. He could barely feel Sam's hair tickling his callused palm as he slipped under. Dean blinked down in amazement when Sam vanished completely. His little brother and a sprite were completely blocked from sight by Dean's own palm - and nothing more!

Curious what was going on under there, Dean pressed his face against the ground, blinking to see into the dark little alcove. His hot breath accidentally sent puffs of dirt in the air before he remembered to slow his breathing for them. Sam and Vel were sitting next to each other, chatting.

Sam grumpily waved Dean off. "Don't you know how to give us privacy in our own home?" Sam yelled out jokingly.

Little giggles from the top of his hand caught Dean's attention. Peeling himself from the ground, Dean locked eyes with the oldest sprite kid, Tenner. "Oh, you think that's funny?" he said jokingly. "Me, banned from my own hand," he finished, faking a forlorn tone of voice. It got more snickers out of the kid.

A thought struck him when he saw how Tenner was standing as high as he could on the back of his hand. "Hey," Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "You wanna go higher than that?" Cautiously moving his injured arm, Dean held his free hand next to where Tenner was standing. He was careful to not move the hand Sam and Vel were under at all. "Feel free to hop on the Dean Express."

Bowman felt a protest choke in his throat as Tenner beamed and hopped onto Dean's offered hand without a second thought. It was one thing to climb up on the back of Dean's hand. But now, the kid stood right in Dean's palm, and the human could close his hand at any time. Bowman was beginning to doubt that Dean actually would, but he just knew that once word got out among the nestlings about the 'Dean Express,' he'd be in so much trouble.

Spirit help me, I must be crazy for letting this go on, Bowman thought, his gaze still fixed on the scene. Rischa stirred a little, no doubt bothered by his worry, so Bowman gently rubbed her back and tried to let go of his concerns. He hummed softly, encouraging the girl to continue resting. He'd just have to trust Sam and Dean on this one.

"Oh wow, this is neat!" Tenner said, grinning ear to ear. His eyes were bright with humor as he stood in the center of Dean's palm, keeping his balance by occasionally fanning his wings.

"I wanna try, too!" Nanya protested, not wanting to be the only one left out of the fun. She opened up her own wings. They fluttered rapidly, carrying her upward with slightly less skill than Tenn; she was still learning. She caught her arms on the edge of Dean's hand, momentarily hanging over the side, kicking her little legs and laughing. "Come on, Tenn, help me up!"

Tenner rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine," he conceded, kneeling to help pull the girl onto Dean's palm with him.

After a few minutes sitting under Dean's hand with Vel, Sam perked up with an idea. "C'mon, I have a cool surprise in my bag."

They crawled out from under Dean's hand, pausing to watch the other children in Dean's other hand. "Don't worry, you can ride his hand anytime," Sam assured Vel as they walked alongside the stream to where Bowman and Rischa were sitting. "Dean loves playing.” Not to mention, Sam thought to himself, it takes him almost no effort to do that.

They came up to where Bowman and Rischa were sitting by the water's edge. Sam squatted by his bag, rifling through the contents. "Was it just the healing that made her so tired?" Sam asked with a nod in her direction.

Bowman nodded, continuing to hum softly as Rischa slept. She would probably be exhausted for the rest of the afternoon. Channeling such an intense Prayer, the healing touch itself, was very exhausting. Only those with the Voice could really do enough to speed up healing. The way Dean's arm and Bowman's leg sealed up, much faster than normal, came from a huge boost of life energy, and that magic had flowed through Rischa and Cerul before reaching Dean. The girl's body was tired after that.

"I hope we get to thank her, then," Sam said sincerely. "After what we put you through yesterday, you didn't have to help us like that, but I'm glad you did. Me and Dean could definitely use some backup on this case."

Sam's hands found what he needed. "Ah ha!" he exclaimed with a grin. A large blue, candy-coated chocolate was withdrawn from the satchel. "And here I thought I'd need to chuck this at Dean to wake him up earlier," he snorted.

He dug into his jacket next to the satchel to get his knife and carved into the candy. "You'll love this," he promised Vel, handing him a piece of the chocolate.

Dean noticed Sam and Vel come out from under his hand immediately, walking back to Bowman as fast as Vel's little legs could go. Once they were over there, he shifted position a few inches so he was facing Sam and the others, the two kids cupped safely in his hand. "You got that from my bag, didn't you?" Dean asked, eyes flicking between his duffel and Sam.

"Yep," Sam said confidently as he broke it down into smaller pieces for anyone else that wanted a bit. "Figured I'd treat myself, with all I went through to get you a granola bar, especially when I landed on the M&M's with the mess your," and here he jabbed a finger right at Dean's forehead, "stuff is in."

The children laughed at the brothers' banter. Nanya fell over in Dean's hand, plopping to a seated position. She scooted a little closer to the edge to peer down at the brightly-colored object in question. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

Vel's eyes were wide. He had just taken his first taste of the stuff, and a slow smile dropped onto his face. "It's really good," he promised. "It's sweeter than birch sap!"

"No way," Tenner argued. "I gotta try that, see if you're just flying in circles." He clapped his hands before holding them at the ready. "Sam, throw some up here, please?"

Sam watched as Dean frowned slightly at Tenner in his hand, most likely thinking about the mess his hands would be after the kids ate their first chocolate snack. Sam continued to break the M&M into little pieces. He pushed the peanut at the center to the side for later.  Sam's mouth watered slightly at the thought.

"How 'bout you join Sam and Vel down there?" Dean said to the kid. He gave a fake yawn. "My hand's tired, and it could use a quick break."

He lowered his hand down, resting his head on his other arm again. The hand came to rest right next to Bowman and Sam to let the kids off. Sam grinned, holding a hand out to help them down, "C'mon guys, let's give the big guy a break. Can't be picking on him all day... just most of it."

"Hey, watch it, pint-size," Dean grumbled. "I'm sure your bag's just as messy as mine is. It's just too small for anyone to fit in."

"You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better," Sam jabbed.

Bowman raised an eyebrow as the kids gathered around Sam to receive their own pieces of the colorful human treat. Hearing about how cluttered Dean's bag was, he was glad he'd never had to spend any time in there. Dean could easily have locked him in the bag, since it sealed up with zippers. Those were a weird human invention, but they sure worked. Bowman would not have been able to escape if he were trapped in there.

"Guess you better think about a little spring cleaning, there, Dean," Bowman quipped with a faint smirk.

Vel wandered up to him, holding out a piece of the sugary treat. "D'you want some, Bowman?" he offered. "Humans have good food!"

Bowman chuckled. "They do sometimes," he admitted, accepting the fragment of chocolate. A sidelong glance at Dean's arm, which rested so close by, revealed that it was so much better than even moments ago. Soon enough he'd be ready to start up the search again.

Bowman tried some of the chocolate and was quietly impressed with it. He gently shook Rischa's shoulder to get her attention. "Hey, Birdie, don't sleep the sun down," he cajoled.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrist. "Oh. Oh! Oops! I fell asleep!" she blurted, looking around to reorient herself. When she looked back at Bowman, he placed a sweet-smelling block in her hands. "What's this?"

"It's good, Rischa, you should try it!" Nanya insisted. She had finished her own chocolate already, and sat down on the edge of Dean's hand. Her wings relaxed on his palm, catching beams of light here and there as they filtered down from high above.

"Sam gave it to us," Vel explained further. Rischa giggled to see that some of the mystery treat had smudged onto his hands. "It's the best!"

Rischa turned her golden eyes towards Sam. She felt such a relaxed happiness breezing around him, and she grinned. "Thanks, Sam!" She gave the chocolate a try, and her smile brightened. "It is really good!"

Sam held out his hands. "Hey, we should be the ones thanking you, Rischa. You've done a lot for us, and I know Dean appreciates it as much as I do."

"Definitely," Dean rumbled from above, his voice much gentler now than when he'd been arguing with Sam. He didn't want to risk deafening anyone with all the sprites clustered so close to him. "I don't even want to think what might have happened without you and Cerul around. I was in a bad way before you healed me." He touched a finger lightly against Sam's back. "Without the three of you, I don't know what would have happened. What I could have done in my confusion."

Unbothered by the finger on his back, Sam turned to Rischa, unable to contain his curiosity. "What did you do to heal him?" he asked. "I've seen healing magic before, but Nixie's was nothing like yours. Yours was a lot gentler and maybe a little slower, but very effective."

Bowman couldn't help but be just as grateful. Not only had he benefited from the healing, but before his own pain had taken over his thoughts, he'd seen Dean grab Sam right up. Thank the Spirit he didn't grab Rischa instead.

Rischa smiled and shifted so that she faced the two of them where she sat. Even the other children quieted some while they enjoyed their chocolate, to give her a chance to explain. "I Prayed to the Earth Spirit," she replied easily, gently putting her hands together in front of herself to sign prayer.

"All of us have a connection to Her, the Lady of Life. She lends us Her energy and strength. My connection is very strong, so I was able to channel enough life energy to use Her healing touch." Rischa's gaze slipped over to the bite on Dean's arm and she gestured to it with a hand. "I put that life energy in Dean so his body could heal itself much faster than it could without the help."

Candara spoke up for the first time, unable to hold back her pride any longer. "Rischa and Cerul are the only sprites in the village that can Pray for the healing touch. My baby is very talented."

"That's the truth," Bowman chuckled quietly and ruffled Rischa's hair, earning a giggle. "But channeling so much magic sure does tire a Birdie out, doesn't it?" Any sprite could exhaust themselves by Praying too much. Though Rischa could Pray a lot more than the average sprite, she was also subject to the tiring effects of acting as a conduit to the Spirit.

"Yes. But it's okay, because Dean's getting better and he's all full of life now and he's ready to keep helping everyone he meets," Rischa pointed out. "And you're all better too, Bowman."

Dean's touch against Sam's back disappeared as he tried to twist his arm to see the injury. Sure enough, Sam saw that some of the bite marks were fading away. Only the larger ones were left open. While Dean showed off his arm, Bowman checked his own injury. Or rather, where it had been. His much shallower wound had already sealed up, leaving no trace that it had been there aside from the tear left in his pant leg. If they were lucky, they could get Dean back on his feet and in action soon. That creature... that lich needed to be taken care of long before it found the small, secluded village, or wandered out of the forest to human habitation.

Thinking of the lich, Sam focused back on Rischa, ignoring Dean's movements (who was being very careful to not knock the little sprite - Nanya off his other hand). "So... you actually channel the energy of Life?" Sam pursed his lips. It couldn't be a coincidence that the lich - an abomination of life twisted into immortality - was in the same forest as the sprites. Sam was betting it was all connected, and the connections were starting to line up in his head.

"Something bothering you, pint-size?" Dean asked as he came back to the conversation.

"Maybe," Sam replied. He turned back to Rischa. "This energy you channel... this life. Do all sprites have it?"

Rischa frowned faintly, feeling the hints of concern wafting off of Sam. "Yes, of course. Bowman, Mama, Daddy ... all of us are connected to Her."

"I can Pray too! But I haven't practiced much," Vel interjected. Tenner chuckled quietly at the boy and led him to the water to wash the kid's hands before he got that human food all over himself.

Mulling it all over, a strike of inspiration hit Sam. "That's it, Dean!"

Dean arched his eyebrows. "What's it?"

"The reason the lich is here at all! Yesterday, we were out in the forest, searching for this thing everywhere. But we didn't find anything at all, not until Bowman was around. That wolf waited to attack until it thought it could get its jaws around him, just like the wolf today!" He got up and started pacing, agitated. "Remember what they do whenever they touch the ground? They suck the life right out of it. Everything... plants, small animals, bugs... Life, Dean. They're taking away the life."

Sam gestured at the sprites nearby, all staring at him with shocked expressions on their faces. "They have a connection to the Spirit of Life, and considering the effect Rischa's magic had on you, I don't think there's any question about whether it's real or not. What if these wolves, when they touch the ground, they actually take that life for a reason? Maybe they need it to survive away from the lich. Or maybe the lich itself needs it, to fuel its perverted magic. Even your injury today - what if it was sapping away your energy and your self for a reason, turning you and Bowman into the same thing as they are? Then the creature wouldn't just have wolves at its command but a hunter and a sprite that could have lead them right here.

"This thing could have gone into any forest, but we find it here, with a bunch of sprites that are connected deeply to life itself. That wolf yesterday - it came straight to where Bowman was. Like it knew he was there. It's a big forest, what's the chances we'd run into both of them in the same place? Sure, yesterday we thought they were working together, but now we know for sure they're not. What if the lich wants the sprites for its own twisted needs? Their connection to life... that's what it wants. That's what it's in this forest for."

He paused in his pacing, turning to face them all. "What if its tracking them even now, trying to pinpoint where they live? We need to stop this thing, before it finds what it's looking for. A creature that twists the energy of life for its own perverted needs finding a village of innocents who have a more powerful connection to life than anyone else?" His small hazel eyes met Dean's large, worried greens. "We can't let that happen."

Bowman listened to Sam's speech, growing more and more tense as he continued. He wasn't the only one. Every sprite present, even little Vel, listened with intent as Sam's revelation unfolded. Rischa, most sensitive to the sudden heavy concerns in the air, sidled over to sit close to her parents. They fanned their wings open and closed slowly, watching Sam as he paced.

"S-so, there are bad wolves coming? And they want to take away our connection to the Spirit?" Nanya asked, her voice shaking. Her interpretation of Sam's words was wrong, but not by much.

Bowman got to his feet. "No, they're not, because we're going to do something about it," he told her confidently. There was no way he'd let it happen. The nightmarish image in the back of his mind, of those wolves breaking into the village and carrying someone away to steal life energy through them ... Bowman wouldn't allow it.

Most of the kids looked at Bowman with some relief shining through their worried clouds, even Rischa. He was known amongst the sprites as their protector, going to great lengths to keep them safe.

Vel, however, only grew more worried, and his little wings fluttered. "B-but Bowman, they said a wolf almost ate you," he pointed out. "What if it catches you again? What if they eat us? " Bowman looked at the boy in surprise, seeing that he was breathing quickly. Immediately he knew why. Vel couldn't fly. He still saw the world only from the ground, and Bowman remembered that feeling. The forest and its predators seemed impossibly large when he couldn't fly above them with the ease he could now.

"It's not going to catch me again," Bowman said consolingly. "And it won't catch any of you, either." He glanced aside, pensively looking at Dean. He realized exactly the thing to say that might just put the boy's worries to rest. "After all. I've got Dean to help me. Now you try to tell me that Dean here isn't tough enough to stop some silly old wolves." The signs of a smile working their way onto Vel's face told Bowman he'd guessed correctly.

"That's right," Dean reassured him. He gently tilted his hand, letting Nanya hop off. Pushing his hands against the ground, he went to a knee, letting himself tower over the sprites and Sam willingly for the first time. If they needed strength, he'd give it to them. His arm didn't even ache anymore, he noted in the back of his head.

Even Sam had to admit Dean was an intimidating sight, looming over them so close. His boot came to rest less than a foot away from where the little circle was sitting, covering the grass completely. One hand was on the ground for balance, the other resting on his knee. Glad he's on my side, Sam thought to himself, Dean's position bringing to mind how vulnerable people like him and Bowman were around humans.

Dean went on, "Because no undead wolves are going to get to this village without going through me. Not on my watch. This is what me and Sam do for a living. With Bowman's help earlier, I took down four of those wolves, and I'll take on a pack if I have to."

Chapter Text

Mouths fell open when Dean pushed himself up to a crouch, young sprite eyes trailing upward to his face. It was like he was physically shielding them with his own back, placing himself over them like he did. And, even though he was huge, the younger sprites took comfort in the gesture and in his words. Bowman stood his ground, even knowing what humans were really capable of, what Dean himself was capable of. Even Bowman could easily feel the sincerity that Dean exuded.

"Four?! " Tenner exclaimed, jaw dropping to the forest floor. "Four wolves!" he crowed, leaping to his feet. "That's amazing!"

"And Bowman helped?" Candara asked sternly. Bowman looked over to her and saw the arch look on her face, like she was so close to scolding him for getting into that kind of danger willingly. He mirrored her look, not ashamed of his actions in the least. If he hadn't dived in, Sam would have been caught up in a wolf's jaws, and he would not have been so lucky. If that lich thing was after sprites, the wolf would have had no reason to keep Sam alive.

"Without Bowman, Sam wouldn't be here with us now," Dean said. His voice faintly cracked at the thought of what could have happened to his brother with him distracted by the rest of the pack. It would have taken that wolf seconds to kill Sam, and Dean hadn't even seen him in danger. He could never thank Bowman enough for that moment. After all, without Bowman saving Sam, there might have been no one to pull Dean back from the brink. If he'd lost Sam and turned on the sprites, he'd have nothing left. He'd have lost everything important to him, and put others in danger at the same time. "He put himself between Sam and a wolf, when Sam was cornered. One of the bravest things I've ever seen anyone do."

Bowman smirked, though he'd be lying if he said that Dean's glowing praise didn't bring him some pride. "Now, Dean. You're going to make me blush," he snarked with a shake of his head.

Vel walked up to Sam, peering up at the smaller brother with wide eyes. "You're so lucky Dean is your big brother. He doesn't even need wings to keep the rain off your head," he told him quietly. "I wanna be his little brother, too. Is it okay if I pretend?" His cheeks darkened a little as he asked, and suddenly the kid looked sheepish.

Sam smiled down at the shy little sprite. "Dean would love that. He loves being a big brother, and he'd love another little brother. But if you want," Sam crouched down so he was eye level with Vel, "we can both be your big brothers, how's that sound?" And with that, he scooped Vel up, putting the kid on his shoulders as he stood back up.

With Vel excitedly fluttering behind his head, giggling and sounding very pleased with his answer, he came over to Bowman again. Everyone was still awestruck at how Dean was protectively hovering over the tiny little gathering, instinctively wanting to protect the children who'd have no defense if it came down to a fight in the village. Dean would die before letting a monster get its claws on such innocence, and after Sam's speech, they both realized how possible it was that the Lich could reach the sprites' homes.

"How long do you think until Dean can get back on his feet?" Sam asked Bowman and Rischa. "The sooner we get out there after this thing, the farther away from the village we can keep it."

Before he could crack another joke, Bowman's eyes were drawn up to Vel's beaming face. He couldn't help but smile faintly at the way the kid rested his hands on top of Sam's head for balance, while his little wings flared out like wobbly leaves.

Rischa stepped forward, away from her parent's embrace and tilted her head to the side to get a better angle of the bite mark on Dean's arm. It looked like it had been healing for many days. She traced a finger along her own arm where the empathetic sting remained. "Well. You're getting a lot better," she pointed out. "Your body is good at healing itself," she added more quietly, tilting her head at the thought.

"So he'll be completely better soon?" Tenner asked, though his eyes were on Vel where he perched. The older boy reached up a hand to brush the fluttering tip of Vel's little wing, to which the kid laughed quietly and brushed his hand right back.

Rischa beamed and held up her arm, displaying the side that mirrored the site of Dean's injury. She tapped the spot and nodded. "Yes!" Tilting her head back to look at Dean, she asked, "It stings still, right? But it should be all better in just a little while. You'll be okay!" Her shoulders lifted proudly as she delivered her verdict.

"Awesome," Dean grinned. His hand unconsciously rubbed the same place Rischa was touching on her arm. Honestly, it was barely noticeable now. He flexed the arm a few times, making sure it had full movement restored. "I can't wait to get out there and put that creep where he belongs."

He put a hand flat on the ground, pushing himself to a stand. Sam and the sprites receded away, as though seen from a great distance. A brief pang hit Dean, seeing what had looked like a normal everyday scene dwindle until it was hard to make out.

Dean took a careful step away, stretching both arms above his head and cracking his back. He'd been sitting on the ground for a good, long time, and now that the healing was almost finished he felt the desire to stand, stretch, get some of that extra energy surging through him out.

Sam took a cautious step back when the massive hunter unfolded in front of them to his true height. It was not from fear, but respect for Dean's sheer size. Sam knew he never had anything to fear, standing at Dean's feet, but looking straight up at him like that ground into Sam his size all over again. If he wasn't cursed, he might be that size right now.

On the ground, the sprites looked up, up, up as Dean stretched tall into the sky. Bowman looked at Rischa when she took several steps backwards, thinking she had been frightened by the human's height. She'd faced a human from such a vulnerable vantage point before, and had been hurt by him. Bowman wouldn't blame the young empath for being afraid. But, the look on her face only showed awe and relief.

Bowman couldn't help but take a short step backwards himself, as always unnerved by the sight of a human from the ground. But at least he knew this was a human he could count on not to stomp around blindly. Even if Dean hadn't just proven himself capable of gentleness with the younger sprites, he had Sam. Bowman knew that Dean had a lot of practice moving carefully for Sam's sake.

Vel lifted his hands in the air almost triumphantly. "Wow! He's so giant!" he exclaimed. Quickly enough he had to put his hands back on Sam's head to avoid falling backwards off the smaller brother's shoulders.

Tenner grinned. "He's higher up than my house," he pointed out. Then, "But I can go high up, too!" And with that, the boy opened up his wings and darted into the air, climbing with some effort to Dean's eye level, and then past it. "Ha! I can be 'tall' too!" he announced proudly. Down below, Rischa and Nanya both giggled at Tenn's showing off.

Bowman watched Tenner, wondering how much practice the kid had behind him. His wings were almost fully developed, but he probably didn't have as much endurance to hover like that for very long. It wasn't as easy as the more experienced sprites made it look. "Hey, Tenn, quit showing off, wouldja?" he called, though Bowman was smirking faintly.

Dean smiled as Tenner worked himself higher up into the sky, little leafy wings working hard. "You definitely can be as 'tall' as you want with those wings," he said with a small smirk, "taller than me if you try."

He glanced down at the ground, spotting the look of awe on little Vel's face. Dean knelt back down. "So, how's my two favorite little brothers," he said, giving Sam a wink.

Catching on, Sam said something quietly to Vel, making the kid light up right where he was sitting on Sam's shoulders. Dean stretched his hand out for Sam, careful to keep it steady for the pair. Sam got on, lowering Vel so they were standing next to each other, that way there wouldn't be any chance of Vel tumbling off.

Once they were all settled, Dean lifted them up as he straightened again, letting Sam onto his shoulder. With them there, he could hear what Sam was telling the little sprite. "See? This is where I get to stay all the time. Dean likes having his little brother on his shoulder."

Dean could feel them both moving on his shoulder, staring out at the forest and the sprite village from close to six feet in the air. Sam was certain to keep a solid hold on the little sprite and Dean's collar, that way there was no chance of falling. Vel, used to the drill, kept his little hand securely in Sam's as he looked around.

Bowman's eyes widened again as Vel rose through the air on Dean's hand. Even his aunt and uncle had to hold back gasps. The ecstatic look on Vel's face kept them quiet, despite the unnerving sight of such a young sprite so high up in the air. Sam and Dean were here and were determined to keep the village safe. They won't let him fall ... right? Bowman cautiously told himself.

Of course, with Dean almost fully healed again, it would be time to go soon. The quicker they found that lich, the sooner they could get rid of it and its foul magic. Bowman turned to Candara. "I'm gonna go with them, when they head out," he told her.

She frowned, looking like she really wanted to protest, to tell him to stay home. But he was clearly not the little boy she remembered anymore. Bowman was grown, and he could help. "Just be careful," she finally said with a nod.

"Mama, Bowman's the fastest! Of course he'll be careful," Rischa insisted.

Bowman grinned. "That's exactly right, Birdie," he answered. Then he stepped back and, after a brief crouch, shot into the air. He wanted to check on Vel and Tenner.

And honestly? Flying was always better than standing around on the ground.

Bowman reached Dean's eye level much faster than Tenn had managed. The older boy still hovered and was grinning at Vel, who waved emphatically with his free hand. The other held on to Sam, who Bowman was relieved to see was also holding on to Dean's collar. Vel's wings kept fluttering excitedly. "Hi, Bowman! I can see the village like a bigger kid!"

"You sure can," Bowman answered. He glanced over his shoulder at the village. A few more sprites could be seen now, peering surreptitiously out their windows. No doubt they were trying to figure out which sprites lingered so near the gigantic human. Maybe they won't realize they're kids until I'm well out of range for them to complain at me, he mused. "Be careful with those wings, kiddo."

"I am!" Vel answered. He flared them out slowly so he could look straight down at the ground from his perch. "Wow! Bowman, did you know Sam stays up here, too? So he can kinda fly, even without wings."

"Yeah," Sam grinned. "As long as this big lug goes along with it. It's a lot slower going if I'm walking on the ground with Dean, instead of hanging out up here. But," he grew thoughtful, "not that I mind walking on the ground. It's nice to be able to get myself around without help."

Sam tightened his arm around Vel as the kid peered down at the ground, leaning as far out as he could from where they were situated. He could remember that one time at Bobby's he'd actually walked with Dean, the hunter careful to keep his pace down and Sam almost jogging to stay ahead. It had felt strange, running in front of such massive boots that could crush him if Dean wasn't careful, but it was also nice. For a few minutes it had felt like they were normal brothers again.

As he caught sight of Sam and Vel in the corner of his eye, Dean couldn't hold in a smile. Vel was completely enthralled with how high up he was and Sam was grinning excitedly. Dean could see him point out at some of the sprite homes situated in the tree branches not far from where they stood. He knew that deep inside, Sam would want to stay here longer if they could, really explore the place. But the hunt had to come first, with the danger hanging over everyone's heads.

Dean caught Bowman in his gaze. "So, small fry. Almost ready to head out?" He stretched his previously injured arm out in front of him, testing its strength. "Because I gotta tell you, I'm definitely ready to kick this lich thing to the curb."

Bowman snickered. "Am I ready? I've been waiting on you, ya sleepy giant." What's a curb? He eyed the injured arm, quite impressed to see that it had almost completely healed. Dean might as well have been poked by rose thorns.

Tenner fluttered a little closer. "I wish I could come help," he mused, landing almost gracefully on Dean's unoccupied shoulder. He stretched his wings out before folding them. The boy crouched to grip the seam of Dean's shirt for stability, but he grinned.

Bowman glanced at the kid, faintly concerned. But Tenn had a decent sense of balance in the air, and he seemed to be doing okay. Even so, the sprite kids would definitely not be able to come along. "Don't worry, Tenn. We've got it covered. But I think it's time for you and Vel to get home soon. Maybe you'll even make it before your parents realize you snuck out." He grinned and the younger sprites both returned the expression, none of them believing in such luck.

Vel pouted then, saddened by the news that soon his newly-adopted big brothers were going to leave. "Maybe you can come back and visit after all the bad wolves are gone," he suggested with a hopeful smile. "You can see my house." The offer, surprisingly enough, was directed to both Sam and Dean, though obviously Dean's best shot was to peer in the windows.

"It's definitely time for us to head out," Dean said, his tone edging towards grim as he considered what was out there waiting for him. A pack of wolves and their master... hopefully his efforts earlier had culled enough of the pack to give them a fair shot. The last thing he wanted to do was take Sam into a fight like that, but he knew the younger Winchester wouldn't hear anything of staying behind.

Dean's mood lightened as he considered the kids on his shoulder and on the ground. "Guess you guys should be getting home. Tenn, you want to hang on tight, okay?"

Sam had been out of the conversation for a few minutes, absorbed in pointing out different parts of the village with Vel and asking about them. Especially the elegant cottonwood tree, easily a centerpiece of the village with its graceful branches and spreading roots.

Once he heard what Dean was saying to the other sprite on his shoulder, Sam's grip tightened on Vel. "Dean, what are you...? I don't think that's a good--!" he was cut off when one massive hand wrapped around him and Vel, keeping them in place as Dean bent down. Inside the fleshy enclosure, Sam could hear Dean distantly speaking to the last kid - Nanya - that had snuck out of the village, asking her if she wanted to come along with him and the others.

Vel giggled next to Sam, completely unconcerned by the size of the hand around them. After all, big brother Dean wouldn't let anything happen to his two little brothers.

Dean, what the hell are you thinking? Don't you remember their reaction to us when we first arrived?!

Admittedly, they'd made quite a sight for the secluded village, Dean being the first human to ever visit, and Sam a unique 'sprite-sized' human on his own. Not to mention Dean was bloodied, injured and partially delirious at the time.

Sam supposed he couldn't fault Dean's enthusiasm for the kids. Yet, as the hunter stood again, his hand unfurling around Sam and Vel to reveal Nanya standing on Dean's other hand, Sam wondered what Bowman thought of the whole thing. Dean, the enormous hunter that had snatched him out of the air the day before was now holding three vulnerable sprite children, two on his shoulder, one in his hand.

"So, where'd you guys ninja out of to get here?" Dean asked as he stepped over the small stream and headed towards the pines. He was careful to watch his footing the whole way. "We can check out Vel's home on the way," he said as he sent Sam and Vel a wink.

Bowman stared with wide eyes at the scene as it unfolded. Is he really planning to take them home himself? he wondered. Soon enough Dean stepped over the stream with ease, much to the delight of the sprites with him. Bowman looked down and saw that Rischa, Candara and Larxe had taken to the air and were climbing steadily while also flying ahead of Dean towards home. He saw how sluggishly Rischa moved and realized that the girl was probably still exhausted.

Candara threw one stern glance back over her shoulder, and Bowman knew she was looking right at him. He dragged his hands back through his hair and darted towards the huge human. He came apace with him just in time to hear Nanya explain that they had all come from different homes on the same tree. She pointed at a pine next to Bowman's own home tree.

Movement in some of the windows told Bowman that the sprites within definitely saw Dean's approach. He flew higher than Dean's height and made a quick circle around the human's head to get his attention. "What are you doing?!" he asked, a flustered look on his face.

A human near the stream was one thing, but a human right next to one of the trees that many sprites called home?! Bowman could scarcely imagine getting out of this one with his hide intact. These kids' parents would immediately know the whole secret now. And, since humans were involved, Bowman knew exactly where the blame was going: squarely on his shoulders.

Nanya raised an eyebrow at Bowman where he flew. "What's it look like, Bowman? He's helping us get home!"

Even as she spoke, Dean's strides brought him closer to the destination. Soon, the staircases that spiraled all around the trunk could be visible, Prayed from the wood just like the houses nestled on the branches. Wide sprite eyes peered out from behind leafy window shades, awestruck at the size of the human.

"What, you guys forget how to use the stairs?" Bowman groused nervously. Already a sprite woman stood on one of the porches. Her arms were crossed and she had a stern look on her face, though her wings twitched with nerves as Dean came closer.

Tenner snickered. "But Bowman, this is faster!"

"Faster, and safer," Dean pointed out to the sprite hovering worriedly over him. What does Bowman think I'm gonna do? He gave a casual wave over his head as he walked, continuing on, "You think I'm gonna let them all head home alone after what happened earlier?" This was a reference to Dean's rescue of Vel from the small stream, which may have ended far worse without the human hunter being there to scoop him safely out of the water.

Dean was keeping a sharp eye on the shoulder where his 'two' little brothers were standing. After his attempt at pointing out to Dean what a bad idea this all was, Sam had returned to asking the young sprite questions and answering his own in turn. He was determinedly ignoring the rest of what was happening around him.

As casual and ambling as Dean's stride appeared to any onlookers, it was actually a well-crafted illusion. His instincts were honed to a fine edge after a year of exposure to Sam, coupled with the time spent around Sam's small, adopted family. Dean didn't miss anything on the ground, careful with each step. The illusion was crafted specifically to put others at ease with the giant hunter, especially in such a small and vulnerable community.

Dean stepped up to the large pine Nanya indicated, eyeing up the size of the sprites home trees with respect. It really was an idyllic community to all appearances, something Dean wished humans had more of.

Once Nanya had pointed out where her home was, with a small, stern-looking woman outside, Dean lifted up Nanya, bringing her close enough to hop across the tiny gap. Tenner reluctantly took off from Dean's shoulder, heading for his own home.

With only Vel left, Dean held his hand up to his shoulder, allowing Sam and Vel to climb on together. Sam still had a tight grip on Vel's hand, keeping him away from the edges.

"You keep out of trouble now, you hear me?" Dean said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He reached his other hand over, taking advantage of their proximity to ruffle Sam and Vel's hair at the same time.

Sam attempted to bat the fingers away, rolling his eyes at Dean's predictability before he knelt down next to Vel. "Want to show me where you live?" Sam asked him, hazel eyes sparkling with innocence.

Once Vel pointed, Dean bridged his fingers across the gap so Sam would be able to take Vel home even without his own wings.

Chapter Text

Bowman sputtered indignantly and dodged back out of the way of Dean's wave. Did he really just ... ?! the half-formed thought petered out, because Bowman had to fly forward again and keep up with Dean's determined stride.

Bowman cringed faintly when Nanya's mother, a short but rather serious sprite woman, angled her accusing glare in his direction. He offered her a nervous smile, but she just flicked her wings a bit before ushering her daughter into the house.

In fact, there were a few gazes on him now that they'd reached the tree. Many sprites peered out their windows with slack jaws. They stared at Dean cautiously but not fearfully. Those who were worried found Bowman where he hovered, and shot him miffed expressions for disrupting their day by leading a human right up to their front doors. Of course it was his fault that Dean walked off.

Bowman hovered a little behind Dean, watching carefully as Vel marched right up to his front door. Before he reached it, the door burst open and the boy's mother, Nia, left the house. "Vel! Where-!" She stopped cold, blinking slowly. She had just found out that her child was not in his room like she expected, and here he was on the porch, leading a stranger by the hand. And the human that she'd heard was about was right there.

And, flying just beyond the impossibly large being staring at her house, was the only possible culprit for all her stress. Bowman Leafwing. Her nonplussed frown got a sheepish shrug and a wince out of him. But soon enough Bowman sank in the air so he hovered somewhere behind the human and out of her sight. So she quickly looked to her grinning child instead.

"Hi, mama!" Vel chirped. Nia realized belatedly that the pale-skinned stranger with him was wingless ... like a human, only sprite-sized. "This is Sam, and that's Dean!"

She couldn't think of anything to say immediately because her heart still pounded from the stress of finding her child was missing. "Um. Ah. Charmed," she stammered, offering a quick curtsy, green wings fluttering faintly with the gesture. "Vel, your shirt is all rumpled!" she pointed out, looking at her boy with concern.

He uttered words that struck fear in the heart of any wood sprite mother. "I fell in the stream!"

Before she could screech out the concern that leapt to her lips, he added "Dean saved me! He and Sam are gonna be my big brothers now." His confident claim left her momentarily speechless as she looked him over for any injuries. But he was unscathed.

If Bowman were still visible, she would be demanding he come over there right now so she could slap some sense into that boy. Letting children play with humans? At least ... Vel seemed okay.

"W-well. Ah, Sam. Dean." Nia nodded to each of them nervously, a look of increasing relief on her face. So humans really were careful and kind when they wanted to be. Bowman may have been right about that, but she'd still have to have a stern talk with that featherhead. "Thank you for making sure my boy is okay."

Sam gave her his most reassuring smile, dimpling. "It wasn't a problem at all. And Dean did all the work," he said, gesturing to the giant over his shoulder. "My brother saw him fall and scooped him right out. We just wanted to make sure Vel got home safe after all the excitement." Sam waved around at the other sprites peeking out of the homes and windows at them, most eyes drawn straight to Dean. "We didn't mean to cause trouble."

Dean gave the small woman a slight wave when Sam indicated him, trying for his most charming smile. Most of the sprites were giving him wide-eyed stares, and he couldn't help wishing he was a bit more... inconspicuous. As it was, he was the single most recognizable person in the entire village. At least Sam managed to blend in a little more with his size.

My baby was in that hand, Nia thought with some awe when Dean waved. Somehow, Vel was home safe, claiming these two humans as his adopted brothers for Spirit's sake. They had said that Bowman rushed back to the village, insisting that the human needed help. If that were true, then these two must have been deemed trustworthy by Lord Cerul. Of course, that didn't make Dean's size any less daunting to behold. Even Sam was taller than the sprite woman by more than a quarter of an inch!

Vel let go of Sam's hand to walk up to his mother. Once he had her attention, he smiled again and asked, "Mama, can Sam see our house?" he asked sweetly, using his wide eyes to their full advantage. "We can wave at Dean from my window before they have to go. Please?"

Hovering behind Dean, Bowman was becoming curious about how the woman was actually handling this. He took a chance and hovered a little higher. He peered over Dean's shoulder, glad Vel's mother was distracted by the boy's persuasive little face. That kid is good, he thought absently with a raised eyebrow. He glanced around and noticed that, on some of the other trees, some sprites were timidly opening their doors to inch out onto their porches. Many of them had never seen a human before; Dean was an impressive example all on his own.

If Bowman had any luck, they'd all forget about their momentary panic when he'd first led Dean up to the village. Of course, Bowman knew by now that he certainly did not have that kind of luck.

Nia blinked a few times, quite uncertain. She glanced up at Sam, then at Dean again. The human was so huge. But he'd saved Vel, kept him from washing away in the stream. As a mother, she could never act ungrateful towards him, human or not. "If Sam would like to and so long as you don't keep them from their business too long," she conceded. Whatever mysterious human business they had in the woods.

Vel grinned triumphantly and turned back to Sam. "Do you want to, Sam? I promise it won't take very long."

"Well..." Sam drew out the word, considering. Vel seemed to hold his breath as he awaited Sam’s verdict. "I guess if we're quick and Dean doesn't mind..."

Both Sam and Vel turned to Dean, who was caught off guard by the combination of Sam's best puppy eyes coupled with Vel's pleading expression. He held up his hands in surrender. "Who am I to get in my two little brothers' way?" he managed, trying to regain some balance.

With a smirk, Dean nudged the little hunter with a knuckle towards the home. "Just don't take too long, pint-size," Dean said.

Sam stumbled forward a few steps in surprise before he regained his balance. "Don't do that," he grumbled, face flushing red as he felt the other sprites staring at him. It was embarrassing.

Dean watched as Sam went into the little home. Spotting a flash of green behind him, he cocked his head at Bowman. "We too much excitement for you, small fry?" he jabbed before leaning forward to peer into the window of the house, curious what it was like.

Bowman opened his mouth to fling a retort at Dean, but with the human leaned forward Bowman suddenly found himself more visible again. He caught Vel's mother giving him a look before she followed Sam and her son into the house. Bowman stretched his arms over his head casually, pretending to be unconcerned.

Dean couldn't tell what they were doing, but he was glad to see Sam not jump in surprise when his eye blocked off the outside view. Sam tried to wave off the human, worried Dean would make the sprites uncomfortable. The edge of Dean's one visible eye crinkled in a gentle smile as Dean spotted everyone inside.

The house itself was solid, and felt quite sturdy despite the faint swaying of the branch that cradled it. There were no square angles--even the corners of the rooms (if they had them) were rounded. No archway was the same shape, and even some of the walls warped around knots in the wood. Round bundles of flower petals hung near the tops of some walls, bringing color and fragrance to the house to mix with the unmistakable scent of pine.

Vel quickly showed off the storeroom and the main room. There was some furniture, cushioned with bundles of what had to be fluff from the cottonwood tree. He glanced over at the window to see Dean peeking in, and grinned. Vel quickly went to the window and stood on his tiptoes to see out. "Hi, Dean! Do you like it? This is where I live!"

Sam walked through the pine tree home, awed at the interior. His family back at the motel he used to live in would love every bit of it. Even without wings of their own, there were stairs everywhere, and living in a place secluded from humans completely... away from the dangerous hustle and bustle of beings so much larger... even when humans had no idea you were around they could be dangerous.

Once they were in the main room, Sam traced the ceiling above, drawn by the patterns in the wood and the organic flow it all had.No wonder Bowman found the motel room so odd, Sam mused to himself. It's hard to compare the two. Too bad Walt and Bree will never get to see it.

For the former, it would be a completely new existence. Walt had survived his entire life inside the walls of one motel, which didn't lend itself to extensive knowledge of the outside world. To see something like this - such freedom - it would help him find peace after what he'd lost. He would spend his entire time grilling the sprites on how they made all the furnishings, in the hope he could repurpose that knowledge when he returned to his home.

To the latter, it would be a way for her to start fresh. Living with humans all those long years had changed how she thought, how she acted. In some ways, it was just as hard for Bree to live among her own people as it was for Sam, especially with his brother being what he was.

Speaking of... Sam glanced up when the window darkened and couldn't help a slight smirk when he saw Dean's huge green eye peering in. The pupil dilated when Vel hurried up to it, trying to focus on the tiny sprite.

"It's cozy," came Dean's voice from the outside, rumbling around the three tiny occupants. "I like it." The eye drew away, letting light filter back in as Dean straightened.

Sam knelt down next to Vel. "Thank you for letting me and my brother see your home," he started earnestly. "But now we have to leave so we can go stop the bad wolves out there."

He ruffled the kid's hair, same as Dean did to him all the time. I see why he likes to mess with me like that, Sam couldn't help thinking as Vel tried to fix his messy locks. "I think Dean's waiting for me outside."

Vel almost looked disappointed, but quickly recovered. He stood as tall as he could, trying to look serious despite some of the worry he still clearly felt. "Okay, Sam. Don't let the bad wolves bite Dean again," he insisted, before leading his adopted big brother back to the front door. "Sun shine on you," he said with a grin once he threw the door open again, making sure Dean heard him, too.

"Don't you worry about these guys, Vel," Bowman assured him. "I'll be watching out for 'em, too."

Vel grinned, and Bowman couldn't help but smile back, even as the boy's mother followed him out to the porch, always keeping a watchful eye on the kid. He'd snuck past her once, and now he was unlikely to do it again. "Okay, Bowman. Don't get eaten," he warned.

Bowman had to laugh at the boy's blunt statement. "You got it, kid. I promise. None of us will get eaten."

Bowman flew backwards a few feet, backing away from the tree. Now that the children were safely home (and their parents knew for certain that he'd let them play near a human, courtesy of Dean), he was itching to get out there. To find this lich and take care of it. They'd make it regret ever coming to this forest.

As Dean stretched out a hand alongside Sam, Sam gave Vel one last smile. "Don't you worry, I'll take good care of Dean and Bowman. These guys would be lost without me." And with that, the hand lifted away from the small home, bringing Sam over to the familiar shoulder.

With a careful glance at his feet, Dean headed back towards the small stream where they'd both left their bags and jackets. He sent the small sprites in the pine tree one last wave as he turned away. Stepping carefully over the stream, Dean squatted down on the ground, dropping Sam next to his belongings and gathering his own duffel bag back up. He grimaced when he saw his jacket. The left sleeve was covered in dried blood. Not much point being squeamish against the undead wolf pack, he thought as he held it in front.

Before slipping it back on, he grabbed another shirt from his duffel, pulling on the black Henley he had on hand. The jacket went on over that. Glancing to the side, he saw Sam putting his jacket on as well, preparing to go.

Bowman flew in a lazy zig zag pattern back to the stream, giving Dean time to get over there and retrieve his jacket. When Dean had gathered his things, however, Bowman dropped through the air to hover a couple feet in front of Dean's face. His arms were crossed and he had a glare for the human.

"So what was the big idea back there, huh?!" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "You tried to swat me!" he accused, waving his hand over his head in a mimic of the gesture Dean had used earlier.

Dean rolled his eyes at the sprite. "Swat you? Trust me, small fry, if I wanted to swat you, you'd be swatted." He scooped Sam off the ground the moment the smaller Winchester was ready, placing him gently on his shoulder. "Hunter, remember?" Dean asked dryly, earning a scowl and pursed lips from the sprite. When he went to a stand, he reached towards Bowman with a deceptively lazy grace, fingertips brushing against one of the large wings before Bowman could react.

Bowman bristled entirely as the huge hand reached out and made brief contact with his wing. He lurched backwards, and then darted up when Dean stood. He stammered a bit, unable to turn his indignant thoughts into words for a few seconds.

"H-hey! Don't touch my wings, you sun-hated giant!" he finally groused, flying well above Dean's height once the human stood. No need to present a target for more stupid tricks like that. Sure, Dean had clearly not done it to deal any damage. But, as a general rule, Bowman didn't like to let humans touch his wings at all if he could help it. Not since Jacob's friend got a hold of them.

"If you're done being rude, let's go," Bowman added, pointing away from the village. There were a number of reasons to hurry away. Of course, he wanted to find the lich and its pack of undead wolves. It needed to be stopped and would be his priority until the job was done. But Bowman also wanted to get out of range of the angry parents that would soon be looking for him. "Don't trip on anything, human," he added with a snicker.

Dean smirked when Bowman climbed high enough into the air for him to be out of reach, knowing his point had been made whether Bowman admitted it or not. He scooped up his duffel bag, slinging it over the opposite shoulder from where Sam was sitting and smartly ignoring Dean and Bowman's snips. He was learning when to stay out of the line of fire.

"Well, get leading the way, small fry. I'm not the one who knows this forest like the 'back of my hand,' here. Plus," Dean added pointedly, "I was being polite, taking the kids home, especially after Vel's accident back there. I didn't want to risk them getting hurt just 'cause they came out to see me and my brother. You're the one that wanted to leave them to get back home on their own."

Bowman scoffed and darted ahead, turning in the air and waiting for Dean to follow. "They were hardly on their own," he countered. "My aunt and uncle were right there." Larxe and Candara may have remained quiet for much of the time they were there, but Bowman knew they had been watchful for any danger. They would have been able to escort the sprite children home without every mother in the village finding out that Bowman seemed to allow children near giants.

"Calling yourself 'polite,' " Bowman scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Please. I can name five things you've done off the top of my head that no one would call polite." Of course, Bowman was mostly joking. While he'd gotten off to a rocky start with the human, he knew by now that Dean could be trusted, relied upon. Dean had saved Bowman from getting carried off to that lich, and now he was jumping at the task of protecting the entire village. Bowman had a lot of respect for that.

It didn't mean he'd quit snarking at the human at every opportunity he had.

Bowman raised an eyebrow at Dean's first few steps in his direction, crashing through the foliage. "I kinda thought hunters knew how to, y'know, stalk," he jested, smirking at the human. "That lich will hear you coming from a mile away, you keep walking like that."

Dean glanced down at his feet during his next step. "Stalk? I'm just walking here, shorty." A smile passed over his face as a thought occurred to him. He caught Sam's eye as the sprite flew ahead, leading the way. Dean held a finger to his lips, indicating silence. Bowman wasn't watching Dean and the timing couldn't be more perfect.

Sam crouched down at that, not completely sure what Dean was up to, but willing to humor the hunter. After all, he had to deal with Dean all the time. He tightened his hold on the collar, staying close to Dean's neck for balance.

"I mean..." Dean called out, his voice a bit louder than it had been. His next step was louder, if anything, than the last, his boot crashing through brambles. "If you really wanted to know how a hunter stalks, all you had to do was ask."

With that phrase, he changed his posture completely, footsteps going silent. As naturally as breathing, he slipped into a hunter’s stalk with the sprite as his 'prey.’ Dean smirked at the thought of how he'd done the same with Sam time and time again for 'training,' to keep the kid sharp. With that, he vanished behind one of the trees around them, listening for the beat of tiny wings.

The forest fell silent around the sprite.

Chapter Text

Bowman glanced around as Dean's loud voice echoed off the trees. As quickly as he registered the words Dean said, he noticed that he couldn't hear the human's crashing steps anymore.

A familiar chill raced up his spine.

It was an instinct that he had as a member of a hunted species, the inherent knowledge that he'd been targeted. Bowman had gotten that feeling before, at night when owls were on the hunt. It had saved him from having harsh talons close around him many times.

At first he almost thought Wolf! but Bowman realized quickly what had happened. Dean had decided to prove himself after Bowman's remark. Well, Bowman wasn't about to lose this game, not in his own forest and against a human!

Bowman quieted his wings and banked upwards, quickly swooping towards the canopy. His wings, vibrant and green, matched the color and shape of the leaves rustling in the breeze. Of course, he could go above the canopy to truly avoid notice by the hunter somewhere below. But that would only make him vulnerable to hunters from above, hawks with strong eyes accustomed to picking out a sprite among the leaves. No, staying right among the welcoming branches of the trees provided Bowman the perfect camouflage.

He settled on a middle branch, several feet above Dean's reach. Crouching behind a tuft of leaves, Bowman finally turned his gaze behind himself, seeking out the human from his stock-still position. He left his wings open and they swayed in the breeze, along with the leaves all around him.

Adrenaline coursed through him. Bowman's rational side was well aware that Dean was not the kind of predator that would do him actual harm. But the rest of him, the side governed by the prey instincts that kept his kind alive, was on high alert. He listened for every sound, every minute rustle of a leaf, as if his survival to the next sunrise depended on it. In most cases with an unseen human, it probably would.

Sam remained silent against Dean's neck, listening no less intently than the hunter he was leaning against. The forest rustled softly around them, the natural wilderness sounds offering nothing to give their position away. He shifted, staring at the branches above them. Bowman had gone silent at Dean's words, invisible among the leaves that matched his wings so closely.

Dean skulked out from behind the tree, his footsteps silent. Sam tensed, as surprised as always at how damn good his brother was when it came to the hunt. It was disarming to realize a human almost the size of a building could sneak up on him if he wanted to. That fact alone kept Sam on his toes, especially during training.

With a deft move, Dean slipped behind another tree. Sam jabbed his neck, pulling Dean's attention down on him. With the hunter's eyes on him, Sam gestured up in the branches, pointing out two green wings just barely distinguishable from the leaves around them. Bowman. And his back was turned on them.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Dean threw his voice to make it seem like it was coming from right next to Bowman. "So, what was that about me being rude, again?"

Bowman stiffened, but the only outward indication that he gave was the momentary freeze in his wings. He crouched lower to the branch, letting his wings sway in the breeze again, and turned his head cautiously to the side. It had sounded like Dean was right there. Bowman's eyes scanned the ground in that direction, searching for the human and always feeling that prickly sensation of being observed by something dangerous.

Dean and Sam both watched the sprite freeze up in the branches. Dean smirked, recognizing Sam's reaction to being in danger (or Dean flipping on the overhead lights unexpectedly). It was apparently built into all the little guys as a survival instinct.

Bowman narrowed his eyes. Owls could make it seem like their voices came from all around. Bowman had no idea humans could be capable of the same. He sank so close to the tree branch he perched on that he was practically lying down on it. Still scanning the direction Dean's voice appeared to have come from, Bowman slunk back into the leaves carefully, crawling silently and slowly.

This game wasn't over, and as Bowman edged out of sight, Dean edged forward, trying to keep the sprite in sight. From his spot on Dean, Sam kept his eyes glued on the rustling leaves, better equipped than his brother to spot the minute movement in the tree.

Once he thought he was hidden enough, Bowman dropped off the side of the branch, quickly gliding to another. Normally he would waste no time flying high into the canopy and darting away at his top speed. Few predators could keep up with that. But he didn't actually want to leave Dean behind.

Bowman didn't linger in his new hiding place for long, instead opting to dart higher, pushing through bunches of leaves. They'd be rattling far behind him by the time he reached the next set, hopefully making his trail harder to keep. It was especially tricky when a breeze kicked up. Bowman smirked as almost all of the leaves around them rustled without his encouragement, creating several possible directions for him to have flown.

Finally he settled down again, hiding near the end of a branch almost overladen with leaves and peering around, trying to spot that blasted human.

Sam saw the sprite drop from the branch, darting to another. Stiffening, Sam grabbed onto Dean's neck to pull his attention in the right direction. They both watched the shaking leaves from the sprite's passage. Dean lost sight of the sprite when the breeze started up, hiding which way Bowman had gone. But Sam, much better attuned to how he'd hide from Dean, was able to pick out the direction the leaves shook the most.

Following Sam's silent direction, Dean crept along until he was under the branch Bowman was sitting on, staring at where he thought Dean was, due to the way he'd thrown his voice. Dean pinched a low-hanging leaf between his fingers, careful to not rattle the branch and call down the sprite's attention.

Slow as he could, Dean pulled it down until...

Flick!

Bowman was tossed into the air with a choked yelp of alarm when the branch snapped up. Before he could recover, Dean's hands caged around him, cushioning his fall and trapping him at last.

Bowman had no idea what happened. One second, he was scanning the woods, trying to find the giant human's trail. How hard could he really be to find?

The next second, the branch he'd crouched on snapped upward, and after a few seconds of spinning in the air, arms pinwheeling in surprise, he found himself in an enclosed space.

He lay in a daze for a few seconds, blinking the dizziness away. And then he slowly realized where he was. Dean's hands were surrounding him. The human's fingers formed the bars of a makeshift cage, and Bowman scowled indignantly.

"Hey! How did you blasted do that?!" he yelled, shifting around so he had his feet planted on the palm below him and his hands braced against the one above. His wings fluttered angrily as he tried in vain to push the two hands apart. "Blast it, let me out!"

It didn't take Bowman terribly long to figure out how it must have been done. Dean threw his voice, just like an owl could do, but much more efficiently than Bowman had assumed. And Bowman, thinking he knew where Dean was, had wandered far too close to his real position.

He was lucky Dean was on his side.

"You just got lucky, that's all!" Bowman continued. He still fluttered his wings around inside Dean's hands, and moved to try and pry two of the human's fingers far enough apart to squeeze out. They let in plenty of light, but there wasn't enough room for a sprite to slip out.

The part of him that governed his hunted instincts had his heart pounding, but most of him was devoted to being indignant that he'd gotten caught! "Spirit scorn you, human! What's the big idea, let me out!"

"Right, lucky. That's what we'll call it," Dean snorted as he lifted up his hands, peering inside at the fluttering sprite. "You know, I'm not gonna keep you trapped. You can calm down a little in there."

Sam stood on Dean's shoulder, watching the familiar scene from a completely different perspective than normal. The number of times he'd been 'caught' in those unyielding hands... he always went through the same struggles as Bowman, trying to push apart fingers stronger than his body. Naturally, it worked just as well for him as it was for Bowman. Even with the fluttering wings to assist him, Bowman was helpless in there.

Sam felt a little better about all the times Dean had caught him now, watching Bowman go through the same problems. Even with his wings, a complete advantage over Sam, he'd gotten caught.

Dean lifted off his top hand, opening up the makeshift cage around the sprite. "So I think we can agree, I'm perfectly good at stalking when I need to be, right?"

Bowman stumbled a little on Dean's palm, but immediately felt some relief. Being trapped, even by a human he knew wasn't going to hurt him, put Bowman on edge. It was a helpless feeling, and it put his instincts on alert whether he wanted them to be or not. That was an unfortunate part of being so low on the food chain. He glared up at the human.

"Fine, you can stalk," he begrudgingly admitted. "I'd still call that a fluke, if you weren't a blasted hunter," he added. No human without Dean's particular skillset should have been able to see where Bowman hid. He hoped.

Dean let out a laugh as he resumed his steady pace away from the secluded village. "And don't you forget it, small fry. I might not let you go so easy, next time." He couldn't resist needling the sprite.

Bowman remained standing on Dean's hand for a moment longer. He had an opportunity to stretch his wings and he took it. They fanned open slowly, stretching to the full wingspan of nearly nine inches while he rolled his shoulders. With them so still, it was easier than ever to see the leafy pattern catching the sunlight that filtered down.

Dean quieted as Bowman stretched his wings out to their full span, eyes drawn to the leafy membranes. It was easy to understand why Bowman would hate them being touched - the fragility of the wings was obvious, seen against the backdrop of Dean's sturdy hand. He was glad to have that much trust from the sprite, despite their rocky start.

Sam leaned forward in his spot, just as drawn as Dean to the unique limbs. His eyes were wide as he stared at the green-veined wings.

The sprite lifted his wings high and then, in one stroke, kicked off into the air so he flew along at roughly Dean's eye level. Now that he wasn't being hunted, his gliding was far more relaxed again, and he took comfort in the simple pleasure of flying after that rather embarrassing defeat. "I'll do better next time," he assured the human, sending him a confident look. "Throwing your voice won't work again, I dodge owls."

Even talking so confidently, it was rather unsettling to have been found so quickly. Bowman would have to work harder to keep his skills intact. He brushed past some low hanging leaves, barely skimming them with the edge of a wing. But as he passed, he turned a critical eye to the side, trying to compare his wings to the vibrant leaves. They still looked quite similar. So how did Dean spot him so easily?

After Bowman took off, Dean waited until the sprite's attention was away from him and Sam. Once he was certain it was on a leaf, Dean held a finger up to Sam, sending his little brother a wink and mouthing "Up high!" silently. Sam's hand hit it in their own kind of high five, making Dean grin broadly. Bowman hadn't stood a chance with the Winchesters working together.

The gesture went unnoticed by the preoccupied sprite. But he glanced back in time to see the pair of brothers grinning, and he threw them both flat looks. "Oh, sure," he grumbled. "No respect for the guy taking you right to where you need to go." He rolled his eyes dramatically before turning to face front again.

Bowman had to find a way to get back at the human for catching him so quickly. Some way to prove he was actually quite adept in his own element here. As a gentle breeze picked up, he smirked. He had an idea, and that breeze rattling the leaves all around presented the perfect opportunity.

At first, he wove side to side as if coasting on the gentle draft. Then, with a chuckle, Bowman shot straight up, until he was high in the canopy. With the leaves all in motion, it was easy for him to double back unnoticed.

It was a trick that sprites often played on each other. It should be just as effective on a pair of humans, maybe more so since they couldn't expect it. Once Bowman was situated behind Dean, he let himself fall. He plummeted quickly, but as soon as he was just a foot or two behind the tall human's head, Bowman opened his powerful wings.

They filled with air with a loud snapping sound, amplified by the way he curved them to really bounce the noise around. Normally this trick was followed by creating a small puff of air with one's wings before the other sprite could turn around. But Dean probably wouldn't feel it, so Bowman just flew backwards a bit to avoid getting swatted at again.

Dean was scanning the canopy, searching out any sign of Bowman. He wasn't worried about losing the sprite this time, after everything they'd gone through together. Probably just upset about Dean getting the better of him...

In the middle of those thoughts, a loud Crack! filled the air behind Dean. Instinct kicked in. One hand wrapped around Sam for protection, Dean whirled around, bringing his gun, already cocked and at the ready, to bear on...

Bowman hadn't expected Dean to jolt so much. He opened his mouth to gloat, but before a single word got out, there was a flash of something shining. And then, Bowman was looking right at the dangerous end of a gun, and the smirk fell from his face like a stone.

Chapter Text

Guns were loud, and fiery. Bowman remembered seeing the mark blown into the side of a solid tree trunk by one of those weapons. He remembered that Dean had used the very same weapon to kill the wolves with ease.

And, of course, Cerul came to mind as an example of the minimal damage that a gun could deal to a sprite. An inch to the side and there would have been nothing left of the older sprite. Nothing would be left of him if that weapon fired at him now.

"Wha-hey!" Bowman blurted, instinctively bringing his wings close. This had the effect of making him fall again, though he kept his eyes on that gun. Bowman stared with wide eyes up at the human, hovering just a few feet above the ground. For a second or two, he remembered how dangerous it actually was to mess with humans.

Dean scowled down at the sprite. "You tryin' to get yourself killed, there, small fry?" he groused. The gun went back into his pants with the safety on as he released the now-struggling Sam, who was annoyed at being stuck in Dean's sweaty hand during the excitement.

Bowman's eyes narrowed into a flat look. Heart still pounding from how easily he might have just been snuffed out, Bowman chose not to show that it bothered him. Instead, he darted back up to eye level. "What, you didn't think you'd get away with trapping me just like that, did you?!" he groused. "Spirit's dance, Dean, you have a hundred different kinds of uh, guns, but you're scared of a little wing-pop sound. Good grief!"

Dean jabbed a finger at the sprite and Bowman flinched slightly. "Not just a little wing-pop sound. What if we were under attack? Hesitating could get me, or worse, Sam, killed. I can't afford to be complacent."

"Dean..." came Sam's small voice, trying to calm his brother's ire.

Dean ignored him completely. "Besides, if you can't take a little heat, get out of the kitchen. You knew what was coming when you played along with it. At least if I trap you, you'll get right out, just like Sam. If another human comes along and you're complacent, who knows what could happen. I let that happen to Sam once. It's never going to happen again. I can't let it happen again. To you, or Sam or anyone else."

"It wasn't your fault Dean," Sam said, so quiet Dean almost missed it. Dean chose to ignore him.

Bowman crossed his arms, defiant in spite of the truth in Dean’s words. He's actually angry?! he thought, already spinning a retort. "You just had a blasted grand time flinging me off a tree, sun forbid I get to have a little fun right back! What am I supposed to do, huh? Just give in and say 'good game, human, ya got me good!?' No thanks, I got enough things around here making me look weak. Didn't think it'd turn into some big windstorm here." His annoyance certainly didn't match the level of Dean's aggravation, though Bowman wasn't holding back his snark either.

He didn't want to see the simple messing around as 'being complacent' or causing actual trouble, though he begrudgingly understood Dean's point. Vigilance, of course, could make all the difference. He glanced only briefly at Sam when he heard him speak. Dean's words said a lot about what had happened to the sprite-sized human, and how Dean had handled it. It spoke volumes about how close they were now, having gone through something like that.

Unlike Sam, the sprite didn't always have a human watching his back. His view on complacency was different; if Bowman was careless, he got caught or hurt. It was not his friends' fault, no matter that Dean was worried. He was grateful for the human's concern; it never hurt to have a human ally.

But the fact remained that most of the time, Bowman couldn't truly rely on one of the good humans being around in time to help him when bad ones showed up. He had to be strong on his own. Even now, the human he trusted most wasn’t around. Bowman was jumping into this situation on his own.

"Consider that a test, then," Bowman finally dismissed after matching Dean's glare for several seconds more. He understood the human, knew where the anger was really coming from. But, Bowman wouldn't cave in to intimidation and scolding any faster than Dean would. Even though it was quickly becoming clear that there probably wasn't a challenge someone could pose to the human that he wouldn't meet. Bowman smirked faintly, silently impressed with Dean's integrity.

"Just checking your reflexes. Guess you're ready to fight that lich thing, so I'll keep looking for it." That said, he turned to fly around Dean. Bowman glanced at Sam, and an apologetic look came to his face, knowing that Dean's instinctive reaction had probably jostled the smaller human. He hadn’t meant to upset either of them with his actions, and he was glad Sam hadn’t fallen.

Once he'd gotten far enough ahead, Bowman released a sigh. That had been close. Way too close. He wondered if he would have had time to know what happened before the end if Dean had actually fired. That was not a thought he liked to dwell on for very long, so Bowman glided lazily along and let his heart calm down from the very near miss.

Dean didn't notice the glance Sam shared with Bowman, he was so buried in his annoyance. But a tickling sensation along his neck drew him out, piquing his curiosity. Dean peeked over as best he could, realizing Sam was trying to give him a friendly pat.

"It's not his fault, Dean," Sam said, keeping his voice down so the sprite wouldn't overhear. "And it was never yours. You need to let it go."

Dean's mouth thinned into a line. 'Let it go...' like it was ever that easy. His fevered daze earlier had made it worse, bringing memories he'd thought long buried to the front of his mind. The days without Sam... when he'd blamed himself for losing his brother. Bobby had worked hard to keep Dean from wallowing in his guilt, bringing him to the movies, trying to cook dinners they could eat as a family with John, showing Dean new tricks when it came to cars or weapons... but John had been the opposite. He'd driven Dean harder than ever when he was around, refusing to budge an inch on training. Many a night Dean had spent up, rebuilding his gun, trying to find the one mistake John had called him out on. Mistakes he had long since discovered John had invented on the spot.

That delirium today had crumbled walls he'd built up over years, put his emotions far closer to the surface than he thought possible anymore. And so, Dean brought up a hand, letting his fingers brush against Sam's small jacket as a reminder his brother was alive and with him. "I'll be okay, Sammy. Don't worry about me."

Dean set to catching up to Bowman, putting the last few minutes out of his mind. He forced away any lingering annoyance he felt at the sprite, knowing it wasn't Bowman's fault. If he wasn’t in the middle of a hunt, he wouldn’t have been so riled up by the little sprite’s prank. Dean had overreacted. With that thought in mind, he'd do it again. Letting his guard down wasn't worth Sammy's life.

"So, is your lich'o'meter going off yet?" Dean asked the sprite as he caught up.

Bowman didn't pay much attention to Dean as he heard his steps coming up behind. He was busy scanning the forest around them for any sign of trouble. However, he threw a confused look over his shoulder. "My what? Lich'o'meter? I don't know what that means, but I haven't felt any ..." his voice trailed off and he faced front again.

There it is, he realized. A faint glimmer of that sickly, ghastly life energy. Bowman alighted on a low tree branch just ahead of Dean. He had to get a sense of what direction it came from. At the moment it was faint, like the barest trace of a scent on the breeze. He was almost surprised he noticed it in the first place.

"Well ... we aren't going in the wrong direction," Bowman finally mused, looking back at Sam and Dean. Soon enough they'd be trekking closer and closer to a formidable enemy. Bowman could only hope his skill in hiding among the leaves hadn't deteriorated so much that he'd just be a liability. If he kept making mistakes like his last two, it might not be Dean that caught him unawares.

Dean slowed, his hand going instinctively back to his handgun. Sam crouched against his neck, tensing in place. He wrapped a hand around his small knife, a tiny mirror of Dean and his weapon. They were both ready to take this thing on, make sure that all the sprites and the campers and hikers in the area were safe. Put an end to its depredations. With it being an immortal creation of black magic, who knew how long it had been at work, sucking the life from the world around it, staying hidden in the dark recesses of the world?

“Can you tell how close it is?” Dean asked quietly as he came up alongside the branch the sprite was perched on.

"Not yet," Bowman answered, also hushed. He'd adopted a cautious demeanor, crouched low with his wings tensed. He glanced at the humans and was surprised to see they'd slipped into hunter's stances, even Sam. It was interesting to be able to see what Dean must have looked like stalking Bowman. Minus, of course, the constant oppressive feeling of being a target. It felt better to be on the outside looking in.

"This way," Bowman finally determined, slipping off the branch and flying in the direction he'd pinpointed. The lich wasn't extremely near, but they were getting closer. And then it was just a matter of Dean killing the thing.

Spirit save me, I must be crazy.

Sam held onto Dean's collar as tight as he ever had, briefly considering asking Dean to put him in a pocket. Dean was hunched down, following Bowman as silently as he could manage while still keeping pace with the speedy sprite. All of them were focused on their goal, coming closer all the while. Even Bowman's wings were silent as they swept down steadily, carrying him almost fast as Dean could keep up.

A few minutes into their steady lope, Dean cocked his head at Sam. "I want you to keep back when we find this thing," he said softly, refusing to meet Sam's eyes.

Sam protested. "But, you mi--!"

Dean cut him off almost instantly. "Sam, you know it isn't because I don't trust you watching my back. Far from it - without you on this case, I have a feeling me and Bowman would be butting heads back in the motel room right now, if we'd even managed to get that far. Or back in the village, I could have lost touch completely."

His jaw set, Dean went on, hating every word he said. "But you know in this fight you'll just get in the way. It's like a fight with a werewolf - it's a gigantic, overpowered killing machine. All you're gonna do is get yourself killed, so I want you to hang back. After all, the citygoers don't get in the way of Mothra protecting the city, right? Godzilla would just take them out without breaking a sweat. That wolf could have had you earlier if Bowman hadn't come back for us, and here we are, going after big daddy."

Sam couldn't help scowling at the thought. "Yeah. I know. I just... I hate not being able to help you out here. What if you're in trouble and I could do something?" He hunkered further down in his spot when Dean dodged around a rock. "You better not get yourself into any trouble without me, or I'm just gonna have to step in and save your ass, you hear me?"

"Deal, pint-size."

Bowman took steady breaths as he flew onward, listening to the hushed conversation behind him. Watching each other's backs seemed like it was second nature to those two. They threw themselves at the chance to keep the other safe, even Sam. It was a loyalty that Bowman recognized.

He'd seen it in action when Jacob stood up to the last hunter that came to the forest. Even when Jacob had knocked down his own best friend, when the other human was tormenting Bowman. He shook off the memory of hanging by his wings and flew on, determined to be of as much help as he could.

Eventually, the unmistakable smell of rot accompanied the increasing weight of the twisted magic. Several patches of dead plants and the occasional rodent corpse also indicated that the goal was near. Bowman paused to look mournfully at a young sapling, all of its leaves brittle and dead.

At this point Dean would likely be able to track the lich the rest of the way. Bowman landed on another low branch to peer back at him. "It's getting close," he whispered. "I don't know how many are in the pack. But I'll keep an eye on 'em so they don't try to swarm you from an unprotected side."

Pointing out potential attacks, at least, was something Bowman could do. It wouldn't require much other than keeping observant, and he was good at that. Bowman also had some experience with the pack mentality of wolves, even if these undead ones were eerily in sync with each other. But he had no illusions about being much use in an actual fight. That was up to Dean.

"Ready?" he asked, his wings flared and his body primed to make the last advance toward the enemy. Soon the wolves would notice. Dean's aim with that gun would have to be flawless and fast. Judging by how quickly it had leveled on him just moments ago, Bowman wasn't too concerned about that.

Dean shucked his duffel off his shoulder as Bowman talked, opening it up to prepare. For his colt he grabbed an extra cartridge, slipping it into a pocket just in case. His silver knife was at the ready as well, for when the wolves or the lich got too close to be able to aim with the gun. He decided against the sawed-off. With Sam separated from him and Bowman flitting around helping, the accuracy of his shots would have to be exact. The shotgun would give him a more powerful blow, but at the cost of accuracy he couldn't afford to lose.

Tossing his duffel behind a distinctive oak tree, Dean stood. "Once we're close, I'll have you stay on a tree branch, out of reach," he murmured down to Sam. "Anything happens, you call for us, okay? I don't need you getting mauled by a chipmunk."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I doubt a chipmunk is something I'm gonna have to worry about today." He gestured at the forest around them. Not a branch moved, no leaves rustled. Sam was far more in tune with the world around them than Dean was. The back of his neck prickled at the realization. "You just watch yourself Dean, hear me?" Sam finished, his point made.

Dean walked over to the branch Bowman was perched on, ready to go. "Try and stay up in the air as much as you can," he said to the sprite. "I don't want to risk you getting in the way of a stray shot."

That said, Dean turned in the direction Bowman had been leading them. There was nothing more he could do to prepare.

Phylactery, remember. Go for the phylactery. Of course, first you have to figure out what the hell it is.

The patches of dead and desiccated earth increased in frequency as they approached, crunching beneath his boots. Paths became more evident the closer they drew to its source. A search pattern, Dean realized. That must be what the wolves are doing, if Sam's right. Searching for the sprite village. All the hikers and campers were just a side effect instead of the reason. All those innocent villagers are in danger the longer this takes.

The wolves weren't far away, either. Dean couldn't have traveled more than a mile from the village, maybe less. His heart rate increased. Gotta get all these damn wolves taken care of before they find it, he thought to himself, determined. A flash of all the little kids went through his mind, so small and innocent in the path of such destruction. Cerul, Rischa, Bowman's aunt and uncle... they deserved to live just like Sam's small family. Safe, left to themselves without humans or undead creeps trying to harm them. His hand tightened around his gun. They're all relying on you, Dean. Can't let them down.

Don't let your guard down.

Dean almost jerked up in surprise when the voice sounded in his head, glancing in every direction. Dad?!

The still forest greeted him, branches silent and motionless. John wasn't anywhere nearby, just the memory of him haunting Dean from childhood.

Letting your guard down can get you and everyone around you killed, Dean. Don't you EVER let it down, you hear me?!

Dean grit his teeth together. Those days were long past. John had cracked after Sam's 'death,' leading him to drive Dean remorselessly, even in the days and months right after losing his brother. It didn't help that even after all the work he'd put into training, all the sleepless nights he'd dedicated to being better, John hadn't trusted Dean. Not really, not with his life. Hell, that was probably why he'd left Dean and vanished to hunt on his own. Refusing to trust, even when it was his own son.

Maybe you should take your own advice, sparked up in Dean's mind, suddenly angry at the way he remembered being treated.Maybe if you'd remembered the witch was searching for boys Sammy's age, in that exact motel, Sammy would have never gotten targeted. I didn't let my guard down, you did!

With that thought, the specter of Dean's past vanished, leaving his mind in the calm stillness that fell right before a fight. He breathed in the quiet calm, preparing himself. Branches rustled ahead.

It was time.

Before going any further, Dean paused to lift Sam to a branch right over his head. They exchanged a knowing glance before Dean turned away from him. No words were needed. Not now.

Dean took his first few steps towards the enemy.

Chapter Text

Bowman took several deep breaths and slipped off the branch. This time, when he opened his wings and they filled with air, they were silent, and he swooped out of his freefall in a graceful arc. His momentum carried him ahead of the human, and well above his head. Staying among the leaves high above, Bowman blended in once more.

He scouted ahead, seeking signs of movement. As he approached its source, the twisted life energy in the air became nearly nauseating. Even the strong, old trees standing all around appeared sickly. Bowman had to choose his aerial pathways more carefully. His vibrant, lively wings would offer him no camouflage flying among the patches of deadened leaves.

There were a few sprites back home trained with swords. Metal was rare in the forest, so the few pieces they'd found had been fashioned into basic weapons. Being a pacifist species by nature, not many wood sprites took to them very well. But sometimes they were useful against wolves or other predators that strayed too close to the village. Bowman had wielded a dagger all of one time. Somehow he didn't think it would have been of much use in this fight even if he had thought to ask for a weapon.

Thinking about fighting such a formidable foe, even the thought of flying towards it was almost laughable. What business did a wood sprite have going up against a pack of life-sick wolves and their twisted alpha?

He was fast in the air, and skilled at hiding among the trees. Bowman would be of little help to Dean once the thick of battle really got started. He could warn the human of incoming attacks, of course. But he couldn't prevent them in any way. If Dean was overwhelmed ...

The enemy is strong, and he is dangerous. But he will be strong and dangerous whether we cower and doubt ourselves or fly out to meet him.

Repeating the words in his head, spoken by one of the bravest wood sprites Wellwood had ever seen, Bowman scanned the woods around for wolves, newly determined. It wasn't long before he spotted a handful of them, stalking close to the ground. Dean had barely walked fifteen feet from where Sam perched, but already these undead beasts were on his scent, clearly aiming to flank him on the right.

Bowman angled his flight and quickly dropped down to a level where Dean would be able to see him. He darted past the wolves towards the human. The animals were focused enough on Dean's scent that they didn't even look up at the sprite. They were cleverly hiding themselves as they slunk forward, but Dean would be able to see them if he looked only a little closer than normal.

"Dean, " Bowman said, quickly swerving out of the way as soon as he knew the human saw what direction he indicated.

Dean twitched in Bowman's direction, bringing his gun around to bear. The lead wolf almost looked surprised as he buried his first shot in its face, shooting as soon as he was sure of his aim. The second went down just as easy, but the third bounded towards him, realizing the attempt to sneak up on him had gone awry.

None of the wolves even glanced up at the sprite floating overhead, veering around the battlefield to catch a bird's eye view. At least Dean had that ace up his sleeve, with Sam out of the fight. He was probably hating every moment, stuck far enough off that he couldn't do anything to help, but close enough to see what was going on. Once the third wolf went down, Dean let himself glance over in his direction to reassure himself that his little brother was alright.

Then it was back to the fight as Bowman called his attention in another direction to another wolf trying to flank him.

"Dammit," Sam muttered to himself, pacing back and forth on the branch. He could see everything that was going on, but with Dean so distant he couldn't even yell when he saw wolves on the prowl. Thankfully, so far Bowman had marked each one that tried to outflank Dean. One by one they fell to expertly aimed shots, booming around the forest almost loud enough to make Sam's ears bleed. He always forgot how damn loud guns were, made even worse by his relative size from what he could see. Dean never had the same reactions that Sam did to the noise, and he was closer to the source.

A low growl pulled Sam's attention away from Dean's desperate battle. Glancing down, his heart froze when he spotted a wolf prowling around the base of his tree. It sniffed the ground, then held its head up in the air, nose twitching as it sorted through the varying scents of the forest. It must have bypassed the fight in front of them, hoping to distract the hunter by going after one of his companions. In a fight a moment's distraction could be all that stood between winning and losing, life and death, for the participants.

Glittering black orbs fell on Sam and the wolf's snout edged up in a snarl. Sam cursed, backing towards the trunk of the tree. He latched onto it with his hands as the wolf leapt up in the air, frothing jaws snapping shut less than a foot away from him. "Dean! "

Bowman's ears rang. Every time that gun went off, he felt like it might be the time that drove him deaf. He flinched slightly, but continued to swoop in to help Dean find the attacking wolves. Their strategy began to unravel; they had no idea how their prey was so ready for them every time.

Bowman smirked, thinking things were going well, until he noticed the wolf jumping at Sam.

It was time to reveal himself to the wolves. It was the only way they'd be distracted enough for Dean to have an opening to help Sam. Bowman sighed in frustration and pushed his fearful instincts aside. He'd volunteered to help, and he was going to help, blast it.

"Dean, help Sam," Bowman shouted as he dropped into their midst. That gun swinging around didn't sound very appealing, but soon enough Dean wouldn't have so desperate a need to fire it as much. The wolves looked up, and several surprised growls reached his muffled ears.

Bowman stayed well above the ground this time, with Sam clear of the fight. But he swooped around, keeping the things from paying enough attention to follow Dean. One of them let loose a chilling, raspy howl in its frustration. Bowman shivered at the sound, but stayed in sight of the creatures.

"Sam?" Dean asked, confused. His brother was safely away from the battle, wasn't he? Another wolf crumpled to the ground at Dean's feet as the sprite dove into their midst, pulling their attention to him.

Taking a few stumbling steps back from the battle, Dean reoriented himself. Sam... Sam... he spotted the tree his brother was on, closer than it had been a minute ago.

The tree that had a wolf pawing up it.

"Shit. Sam, hang on!" Dean shouted.

Sam was as far back against the tree as he could get, clinging to the bark for dear life. Even as Dean brought his handgun to bear on the wolf, it leaped into the air again, crushing jaws latching onto Sam's branch. Its paws scrabbled against the trunk as it tried to haul itself up the tree after the small hunter.

Sam was knocked off balance by the wolf's latest lunge, almost slipping off the branch. A bead of sweat dripped down Dean's face as his finger tightened in the trigger. Sam's life hung in the balance, at the mercy of forces beyond his control. One wrong move from Dean or the wolf could send him plummeting to his death, or worse, into the jaws of the wolf itself.

Dean saw his shot and took it.

Sam caught his balance just as the bullet rammed into the back of the wolf's skull, throwing it off the branch and carrying it almost five feet in the air from the momentum alone before it crashed into a heap on the ground. The branch snapped up, launching Sam into the air just like Dean's 'sprite-a-pult' trick he'd pulled on Bowman not so long ago.

"Sam! " he heard Dean shout, panic in his voice.

Sam flew up a few inches in the air, managing to catch the edge of the branch and a few leaves on his way down. He tried to scramble up desperately, spotting danger near Dean, who was too distracted by Sam's plight to notice his own.

Darkness gathered behind the hunter as Sam shouted at Dean, his voice too distant to be heard. "Behind you! Watch out!"

Bowman dove and darted around in the air, dodging snapped jaws and vicious slashes from the wolves. He'd enraged them by throwing off their coordinated attack on Dean. Luckily he could fly well above their ability to jump. Their horrid teeth closed on air.

Dean was still focusing on Sam when Bowman noticed it. The oppressive, thick magic in the air, the choking decay, suddenly became much more intense. Bowman wondered if he might gag on it. The wolves stopped leaping at him, and their eyes suddenly seemed so blank.

The source of both changes became evident quickly. Bowman choked on a cry of alarm when a figure approached with all the powerful grace of a gust of wind. It wore tattered black cloth, which billowed around as if there was hardly anything holding it up other than willpower. A trail of decay followed it, even rotting the oldest tree trunks that it brushed past. It observed the fight with glittering black eyes full of nothing but malice.

The lich.

The remaining wolves angled towards Dean at their alpha's silent command. Bowman retreated higher, his heart pounding with fear. The lich's magic was enough by itself to nearly overwhelm the senses. Bowman had to keep shaking his head as the feeling blurred his vision and left him dizzy.

It faced Dean's back. Bowman didn't think the lich had spotted him flying yet, or it didn't deem the sprite important enough.

But Dean was cutting down its army. A thin, spindly hand rose from the lich's side. The thing moved slowly, the kind of arrogant assurance that it would hit its mark with whatever disgusting magic it gathered.

Dean will never get out of the way in time, Bowman thought frantically. There was nothing for it. He dove towards the lich. He wouldn't let it strike the human from behind.

"Hey! No way, you foul thing!" he shouted, hovering in front of the thing before darting in a quick loop around its skeletal wrist. It drew its hand back, and Bowman sighed faintly as some of its foul attack dissipated. But soon he had to duck under a quick swipe of the lich's other hand. It was much faster than it looked.

Bowman dodged side to side, even straight up, trying to keep the thing preoccupied while Dean helped Sam. His heart frantically begged him to get as far away from this threat as he could. To flee the decay that stifled the air all around.

Come on, Dean! Bowman thought, glancing over his shoulder just once to see where the human was.

Dean dodged the lunge of yet another undead wolf, putting a bullet through its brain. He risked glancing over in Sammy's direction, noting that the smaller hunter had finally managed to get himself back up on the branch, waving in Dean's direction.

Another wolf went down before Dean realized Sam was waving towards something behind him, not Dean himself. A rolling, choking stench suddenly rose to the forefront of Dean's mind, suppressed until then by the heat and desperation of battle. Only a few wolves were left standing, scattered around Dean by the hunter's vicious attack. Dean could feel a sense of foreboding fill him as he realized what must be behind him. He twisted in place, ready to face it down as he reloaded his gun, preparing himself.

A moment's distraction was all it took. Bowman looked back at the lich in time for its dead, skeletal hand to slam into him. One of his wings was pinned to his side, and the other was pinched into an awkward angle in the bony grip. Bowman's breath and his cry of pain were knocked away and he immediately began to writhe in the lich's foul grasp.

There was a short pause during which the lich simply observed him. Then, Bowman felt a strange, familiar feeling. Like he was about to Pray. Only he wasn't. He realized what was happening with widened eyes. "No ... !" he yelped.

And then his senses failed him. Bowman couldn't see, couldn't hear. The only thing Bowman could feel was pain, one second burning hot and the next frigid and deep. Alarm bells rang as his spiritual connection remained open, against his will. The lich was using him as a path to the Earth Spirit! The Lady of Life, a reserve of magic that would only make the lich more powerful as it corrupted the energy.

And She was resisting. The magic of a Spirit, while powerful and benign, was not meant to be stolen. Prayer enabled a sprite to borrow and use the magic safely. Bowman felt like the lich reached into the deepest part of him and sank its vicious claws into his core, his essence. The magic it sapped away burned Bowman as it flowed, while the lich's own decaying touch felt like it drowned him in stifling murk.

Bowman couldn't even scream.

A battle of wills raged, with Bowman at the center of the game of tug of war. His body was rigid in the lich's grasp. He wondered through the waves of pain how long it would take before his body gave out under the stress of channeling so much of the Earth Spirit's raw magic.

The moment he whirled around, Dean saw Bowman clutched in the lich's bony grasp. An expression of triumph was conveyed from the depths of the skull, blackness glittering in the sockets as the tiny sprite writhed helplessly in its grasp. The last of the wolves watched as their master began to steal the energy of the sprites - its onetime goal. The energy of life began to flow along the lich's body towards a gem it held pinched between two bony fingers. The glittering green gem began to shine with a power all its own.

"Over my dead body, you ugly sonovabitch," Dean snarled. Instead of shooting at it and taking the risk that there would be no effect, he lowered his gun. While Bowman twisted mindlessly in its hand, Dean slammed into the lich like a freight train, grabbing onto the wrist of the hand holding Bowman. The glittering green gem was thrown from its grasp, knocked away from the grappling giants into the underbrush. Dean never saw it land, intent on his fight.

For a moment, nothing happened. Past the initial ferocity of Dean's attack that threw it back a foot, the lich met him strength for strength. After all, Dean didn't have the magical, souped-up energy that an undead sorcerer possessed. It hissed back at him, trying to get its other arm into place to use its magic on Dean. A terrible blackness began to gather on its palm.

But then, something changed. Whether it was because the lich was losing power with the loss of its phylactery or Dean was actually the more powerful of the two, the bones of the wrist Dean was crushing in his hand started to buckle. Dean redoubled his efforts, putting all of his energy into the hand trying to free Bowman.

He let out an angry grunt of his own as it started to work...

...the bones were giving in...

Then, with a snap! the wrist bones shattered. Bowman was tossed in the air like a rag doll, thrown clear of the fighting giants when Dean managed to crush the lich's arm, and landed out of Dean's sight. Seconds later, Dean's attention was back on the lich as it unleashed its own counterattack, making his gun fly away into the underbrush with a dark explosion.

Grabbing his knife, Dean went on the attack.

Chapter Text

Bowman gasped when the tug on his spiritual connection suddenly ceased. His head felt heavy, like it was full of cotton, like he'd attempted a hundred major Prayers in minutes. The whiplash was blinding. He could scarcely imagine how much more painful this would be if he had a more practiced connection to the Spirit, like poor little Rischa.

Rischa. I have to protect her. She's--

His addled thoughts were jarred out of him when he hit the ground and came back to reality. He bounced once before landing on his back. The impact knocked the breath from him, and he stared up at the forest ceiling, gasping shallowly.

The ground shook beneath him, and Bowman was vaguely aware of two titanic beings fighting uncomfortably close. But he couldn't reach his limbs through the haze. The wolves around didn't seem responsive at all, with their master so preoccupied. But that didn't mean Bowman was out of danger.

Get up, he demanded of himself. Get up. But he lay there, staring with glassy eyes at the bright green canopy. The sun was shifting towards the end of the day, somewhere beyond the still leaves.

Sam watched it all unfold from his place on the branch, powerless to affect the outcome.

No, no, no, no... he thought helplessly as he watched the lich begin to funnel the life energy from Bowman. The sparkling green gem accepted the energy voraciously, consuming it and demanding more. Sam almost cheered when Dean slammed into the lich, knocking the phylactery away from the helpless Bowman. The energy siphon turned into a trickle, then stopped.

Sam watched the arc of the phylactery through the air. "C'mon, c'mon..." Sam muttered to himself. If it smashed to bits when it hit the ground, this would all be over. They could go home, job complete.

Of course, the Winchester brothers never had that much luck in their lives. The phylactery hit the ground and bounced, coming to rest on the root of one of the trees near Dean.

"Fuck," Sam hissed. Dean hadn't seen it land. He scanned the battleground again, spotting Bowman's leafy green wings motionless against the ground almost ten feet away. The bright green stood out like a sore thumb against the dead and dying foliage. The sprite wasn't moving, dazed from the lich's attack and Dean's save that had catapulted him away from the fight.

Sam took stock of his surroundings. He was on a branch six feet up in the air. Half of the branch was decaying from the wolf's attack moments before. And he had his satchel with him. Determination filled Sam. He could do this.

Sam lodged his fishhook into the bark, making sure it wasn't going to come free. Wrapping his hands in the sleeve of his jacket, Sam leaped off the side of the branch, letting himself fall from the top. Air swiftly rushed by as he fell, his surroundings passing by in a blur. Near the end of his line, Sam tightened his grip, slowing his fall until he was hanging at the bottom. The sudden friction warmed the sleeves of his jacket, but his hands were kept safe from the burn, unlike the first time he'd tried this desperate stunt.

He glanced at the ground. It was still a foot away from his dangling boots, taunting him with how close he was. Saying a quick prayer, Sam squeezed his eyes closed, releasing the line. He crashed in the dirt with a thud, tumbling head over heels down a small hill.

Sam climbed dizzily to his feet, stumbling around in the underbrush. An earthquake rumbled up through the dirt, tossing him back to the ground. After his head cleared, Sam pulled himself back up. Searching for Bowman from his new point of view was harder than he'd thought. He almost thought he'd lost the sprite when he saw the edge of a leafy green wing poking up.

Sam started to run, ignoring the giant battle above him. Dean dodged a blow from the lich, swiping savagely with his silver knife towards the creature's chest. Sam almost fell again when Dean slammed into the ground, but he was prepared this time, catching his balance.

He couldn't risk pulling Dean's attention away from the fight, no matter how close to the battling giants he was. A second's distraction for Dean could cost him the fight and everyone's lives, not just Sam's. So he bravely barreled on, heedless of the danger from not only the enormous lich, but Dean himself.

Sam came up to the division between the decaying, dead land that had been desiccated by the lich and the living undergrowth he'd been traveling on up until that point. He skidded to a halt, teetering on the edge of the disintegrating foliage.

Hesitantly, Sam stuck a boot over the crumbling branches, thankful when there was no immediate effect from the dead zone. He set out again, crossing into the land where nothing lived.

Withered, black leaves crunched beneath his boots as Sam kept on, unwavering from his goal. If he could reach Bowman, Bowman might be able to get to the phylactery. With Dean's attention on the lich, Bowman was their only hope to break the thing. Otherwise, the hunter would be worn down by the creature's supernatural endurance if not its strength.

With a crash, Dean's boot hit the ground less than a foot behind Sam, relentlessly flattening land Sam had passed over moments before. Sam saw Dean pause overhead to gather himself, bracing against the ground. A second later, Sam found himself diving out of the way as Dean launched at the lich again, almost bulldozed by Dean's immense boot. Scrambling up, Sam stared at the two behemoths above, taking a second to breathe before continuing on.

He finally reached Bowman, scrambling up next to the sprite's limp form. Lucky for Sam, neither giant had come close to the area the sprite was collapsed in, Dean wanting to keep his friend safe, and the lich needing the sprite alive to finish its theft of the life energy. "Bowman, hey hey hey. Come on, man. We need you."

There was no response.

The sprite's glazed green eyes stared blankly up into the canopy, seeing nothing despite them being open wide. He was in shock. Grabbing the slim shoulders, Sam gently shook him, trying to snap him out of his daze. "Bowman! Wake up! There's no time for this!" Sam's eyes flicked over to the fight. Both giants continued to avoid the area where Bowman was, even in the ferocious fight.

When he still couldn't get a rise from the sprite, Sam slapped him in the face. And again. "Bowman! We need you! Rischa needs you!"

Rischa. Hearing the name jolted him more than having his face slapped. But the stinging in his cheeks helped to spread feeling to the rest of him, and Bowman stirred. He scrambled to a seated position, hand clutched over his chest. It felt like his soul had been shaken around in a box. But he was still whole.

And two giants fought overhead.

Bright green eyes turned to Sam in shock. "Sam! Did you see the, uh, the lich's soul-thing?" he asked hurriedly, forgetting the word in his haste. Bowman hadn't seen much of anything when the lich began to drain him.

They needed to find the thing before the horrifying lich got the better of Dean. The way it held up despite a nearly shattered arm told Bowman it would be very difficult indeed to take it down on brute strength alone.

Sam sighed in relief with Bowman alert. They might actually pull this off. "Yeah, I saw it." Sam pointed to where he'd seen it land. "That tree, by the roots. You shouldn't be able to miss it. Green gem, glitters with a dark light. Dean didn't see it fall, and if we distract him now that thing might get the best of him."

That tree happened to be across the area where Dean and the lich were still grappling with each other was. One of Dean's boots smashed through a dried-out bush, sending splinters everywhere. The Lich tried to launch a magical attack at Dean only to have the hunter dodge to the side, out of reach.

Dean was holding his own, but Sam could see that the fight was wearing on him. They needed to end this, now. They might not have much time before the lich got the better of him.

Sam gave Bowman a soul-searching look. "Bowman, you're the only one that can do this. Get that thing and find a way to smash it. Everyone's counting on you."

Bowman's eyes widened and he almost balked from the intensity in Sam's gaze. The plea in those hazel eyes was clear. Bowman didn't need to be asked twice. After feeling what that lich planned to do with the sprites if he found them, he was galvanized to stop it.

"Okay," Bowman answered, a certain resolve in his voice. He got to his feet, wobbly at first but quickly regaining his balance. He spared Sam one last glance and launched himself into the air.

Bowman had to weave around the behemoths that fought back and forth. He almost worried that Dean would knock the lich back towards him, but soon they juked to the side and Bowman darted past unharmed. Keen eyes scanned the ground around the tree Sam indicated.

There. Nestled atop several dead leaves was a glittering green gem. Bowman dove towards it, landing hastily beside the thing. That decay magic wafted off of it, but something else did, too. Whatever bound the lich's soul to this object. Bowman gathered the hefty stone into his arms, glad that it wasn't quite as heavy as it looked.

With the gem in tow, Bowman shot straight into the air. His wings strained only minimally against the small extra weight. He climbed higher and higher, approaching the golden green canopy. The crashing below didn't distract him, even as the lich released a blood curdling hiss.

Bowman burst out of the top of the canopy before he thought about turning around. He took in the unblocked view of the sky, a peerless blue dome that stretched forever above, before tucking his wings close to himself and diving back through the branches. He sped towards a half-buried rock, easy to see since the foliage around it had all withered away.

Hurtling towards the stone faster than gravity would have accomplished, Bowman waited until the last safe second had passed him by to let go of the phylactery and snap his wings open. They pulled him out of the dive quickly and he shot forward from the momentum. He whirled in the air and it felt like things seemed to slow down as he watched the gem impact with a rock the size of his house, before he crashed into the ground and rolled.

Sam didn't even notice that his fists were clenched tight, nails dug so far into his skin he was almost drawing blood while he watched Bowman's swift plummet at the sharp rock jutting up from the ground. The sprite released the green gem, wings snapping open to carry him safely away from the rock. The green gem smashed into the rock, and rolled to a stop.

Sam's heart dropped. There wasn't a scratch on the gem.

No, wait... what's that?

A black mist rose from the gem, rippling as it congealed into a darkness above it. A small crack shone on the side of the gem, caused by Bowman's desperate gamble. A loud keen sounded from the lich, making Dean back off in surprise as the creature held its bony, skeletal hands against its skull. The remaining wolves howled in agony, galvanized by their creator's pain.

Sam was mesmerized by the blackness as it leaked from the gem. It throbbed and writhed as though it was alive. And it was, he came to realize. That disgusting darkness was the soul of the creature itself, bound forcibly to the rock by black magic in ages past. Who knows the effect such magic would have on a living soul, torn from its true containment in a living creature and forced to endure long past its end?

Dean's boot slammed down on the gem, tearing Sam away from his dark thoughts. He almost tumbled over again at the impact as the ground shook under him from the impact. The green gem smashed with a sound like the breaking of fifty mirrors, echoing throughout the silent forest. The unholy keen of the lich went higher, and higher, until...

As though the strings of a puppet had been cut, the lich and its undead minions collapsed, bones crumbling into a pile and the limbs of the wolves going limp and unresponsive.

Dean let out a shuddering breath in the sudden quiet, examining the scene of the fight. It wasn't long before he spotted Bowman and Sam, eyebrows rising up sharply when he saw his brother was far from the safety of the bough he'd been left on in the beginning.

Sam managed to give him what he thought was a perfectly reassuring smile, but it didn't stop Dean from stomping over and scooping Sam up into the safety of his hand. Sam didn't struggle, instead letting himself flop down on the warm, slightly sweaty flesh under him. The adrenaline from his desperate flight across the battlefield started to drain away, leaving his arms and legs shaking slightly.

"Sam, how did you..." Dean's eyes tracked the position he'd found Sam in back to the tree. "Did you actually run across the ground without letting me know where you were?"

Sam waved him off, coughing slightly. "I did what I had to so I could get Bowman up. If I'd distracted you from the fight, thatthing might have got the best of us." He shoved himself up so he was sitting, changing topic as fast as he could. "Where's Bowman? Is he okay?"

"He's over here," Dean answered. His boots stepped lightly over one of the corpses littering the ground, stopping right near the small sprite. Kneeling down, Dean offered a careful hand to the sprite to help him up. "You alright over here, Shorty McFly?"

"I think..." Sam yawned. "I think you're mixing up your references."

Dean cupped him jokingly to his chest. "You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, pint-size. I think you're just jealous." The hand flattened under Sam again as Dean focused on the sprite.

Mick fly? Is that some kind of bug joke? Bowman wondered to himself. But he didn't ask. Once again both the humans seemed to get it while he was out of the loop. What else was new, humans always had their odd phrases.

He got to his feet, brushing away the crumbled pieces of dead leaves and twigs that clung to him. He swept a hand back through his hair to send more tiny debris to the forest floor. This whole area was so heavily damaged ... but the forest always had a way of bouncing back. Some of the bigger trees would definitely be able to heal, and the undergrowth would return.

Bowman briefly checked himself over for injuries. He would probably be bruised and sore from falling so many times just today. And the ache in his chest, that raw pain, lingered with each heartbeat. But nothing was broken. He checked his wings, and it was with great relief that he sighed, finding no breaks or sprains.

He fluttered into the air, preferring to keep closer to Dean's eye level. While he hadn't worried much when the human first walked up, the faint rumblings in the ground with each step were an uncomfortable reminder of how vulnerable he was on the ground.

"Somehow, I survived," he groused, glancing past Dean at the pile of bones and cloth. Even without dropping him from a great height, the thing had almost killed him with the painful drain of life energy. Bowman absently rubbed his chest over his heart, which still pounded. The ache was still there, and he wondered if he'd be able to Pray in the next few days. His spiritual connection had been strained so far beyond its limit.

Glancing back at the humans, Bowman glanced over Dean. "No bites?" he asked, raising an eyebrow before glancing around at the many many wolves lying dead in the clearing. "For once something went right," he quipped, now unable to hold his relieved smile at bay.

The village was safe again.

As soon as the sprite was off the ground, Dean stood up as well, stretching out his one free arm. He'd be feeling it tomorrow. He kept the hand with Sam in it down by his stomach, almost too tired to raise it to his chest. But there was still work to do on this case and he was the only one that could do it.

Shaking his head to clear it, Dean went over to the remains of the lich, slipping Sam into his chest pocket with a whispered "Sorry!" as he did so. He didn't want to risk Sam down on the ground again, and Dean was too tired to catch him if he slipped off a shoulder right now. He gathered up the bones, wrapping them inside the thick, black cloak. Once the crumbling remains were burned this case should be over, all the dark magic dissipated. All that would be left then would be the recovery of the forest, which would happen naturally, if given time to heal.

Once it was all in the cloak, and Dean had brushed the green specks that were all that was left of the phylactery in it as well, he straightened. Sam called up to him, pounding on his chest for attention. "My hook," Sam said when Dean looked down. Sam tried to wave in the direction of the tree but gave up, realizing he had no idea where it was. Being in Dean's pocket for the last few minutes had messed up his sense of direction.

Dean spotted it without a problem, hanging down from the branch Sam had been on. His eyebrows climbed his face sharply when he saw the line ended almost a foot from the ground. That had to be a good 15 foot drop for someone Sam's size to get to the ground. When he'd pried it free of the branch and handed it back over to Sam, Dean gave him a nudge. "Sammy, I'm revoking your daredevil license," Dean quipped, only half serious. "I don't think I need any more stress in my life than I already have."

Sam just rolled his eyes and set to bundling up the cord to stick in his bag without deigning to give Dean a response.

Dean turned back to the sprite and addressed Bowman. "You said you know this forest like the back of your hand. Are there any clearings nearby we could use to burn this lich without risking the forest going up with it?"

"Yeah," Bowman answered distractedly. He raised an eyebrow at the fact that Sam seemed to accept Dean's pocket as a completely normal mode of transportation. But, not having wings, the sprite-sized human probably did travel that way a lot. It was a lot safer than just sitting up on Dean's shoulder, especially if the gigantic human was stumbling from leftover adrenaline exhaustion like he was.

Bowman had taken some time to survey the damage done to the area by the decay magic. Some of the trees would definitely need Prayers to get back on track. And at least one good thing came from the dead undergrowth. It would decompose into nutrient-rich material for the new plants to grow. The sprites would have a lot of work but it could be done.

He whipped his gaze over to Dean when the question actually sank in. "Burn it?" he asked, vaguely remembering them mentioning that before. He glanced at the bundle of cloth and bones in Dean's arms. At least it was manageable for the human. "Right. Uh." He looked around, and then started in a direction. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, and realized something was missing. He halted and said, "Should be a spot over there. But shouldn't you get your bag? If you leave it an animal will come and take your food."

"Yeah, good point," Dean muttered. Not to mention the fact that his lighter fluid and matches were in the bag as well. They wouldn't get far without those.

Sam pushed up the flap of the pocket, curious what was going on outside. He managed to prop it behind himself, crossing his arms over the edge of the pocket so he didn't have to worry about falling back in when Dean moved about.

Scooping up his gun, Dean headed for the tree he'd left his things by before the confrontation. It only took a minute of walking to find the bag, undisturbed by the wildlife. So far the forest was silent as the grave from the lich's presence, all the fauna avoiding the rampant death and destruction caused heedlessly by the creature. With it gone, Dean hoped it would all go back to normal, nature recovering the way it should.

"Lead the way, fly-boy," Dean said as he shrugged his duffel back on, ready to get this show on the road.

Chapter Text

Bowman sent the human a scathing look for his trouble. " 'Fly-boy? ' Don't these names get old for you?" he asked exasperatedly. Once again, Bowman was not completely sure if it was a bug joke or a nod to the fact that he could fly. He chose to believe the latter and didn't ask.

Sam let himself relax as the world rocked around him, Dean's steady gait reassuring after all the excitement. "Dean will never give up on his nicknames," Sam couldn't help laughing as Bowman griped about it.

Humans, Bowman thought with a roll of his eyes.

He turned to lead the way away from the decayed area, the wolf graveyard that would most likely smell of rotting beasts for days if not weeks. Bowman would be sure to warn anyone wandering out not to come in this direction lest they risk the stench knocking them right out of the air.

He almost worried the decay would have spread to the spot he was aiming for. But as he went, he started to see green on the plants again, and he sighed with relief to brush past a few leaves that still held a vibrant green hue. They felt good against his wings, a gentle reminder that even this could heal. There were a few birds tentatively chirping away, no doubt noticing the human that trudged through the woods.

Bowman glanced back, still amazed that Sam was so casual about being in Dean's pocket. Sure, he was probably more comfortable there without wings to get in the way. But it still felt like an awful lot of trust, to let the larger human confine him that way. Bowman continued on, thoughtful.

He led them to a rather small clearing that had a wide, shallow depression in the earth. It didn't hold water all the time, but right in the center the dirt was still damp from the last rain. "This ought to work, right? You can make your fire and it should have a harder time spreading." He landed on a low branch, quickly settling to a seated position on it facing the clearing. He was only at about three quarters of Dean's height there, but he was beginning to feel the soreness of the fall he took.

Bowman was extremely lucky. He'd been thrown from the lich's grasp quite far, but layers of dead leaves and plants had broken the impact instead of breaking him. If not for that luck he might not have gotten up when Sam came to get him.

When they reached the clearing, Dean passed Bowman's tree, intent on finishing the job before the thing regenerated or something. The last thing any of them would be able to handle was round two, especially with Dean almost out of ammo for his colt. He had plenty of shotgun shells on hand but didn't want to risk firing it anywhere near Bowman.

The remains were quickly tipped into the shallow bowl in the earth, carefully arranged so there wasn't anything that could go up in flames close by. Grabbing his lighter fluid, Dean soaked the bones with it, the dry remains soaking it up the same way plants soaked up the sun. He lit a match, staring down at the remains of such an evil creature, it would take an entire village of innocents for its own gain.

Dean shook his head as he let the match fall. Bowman opened his mouth to comment that soaking the tattered cloth and bones in liquid would not help at all. But then the match reached the pile and the lich's remains burst into flames, which astounded the sprite. Liquid was supposed to stifle flames! Just as effectively as Dean's heavy boots, liquid was one of the ways Bowman 'knew' a spark would be put out.

"Imagine all the work that thing went through for immortality, only to end up looking like a reject from the auditions of that movieScream," Dean mused.

"What movie?" Sam asked, confused. Flames burst into existence, sending a wave of heat at the brothers.

"You know... Scream? Guy in a mask, kills a bunch of..." Dean trailed off at the lack of recognition in Sam's face. "We are so having a movie night after this case," Dean declared.

"Whatever you say," Sam said with a smile, willing to humor his older brother. Watching movies was one of the things he enjoyed most with Dean. While one was on, he almost always forgot he was watching it with a giant that towered over him. They felt like normal, regular guys just hanging out. He didn't think he'd ever turn down a movie suggestion from Dean, especially since Sam didn't have any idea of most of the movies that were out there.

They stood there, watching the flames flick up into the darkening sky above. Sparks spat out, carefully observed by Dean, making sure the vulnerable forest wasn't in danger. He ended up having to scuff out an ember that jumped out of the fire, grinding it into dust under his boot. Neither brother talked for a bit as the flames continued.

Bowman didn't understand the movie reference, either. He was mildly pleased that he wasn't the only one in the dark on that one. But he didn't voice it, because he was busy keeping an eye on Dean and the flames that consumed the last shreds of the lich. Oily smoke drifted away from the flames, dissipating in the open air and taking any traces of foul magic with it.

Bowman was tired and sore, but mildly curious, and dazzled by the flames flickering in the clearing. He scooted off of his perch and glided a little closer. He landed on the ground almost four feet from the open flames, watching them cautiously with constantly-twitching wings. He'd been closer to a fire than this, and the heat was oppressive and terrifying. From this distance, he felt like he was in the sun on a particularly scorching day.

He looked up, noticing how Sam and Dean intently watched the fire. Apparently they did this regularly. They were used to it. That by itself was a bit ... strange and alarming. Bowman flew into the air, avoiding the sparks that lazily spiraled in the evening breeze.

"Y'know, people keep telling me humans don't have magic. But you just turned liquid into fire. How is that possible?!"

Sam suppressed a smile, used to the sprite's strange questions by now. Dean shifted in place as Bowman talked, crossing his huge arms right below Sam. "It's a liquid that we call an accelerant," Sam explained. "A lot of animals have a... kind of oil or grease in them that can turn into a flammable liquid. It's kind of like what Dean's car runs on... only that's called gasoline. Mostly it comes from the ground, from ancient animals long dead that turned into oil long ago. It's very useful, but very dangerous if the wrong person gets hold of it."

Bowman frowned in concentration, doing his level best to keep up with Sam's explanation. Some of it sounded a bit far-fetched, but who was he to say so? Liquids that actually fed flames rather than dousing them sounded like something humans would come across.

Sam shifted in the pocket, trying to keep an eye on Bowman. The sprite’s movements were sluggish from the way he'd been earlier, more relaxed. "If you're getting tired, why don't you come hang with me and Dean?" Sam jutted a thumb at the shoulder overhead. "You'll always be welcome here after everything you've done to help us."

Dean didn't disagree, his face neutral as he watched Bowman avoiding the last few flickering sparks that rose into the sky. Sam knew his brother well enough to know Dean wouldn't mind, although he rarely offered, used to just letting Sam stay where he wanted.

Bowman glanced over at Dean's shoulder after Sam pointed it out. He was tired, after everything. He'd hit the ground hard a few times, not to mention been grabbed by a monster. And he'd had his spiritual connection hijacked and clawed at by the same monster, probably the greatest pain a sprite could endure.

"Thanks," he answered almost sheepishly. He fluttered over, careful not to slap Dean in the face with one of his wings as he landed. He wobbled a little at first and instinctively flared his wings open, bumping one of them right into the human's neck. "Sorry ..." he mumbled, getting enough balance to sit down without sending himself tumbling. He huffed quietly and settled in, wings hanging open to let them relax for once.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean chuckled as the sprite got settled. He’d almost thrown a hand up to help Bowman get settled, but stopped when he recalled the sprite probably wouldn’t react like Sam to a huge hand intruding on his space. It was a little discouraging when even a helpful gesture like that could be misconstrued as an attempt at catching the little guy. After everything they’d been through together, Bowman was a part of their team, even if it was only for one hunt.

Dean kept his vigil by the fire pit until the flames died down, leaving behind blackened, crumbling bone and ashes born of the cloak. Digging his boot through the ashes, Dean made sure the embers were out and tossed more dirt overtop to stifle any that remained. He remained mindful of his small passengers, careful to not knock Bowman from his perch or bump Sammy in his pocket.

While the remains were burning down, the sun slipped to the horizon, casting long shadows through the small clearing they stood in. Dean shadowed his face with an arm, estimating the daylight left to them. It would be dark in an hour, maybe a little longer if they were lucky, but nowhere near as long as they’d need to in order to make it back to the Impala. Normal wolves and other animals would be out, making the trip more dangerous than he’d risk willingly with Sam (though he’d never admit it to his little brother), so he glanced down at Bowman on his shoulder. “You think… is there a chance we could stay in your village overnight? Just so we don’t have to worry about any animals catching us off guard during the night. All I’d need is a place to stretch out, nothing more. Sam too.”

Bowman jolted slightly and looked at the face angled in his direction. He'd nearly dozed off where he sat, watching the liquid-turned-fire die down and catching a few rays of sunlight as he did. His wings had even subconsciously angled themselves so they captured more light. He folded them hastily and blinked the focus back into his eyes.

"Yeah," he answered quickly. He couldn't imagine anyone in the village wanting to turn the brothers away after everything they had done. Regardless of whether they were nervous about Dean's size, and even despite a few parents being irked with Bowman, they trusted him and his judgment about humans. He had the most experience with them out of any of the sprites, having met both human cruelty and kindness.

"There should be room somewhere for you to lie down safely. Animals don't really wander close to the village, we keep it pretty safe that way." Wolves, and even things like raccoons, weasels or snakes had to be carefully guarded against lest they overrun the sprite homes in the trees. "I uh, don't know how much we have for you to rest your head, though. Seeing as it's giant." He smirked at that, to indicate he was teasing.

Dean snorted. "Lucky for you," he said jokingly, "I can just curl up my jacket to rest on. So I won't need to find your house to use as a pillow." He turned away from the pit of ash, heading back into the trees.

Bowman shot Dean a flat look. "Good luck getting any of our houses out of a tree, human ... they're part of the trees, and trees are blasted stubborn." The living wood of sprite homes was sturdy, but they swayed in the breeze just like any normal branch. It was not easy for them to get knocked loose. Bowman had never heard of even the worst thunderstorms breaking them.

Sam stayed quiet during the walk, and Dean had to check a few times to see if the little guy was even awake anymore. But Sam continued to hang his arms over the edge of the pocket, content to watch the passing scenery quietly. And, Dean realized, that might be all Sam wanted.

For years his little brother had remained in a single motel, part of a loving family that cared for him greatly, which Dean knew for sure after meeting Sam's adopted father, Walt. For a man that was smaller than four inches tall, he was a stern figure most of the time. The facade only cracked rarely, like around the children (when they weren't watching), or that heart-stopping moment with John that Dean wasn't sure he could forgive. Scaring Sammy's father... a man who had given Dean back everything that mattered in the world... how low could you go?

All those years Sam had been cared for and kept as safe as possible, but he'd been trapped, in a very literal way. No way to leave that motel, hell, most of the time no way to even read a book. Now, with Dean, Sam could explore the world, even if it was a bigger and scarier world than in his childhood. But another part of that was what Sam was.... most days it wasn't safe for Sam to just hang out on Dean's shoulder or even just hanging from the outside of a pocket like right now. Instead Sam would wait patiently, hiding inside a pocket, listening intently to all the goings on around him in the darkness of Dean's jacket. Safe but stifled.

Today there was no reason for Sam to hide. No reason to be afraid. Dean hoped that Sam made the most of it. Times like this were always few and far between in the life of a hunter. Which Sam was, and no one could ever tell Dean differently.

Bowman had to pay a lot of attention in the dark, to make sure Dean was on the right path. More than once he had to point out a stone jutting from the ground, but Dean at least seemed aware enough to step over them without trouble.

Stepping over stones that might reach over a sprite's head. Bowman was decently tall for his kind, but whenever he spend time around humans, he felt so incredibly outmatched. Jacob was bulkier than Dean, but he couldn't remember how tall he'd be by comparison. In the end, even Sam, sprite-sized human though he was, was much stronger than Bowman. And Dean had somehow managed to not only grab Bowman right out of the air just the day before, but earlier he'd managed to spot him hiding with ease.

As they continued back, Bowman absently stretched a wing around to his lap and checked it over. It had been squashed in the lich's bony hand, but while it was sore he couldn't feel any breaks. He squinted at it, trying to check for signs that it wasn't living up to his usual standards of camouflage. He ran a hand along the membrane, testing the edges of the wing to make sure they weren't scratched.

All seemed well. Bowman tilted his head but let it go for now. It was late and he was tired. "Should be coming up soon ..." he announced, looking around. Indeed, through the chorus of crickets the stream could be distantly heard.

As they approached, the village became more evident by soft glows hanging from some of the trees. Bundles of soft flower petals, glowing with their own light, seemed to have been hung to mark the edges of the village. Bowman chuckled. "Looks like you were expected back anyway," he quipped. Most of the sprites would be getting ready to sleep soon, but at least they'd prepared some light for the returning victors.

Both Sam and Dean's faces lit up at the sight. In all their time as hunters, they'd never been given anything close to a welcome like this. Usually the people they saved wanted them out of their lives, or gave them a quick thank you and sent them off. Being welcomed wasn't something either of them was used to after all this time, especially Sam.

Dean dropped his bag lightly outside the village before he stepped into the circle of light, carefully watching his step. "This is awesome," he said as he walked a few feet in. "They didn't have to do that for us..."

He fished Sam out of his pocket, continuing to talk to Bowman, "Anywhere I should lay? I don't want to get in the way... just..." he couldn't stifle a yawn. "...really tired."

Bowman was looking around the village, admiring the sight of the glow-lanterns everywhere. He saw his village a lot at night anyway, thanks to his usual habit of sneaking out. But he rarely saw it lit up this way. That was saved for special occasions, though the Prayer to put a glow in the petals was not too difficult for even the learning sprites.

"Eh? Oh," Bowman realized Dean sounded just about ready to drop where he stood. "Uh. Anywhere on the ground is probably fine, if you're okay with it," he answered. He stood carefully, making sure he had proper balance before hopping off Dean's shoulder and opening his wings.

He quickly came to a hover in front of the human, glancing down at the ground far below. "Just don't lean too much on any tree trunks, you might block the stairs with your great big self, y'know?" Bowman didn't need to give anyone any more reasons to gripe at him for not keeping the humans in check.

"Hey ... " Bowman started, hesitating to say anything but knowing he really should. "Thanks. For all the saves."

Dean tried to wave off the thanks but ended up yawning again. "Don't mention it," he said, though he couldn't hide the pleased smile that appeared at the thanks. "You had some good saves yourself today. Couldn't have done it without you, Bowman."

Dean glanced around at the area around his feet. "You won't have to worry about me blocking off any trees, I'll be fine right here," he said as he lowered Sam to the ground and started to strip off his jacket. Bundling it up, Dean lay flat on the ground, resting his head on the jacket and one arm crossed behind it. "See you on the other side," he mumbled as he dropped off instantly into sleep, his breathing steadying out to slow, steady breaths.

Sam watched Dean fall asleep from where he was standing by his brother's side, near a hand that was curled into a loose fist. A fond smile passed over his face as he observed the immense hunter, knowing how lucky he was to have Dean in his life. If Dean was anyone else, Sam might not even be here now.

Sam gave Dean's side a pat. "Sleep well, you big lug," he said softly, afraid to risk waking Dean. After everything he'd been through, Dean deserved the chance to rest easy for once. And it worked. He didn't even twitch at Sam's words or touch.

Bowman glided in lazy circles towards the ground once Dean laid himself down. The human was asleep before he even landed, and Bowman doubted that even his slight rustling on the foliage would wake the tired giant. He'd all but fallen over right where he stood from exhaustion. Bowman was tempted to do that himself.

He fanned his wings a few times, rolling his shoulders and trying to work out the knots. It might just be a lost cause. He'd have to get a lot of sun to make up for all this exertion.

He walked over to Sam, surprising himself by his lack of concern for the sleeping giant so near. "Sam," he whispered. "Do you, uh, need anything? Food, a place to sleep?" Bowman was entirely unsure how to play host to a sprite-sized human that had helped save the village. He was kind of wishing Cerul was here to handle this one.

But the noble wasn't there. It was just Bowman. And Sam had earned some hospitality, so Bowman waited nearby in case he decided he needed something.

Sam pulled away from Dean, turning to meet Bowman's eyes. "Food would be nice," he admitted as he felt the truth of those words in the empty spot in his middle. In the excitement of the day he'd neglected to eat more than just some granola and chocolate. "I mean, I could always get food from Dean's duffel if it came to that, but I wouldn't turn down a chance to eat something other than granola."

He brushed his hand over Dean's huge one, reassuring himself one last time his brother was alright before walking a few inches over to stand near Bowman. After the day they'd been through, it was starkly apparent how vulnerable even Dean could be. Sam had almost lost him for good bare hours ago. "But I've already got somewhere to sleep, so you don't need to worry about that," he said with a grin, thinking of Dean's chest pocket. Sleeping in there would be reassuring after everything they’d been through during this case, and it would relax Dean just as much, knowing his little brother was safe and sound. Dean wouldn't roll over in his sleep, having enough control over his unconscious body to manage that anytime Sam was nearby, and in a village full of tiny sprites that would be a very useful ability, indeed.

As though Dean realized Sam was leaving him, one of the huge fingers stretched out next to him, a callused fingertip brushing lightly against his jacket and satchel. Sam pushed the huge finger down with a grin. "Stop worrying about me, I'm not the one that needs my beauty sleep over here." The finger relaxed at his words, trusting Sam even in sleep.

Chapter Text

Once Sam was certain Dean was fast asleep again, he turned back to Bowman. "So, what did you have in mind?" he asked as he walked up next to the sprite.

Bowman scratched his head, thinking about it. "Well, I'm pretty sure we have some fruit stored back in my house. I'll go get it, we live kinda high up and the stairs might take a while." Considering how much Sam had run around already that day, Bowman couldn't fathom going up a tall, winding flight of stairs. Even without a bad knee like Bowman had, he'd get tired.

He stepped back to give himself room and quickly darted into the air. He flew towards his own home tree, comforted by the sight of his house nestled on one of the branches. He landed softly on the small porch, folding his wings and tiptoeing up to the door. He opened it quietly, hoping he wouldn't wake his family. It was the same routine he did when coming back from sneaking out at night. At least this time he had the mother of all excuses: saving the entire village.

"Bowman, Spirit bless me, you're okay!" The hushed voice startled him. Before Bowman could flinch back, Candara was there, catching him in a tight hug. The soft glow of a lantern in the main room made Bowman realize that his aunt had waited up for him. He smiled faintly and hugged her back.

"I'm okay, aunt. Barely even bruised," he answered, embellishing his status just a little bit for her comfort.

She stood back and put her hands on his face, looking him over with bright green eyes that matched his own. Candara smiled proudly at her boy, the child of her sister that she'd promised to care for. "So, did you and the humans ... is the danger gone?"

Bowman grinned proudly and nodded. "C'mon, as if you had any doubt," he answered, and they both laughed quietly. Then, he added, "Dean was pretty exhausted after the fight, but I was going to get some fruit for Sam ..."

Candara nodded. "Wait here," she told him before turning and hurrying back into the house towards the storeroom. Eventually, she returned with two pastries, each big enough to almost cover Bowman's hand. They were simple round rolls made from acorn flour, and Bowman knew they were stuffed with sweet berries. What looked to be birch sap was drizzled over the outside of them, making their mint-leaf wraps stick. Bowman raised his eyebrows as Candara put them in his hands.

"Aunt, you made these today?" Bowman asked appreciatively; the mint leaves looked and smelled quite fresh, a cool scent gracing the air and undoubtedly lingering on his hands.

Candara chuckled. "I was planning to before you brought your human friends home. But I think Sam has earned it, since he brought my boy back safely. I suppose Dean can have some when he wakes, though I may need to make more ..." She trailed off, thinking about it, and Bowman could tell she was strongly considering exactly that. Then, she focused and started to push him back out the door. "Well, if your friend is waiting for food, be polite and take it to him, you featherhead!" she scolded with a smile.

"Alright, alright, I'm going!" Bowman groused, though he was also smiling. He didn't waste any more time before gliding back down to where Sam waited, grateful for the soft lantern light making sure he didn't just crash right into the human.

He held out one of the pastries. "Here. Uh. Hope you like it."

Sam accepted the pastry with an impressed look on his face. He'd never seen food so perfectly crafted for his - for their - size. It was the size of his hand, whereas most of the food Sam ever got to eat was either bigger than his head or bigger than his body. He could remember Dean teasing him for eating leaves the same size as him one time when he asked for a salad. Like he had a choice.

"Thanks! This... it looks amazing! " he complemented, wasting no time digging into the minty smelling bundle.

Words couldn't describe the taste. The sweet glaze on the outside combined with the fresh mint and delicious berries inside the flaky pastry to make a flavor he'd never had before, and doubted he would ever find again. "Mmm," he managed, finishing it off with little wasted motion. "I don't think I've ever had anything that tastes close to that. Thanks, man. Really." He ended up licking the sticky sap off his fingers, refusing to waste a drop of the incredible food.

"I've been meaning to ask," Sam said, leaning against Dean's hand and using it for a seat. "Your wings... are they okay after everything that happened? I saw that... the lich get a grip on them. They didn't get hurt, did they?"

Bowman ate his own food, appreciating the flavor but perhaps with less astonishment. He smirked faintly to himself at Sam's enthusiasm. He'd never met anyone that didn't like the food Candara prepared, but then again he'd never seen a human try it. If he were honest, he still liked these pastries better than the pizza, though that human food hadn't been terrible.

After finishing up, he glanced over his shoulder at the wing that had been caught. It was still sore, but he thought that a good night's sleep would do wonders on it. Failing all else, a lot of sunlight (and most likely a few Prayers at Rischa's insistence) would help a lot. At least, with the lich taken care of, he was well past the danger of someone grabbing him out of the air.

"They're okay," he admitted. "Kinda got a little twisted and pressed, but it didn't break anything, thank the Spirit." He wrapped the wing around in front of himself, peering at it once more. He'd gotten lucky, really. At least he could still move both wings enough to fly. When Jacob's friend had held him up by the sensitive limbs, Bowman had been left with almost immobile wings, painful to even twitch.

Sam squinted in the soft petal lantern light, looking the wing over with Bowman. He couldn't see anything wrong with it, but he had absolutely no experience with wings like that. Nixie's had been far different, with him and Dean barely able to splint it for her. Thankfully she'd been able to heal it herself in the end.

"Honestly I'm more worried about the fact that Dean could see them so easily earlier," Bowman admitted, glancing pensively at the sleeping hunter. "That's uh. Not good for my scouting skills." He chuckled sheepishly.

"Oh, that?" Sam gave Bowman a sheepish smile. "Dean's a good tracker, but he's not that good. I'm the one that spotted you in the trees both times while Dean did all the rest of the work. I'm much better at seeing details he misses, because of my size. So even though I'm really small when it comes to hunting, we have an unexpected edge when we work together. And that second time, you blended in perfectly. If it wasn't for the leaves shaking around you, I never would have spotted you either."

Sam couldn't hide a snicker, remembering Bowman's indignant flight and subsequent capture by Dean. It made Sam feel a little better, knowing it wasn't just him Dean could get the best of that way after all the times he'd been sandwiched between those huge hands. "I can't believe he flicked you off a branch! That's one thing I can say he's never done to me!"

Bowman's wings went slack behind him and he stared at Sam in disbelief. His face warmed a bit and he was glad the light was so dim. It made sense, though he was indignant to find out that Sam had helped Dean. Being smaller, he would look for entirely different signs to spot his 'prey,' and Bowman hadn't accounted for that at all.

Humans weren't supposed to have a small, sprite-sized helper to point everything out to them!

Bowman glared at Sam for laughing. Getting flicked off of a branch had been alarming, and though it sounded like a fun prank to play on someone else, Bowman was still a bit miffed that it happened to him. Right before getting caged in between Dean's hands so easily.

"Are you kidding me?! " he blurted. Dean twitched a little in his sleep with a mumble, shifting his head on his jacket. He didn't wake, but Bowman still lowered his voice and hissed, "You had me thinking I was withering or something!"

Despite his agitation, Bowman was also relieved. Since Dean had found him so easily a few times, he had really worried he was losing his touch or something was wrong with his wings' camouflage. For someone whose main advantage over all of his predators rested in his ability to hide from them, it was an unsettling thought. So he was glad that his downfall had been in not preparing for Sam's watchfulness.

Sam kept an eye on Dean, making sure the hunter wasn't going to move again and knock Sam off of his knuckle perch. The last thing he needed after everything he'd been through that day, including almost being stepped on by his brother, was eating a faceful of dirt because Dean did something as simple as twitching in his sleep.

Once he was sure Dean had settled down again, Sam turned back to Bowman. "You didn't expect me to help out my brother?" he asked, vaguely surprised. He understood why the sprite might be shocked at what Sam had done, but honestly, helping Dean out was second nature for him after all this time. And it had been fun, especially when Dean had offered Sam a 'high-five' in celebration. They didn't get many opportunities like that. "Careful underestimating your opponent next time. You never know what tricks they might have up their sleeve."

"So..." Sam couldn't hold in his curiosity anymore, "your wings... they're really leaves? They wither just like on trees? What do they feel like? Are they stronger than leaves? Aside from Cerul, I didn't see any other sprites with damage to their wings... can they rip the same as leaves can?"

Bowman raised his eyebrows and nearly leaned back from Sam's barrage of questions. He wasn't sure which order he should answer them in. He winced slightly at the thought of tearing a wing. It would be painful, probably one of the more painful injuries a sprite could experience. Not to mention the healing time (if the wound wasn't too severe to heal) was agonizingly long, and the poor sprite would be ground bound in the meantime. It was a nightmare. Bowman would go absolutely crazy waiting.

"Well, uh," he began, shifting a little closer to where Sam sat on Dean's hand. "They just feel like wings, I guess," he answered. He tentatively reached a wing around in front, spreading out the finger bones in it so Sam could see for himself. It was true they had a leaf-like quality and texture to them, though thankfully they were sturdier than simple leaves.

Sam leaned forward in place to match Bowman, reaching out a hand hesitantly. He brushed his fingers lightly against the membrane, amazed at the soft feel the wings had. It was very pliant, but he could tell there was hidden power in there, just waiting to rise to the surface. The texture vaguely reminded him of Dean's leather jacket, only far softer and more pliant. The wing shuddered faintly, pulsing with the blood coursing through it and the nerves sensitive to Sam’s touch.

"They're not really leaves," Bowman explained. "I can photosynthesize with them but I can't breathe with them like trees can. But ... they can wither if they're not taken care of right, or when they get too old." The oldest sprites, who now resided in the cottonwood tree, all had wings that had withered to almost black on their backs, and they covered them with shawls to keep the cold at bay.

"They can rip, but not quite as easily as leaves, I guess? It takes a long time for that to heal, though, and they don't, um, grow back. That's why Cerul's wing is missing. The last hunter that came here fired his gun at him and it was too damaged to recover." Bowman reached over the top of his wing to point at a part near the very middle of it to indicate where the bullet had shredded through Cerul's wing a little over a year ago, and it went without saying that it took a lot of his wing with it.

The closest Bowman had come to damaging a wing that badly, he still hadn't come near that level of pain. He still remembered when Rischa had come into his room a few nights after that whole terrifying fiasco. She was weepy and still reeling from the ordeal, and she told Bowman she couldn't get it out of her head: the immense pain Cerul had felt, how he had cried out until he had no voice and how he had fallen to the ground and huddled there, shaking from the pain.

In an effort to steer away from the rather uncomfortable subject of injured or lost wings, Bowman smirked and chuckled. "I won't underestimate you two again," he promised. "I'm glad it wasn't something wrong with these, because I couldn't even begin to know how to take better care of 'em than I already do."

Sam drew his hand back, quiet as he listened to Bowman talk. The ease of travel with wings... he couldn't push that from his mind. A tiny bit of jealousy worked its way through him at how much easier things would be.

But if anyone knew how futile a wish like that could be, it was Sam. Ever since being cursed he'd wanted a way to return to normal, to just go back to being human again. Wishes, naturally, don't come true, so here he was, using his own brother's hand as a seat, talking to a sprite that was almost the same size as him.

There was no desire in him these days to change that. The more time he spent with Dean the more he realized how little he'd fit in with the human world. Combine that with the thought of how Walt and the others would react to Sam if he was a human... and he was happy the way he was.

"That sounds awful," Sam said quietly, thinking of Cerul. Even facing down Dean, the older sprite hadn't flinched, something Sam was ashamed he still did on occasion with his brother. "But he was damn lucky to survive. If a shot like that hit me, there'd be nothing left."

Bowman couldn't help but agree with Sam. Cerul was astonishingly lucky. Bowman had seen what the fiery human weapons could do. They'd pointed out to him where the bullet that had passed through Cerul's wing had ended up. It had shredded through bark and splintered a small hole into the nearest tree.

So it was really no shock to him that the weapons were so effective against whatever they faced. Wolves, liches ... even other humans, as Jacob could attest to. Bowman had been astounded to see the state one hit from those terrifying weapons could put Jacob in. Jacob was no small guy, even among the humans. Bowman wasn't sure without a side-by-side comparison, but the teen might be bigger than Dean. Just one shot from a gun had knocked him to the ground and nearly killed him.

Sam leaned back, getting more comfortable on the hand. He crossed his legs under him as he considered the rest. "That's why I'm glad Dean's such a good shot," Sam admitted. "It's a lot less scary going on a hunt with him when I don't have to worry about him missing his shot."

Bowman raised an eyebrow and rolled his bright green eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'm very comforted, knowing that," he quipped. "Nice to know he wouldn't have missed if he decided to fire the thing when he had it aimed at me." His voice was a little indignant, but he was smirking faintly.

Of course, that had come closer than he cared to admit. Bowman may have played along with Dean's stalking game. Even avoided panicking when the human trapped him in his gigantic hands (no panic, perhaps, but he'd still fought, of course). But, when Dean had turned on him, leveling that huge weapon at him and glaring that hard glare, Bowman had gotten a small glimpse of what it would be like to be one of the hunter's real targets. And he was quite positive that he never wanted to be on that side of Dean's determination.

"Eh. At least he took care of the wolves, and he got me clear of one without hitting me too, which is pretty convenient for me," Bowman snickered.

Sam winced at that reminder, though he saw a smirk glimmering on Bowman's face. "If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one he's pulled a gun on," Sam said. "Back, the first time we saw each other since I was cursed, I was trying to get food from the room Dean was staying in. When he came in, it caught me off guard, away from any escape routes out of the room."

Sam thought back to that time, remembering what it was like to actually be Dean's target. He trusted his brother now, but in that moment... "Dean had no idea who I was. How was he supposed to suspect his kid brother, who he'd thought dead for over thirteen years, would be hiding from him in his room? Just like I never expected my big brother to stay in the motel ever again. So when he heard me fall after I hurt my wrist climbing, he pulled a gun. Even worse, he grabbed me from behind a nightstand without ever seeing where I was, so I know exactly how it feels to be trapped by those hands, how it feels to be hunted by Dean. Helpless between fingers as big as I am. If I hadn't recognized the amulet he was wearing around his neck, the amulet I gave him before being cursed, we don't know what could have happened. He's a hunter, after all, and I could have been his target."

Sam sighed and leaned back on Dean's hand, staring up at the sky. "Now he treats people my size like what they are - people just like him - but before he found me he might have been willing to hunt them, especially since he had no idea what they were. Our dad pushed Dean hard and he wasn't always rational about anything supernatural, from what I've been able to gather from Dean and our friend Bobby. He tried teaching Dean 'shoot first, ask questions later,' and you can imagine how glad I am Dean didn't learn that lesson." Sam shook his head, remembering all the little bits he'd been able to gather of Dean growing up since Dean refused to talk about those days.

Bowman fell silent and listened respectfully for once. It was still strange for him sometimes, to think that Sam and Dean were actually brothers. He believed it, of course. But it was still odd, seeing Sam reclining on a hand larger than himself, and knowing that hand belonged to Sam's honest to Spirit brother.

It sounded like a very fortunate set of events that pushed the two back together. After a curse like that, there was no reason to think that Sam would be able to be with his family again. And yet, here he was, playing the role of hunter with Dean. And, by his skills in spotting Bowman earlier, living up to the job without any issue.

Bowman couldn't help but wonder if the brothers would still have ended up in his forest if Sam had never been cursed. They'd be out there hunting together like they did now, only Sam would be enormous just like Dean. The lich most likely would have tracked the sprites to the forest and killed humans all the same. It probably would have drawn the pair in like a beacon.

But what would have become of Bowman, if Sam hadn't been there to remind Dean not to crush him in his hand? He felt an echo of pain in his knee, as if the old injury was helpfully reminding him of what probably would have happened.

Sam smirked at the memory of Dean jolting in surprise at Bowman's clap, even though he'd been stuck protectively clasped in Dean's sweaty hand at the time. "Honestly, if you'd tried to startle Dean like that anytime he wasn't on a hunt, it would have worked perfectly. What ruined it was he was already jumpy and expecting to get attacked, hence the reaction. Normally he might have jumped, maybe make a grab at you for revenge, but with him in hunting mode, he went for the gun instead. And I could tell he felt awful for that. He hates pulling a gun on anyone who doesn't deserve it, especially anyone as vulnerable to it as you or me. He blames himself for overreacting, not you for making him."

Bowman shrugged. He had gotten a better look at Dean in full 'hunter mode' in the fight with the lich, before getting grabbed. He understood a little about why Dean had reacted in such a terrifying way. Didn't mean he would be able to laugh it off or anything, but he understood.

"I'm over it," Bowman admitted with a chuckle. "I was just trying to find a way to get back at him for flinging me off a branch. And I'm still gonna do that, somehow," he assured the human, quite confident in his claim. After all, Bowman was of the opinion that he had earned some kind of win over the large human. And he would secure it somehow. "Your brother is pretty quick for a human. But I'm pretty quick for a sprite. Haven't lost a race in years."

Sam chuckled along with the sprite. "Can't wait to see what you come up with," he said, already imagining what Bowman could have in mind. It was good to hear the sprite wasn't taking the scare to heart, but instead was taking it as a challenge.

Images of what Bowman might be planning to do to Dean were interrupted by a sudden yawn, catching Sam off guard. The night had fully settled in around them, leaving the glow of the moon above them combined with the glow of the petals their only light. It was gentle and calming, easier on the eyes than the incandescent lights that humans used.

Sam again found himself wishing they could stay and see more of the sprites' home. He understood why that wasn't possible, though. As good of a hunter as Dean could be, he wasn't able to pull the trigger on a deer, leaving him unable to fend for himself in the forest. Any food the sprites had wouldn't be enough, and Dean would never want to take all their food anyway. No matter how much Sam would want to stay and explore, he wouldn't want to separate from Dean. Not now, not ever.

Dean was his home, for better or worse.

Stretching out his legs, Sam hopped off Dean's hand. It was getting late and he was definitely feeling the strain from the earlier excitement. From almost being eaten by a wolf, to Dean thinking Sam was nothing more than a toy, or running across a giant battlefield, he'd had his own share of the excitement and he knew Bowman was probably feeling it just as much.

"We should probably head to bed and try and catch some zzz's," Sam said to the sprite as he stretched his sore muscles. "Follow Dean's example."

Bowman nodded. He stretched his wings straight out behind him, rolling his shoulders at the same time. With a final flutter, he drew the limbs back to himself. He remembered Sam mentioning that he'd have a place to sleep for the night. He was a little curious about where he'd go, and though he stepped back a little to prepare to fly on home, he hesitated.

"Yeah... 'zzzs,' " he agreed with a raised eyebrow. That was one of the weirder human phrases he'd heard. But then again, humans did have a lot of weird phrases. He chose not to pursue it.

"You guys can probably sleep for as long as you need. I can't guarantee that the nestlings won't bother you in the morning, though. Fair warning."

Sam smiled at the thought. "That's no problem. They were good kids, and Dean won't move in his sleep. He's had a lot of practice, even completely knocked out. As long as no one yells in his ears, of course. No one likes a jumpy giant in the morning."

Sam gave his arms one last stretch before gathering up his satchel again. "See you bright and early, or whenever you flop out of bed," he said before turning away.

Dean's body stretched overhead, even flat on his back, so Sam grabbed fistfulls of Dean's shirt, hauling himself up the hunter. The black flannel shirt Dean was still wearing had a comfortable pocket, the perfect size for Sam to use as a sleeping bag. He'd never tell Dean this, but he sometimes preferred sleeping in there. After a lifetime of being raised to fear humans and after being captured and almost sold off by humans not so ago, sleeping on Dean, Sam's only real source of safety in world, comforted him.

Nowhere else existed where Sam could guarantee his safety like that. Dean's rhythmic breathing and the gentle thudding of his heart underneath his body helped soothe him as well.

Once he'd climbed up, Sam walked briskly over, lifting up the pocket flap. Dean rumbled in his sleep as Sam slipped in, getting comfortable. The ground vibrated under him reassuringly.

Dean must have felt Sam climbing his side, because the hand Sam had been sitting on moments ago rose up, stretching protectively over the pocket and Sam. "G'night Sammy," Dean mumbled before he slipped into sleep again.

Sam smiled. " 'Night Dean," he called up as well, settling comfortably under the shadow of the huge hand. Dean's thumb rubbed gently up his side once before going slack.

Artwork by featherpantsd

At first, Bowman thought Sam was going to huddle near his brother for the night. Before he could turn to leave, however, he was drawn into eyeing the human as he simply climbed up Dean's side. The way he made it look so normal made Bowman think this was not the first time it had happened. Bowman tilted his head as Sam settled into Dean's pocket of all things. And then, just to complete the whole strange picture, Dean placed a hand over Sam carefully, keeping him warm. Keeping him safe.

With that final thought, Bowman turned and flitted into the air on silent wings. He returned home quickly, actually making it to his room without hindrance. His aunt must have gone to sleep shortly after sending him back with the food. He didn't mind that at all. Bowman was exhausted, and though he loved his aunt dearly he didn't much feel like giving anybody a full story just yet.

He stared at his bed, appreciating how it was unevenly shaped and curved, unlike the stiffly rectangular beds back in the human motel room. Bowman barely got his boots slipped off before he flopped over onto his bed, relishing the familiar feel of the cotton-stuffed mattress, and the familiar scent of the blanket. He was asleep in moments.

Well after the last lanterns softly winked out in the village, a quiet breeze wafted through. It carried with it the scent of wildflowers in their prime, of the pine trees all around, and of the clean air of the forest, unmarred by outside influence. It also carried the barest whisper, a hushed voice calling to three of the village's occupants.

I have a gift for you, it whispered, guiding the slumbering minds to a place where the gift could be received.

Bowman recognized the feeling. He had been contacted by a Spirit twice in his life. Both times, he'd felt like he was drifting in a comforting breeze or current. He opened his eyes and saw the familiar white void around him, the comforting emptiness through which a Spirit could make contact.

Bowman looked around, expecting to see the Earth Spirit somewhere nearby. She would have something to tell him about the trials he'd just been through. Perhaps the danger was not yet averted? The Spirit wouldn't contact someone like him with no purpose.

But Bowman soon found the purpose when his eyes settled on two figures that were with him in the dreamscape. Bowman's mouth fell open in unfiltered shock at the sight of them. Sam and Dean, two humans, were also being contacted by the Lady of Life.

And all three of them stood at the same scale.

Chapter Text

Dean wasn't sure what had happened.

One minute he'd been off playing pool in the local bar, making some extra cash. His opponents were faceless as he defeated them, one by one, but that didn't matter as long as they ponied up the cash. Dean smiled, counting the bills in his hand. He and Sam could live off this much for a long, long time.

As he counted his winnings, the world wavered around him. His whiskey on the bar faded, along with the barflies he'd been hitting on. Last, the cash in his hand faded, like it had never been there.

Dean opened his mouth to protest when he realized he had no idea where he was. A plain white expanse stretched out in all directions, surrounding him in silence.

After a moment staring into the distance, Dean realized he wasn't alone. He twisted around in surprise, spotting two others there with him. His eyes locked on the more distinctive of the pair, eyes widening in shock at the sight of Bowman, full-sized.

Seeing those leafy green wings from a proper perspective made Dean realized why the sprite was so overprotective of them. They were huge, clearly a major part of Bowman. Dean's face flushed with embarrassment at the memory of his hand clenched around them, crumpling them against the sprite's body. He found himself thankful Sam had warned him away from hurting them, even by accident. He could have snapped one of the fragile wings all too easily.

But before he could open his mouth and apologize to the sprite who mirrored his surprise, Dean's gaze was drawn to the third person standing there in the white emptiness with them.

The third member of the odd little group was staring around with just as much confusion in his eyes as Dean. Fluffy brown hair hung messily around his ears, and expressive hazel eyes met Dean's greens. A tan jacket that seemed so damn familiar completed the ensemble, making Dean's memory try to put together facts that seemed impossible for a few moments.

For a long moment, neither of them recognized the other.

After all, which of them would ever expect to find himself standing face to face with his brother? Sam was supposed to be asleep in Dean's pocket right now, surrounded by the landscape Dean's chest became at that scale. Curled up comfortably under a hand bigger than he was.

Dean's mouth went dry as he realized the truth.

Realized who was standing there with him.

"S--," Dean had to pause to clear his throat. "Sammy?" He took a halting step towards the other man in shock.

The confusion in Sam's face cleared up at Dean's familiar, comforting voice. "Dean? Is... is that really you? How is this --"

Sam was cut off when Dean slammed into him with a bear hug, almost knocking them both to the ground from the force. Sam had tears in his eyes as he hugged Dean back with a laugh, catching the older hunter off guard with his unexpected strength. They clung to each other like long-lost family, reunited at last, and that wasn't far from the truth.

After an endless stretch of time later, Sam realized Dean was pulling out of the hug. Still in shock, he did nothing to resist the older hunter's movements. Dean's hands found his face, making them look each other straight in the eyes. Sam tried to blink away his tears, overwhelmed by the moment.

"Let me get a good look at you, pint-size," came Dean's deep voice past his watery vision. A callused thumb wiped away his tears, taking care of Sam the way he'd always wanted to. At long last, Sam found himself looking down at Dean through clear eyes.

Down at Dean.

What?!

Dean's deep chuckle filled the air between them, in time with Sam's thoughts. "I'll be dammed," he said. "You did it, Sammy! You're taller than Dad!"

Sam pulled away from Dean's hands, shocked at what he saw. Dean, his enormous, over six foot tall brother who could tuck him in his pocket, was shorter than Sam. He found himself looking down at the top of Dean's head. It only came to about his eyes.

"Holy crap," Sam said, his eyes wide. "I knew I was at least a little tall around Walt and the others, but... holy crap!" He reached forward, poking the pocket on Dean's chest that he'd gone to sleep in not so long ago. Pulling the flap up he peered in, searching for any sign of his satchel. It was shocking to see how small it was now, compared to his hand. He could cover up the entire pocket with room to spare with only one hand. "My bag..."

Dean took Sam's hand, moving it away from his pocket. Before letting go, he stretched out his hand against Sam's, staring at the way it eclipsed his own. "I'll be dammed..." he repeated to himself, a broken record under the weight of his own surprise and joy. This same hand against his never filled more than his fingertip, and now it could engulf his own.

Dean pulled away from those thoughts, stepping back to really take in Sam's size. "Tell me about it," he said. He sized Sam up with a critical eye. "I'd give you... 6'3, 6'4, at least." He clapped Sam on the back. "I think we need a new nickname for you, Sasquatch!"

"Dean... you're... I can't..." Sam floundered, unable to find the words he needed.

Dean's eyes softened and he put a supportive arm around Sam's shoulder, trying to calm his younger brother down. An arm. Not a finger or a thumb like normal, but Dean's entire arm, and it barely reached around Sam. Sam's eyes sought out Bowman, a familiar ground to the way things were supposed to be.

"How is this... how is any of this possible?" Sam asked, almost pleading for answers.

Though he was just as confused as the pair of them, even Bowman couldn't help but be a little happy for them. He knew by the looks on their faces that they had never expected to be able to see each other eye to eye. And yet, here they were. Sam and Dean, standing together at the scale they were meant to. Bowman was beginning to understand why they were all there.

He took a deep breath, trying to think of a nice, succinct way to explain. "This is how the Earth Spirit contacts someone," he answered, a certain reverence in his voice. Joyous though it was, it was also a deeply profound honor for a sprite to receive the attention of their Spirit. "I've never heard of Her contacting more than one person at once, but I guess this is what that looks like." He shrugged and raised his arms from his sides slightly, indicating the void around them, and the fact that all three of them stood within it. Standing at the same scale with a couple of humans ... it was a bit of a rush.

Maybe she made us all the same to make it easier to talk to us all at once, Bowman guessed, once again glancing around for the Spirit Herself. She had to have a reason for contacting all of them like this.

There was a breeze, and Bowman stood up straighter as it wafted by. This was it. She was going to reveal Herself and reveal why She wanted to contact the three of them. Bowman took a deep breath of the sweet air, reminded of a sunny day in the woods shortly after a rain.

Artwork by yours truly,nightmares06!

Into their midst came a soft green glow, which quickly grew and took the shape of a sprite, wings and all. The light solidified until a woman was revealed, Her skin just a shade darker than Bowman's amber tone. Her eyes were solid pools of sage green, and She wore a simple long dress that faded from the palest green to teal. Long green hair framed a kind face, which She angled towards each of them in turn. She looked pleased.

"Bowman Leafwing, it seems once again you have met humans and once again they have earned my favor," She remarked with a smile, tapping Her chin as if thoughtful about the coincidence. Bowman grinned sheepishly.

Soon, She turned Her gaze to the brothers again. "Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester," She greeted them. Her voice, when it formed the sounds of their names, seemed to fill the air around them with life energy, with vigor and health. The Lady of Life had that effect on those She contacted. "I wish to convey my gratitude," She continued, tilting Her head slowly to the side and sending Her pale green hair curtaining over Her shoulder. "You place your lives on the line quite often. Today you risked yourselves to help protect my children. I cannot say thank you enough."

She held out a hand to indicate Sam's height compared to Dean. "In lieu of words, I offer you each the chance to see your brother as you were meant to see him."

The brothers listened to Her words in silence. Sam saw a flicker of sadness cross Dean's face when She said it wasn't permanent. He knew Dean always had hope they would find a way to cure Sam once and for all, one day.

Standing side by side like this, it was easier to see the differences between the brothers, even in their clothing. While Dean's clothes had been bought manufactured from a store, Sam's were lovingly handcrafted by his adopted mother, sewn together from fabric she'd spent her days gathering from empty rooms. Though his clothes were modeled on the same idea as Dean's, the threads were thicker, the seams a little rougher. Sam's boots were the closest part to what Dean had on, expertly made from the hides and bits of rubber Walt had crafted.

Sam found himself dropping to a knee in front of the Spirit. "You've given us more than I ever hoped for... more than we thought possible, for so long now. Thank you, for all this."

Dean sank down next to Sam, following his younger brother's example. Dean kept a hand on Sam's shoulder, unwilling to let go. He hated thinking this wouldn't last, but he knew it wasn't meant to be. Not yet, at least. "Thank you... for giving me this chance to see Sam," Dean blinked, fighting back his own tears. "I've always wanted to see him eye to eye, ever since finding out he was still alive." His hand tightened on Sam's shoulder. Sam put a hand on Dean's, sharing a look of understanding with his older brother.

The Spirit smiled softly, regarding their respectful positions. "I am glad to give you this gift," She replied. "You owed me nothing. And yet you risked your lives to ensure that my children would be safe." She held up a hand, indicating that the two of them could certainly stand if they wished.

Dean pulled himself off the ground, followed by Sam. He couldn't help shaking his head slightly, amused by how tall Sam was. After everything the guy had been put through because of his size, he stood a good few inches over Dean. And he was strong. Remembering that hug, Dean couldn't help eyeing Sam's upper body appreciatively. Was Sam really stronger than him? He found it hard to believe, after a lifetime of training and hunting, but when he remembered the amount of climbing Sam had done growing up, it made a little more sense. Maybe being shrunk had something to do with it, too. None of the others like Sam had any issues with climbing, but a lot of humans did. A natural strength would help with survival.

The Spirit glanced past them at Bowman, who had his head bowed respectfully. "I especially appreciate the help with this child of mine, who, try as he might, cannot seem to stay out of trouble."

Bowman looked up, nearly blushing fire, at the Spirit's almost teasing smile. "I ... My Lady, that's...!"

She cut off his stammering with a laugh, a clear, pure sound that lit up Her face and sparkled in Her eyes. One small hand was placed in front of Her mouth to pretend to mask the expression. She moved on from Her gentle scolding and said, "I thought you might appreciate the chance to greet your friends as well, Bowman, both of them. Especially after putting yourself in front of the enemy to help them."

"Y-yeah." Bowman thought about how he'd dove in front of that wolf, and then again in front of the lich in the final fight. He'd done both with hardly a second thought, no wavering in his resolve. But the pair had earned his loyalty, and they would keep it now after taking down the lich that threatened to wipe out the entire village with its foul designs.

His eyes drifted somewhat reluctantly off of the Spirit to settle on Dean. "So this is what you look like when you're not giant, huh? I thought I was getting used to it but standing around two people without wings is just kind of bizarre," he quipped, smirking faintly at the pair.

Dean crossed his arms with a scowl. " 'Giant?' I'll have you both know I'm perfectly normal sized. It's not my fault everyone around me has a height deficiency."

Sam rolled his eyes with a grin, nudging Dean with an elbow to snark. "Big words coming from the shortest guy here." Dean was caught off guard, stumbling when Sam used a little more force than he'd needed.

Dean paused at Sam's words, a little shocked when he realized it was true. Bowman, while shorter than Sam, was still taller than Dean. He threw up his arms. "That's right, make fun of the guy who saved your asses!"

Bowman grinned and held his head a little higher, trying to size up just how much taller he was than Dean at the moment. It didn't seem like it was by much. To Dean, it was an inch or two at best. Bowman had to remind himself that at his usual size, an inch or two was a significant fraction of his height.

So, naturally, he was going to relish this moment for as long as it lasted. "Aww. What's the matter, small fry? Don't like being a little bit shorter one time in your life?" he teased.

He wondered briefly what Vel would think if he saw Dean at a closer scale. Judging by the kid's reaction to even Sam, he wouldn't mind in the least if his 'big brother' wasn't human-sized. "Don't worry, though, Dean," Bowman added brightly. "You're still taller than the nestlings."

He opened a wing and extended it towards the human. Bowman angled the wing so he could brush the tip over Dean's head, effectively ruffling his hair. It was amazing to think that, in the waking world, the very same wing would hardly tickle the human. Dean could (and had) easily engulf that wing in his hand, along with the rest of Bowman. The sprite snickered as he quickly pulled his wing back before Dean got the idea to grab it. "There, there, small fry."

Dean dodged back, too slow to avoid the wing. He brushed back his short, dirty blonde hair, fixing the spiky style he favored. "Let's not forget who's taller than who here," he groused. "Or you two are going to earn pocket-time, for sure." He jabbed a finger at both of them, fixing each of his companions with a customary glare. Inwardly, he was smiling even as he snarked back, knowing how much Sam must be enjoying being the tall one for once.

Bowman chuckled, not fazed by the threat of pocket-time. Why would he worry? At the moment, he was taller than a human. The experience was too novel, too intriguing for him to be anything but entertained. He wondered briefly how he would compare to the other humans he'd met. Especially Jacob, who he was pretty sure was also taller than Dean at this point. It was hard to tell with people that towered over his head normally.

Sam couldn't quite believe it himself. Dean wasn't the only one who'd noticed Sam's strength was unexpectedly more powerful than either of them had ever thought, considering how easy it was to trap him in something as normal as a fist. Is it possible? Am I actually stronger than Dean? he thought to himself in amazement while the other two carried on. It was a heady thought, to be relatively stronger than his brother.

Hearing Dean's words, Sam bit back a grin. "Putting us in a pocket later can't hide the truth, pint-size," he shot at the hunter, taking full advantage of his 'short' brother. His eyes were drawn to Dean's pockets again, disbelief filling him at how small they were against Dean. And I'm in there right now, he thought as his eyes landed on the chest pocket he was using as a sleeping bag that very moment. Can't lose touch with how big he really is in reality, or you might end up stuck in a pocket for real.

Dean didn't catch onto Sam's thoughts, snorting at his 'little' brother. "Well, guess I'll just have to start calling you 'gigantor,' won't I?"

"It's good to know you don't limit the nicknames to just the smaller folk," Bowman quipped, thinking over the strange sound of 'gigantor' in his head. He thought he understood that one, at least. Mostly.

"Why would I ever limit the nicknames?" Dean said, snickering a little at the thought. "I've got plenty for everyone, might as well share."

He tried not to feel self-conscious, feeling Sam and Bowman's gazes on him. He couldn't really blame them, just as caught off guard by having the two guys he'd been carrying on his shoulder earlier that night standing taller than him.

He couldn't at least have one of them be shorter? Preferably Bowman, of course. Dean would never want to take this moment away from Sam, shorter brother or not.

Bowman thought to himself that it was almost strange to have the same kind of banter he was used to having with humans, but without having to look up to see them, and without their voice rumbling through his entire body. It was ... normal. And by the look on Sam's face, it was something he'd hoped for for so long that he almost didn't know what to do now that he had it. Perhaps the Earth Spirit's presence had filled the air with life, but the joy in the room came from the mortals She chose to visit.

Now that he could see both brothers at a closer scale, Bowman couldn't help himself. He glanced over his shoulder and stretched his wings as far as they'd go. Just to see how they'd compare to a few humans if he were bigger in real life. They were longer than he was tall, and would probably cast a formidable green-tinted shadow.

Dean tried not to stare. Those wings were huge, the wingspan easily reaching fourteen feet from tip to tip. It was hard to believe he'd held them both in one hand just yesterday.

"Imagine how much noise my wings could make at this size," Bowman mused, thinking about the simple clapping noise he could make at sprite size. "Might just give you a heart attack, Dean," he added with a smirk.

"Better watch yourself," Dean said dryly. "We all know how that one ended up for you today. You might give yourself a heart attack again."

Feeling Sam's eyes on him, Dean turned slightly, catching his little brother's eyes. Sam twitched his head at Bowman, his meaning clear in those big, expressive eyes. Dean couldn't bring himself to ignore Sam's meaning, blindsided by the sight of full-sized puppy eyes.

That’s not even fair.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey man," he said to Bowman. "I... I'm sorry about yesterday, when I, you know... almost crushed your wings." At this, Dean's thumb rubbed against his palm, recalling what it had felt like having those tiny wings thrash helplessly in his grip, slapping his wrist with all the power they could muster and still hardly feeling like more than leaves bumped against him in a breeze. His face warmed at the thought. "I really didn't want to hurt you, so... sorry, alright?" The last few words came fast, trying to stumble past the apology as fast as he could.

The apology made Bowman pause in the middle of drawing his wings back towards himself, frozen with them partially open and his eyebrows raised. Considering how badly he and Dean had been getting along at first, he never really expected to hear an apology out of the human. He folded up his wings with one last rustle and shrugged.

"No harm done, somehow, despite you having monster hands," Bowman quipped, smirking. "Don't sweat it." The Earth Spirit, who had not spoken in a while, smiled faintly, and She seemed pleased that Bowman had so easily forgiven Dean. After all, Bowman was protective of his wings to a fault.

Dean stared down at his hands at Bowman's words. Monster hands... It was as good a name as any. Monster hands that could snatch Sam or Bowman up without giving them a choice, and once those hands closed around them, they had no way to escape. I never wanted that... Dean thought to himself. I never wanted to have that kind of control over someone else...

Especially not over my friends and family...

Bowman took a moment to think about his brief conversation with Sam before they'd gone to sleep. How Dean felt bad for pulling the gun on someone who didn't deserve it. Really, after seeing Dean in action today, Bowman couldn't doubt that. He was terrifying in battle, but he always seemed to know which way to aim his fury. He'd even made some attempts to avoid touching Bowman's wings, back when he had no idea what was going on in the woods. And no one could deny that he'd been very good with the kids, especially the little nestling Vel.

Jacob had once told Bowman about a gesture that humans did. It could be a simple greeting, or a congratulations, or a sign of camaraderie and trust. He was almost hesitant, but after the briefest pause Bowman held out a hand for Dean to shake. Am I even doing this right? he wondered. “All is forgiven, giant.”

Dean looked up from his gloomy thoughts in surprise, not expecting the sprite to offer a handshake, of all things. With a slowly growing smile, Dean reached out and took the offered hand. A hand that could close around the sprite's entire body and then some gripped the slim hand firmly, going up then down once. "Glad to hear," Dean said during the handshake. "Keep those wings safe, flyboy. I don't want to have to come back here to hunt the jackass down that hurts them, but I'll sure as hell be back if anyone messes with you or your village."

Flyboy. The nickname got a smirk out of Bowman. There really was no end to them. But, following the nickname was an assurance that surprised Bowman more than Dean's apology had done. It was one thing for Dean to have put his all into protecting the village once. His lifestyle as a hunter had just happened to lead him to Wellwood with the goal of protecting humans. But now, he seemed fully ready to come back specifically to aid the sprites when they needed it, and that kind of loyalty was powerful.

"I'll keep that in mind," Bowman answered with a smile of his own. "You know you've got my help if you need it." He wasn't sure what someone like him could do to help the pair, considering the kinds of misadventures they had to be prone to, but Bowman wasn't about to answer Dean's offer of allegiance with anything less than the same.

"You'll have to come back anyway and we can have a rematch," he added with a grin. Nodding his head in Sam's direction, Bowman said "You won't have a secret advantage next time. You two won't get the better of me again."

Sam grinned back, stepping forward as Dean and Bowman separated. He shook the sprite's hand as well. "Guess this means you won't be underestimating us next time we're in town, will you? Or," and Sam smirked at this, "maybe next time me and you'll keepDean on his toes. Can't have him slacking off now and thinking everything's easy, can we?"

Dean sent Sam a mock glare. "I never slack off!" he declared obstinately, crossing his arms.

It was an odd feeling, meeting that glare and not even getting at least a little nervous. There was that strange euphoria that filled Sam as he stood on the same level as Dean for the first time since they were children. And even when they were kids Dean had always stood taller than Sam. He hadn't hit his growth spurt until he turned 16 or 17, and when you lived with people who reckoned their size by inches, there's no way to even find out how tall you would be if you'd stayed the same size.

But now I know, and I'll always know no matter what, how tall I would have been, he thought wistfully. Really, the only time he'd really want to have it was when John was around. Show him how it felt to be smaller for once. At least Sam had Dean around, no matter what. The hunter would always have his back no matter his size, so even though Sam knew this wouldn't last, it didn't bother him.

The important people in your life shouldn't care about something as silly as how tall you were, and Dean didn't. Nor did Bobby, or Walt. Sam had no idea what John thought, since his father had left without saying goodbye, but he hoped John had rethought his actions and understood where his sons were coming from.

"So Bowman, after we leave, you going back to patrolling the woods?" Sam asked, remembering what Bowman had said he was doing when they first found him.

Bowman snickered. "You think you guys could scare me off that? Of course I'll keep watch," he answered without any hesitation. After all, even if things hadn't gone exactly smoothly yesterday, Bowman had found out about the threat of the lich in time thanks to patrolling that far.

He tried to imagine what might have happened if he hadn't run into Sam and Dean. They'd probably still be tracking the wolf attacks, slowly working their way towards the lich. In the meantime, the sprites would have fallen victim to a huge attack. No amount of sprite knights would have been enough against that lich on their own.

He thought about how it had felt, being trapped in that monster's skeletal hand. To have life energy dragged through him, eroding him from his core. Every single sprite might have faced that until they were spent, all powering up the lich, possibly beyond even Dean's ability to fight it off.

"Someone's got to keep an eye on the humans that stumble into the woods," he added with a chuckle. "Make sure they don't cause any trouble."

The Spirit had watched the conversation with a soft smile on Her lips. She hadn't said a word, simply allowing the three to look each other in the eye like they so deserved. But now She gracefully took one step forward, drawing the attention back towards Herself. "I'm very happy that you enjoyed this gift," She said, turning Her smile on Sam and Dean. "I am pleased to have met you. Thank you again for protecting my children."

"I only wish I could do more for you," She added, Her voice lowering very slightly to convey a tinge of regret. She could not touch the curse on Sam, though She had tried. "I must let you sleep soon. Sun shine on you, Sam and Dean Winchester." The Spirit didn't yet fade, but She nodded at them to indicate that the connection would be ended in a few moments.

Sam's happiness turned bittersweet at the spirit's words. "You've done more than we ever expected. Thank you."

As Dean echoed the sentiment beside him, Sam turned back to his brother. It might be his last chance to look Dean in the eyes and he wasn't about to waste it.

Dean's smile was forced when Sam saw him, sadness shining in his eyes. There was nothing he hated more than the constant fear that he'd accidentally hurt Sam one day, and after this dream ended that's what they'd go back to.

"Dean," Sam said. His voice broke, choking up. How could he tell Dean in these last few moments it didn't matter how big either of them stood? How he didn't mind if he stood in Dean's hand or by his side? It didn't matter, because that was his brother he was standing on or next to, and he felt safer with Dean than anywhere else. Dean had earned his complete trust.

"I know, Sammy, I know." Dean arched his eyebrows and grinned. " 'Size be dammed,' right? Words for us to live by, no matter what happens. We watch each other's back, no matter the circumstances."

Sam grinned back, and grabbed Dean in one last bonecrushing hug. Dean grunted briefly at the force, but leaned into the hug as well, taking that last chance the Spirit had offered them. The world faded away as they slipped into sleep, darkness claiming them both.

The last thing Sam heard before the world went dark was Keep your chin up, Sasquatch. I got your back, come whatever.

Chapter Text

The only thing that disturbed the village for the rest of the night was a gentle breeze. As the sky began to change from a deep blue to a muted yellow, the early light revealed that some of the flower petal lanterns had fallen to the ground, scattered spots of pink and white color on the earthy-colored foliage.

The dew on the leaves glistened, and the air smelled fresh and tinted with pine and maple. A rosebush near one end of the village provided an underlying fragrance, the soft scent that greeted the sprites every morning as they woke. The early risers stepped outside onto their porches, stretching their wings luxuriously and capturing the first sunlight of the new day.

Many of them were curious about the large human sleeping among their trees. Curious, but not alarmed or upset. News had traveled swiftly of the humans' promise to protect the village from a great threat. The kind of thing that would have left the sprites completely helpless against a foe they didn't even understand.

Even though they were grateful, the sprites that ventured to the forest floor still gave Dean a wide berth as they went about their business. The few children that were awake that early were shushed and watched closely, and most were encouraged to go play beyond the rosebush to give the sleeping human plenty of space. Though they had been told about his good intentions, many of the sprites couldn't help but be wary of his size. After all, one stray twitch could send a sprite tumbling over!

The rising sun cast its rays on the small, sleeping form of Sam Winchester. He tried rolling away from the intrusive light, managing to collide face first with one of the fingers curled around him. Sam recoiled from it before realizing where he was - safe, back in Dean's chest pocket, where he'd curled up for sleep the night before. No one was going to grab him, no one was going to try and take him away.

He paused for a moment, making sure his slight bump hadn't disturbed the huge hunter's sleep. If anyone deserved a good night's rest after yesterday, it was Dean. No use waking him up when they had no reason to rush out. Sam peered straight up out of the pocket, spotting Dean's head leaning to the side. He was still using his jacket as a pillow. From the look of things, he hadn't budged an inch from the night before, thankfully, especially since they were in the middle of a village of sprites all around Sam's size. Dean could hurt someone without realizing it.

For a few peaceful minutes, Sam stretched out in the pocket, letting his arms and legs loosen up from his cramped sleeping position. That sense of energy and life he'd had in the dream the night before remained with him, giving him more energy than he'd ever woken up to before. There would be no need for coffee today.

He used the fingers arched over him to block out the light as he stretched, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight naturally. His foot, still in his boot from the night before, since he hadn't bothered taking anything off, nudged against his satchel tucked near the bottom of the pocket. At least it's okay... Sam thought, remembering his surprise in the dream when he hadn't been able to find the little bag. It had a place in his heart, with Walt's loving craftsmanship put into it. Even if he returned to normal, Sam would never want to give up his satchel.

And what a dream! For the first time in his life, he'd been taller than Dean! His emotions turned bittersweet as his life returned to normal. Though he didn't mind the way things were at all, it had been nice to look down and see the top of Dean's head, instead of always being forced to crane his neck back, trying to meet Dean's eyes so far above him.

Seeing Dean standing there, at the same scale as Sam for the first time in a lifetime, he hadn't even know how to react. Him, the same size as a human... even if it had only been for a few minutes in the end, they had been some of the best minutes of his life. He'd heard Dean's voice the way it was meant to be heard, instead of booming around him with vibrations that could shake the air itself. He'd given Dean a proper hug, instead of stretching his arms flat against a wall that steadily rose and fell with Dean's breaths. And of course, last but not least, he'd shot a few of Dean's nicknames back at him, and gotten a few new ones in return.

Gigantor... I kinda like that one...

Sam's lips curled up into a smile. He was taller than Dean, by a good few inches, at least! Just because Dean could stick him in a pocket again wouldn't change that fact. What a strange thought to have. Taller than Dean, taller than dad... if only Walt knew.

Careful to not disturb the huge fingers, Sam hauled himself out of the pocket. Once standing, he took a deep breath, breathing in the clean, fresh air of the forest, shaking out his hair to help straighten it.

Once he was standing free, the consistent rocking of Dean's breathing became apparent. It hadn't affected him in the pocket, as used to it as he was, but now he had to steady himself against the constant rise and fall of the surface he stood on.

Strolling over to the watch Dean wore on his wrist, Sam checked the time. 7:03 a.m... should have some time to myself before Dean wakes up... He considered his options for a few moments while sprites flew overhead, curiously checking out the giant hunter stretched out in their midst, fast asleep. Most of them probably didn't even notice Sam standing there against the backdrop of Dean's shirt. He was small enough to be overlooked in the big picture.

One of my greatest assets... Sam recalled, remembering all the times he'd used that against the enemy.

As tempted as he was to go on a jog around the small village in the trees and see the sights, Sam held back. After what they'd been through the day before, and almost losing Dean for good, he didn't want to let the hunter out of his sight, even for the time it would take to jog around the trees. So he settled on a slow series of stretches, standing a little further down on Dean's chest from the pocket to give the huge hand slumped down space in case it moved in Dean's sleep, as unlikely as that was. He was in no hurry to get tossed to the ground.

The combination of the stretches, the fresh air and the invigorating dream resulted in Sam feeling better than he ever had before. His entire body was full of energy as he went through his workout, almost demanding more out of him to take away some of the excess.

He continued on like this for at least a half hour, enjoying the peace around him. He shut out the voices he could hear whispering as sprites darted by Dean, knowing his brother was attracting all the attention on his own. As he went into the last few stretches, the sway of Dean's breathing below him changed, the hunter starting to come around and join the waking world. As used to Dean as a sailor is used to the swell of the ocean, Sam simply adjusted his footing and continued on.

Dean came to slowly in the morning, breathing in the refreshing air around him. As resigned as he was to staying at the seedy motels and eating in the diners he spent so much of his life around, he certainly appreciated the absence of the smell of motor oil and asphalt in the air. His green eyes cracked open, checking his surroundings before he so much as moved when he remembered where he'd fallen asleep the night before.

A small blur near the bottom of his vision slowly cleared up to be Sam, stretching his arms to the side in the same direction his knees were bent. Dean felt a small smile creep up his face, recognizing some of the exercises he'd shown Sam when they were going over Sam's planned workout routine. Dean's eyes opened up the rest of the way, glued to the small hunter standing on his chest.

"How you feelin' today, Sam?" Dean asked.

To his credit, Sam didn't even flinch at the rumbling voice that echoed under and around him, though he couldn't have seen Dean's eyes open up. He lowered his arms to his sides, turning to face Dean. He paused for a moment, considering his options. "Small," was what he ended up going with.

The hand that had rested on top of the pocket the night before lifted, carefully stretching a finger to rub Sam's shoulder in support. "You know it doesn't matter what size you are to me, right?"

Sam crossed his arms. "Yeah, I know." His lips turned up into a smile. "But it was a great feeling, looking down on you for a bit," he admitted.

Dean snorted at that, shifting in place a bit to get comfortable. Sleeping on the ground all night was a good way to get a stiff back. "You'll always be a Sasquatch at heart, Sam." He gently poked Sam in the chest, making the small hunter try and bat him away. "My very own pint-sized Sasquatch." He winked jokingly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Jackass," he laughed, not upset at all.

As the morning matured, more and more sprites woke to greet the day. Many flew overhead, simply enjoying the morning light and the calm breeze. Inevitably, many curious eyes turned towards Dean where he lay, especially drawn by the rumbling sound of his voice. Even murmuring, his voice was so easy to pick out, as out of place as it was. And yet no one complained about his presence. It was slightly easier to ignore a human and go about the day with him lying down.

Even so, the sprites' curiosity drew their attention back towards Dean's bulky presence every so often. Gossip passed in furtive whispers as they finally noticed the sprite-sized human, too. They'd thought he was only a rumor, some kind of frantic misunderstanding by the patrolsprites. But there he was, doing some kind of stretches atop the larger human.

Younger sprites seemed more eager to approach, to get a better look at the giant in their midst. News had traveled very quickly among the sprites of the humans' deeds. But it had traveled even faster of the fact that Bowman Leafwing, the patrolsprite thatalways seemed to find trouble - which always seemed to involve humans somehow - had allowed three young sprites to play near the human. And, of course, he had sent the human back to bring the children home, putting an honest-to-Spirit giant very close to one of the home trees.

It didn't particularly matter than Dean had been perfectly gentle with the children, and in fact had charmed the three of them thoroughly. It was more that the principle of the thing was just preposterous. What was Bowman thinking?! Anything could have happened. Fortunately Vel's mother had at least kept quiet about the boy falling into the stream.

Nestlings that attempted to get too close to the human were called back to their parents' sides. The guests deserved their rest, and the children had their tasks for the morning, after all. Some helped pick up the fallen flower petal lanterns. Others gathered pine needles to be stored for tea, bundling the sturdy green needles in their tiny arms with wings flared slightly for balance. The youngest had to carry these bundles up the staircases that spiraled around the tree trunks. Every single tree that had any dwellings on it also had staircases like this, and they clearly got plenty of use.

A few children were exercising their wings under the watchful gaze of parents or older siblings. Whenever they managed to get airborne, they laughed triumphantly before flopping back down into the bed of fallen leaves and pine needles and grass. Some managed gliding hops, their wings filling with air to carry them from the base of one tree to another. Those who landed properly on their feet puffed up their chests proudly and grinned at their teachers, while those who tumbled over laughed and scrambled to their feet, ready to try again.

Beyond the rosebush at one end of the village, more sunlight could be seen thanks to a small clearing that was blocked in by a circle of trees. Yet more sprites could be seen darting around this clearing, their vibrant wings catching the sunlight in the midst of their airborne frolicking. An absolutely massive oak tree stood at the center of this clearing. There was a certain air about it, a silent sense of the ancient that erased any doubt about where the center of the idyllic forest stood.

The sprites on the ground and in the air alike turned their heads to watch with some surprise as one nestling approached the humans with a determined gait. It looked like little Vel's wings were practically vibrating in his eagerness to reach the visiting pair. And, most surprising of all, perhaps, was the fact that Vel's parents, Karlis and Nia, followed him without trying to stop him.

Vel absolutely beamed to see that his two 'big brothers' were awake. He fluttered his wings once, and if they were a little bigger they might have lifted him from the ground a little. His parents came up alongside him, putting the trio within feet of Dean. Vel was excited, and his parents watched him with affectionate smiles though they also carried a faint cautious demeanor with them to approach someone so large.

"Hi, Sam-and-Dean," Vel greeted, almost turning their names into one word. The boy had to stand on his tiptoes to be able to see Sam from where he stood, because the angle very nearly concealed him up on Dean's chest. The boy looked almost tempted to climb up there himself, if he knew how. "You're awake. I was gonna wait until you came back from fighting the life-sick wolves. But I fell asleep because mama was humming."

Sam peered off the side of Dean at the sound of the small voice, smiling when he spotted Vel down on the ground. He'd grown fond of the little sprite, and judging by the gentle smile that came to Dean's face as his eyes locked on the trio of sprites, he felt the same. "Hey, Vel," Sam called down with a wave. He glanced over at Dean, sharing a quick look with his brother to make sure they were on the same page.

Sam wandered over to the edge of Dean's chest, letting himself slide down to the forest floor. He hit the ground with a thump, walking towards the small family of sprites as his brother picked himself off the ground at last, stretching above their heads as he crossed his legs so he was sitting comfortably.

Sam nodded at Vel's mother, remembering her from the day before, before turning to the man with them. "You must be Vel's father. My name's Sam, and th--" Sam was cut off when a small cluster of pine needles fell on his head, sticking to his hair and jacket. Of course, small was relative, with the two inch needles being half his height. He briefly flailed to get them off when a large hand came over, gently plucking off the needles Dean had accidently brushed onto Sam when he sat up.

Vel had to suppress a quiet giggle, and even his mother covered her smile with her hand. His father was clearly withholding a smirk at the sprite-sized human's startled reaction.

Sam gave Dean a glare for good measure, getting his innocent 'I didn't do anything!' look in return right before the hunter resumed brushing off his shirt above them, this time careful to avoid getting anything on Sam or the sprites. For Karlis and Nia, the silent dialogue between the two brothers made it easier to stand so near Dean. Even when he sat up and reminded every sprite that happened to be looking just how big humans were.

Once he was sure Dean wasn't going to interrupt again, Sam turned back to the sprites. "As I was saying," he went on, with a quick bitchface sent in Dean's direction as he talked. He put a hand on his chest. "I'm Sam, and that's my brother Dean. Vel came to visit us yesterday while my brother was healing, and I think we've been adopted." He squatted down so he was eye level with the little sprite. "You might have been disappointed last night. We went to sleep when we got back, Dean almost before he even stopped walking. At least today we're awake.”

Vel nodded. "Well, wolves are really hard to fight, they said. So it's no wonder you got tired. The knights get tired too, and you're both like knights now!" He turned his grin up at Dean, including both brothers in his assessment.

"I suppose they are," Vel's father mused, endeared by his son's chipper attitude towards the pair. He spoke up a bit louder to address them, unable to withhold his gratitude much longer. "I know you've helped the village. Thank you. I've also heard all about how you helped my boy when he slipped into the stream," he told them, and from the smirk on his face it was obvious that Vel had spared no details about his first visit with the humans. "Thank you for getting him home."

"Papa was at the cottonwood when you saw my house yesterday," Vel blurted, hardly leaving time for a breath after his father's thanks, let alone a reply. "He's a knight too!"

"Used to be," the man corrected. "I am a patrolsprite now. I'm Karlis. This is Nia. And you, I've been told, are Vel's new 'brothers,' hmm?" He regarded Sam and Dean for a moment, glancing once at Vel's hopeful look. Karlis almost looked amused when he said, "Who am I to argue with him?" This got a triumphant grin from Vel and a quiet chuckle from Nia, who seemed far less flustered than the day before.

Done brushing himself off, Dean leaned down slightly to see the small family. "Glad to meet you both," he smiled, resting a hand next to Sam for balance. "He's a great kid. I'm glad to have him as a little brother, and I think Sam likes having a little brother of his own."

Sam grinned sheepishly at that. "Maybe just a little. I've been the 'little' little brother for quite some time now, it's good to be a big brother for once." Pushing himself to a stand, Sam brushed a hand through Vel's hair. "Dean took care of the undead wolves and their pack leader," he said, addressing Vel's parents, "so you won't have to worry anymore. Bowman helped put them down for good, and there won't be any more coming around."

Dean lightly nudged Sam. "Yep, and we couldn't have done it without this little guy." He smirked a little at that, getting Sam back for the short jokes the night before.

"I didn't really do much..." Sam said, refusing to acknowledge the jab (it only encouraged Dean if he reacted, he was coming to realize). "You and Bowman did all the work."

"And yet, without you around, none of us would have made it back," Dean insisted stubbornly.

Sam turned back to the sprites, trying to ignore Dean. He put a hand on Vel's shoulder. "Really, we were glad to bring Vel home yesterday, and I'm honored you showed me your house. I've never seen anything quite like it. Thank you."

Nia's mouth turned upwards in a smile. "You'd be welcome to it anytime, Sam," she replied. With the initial shock of her child 'adopting' a pair of humans all but worn out, the sprite woman found it much easier to be near Dean regardless of his huge size. He clearly handled himself with care around his brother, and he had saved Vel. Courtesy of the child's near-constant chatterboxing after the humans left the day before, Nia and Karlis were both well aware of Sam and Dean's kind demeanor with the nestlings.

"Yes, I suppose I ought to welcome you to the family, hmm?" Karlis mused, sounding genuine but a little entertained at the very strange idea. He glanced down at his boy with a smile. "Any less and this one would really let me have it," he added. He reached out a wing to ruffle Vel's hair with the tip of it, much like Bowman had done to Dean during the Spirit dream.

The boy smiled even as he hastily tried to fix his messed up locks of hair. His triumphant smile lit up his face. His was the face of a kid who would be bragging to his friends immediately the next time he saw them.

Chapter Text

"Sam, Dean," a cheerful voice greeted from the air. When the small gathering looked up, they saw Rischa approaching, straight from Bowman's home, with Candara not far behind. They landed near Vel and his family, tucking their wings to their backs almost in sync with one another. Rischa smiled and adjusted the small pouch she carried over one shoulder, a simple fabric sling. "Good morning!"

"Good morning yourself," Dean greeted the newcomers, glad to see Rischa far more energetic than the day before, after all she'd done for him.

Candara had a matching sling hanging from her shoulder. From it, she produced one of the pastries she had sent with Bowman the night before. Vel's eyes brightened and he took the offered food eagerly. With one glance at his mother for her approving nod, he started to eat the flavorful treat, wings twitching happily.

"You boys arrived awfully late to be awake so soon," Candara pointed out, walking right up with Rischa at her side. She used to be afraid of humans. She had seen both her mate and her daughter hurt by a colossal human before, easy actions that the man had barely even considered. But having met Bowman's friends a few times now, especially Jacob, she didn't hesitate in Dean's shadow. She took the pouch from her shoulder and offered it to him.

"You need to eat something to keep some energy. You can't get energy from the sun like we can and it won't do for you to go falling over. I'm not sure this will be enough but it's better than nothing, right?"

"I usually don't get the chance to sleep so much, so don't worry about me," Dean replied. "And Sam always takes advantage of my pocket on long trips, so he gets to take naps all the time." This last part was said with a wink, gently teasing his little brother. The main reason Sam ever fell asleep was boredom because he had nothing to do on the longer rides in the Impala.

He ignored the glare he got sent from Sam's direction, keeping his own grin plastered to his face so Sam didn't know he'd seen it. He gently accepted the food from Candara, not about to pass up the chance to try something so unique. "You don't have to worry about filling me up," he added reassuringly, nodding in the direction of his duffel. Dean knew exactly how much of their food he could go through if he tried. Giving his stomach a pat with his free hand, he went on, "I've always got backup food on hand. This is more than enough, thank you."

Dean put the tiny bag in his palm, nudging it until one of the small pastries rolled out. Pinching it between two fingers, he tossed it in his mouth like a candy, rolling it around on his tongue before biting into it. His eyebrows rose with appreciation at the small explosion of flavors, quietly impressed.

Candara smiled, well aware that, even with both slings of pastries she and Rischa had brought, she had barely a mouthful to offer the human. But something was always better than nothing, and her Bowman was safe in his bed thanks to these two. Candara would make them food anytime they asked for it.

Rischa walked up to Sam to hand him one of the tarts from her own bag, patting down the mint leaf from its slightly rumpled appearance. "Mama told me you got to try one yesterday," she chirped. "Did you like it?"

Sam accepted the small pastry. "These have to be some of the best pastries I've ever had. I don't get many chances to eat food sized for me, or with such flavour." He glanced down at the ground shyly. "When I was growing up, most of what we got to eat was scraps we managed to scavenge. It wasn't until Dean found me that I even got to try most foods."

He took a bite of the pastry, mmm'ing at the flavor he remembered from the night before.

Rischa smiled softly, letting her mother gently take her bag so she could offer food to Karlis and Nia. She adjusted the scarf tied at her waist, thinking for a moment about what it must be like. Living close to humans, always watchful to avoid their notice. It was a lifestyle none of the wood sprites in Wellwood could ever grasp, living so isolated. In fact, if not for Bowman, none of them would even know that the sprite-like giants with no wings even existed.

She gave Sam a moment to enjoy his breakfast. It was such a relief to see that both of the brothers appeared mostly unscathed from their recent trials. A few bumps or aches, perhaps, but they were whole. Dean was himself, after his harrowing moments the day before.

Rischa leaned forward slightly, speaking quietly so that only Sam would be able to hear her. "You know, even if the food isn't made for someone our size, I'm sure it's wonderful to be able to share it with your brother," she pointed out. She glanced up at Dean, seeing him carefully try the pastries he'd been given. Rischa had to hold back a giggle.

"He is so much better just having you around, Sam," Rischa added quietly, a gentle earnestness in her voice. Despite her being less than a decade old, she knew what she was talking about and she chose her words with care to give them the most impact. "Yesterday, when he ..." she glanced up once more, making doubly sure that Dean couldn't hear. "When he forgot himself, there was so much pain and sadness." Rischa could still feel the echoes of how lost Dean had felt, believing his little brother was gone for good.

He'd been so empty.

And in the meantime, his little brother was right in front of his eyes, in his huge hand. Rischa remembered seeing Sam whisked into the air, handled with all the care one uses when sweeping a stone off the ground. Thankfully, Dean hadn't done any harm. But, the fact that he was in a state of mind that put Sam at such risk had made it frightening to witness. Anything could have happened.

And then, after Sam's calm, gentle coaxing, Dean emerged from his fog like the sun had pierced straight through it. Like the stream washed away dirt and grime, Sam had washed away the despair clouding Dean's mind. And then, Sam had anchored his much larger brother long enough for Rischa and Cerul to fight away the grim magic attempting to take him over again.

"After you talked to him, Sam ... it fell away. Like it was never there. It was amazing. I'm so happy that you're there for him when he needs you."

Amazement washed over Sam at Rischa's words. "Really?" he asked. He sent a quick glance of his own up at Dean, making sure his older brother was still distracted from them. The last thing he needed was Dean realizing they were talking about him and shutting down even more.

At that moment, Dean was trying to get another of the pastries out of the small sling Candara had given him. Sam couldn't hide a grin at the pride on Dean's face when he got another of the pastries out, eating it like a small candy. Vel was still giggling at the difficulty the human was having with the tiny food (only partially faked).

Turning back to Rischa, Sam took another bite out of his pastry, thinking things over. "It's so hard to tell," Sam admitted. "Our friend Bobby once told me how different he is now, but I don't think it really sank in until I saw him yesterday. I thought I had it hard growing up, but Dean... he went through so much without me. Our own Dad put him through most of it, and my loss drove them both there." Sam sighed as he finished off his pastry. "I had no idea... but I'm glad I help him, even if it's just by being around."

He could see in his mind the pain that had been in Dean's eyes yesterday. Even while he was being handled like nothing more than a toy, he could recognize that look. It was expertly hidden from Sam most days, but every so often he could see the ghost of past pain flick over Dean's face when the big green eyes fell on him. Like Dean couldn't bring himself to believe Sam was okay, and with him. Safe.

Those moments in Dean's hand had been eye-opening. It was almost like seeing through a window to Dean's past, to how he'd been back then. It was the first time Sam had realized he was making a difference, and not a small one. The difference between Dean now and Dean then was like night and day, and Sam had made that difference.

Sam smiled at Rischa. "Rischa... thanks. For everything you've done for us."

Rischa giggled. "Sam, you saved the whole village yesterday," she pointed out. They may not have asked for anything in return, but Rischa knew as well as anyone that they'd earned it. The sprites were safe thanks to their actions, and thanks to Bowman's help. "I'll always be glad to help you. You're Bowman's friends, so you're mine too."

The young empath was glad to have helped Sam remember how much he was doing for his brother. There was some quiet pride wafting around him like a gentle breeze. It mixed pleasantly with the lingering relief that Sam felt thanks to Dean being safe and healed. If it felt so nice for her just reading this from him, Rischa could only imagine how wonderful it felt to actually experience it.

She turned to the side when Vel bounded up to her. Rischa stooped slightly to smile at the younger sprite. "Hi, Rischa! Your mama said it was your idea to bring the tarts. Thanks!"

Rischa smiled. "Of course," she answered. "I had to make sure you and your brothers got a proper breakfast, Vel." She reached out and carefully brushed some birch sap from his cheek with her thumb. "You can hardly start the day without some sunlight and good food, hmm?"

Vel giggled. "You're right. And Dean's eating a lot of good food," he answered, pointing upward at Dean's hand, where the bag of pastries still sat in his palm. Vel looked at Sam. "Aren't they good, Sam? Mint leaves are my favorite."

"They're delicious," Sam said, smiling along with Vel. He decided to not point out that, to Dean, the entire bag of food they'd given him was barely a mouthful, hardly enough to fill up the giant hunter sitting with them. At least there were granola bars to tide Dean over until they reached the car later on.

Sam finished the rest of his small pastry at the same time as Dean finished his bag, both of them brushing their hands off in tandem without noticing. Sam tried to wipe the sticky residue off his face as best he could with his sleeve, wishing they were next to the stream again.

Dean held the tiny sling out to Candara, gently handing it down to the sprites. "That was delicious, thanks." He looked around, straightening slightly in his spot on the ground. His green eyes scanned the trees around them, searching. "So, what's keeping Bowman? We could use his help getting back to the Impala."

Sam gave Dean an innocent look. "What, can't get us back yourself?" he asked teasingly.

Dean rolled his eyes, flicking a tiny leaf at his brother. "Shaddup," he grumbled while Sam dodged out of the way. "I'd like to see you find your way back to the car, pint-size. You wouldn't get ten feet on your own."

The sprites that lingered nearby were amused once again by the brothers' banter. Candara and Vel's parents smiled faintly, trying to be polite. But Rischa and Vel themselves both giggled. After Sam moved out of the way, Vel scampered forward and picked up the leaf Dean had flicked at him. The boy gave it a toss himself, letting it go fluttering to the ground again with flickering green hues. Rischa watched with a grin.

Even so, after a moment, Rischa's mother caught her eye and gave her a confused look. She mouthed 'Impala? ' but Rischa shook her head and smiled sheepishly. She couldn't begin to explain that one, but from the sounds of things it was probably some kind of human landmark.

To offer explanation, Rischa pointed towards one of the pine trees containing several sprite houses. "Bowman's still in our house. He's always sleepy in the morning, but after a long day like he had I guess he's extra sluggish." Though, Rischa had been positive she could feel the faint signs of a Spirit dream when she peeked into his room earlier. Much like she felt around the humans in front of her, now that she focused.

With both empty food bags in her hands now, Candara spoke up. "Ours is the house on the sixth branch up without any lanterns on the outside, do you see?"

"I can show 'em!" Rischa announced brightly. She spread wings that had a smaller span than Bowman's, but were no less efficient in carrying her into the air. Her flight was slower, less skilled, but even so she landed on the porch of their home within seconds and turned around to wave at Dean and Sam, both of them on a lower level with Dean seated.

"His window is right there. I bet he's still sleeping," Rischa called, pointing to one of the vaguely-circular windows on the side of the house. "You want me to go wake him up for you?"

Dean smirked, pushing himself to a stand. "Nah, I got this. Can't have the last member of our team sleeping in, after all."

As he stood, he saw Sam unconsciously take a step back, along with the sprites. Although a trickle of regret went through Dean at the action, he understood the necessity. It was simply too dangerous for them to be complacent around a guy that could step on all of them with a single boot if he wasn't careful. After the dream the night before, though, with Sam standing next to him full sized... Sasquatch sized, Dean joked to himself, it made his reality come crashing down on him a little harder that morning. He'd never give those few moments up with Sam for the world, but he couldn't help but wish it could have lasted longer.

Once he was standing, Dean carefully stepped over the sprites, making sure his path was clear of anyone else. He made his way over to the branch Rischa was on, stretching slightly below his eye-level. Finding the window she'd indicated, Dean pointed to it and mouthed 'this one?' at Rischa. Once she gave him a confirming nod, he leaned in, peering into the room with one big, green eye.

Bowman was slumped across his bed, out cold. There was a doorway from his room leading into the rest of the house and small, aimless designs across his walls. Dean grinned. The round window was the perfect size...

He moved back from the window just a little so there was some room. "Hey, Bowman!" he called softly, trying to wake the small sprite. When he got no reaction from the sprite aside from a slight movement, Dean reached out, poking the sprite through the window with a finger. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey..." he said in a sing-song voice, nudging the sprite a little harder.

Eggs and what? crawled through Bowman's mind, but he didn't have much time to contemplate it. Something shoved at his side and suddenly, Bowman rolled off of his bed and onto the floor of his room. He was a tangle of limbs for a moment, wings flailing haphazardly as he righted himself and opened his eyes sluggishly.

The sight of an enormous eye in his window greeted him.

"Woah!" he blurted, trying to stand up too quickly. This resulted in him tripping over his own boots where they'd strewn across the floor, and Bowman fell backwards away from his window. His wings were too sluggish for him to move them dexterously, so they splayed around him, bumping against the walls. He sat propped up on his hands, blinking owlishly at his window before his slowly-waking thoughts caught up. "Dean! " he yelled, finally catching on to what happened. He heard a flutter of wings outside, someone landing on his porch. But at the moment all of his half-awake focus was reserved for the blasted human smirking in at him.

Needless to say, this soon after waking up, Bowman didn't have much of a filter on his annoyance. "Spirit scorn you, Dean, what's the big idea blasted shoving me out of my blasted bed, you sun-hated mountain of snakeskin, you oughta climb a dead tree twice and both times I'll push you out of it you sneak!” The green eye, alight with mischief, only spurred more words out of Bowman’s mouth. “Wither in a bed of mushrooms and Pray to a rock!"

After shouting all of that out his window, Bowman paused to take a breath. It was long enough for him to hear Rischa giggling outside, and footsteps stomping down the hall towards him.

"Bowman Leafwing, the mouth on you!" Candara scolded, none too quietly, when she arrived at his doorway. She looked absolutely livid, and Bowman scrambled to his feet.

"Wait, aunt, I was jus' half-asleep, didn't mean it," he stammered hastily while she stormed into his room and picked up his boots off the floor.

"Didn't stop everyone within a ten foot radius from hearing your racket," Candara snipped, all but shoving him into the hallway with surprising strength for someone half an inch shorter than him. Before he knew it, Bowman was shoved right out the door of his house onto the porch, stumbling as his wings clipped the door frame.

"Come back home when you've learned some manners, " Candara snapped, tossing his boots out after him and closing the door with a harsh finality.

Bowman sat down with a huff and started to pull his boots onto his feet, tucking his pant cuffs into them. His face was warm with embarrassment when he angled it up towards Dean in the most potent glare he could manage. "Thanks so much for that, Dean, now she probably won't let me back in 'til sundown!" he groused. He rubbed his eyes, trying to work the sleep out of them since he wasn't about to be allowed back into his bed.

Dean sniggered at the offended sprite. The phrases tossed at him must have been more potent than they sounded, considering how Bowman had been unceremoniously ejected from his home. Straightening, Dean crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow down at Bowman as he watched the sprite put his boots back in.

"You'll survive, small fry," Dean said, relishing the fact that he was taller than Bowman again. (Seriously, how had he ended up the short one here? Life was so unfair.) "Besides, we still need your help getting out of this forest, so you won't need to go home anyway." Dean smirked, remembering Bowman's grumbles the day before about humans stomping around his forest. "Or should me and Sam just wander aimlessly around the woods, unsupervised?"

"Absolutely not, " Bowman shot back. He finished donning his boots and got to his feet. "Last thing anyone needs is you getting yourself lost out here. I'd never hear the end of it, from you or anyone else." With that said, he stretched his arms over his head and his wings out to either side.

As Bowman relaxed from his desperate attempt to wake up the rest of his body along with his library of swears, Rischa leaned out one of the windows in the house, the window to her own bedroom. "Bowman, be safe," she called, drawing his attention. "Don't get into even more trouble," she chided him with a giggle.

"Thanks, Birdie, I appreciate the advice," Bowman answered flatly, though he was smiling faintly. It was nearly impossible not to smile back when Rischa smiled; Bowman had yet to meet anyone who could resist. As he spoke, he wandered to the edge of the porch and peered over at the ground below. Sam wasn't on Dean's shoulder, and he could only assume the sprite-sized human would have laughed too if he'd been in Dean's pocket to witness what just happened.

There, down on the ground a few steps away for Dean, Sam was standing with Vel's parents, Karlis and Nia. The nestling was throwing a leaf around, watching it spin as it fell and wafted in the breeze. As always, his wings seemed to be in constant excitable motion. That kid could not wait to get off the ground.

Rischa chuckled at Bowman's pretend-irritated retort and turned her bright gold eyes up toward Dean. "I guess you'll have to go, soon, Dean," she observed. "It was really nice to meet you and Sam. I hope you'll come back to visit us sometime."

Bowman rolled his eyes. "And they'll bring trouble with them, I'm sure, if this guy has a say," he groused, jerking a thumb in Dean's direction.

Dean winked back at the sprite. "Hey, we might find trouble wherever we go, but we usually don't bring it." He sobered up for a second. "But that does remind me. Hold on, I'll be right back."

Taking a few careful steps past Sam and the other sprite family that he'd been adopted into, Dean scooped his jacket off the ground. He searched through the pockets as he came back over to Bowman and Rischa, searching for a specific item. With any luck, it wasn't in one of the pockets that had ended up blood-soaked after their first fight with the wolves.

Dean sighed with relief when his groping fingers found what he was searching for, drawing the business card out into the light. "Here," he said, holding it out for Bowman. "If there's ever any trouble like this again, this has me and Sam's number on it. You said you had human friends, right? Well, one call and we can be back here as fast as the Impala can drive, I promise you that. We don't leave our friends hanging." He brushed a finger over Bowman's hair, ruffling the early morning bedhead. "And I hope we can consider you friends."

Bowman attempted to duck away from Dean's hand, but really it was inevitable that his hair got ruffled. Just as it was inevitable that his wild hair sprang right back into place. Bowman grumbled and swatted at the already-retreating finger, but rolled his eyes shortly after. "Oh, I suppose we're friends, even if you get me kicked out of my own house for a day," he quipped, though there was a smirk in his tone. Soon, though, his eyes were fixed on the card he had propped up with one hand. It was nearly his height, but thankfully no heavier than a leaf.

Bowman squinted at the letters and numbers that seemed to be stamped right into the rigid paper. He brushed his fingertips over the blocky symbols, finding that they really were textured. Some of the symbols he thought were a bit familiar, but sprite script was far loopier and more embellished, so he had a hard time making sense of it. He'd just have to trust that Jacob would know what to do with the thing.

"Thanks, I guess," he finally determined. Bowman took the thing in both hands and took flight, hovering in front of his window. Since he wasn't allowed back in the house, he shoved the card through the opening and let it fall to the floor. Nothing could have looked more out of place in there; he'd prop it up somewhere safe later.

That done, he flew up a little higher, hovering above his house and just above Dean's eye level. He just so happened to be in a sunbeam at that height, so his wings were particularly vibrant with each beat. A little sunlight was better than nothing, at least. "Well, since I'm awake, I guess you'll need a guide out of here," he mused, casually crossing his arms. With a smirk he added, "Maybe I'll even think about leading you straight back instead of going in circles a while."

Dean's mouth twitched into a smirk again. "Just remember, the more circles we go in, the longer you'll have to put up with me. I'll be sure to make the rest of our time together special." He glanced over at Sam down on the ground, sharing a look with his brother even though he couldn't read the expression on Sam's face from so far away. Because four feet away from him is too far away again... great. "We should head out, anyway. Don't want to overstay our welcome and there's always another hunt waiting."

Of course, he understood the sprites would never throw them out of the village after all they'd been through, but Dean didn't want to strain their hospitality. Not to mention, he was getting hungry for something more filling than a granola bar. It would help stave off the hunger, but what he was really craving was a good 'ole fashioned burger, loaded with grease and cheese, and the sprites definitely wouldn’t have anything like that around.

Chapter Text

Sam knelt down next to Vel as Dean stepped away to grab his duffel, the ground rumbling under them with each step. Things were returning to normal. "Guess that means I gotta go," Sam said. “After all, I can't let Dean get into trouble out there on his own, right?"

A shadow fell over them as Dean returned, rummaging through his duffel. Sam watched as the huge human dropped down to a squat almost directly overhead, holding something small and bright green pinched between his fingers.

"Just make sure you share this with those friends of yours," Dean said, presenting the little sprite with a peanut M&M of his own. "And if we're lucky, we'll try and stop by sometime. Maybe we'll even remember to bring some actual supplies with us next time."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, because I can totally carry the supplies. Trying to blame the fact that you forgot supplies on me." He shook his head while staring at the ground, trying to hold in a grin. "I think we need to put you in a boy scout troop. Get you some useful camping skills."

Dean poked him. "Watch it. Keep this attitude up and you'll be carrying all the supplies, Sasquatch." He softened the jab with a smile, both of them remembering the moment they'd realized Sam was the taller brother.

Vel's eyes were wide as he held the bright green candy in his arms, so shocked and entranced by the gift that he missed the jokes passing between Sam and Dean. It was larger than his head. He sent a grin to his parents, who looked at the M&M with some confusion. They'd find out what it was soon enough, and Vel couldn't wait to see what they thought of it.

Tilting his head straight back, Vel addressed the larger of his adopted brothers. "Thanks a lot, Dean! I'll share it with everyone," he assured him with a nod. He had to step back a little to avoid tipping himself over, top-heavy as he was. Of course, his wings fanned open a little with the action.

He turned a bright gaze to Sam. "If you come back to visit maybe I'll know how to fly and I can show you," he mused, sounding hopeful. The boy looked over his shoulder and seemed to actually acknowledge his own wings for the first time since they'd met him. He fluttered them on purpose to show how small they were compared to his body length. "They're supposed to get bigger real soon."

"I bet," Sam said. "Gotta get big so you can beat Bowman at flying soon. Next time we see you, I think you'll be flying circles around Dean." Bending down, he scooped the kid and his M&M into a hug, brushing a hand over the little fluttering wings just like he'd seen the other sprites do.

Pulling away, Sam arched his eyebrows at Vel. "Now, make sure Bowman keeps himself outta trouble for us while we're gone, okay?" Vel brightened, if it were possible, at the very important task laid out for him by his big brother, and he nodded emphatically to show that he would carry it out with careful attention.

Standing, Sam took a few steps back, noticing the hand Dean had quietly stretched out for him while he said goodbye. He stepped on, giving the family one last wave before the ground dropped away, dwindling beneath them as Dean straightened to his full height. Sam had almost forgotten how tall that was after the night before, with that one brief glimpse of Dean normal-sized - not towering over everything, his voice deep but not rumbling, and no intimidation at all when he gave a mock glare.

The way things were supposed to be.

Dean held Sam up to his shoulder, letting his little brother climb back to where he belonged. As Sam got settled, Dean walked back over to Bowman, stuffing his bloodied jacket into his duffel. The day was young but the air was warm. He wouldn't be needing the jacket today.

"So, small fry. Ready to head out or do you need some more beauty rest before you're up and at 'em?" Dean asked, chuckling as he remembered Bowman's tumble out of bed not so long ago. He hadn't expected his nudge to do that to the sprite, but it had been worth it. Maybe he'd surprise Sam one morning... he couldn't stop a smirk at the thought of some of the jokes he could play on his tiny brother. What could Sam possibly do to get him back? Dean was almost curious to find out.

Bowman rolled his eyes and snickered faintly. "Right, I can tell you're so concerned about whether I get enough sleep. Where would I rest, anyway? You got me thrown outta my own house." With that light scolding out of the way, he turned to lead Dean out of the village.

Though he knew Dean would always watch his step around here, Bowman couldn't help a few glances down to watch for nestlings playing on the ground. Luckily their parents were watchful too, and had made sure to leave plenty of room for the human to pass by without danger. Off to the side, Vel managed to grasp his M&M in one arm so he could wave jovially as the three left.

As he neared the stream, Bowman glanced to the patch of foliage and grass that was still a bit flattened from Dean's presence. It was strange to think that, if not for a few Prayers, he and Dean both might have slowly wasted away right there. The thought of a huge, dangerous human falling under the influence of that lich ... Bowman was so glad Dean had only been bitten once.

Bowman zig-zagged a lot, letting the breeze do a lot of the work filling his wings and keeping him airborne as he glided along. After just a few moments, though, he turned so he flew backwards, moving and regarding the odd-looking pair of brothers at the same time. He briefly imagined what it would look like if they walked side by side again, with Sam taller than Dean. Twice the human footsteps, twice all the noise, he determined. But he didn't remark on it, not wanting a repeat of Dean hunting him out of spite.

"Now Dean," Bowman began instead, grinning as he remembered that he was taller at the same scale. "Don't be afraid to tell me if you need to stop and rest. I know it's a lot of ground to cover for a little guy with no wings."

Dean glanced up from watching his feet, cautious as they finally left the village behind. He had no idea how far out the sprites would have their children so he didn't want to drop his guard just yet. "Huh?" he asked, since he hadn't been paying attention to Bowman at the time. "I'll keep that in mind," he said dryly as his mind caught up to the words tossed back at him. He sent a grimace the sprite's way. "Just remember, you're not actually taller than me, here. More like a pocket-sized zombie detector. Let him go and he'll track down the undead apocalypse!"

Sam snorted at that from his perch. "He might not be taller, but let's be realistic here and remember who's taller than who, right?" He elbowed Dean in the neck jokingly.

Dean couldn't quite hold in a smile, giving his shoulder a small shrug. Just enough to toss Sam against his neck, not quite enough to throw him from his perch. "Right. I'll keep that in mind, pint-size."

Sam grumbled as he fixed his position, anchoring himself tighter to Dean's collar against any other sudden motions he couldn't prevent.

Bowman rolled his eyes. He tipped himself back a little so he glided upside down for a few seconds, before tucking his wings close to roll over in midair. "A 'pocket sized zombie detector?' " he asked, a perplexed kind of smile in his voice. He glanced back critically. "After all we've been through, that's what I get? Zombie detector," he lamented, shaking his head in shame. Bowman wasn't even fully sure what a zombie was, though from context he could of course understand that it must have something to do with the twisted life energy he helped pinpoint.

Bowman had to keep reminding himself not to fly up higher into the trees. His usual flying zone was among the leaves, where predators above and below had difficulty seeing him. His wings, now that he was certain they weren't withering, matched up with the canopy. They even sounded like the leaves rustling in the breeze when he wasn't working to keep them silent. But he didn't want to leave Dean wandering around on his own. He might get lost for days without a guide.

A rabbit darted out from underneath some low underbrush as Dean approached. It sped away into the trees, and Bowman watched it run for a second or two. He wondered if, with so many of the wolves in the forest cut down recently, the population of that particular prey species would explode.

At least, thanks to Sam and Dean, things would be able to go back to normal. If that lich had managed to power itself up on all of the sprites in the village, the forest might have become a complete wasteland as that decay spread. Now, though there was a decent swathe of forest that would need lots of Prayers, things would return to proper balance.

He was grateful to the brothers, and would call himself their friend for good. But that wouldn't stop him from throwing out snarky comments when the opportunities arose. And an opportunity did indeed present itself when Dean had to duck around a sagging oak branch.

"Oh, good grief, I knew the branches were hanging low this time of year, but even Dean has to duck? That's just ridiculous," Bowman pointed out, barely getting all the words out before he had to chuckle again. Of course he knew he wasn't really taller than Dean by any actual standard, Spirit dream or not. Bowman was happy being sprite-sized, but having the chance to makeshort jokes at a giant were too good to pass up.

Dean watched the sprite dart above their heads, almost blending in as his wings flapped in the breeze. "I'm just surrounded by comedians, aren't I?" Dean groused jokingly up at him.

Part of the dream the night before came back to him, and Dean couldn't quite hold in that smile anymore. "That reminds me. I think I owe you both a promise I made last night."

Sam jolted up in surprise, having been busy laughing at Bowman's jokes. "Dean? What are you --"

He was cut off when Dean scooped Bowman out of the air into a gentle fist, then Sam up into the same hand. "What? I told you both this was coming. You both earned it. You should be proud."

With that, Dean let them both lightly drop into his front chest pocket, joining Sam's satchel at the bottom in a jumbled pile of limbs. Buttoning it up, he grinned down at the struggling lump that his brother and the sprite had become. "Still think I'm the short one here?"

This pocket was quite a bit smaller than the one before. That certainly didn't make it any easier for Bowman to squirm away from Sam without hurting one of them by accident. Things were made more confusing by the thudding heartbeat in the huge chest on one side, and the laughter echoing around them.

"Blast it, Dean!" Bowman yelled, wincing faintly as he managed to squirm a wing out from underneath Sam. The sprite-sized human had wound up with a much closer look at Bowman's wings than he'd ever asked, because of the way they'd basically piled into a heap in the fabric confinement. It seemed like it took an age for them to untangle themselves, with Bowman grumbling obscenities under his breath the whole time.

Maneuvering around to actually fold his wings to his back was proving to be rather difficult in the limited space. Bowman settled for at least not squashing them up against Sam to try to give his fellow pocket prisoner some breathing room. Bowman shared a disgruntled look with Sam before turning a glare upwards at the exit of the pocket.

"Dean, let us out!" Bowman demanded. "You wingless oaf!" Bowman squirmed around to get his feet beneath him somehow, despite the way the pocket shook with each step Dean took. Bowman narrowly avoided toppling over onto Sam by bracing his cramped wings against Dean's chest. As the strongest limbs on his body, they seemed to do the trick enough for him to grip the fabric in front and pull himself to a very shaky stand.

"Blast it, human, I'm gonna kick you in the face when I get out of here," Bowman groused as he tried to reach the edge of the pocket.

"I'd like to see you try, small fry," Dean's voice boomed out overhead, echoing through the pocket. "You've got a few other problems to worry about right now, I think."

Sam squirmed until he was standing next to Bowman. These pockets were a lot better when it was just him hanging around. With two people squished in, it was way too crowded. "Calm down," Sam hissed, a plan forming in his mind. "I usually can't manage this on my own, but there should be a way for us to get out if we work together."

He shifted until Dean's chest was behind him, bracing against the solid surface. Stitching in the center showed where the button was located. "This is what's holding the top down," Sam whispered, peeking up at the top of the pocket. Of course, he couldn't see Dean through the pitch black fabric above them. The cadence of the swaying steps hadn't changed, so with any luck Dean couldn't hear him talking. Sam had learned not to underestimate the hunter. "All we have to do is undo the button on the outside and you can get out."

Trying not to rustle the top of the pocket, Sam managed to worm his arms out, trying to grab hold of the button to pull it through the hole. "Give me a hand, wouldja?"

Another grumbled, empty threat was on Bowman's lips, but Sam's words caught up to him and he fell quiet. It was lucky Sam appeared to be an expert on these pockets; though the fact that he'd slept in this very space made that rather obvious. Bowman tried to emulate the way Sam stood in the pocket, so casually and with little issue. It almost worked.

He squinted at the stitches Sam had pointed out for a moment, but was quick to try to help. He had to shift a wing a little, propping it against the edge of the pocket so he could grasp the fabric with one hand. He reached his other arm over, searching for the slot that secured the button.

"Got something," he muttered hopefully, as his searching fingertips brushed against the plastic of the button and then found purchase on the slot in the pocket flap. He twisted his mouth into a slight, concentrated frown as he gently tried to move this slot over to help Sam with the rest.

Bowman wasn't fully sure what he'd do if they managed to get the flap off the pocket. He might be able to manage climbing up on the edge, but that wasn't a sure thing considering Dean's rocking gait. Then there was the matter of making it away from the pocket before Dean noticed and pushed him back into it. Blasted human's having an awful lot of fun, he groused to himself.

Sam smirked when Bowman managed to pull open the buttonhole enough for him to push the button through. He knew none of this would do him any good - it was doubtful he'd ever have a chance of getting out of the pocket on his own before Dean could scoop him up, plus, where would he go? Dean's shoulder? That was the only place safely in reach for him. Besides, it was just a joke, anyway. They weren't actually prisoners in here, Dean was just horsing around. The jackass.

His hand managed to grasp the button, pulling it through the hole at last. There was almost no chance Dean could miss that, right on his chest as it was, so Sam shoved up the pocket flap, gesturing at Bowman to make his move before Dean could react. He was actually kinda hoping Bowman would try kicking Dean in the face, thinking of how confused Dean would be at the action.

Before either of them could make a break for it, something roughly pushed them both into Dean's chest. It certainly wasn't hard enough to crush them, but it was disorienting, and they slipped down in the pocket. A few more pats before Dean was done, and Sam could feel himself starting to freeze up.

Recognizing the familiar feeling of panic, Sam shut his eyes, fisting his hands so tight the nails dug into his skin. You're fine, it's just Dean, it's Dean, he's not gonna hurt you, you know that... a steady mantra of words filled his head, trying to push his thoughts away from the rising panic. Being taken by those humans had left scars that were still healing in him, long past the bruises and broken bones that were just a memory, and this was the first time since then Dean had joked around with Sam like this. He'd been afraid of suddenly sending Sam into a panic ever since those harrowing days of separation.

Dean thought the trauma was nothing more than a memory, and Sam was determined for him to keep thinking that way. Keeping the mantra going in his head, he forced himself to not tremble, avoiding any thoughts of what was happening around him as much as he could. Trapped... human... can't get out... pushing those thoughts away and replacing them with no, you're fine, it's Dean...and the memory of Dean talking to him during one of his first panic attacks as his brother rescued him from the spider web he was trapped in...

"You're my pain in the ass little brother, can't let you be getting into trouble without me now, can I? I mean, where would I be without you? You're the only reason I survived those other cases, the ace in the hole that rescued my lame ass from the fire."

Dean had no idea how much Sam clung to those words to this day, anchoring himself with them.

He sank to the bottom of the pocket, ignoring anything else happening around him.

Chapter Text

Bowman wasn't sure what he had expected. But as he tumbled back into the pocket, he was vaguely certain that he didn't expect Dean to pat them as they attempted escape. Poke at them, maybe. Bowman blinked at the bottom of the pocket, seeing that Dean had secured the button back into place with ease. A task that had taken both Bowman and Sam's efforts was undone almost as a subconscious motion by the human.

"Blast it, Dean, you mushroom-growing stump!" Bowman all but blurted. He had to squirm around to get his wing out from under him. But once he did, he managed to give the chest on one side a swift kick. He saw that Sam had seemed to fall down in a bit of a daze, and guessed the sprite-sized human must be just as disoriented from being patted back down as Bowman was.

Bowman just happened to be too stubborn to let it hold him back for very long. He stretched his wings above their heads to the edge of the pocket and scrambled to his feet once more, somehow managing not to fall over despite having one weaker leg. "I'm gonna smack you," he warned, hands grasping the lip of the pocket while his wings strained at the flap. Of course they couldn't actually undo the button. "Dance in fire ivy and Pray to a rock, wingless giant!"

Fire ivy? Sam thought to himself in confusion, the unfamiliar phrase helping to clear away some of his rising panic. Does he mean poison ivy?

Another rumbling laugh echoed around them with Dean's amusement at the indignant sprite. The rest of Sam's panic fell away at last, the gentle sound of Dean's laugh clearing it away. After all, there was no malicious intent behind Dean's actions, no real desire to keep them prisoner. Just a regular guy messing around with his friends, who just so happened to be pocket-sized.

A smile rose to Sam's face once his panic was over. Dean's laugh wasn't strained with worry at all, a far happier sound than normal, tinged with the relief that came from surviving a case with both their hides intact. Sam's breathing slowed at last, matching the steady gust of wind behind them as Dean walked along. The peaceful forest outside belied the tiny pair's slight pandemonium inside the pocket, with Bowman still shouting at the air.

Finally free of his funk, Sam managed to pull himself back up next to the sprite, watching Bowman push out with his wings determinedly. " 'Dance in fire ivy?' " Sam queried. "That's a new one."

Dean, for his part, watched the pocket bulge outward, amused at their persistence. The last time he'd buttoned Sam up, ages ago, he'd gotten cursed at and punched (for all the good that did against Dean). Bowman apparently didn't know when to quit. For a guy smaller than Dean's hand, he certainly had a backbone, one Dean hoped didn't get him into trouble with the wrong kind of people.

With a smirk, Dean decided to have a little more fun before letting them out of their pocket prison. Instead of patting the pocket again, he brushed a hand curiously over their small frames, wondering what it was like in there. Probably dark, Dean decided, observing the pitch black fabric. He nudged Bowman's bulging wings with a gentle finger to tease the sprite during his latest attempt at escape.

"Sounds like you two are having a blast in there," Dean couldn't help chuckling when some of the sprite's curses reached his ears. "Guess I can do us all a favor and keep you two in there until we reach the car. Just like old times, eh?"

"Oh gee, y'know, that's so generous of you, but how about not? " Bowman retorted, jabbing an elbow into Dean's chest and wondering if the human could even feel it. After Dean had poked at his wings, Bowman had thrown himself off balance drawing them back quickly in surprise. Combine that with the fact that he tried not to knock into Sam at the same time, and it was no surprise that he'd fallen to the bottom of the pocket again.

The sprite frowned dully and squirmed around to right himself. It seemed like even Sam was amused by his futile attempts at escape by now. Bowman grumbled a few more obscenities and pushed himself to a cautious stand in his own corner of the pocket. He kept his wings braced behind him the best he could, though they threatened to become a makeshift cloak over his arms thanks to the limited space.

"Hope you have fun wandering around with no idea where you're going, Dean," Bowman groused, for a second keeping fairly still. But it didn't last very long before he punched futilely at the human again.

With his wings behind him as much as he could manage, Bowman hoisted himself up so he could try to push at the button again, though this time without Sam's help. Bowman knew Dean was just messing around, of course. The human wasn't really going to keep him and Sam trapped in that pocket. But Bowman, as always, was defiant to the end.

Dean snorted as he watched the pocket. If he paid close attention, he could see Bowman’s tiny fingers grasping the edge of the button. “Nah, I’d get us out of here. It just might take us a little longer…” he drew the last few words out, taking advantage of the last few seconds before he let them out. The punches and kicks were almost cute when he felt them. The fabric between them and his chest alone muffled most of the movement from Bowman and Sam.

Making sure to avoid the tiny hands trying to push the button free, Dean pinched it between his own fingers, pulling it carefully out of Bowman’s grasp. “I suppose since we’re hoping to get home sometime today, I should let you out, right? Plus I bet it’s a little crowded in there with those great big wings of yours.”

Once he was sure Bowman was clear, Dean popped the button out, opening the flap to give them some air and let the sprite out. Once Bowman was clear, he’d get Sam out.

"Oh, you notice that now, " Bowman huffed. He blinked owlishly as light fell upon them again. But he quickly adjusted and pulled himself up on the edge of the pocket, struggling for a moment to get the right leverage. He was slightly more graceful about it than his last exit from a pocket, using his wings for balance as much as he could.

As if to demonstrate how crowded they had been, the sprite's wings were practically twitching with anticipation. Bowman kicked away from Dean's pocket and shot forward, relishing the feeling of opening his wings wide again. He banked upwards and to the side, taking a few breaths of fresh air and grinning. All jokes aside, pocket time probably wasn't his favorite thing.

Bowman flew overhead and looked down at Dean with a raised eyebrow, looking serious. "You thought I was joking, but I never break a promise, Dean," he scolded lightly. Then, at the right moment, Bowman dropped down and landed right on the human's head, crouching down to smack his hand on Dean's forehead. He kicked off and darted out of reach in just a second, snickering.

"And I told you I was gonna smack you for that," Bowman crowed proudly. "Now we're even."

Dean belatedly swatted at the sprite, caught off guard by the idea of someone actually landing on his head. Brushing his hair back in place, he rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say."

Realizing he could feel Sam moving around in his pocket, Dean reached in, arching his fingers next to the smaller hunter in an offered platform. "You don't plan on staying in there all day, right?" he asked with a grin, knowing perfectly well why Sam hadn't been able to get out yet.

Sam clambered out, using the offered hand for support. "Yeah, that's exactly why I was in there. Jackass." His bag was slung back around his shoulders again, back where it belonged after his brief stint in the pocket with Bowman. He slipped back on the shoulder again with one last bitchface sent Dean's way.

The banter continued between the three of them as they made their way out of the woods. Bowman led them true, getting Dean to one of the few gates in the wide fence easily. From there, he led them back to the Impala, letting his wings flash in vivid hues with every sunbeam he cut across. The gold bars of light cheerily marked the forest floor, belying the chaos that had just befallen the place in the last several days.

Birds chased squirrels from their nests high above, and the wind rattled the leaves. The forest sounded normal. Like it had already forgiven the sprite and his human companions for disturbing the peace.

Bowman recognized the familiar feeling of ease as it finally sank in. They'd won, and everyone was safe.

He glanced back to make sure Dean was keeping up. Dean with his sprite-sized brother, two new allies for the sprites. Bowman couldn't help the swell of pride that he'd befriended the pair despite their unceremonious meeting.

At length, Bowman pulled his wings up and drifted into a slow landing on a branch just below Dean's eye level. He looked over at the humans before pointing straight ahead. "The Impala is over there. For you, probably a five minute walk," he explained, certain Dean would be able to manage the short trip.

"Take care of yourselves, humans. Thanks for everything," he bade them, wondering if it was their last visit to these woods. "Sun shine on you."

Dean raised his arm in one last wave, Sam mirroring him on his shoulder as they bade the sprite farewell. “We’ll see you around, small fry.”

Dean didn’t waste any more time before turning to leave by the directions the sprite had given. As sad as he’d be to leave the sprites, they had work to do and people to save. They always would. He could only hope that their paths would cross Bowman’s again, especially since Sam had been able to feel normal again after so long on the road with Dean, and longer before that living in a world where everything outsized him and his family. With the sprites, everything had been Sam’s size, something neither of them had ever expected outside of a dollhouse setup.

And speaking of… Dean shifted a little, catching sight of where Sam was sitting out of the corner of his eye. “So, how you holding up, pint-size? Especially after everything we went through yesterday.”

Sam leaned back, settling in for the last few minutes in the forest. “I’m perfectly fine. I mean, even when you grabbed me, I knew you’d come back to us. Although… it definitely reminded me of the first time you called me pint-size.”

Dean froze up inside a little. He’d forgotten about that. How, the first time he’d found his brother, the first thing he’d done wasgrab Sam, almost the exact same way as he’d done yesterday. He’d even stretched out the tiny, fragile arms the same way as yesterday, staring at the near-microscopic fingers flexing in his grip while Sam tried desperately to escape him. His own voice echoed in his head from almost a year ago, "Struggling’s not gonna do you any good there, pint-size," with the smirk in Dean’s tone clear, knowing control over the situation belonged to him, and him alone. He could remember the abject terror on Sam’s face at that, realizing he could do nothing against the human holding him.

Sam. In his fist. Helpless. At Dean's mercy.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Dean said, biting his lip. “If… if you really want, I don’t have to call you that anymore. I… I forgot about that.”

Sam shook his head, a bit frustrated by his brother's misunderstanding. “Dean, that’s not why I brought it up. I like hearing your nicknames, really. It’s… reassuring, y’know? Even when they get annoying, it helps. I… it’s just, I wanted to know, is it reallybetter having me around now? You have to watch out all the time for me, and that can’t be easy on you.”

Dean was floored. “Sam… I…” memories came back of his years without Sam. Bleak… dark… his father growing more obsessed with his crusade every year. Pushing Dean away more each year before cutting ties completely. Thinking back, it had been a goodthing for him when John vanished. It had given Dean the ability to distance himself from the obsession, and the chance to find Sam again. “Sam, I never want to go back to those years, ever. Having you around…” he couldn’t bring himself to explain further about the darkness that had hung over him without Sam around. “Just trust me, I’m better off this way.”

The Impala came into sight, parked alongside the road they’d used to drive into the forest. Even as Dean grinned and sped up his pace, eager to get back on the road and maybe pick up some food, Sam asked the question that had been bothering him since the day before. “And is it true? Did Dad really tell you that you slacking off was just asking to die… like me?”

Dean didn’t respond for a few long moments. He’d forgotten he’d said that, the memories from that time yesterday clouded by the lich’s poison that had filled him. “Sam… I don’t... I can’t talk about that,” he managed, his voice leaving him at the end. He couldn't stand the thought of sharing those memories with Sam. They were too painful, too raw, even after all the time with Sam around. Those memories would hurt Sam, as much as they hurt him everyday. He could spare his brother that much, at least.

Unlocking the car, he climbed in, making sure Sam was stable on his shoulder.

Surprised at the sudden fear in his brother's voice, Sam put a hand against Dean’s neck, trying to offer what reassurance he could. A steady pulse throbbed beneath his light touch. “It’s okay. We don’t have to... I'm not going to push, I promise. Just remember… I’m here for you, come whatever.” He stayed like that the entire time while Dean turned on the car and tossed his bag into the backseat, offering support in his own way.

Dean was silent.

The Impala left the Wellwood behind.

FIN

Chapter Text

The clearing around the big oak tree lit up with the warm light of the shifting sky. Yellows and oranges overtook the blue in subtle stages, illuminating the green wings of the sprites flying lazily about in the afternoon. A gentle breeze tousled the soft grass, and the perfect circle of oaks around the heart of the woods waved their branches peacefully. The sweet smell of the forest's maple trees laced the warm summer air.

The village was still in full swing, as if it were any other day. As if there'd never been a giant human sleeping beneath one of the home trees when everyone woke that morning. As if a grave threat had never moved into the forest in the first place.

The sprites were safe and the forest could heal from the unnatural decay. Already the nobility in the cottonwood tree was working out a plan to send those most skilled with Prayer to the place where the lich and its pack of life-sick wolves had nested. The trees needed aid to recover from their foul influence. The Earth Spirit's life energy would be needed swiftly to combat whatever corruption lingered after the lich was destroyed.

Dean Winchester had ensured that the lich couldn’t spread its influence any further, but there was still work to be done, and no one was better for the job than the wood sprites of Wellwood.

Bowman Leafwing sat idly on a platform Prayed out of the trunk of the big oak. The view before him made him sigh with contentment. Sprites gossiped together as they flew. Nestlings chased each other through the grass. Knights flitted about, keen eyes watching for birds or snakes that might attempt to cause trouble. Everything looked like it should.

Bowman shifted his wings. The wide, leafy appendages lay slack on the platform behind him.  Mottled sunlight cascaded through the leaves above, creating dancing bars of gold that warmed Bowman's wings and upturned face. After everything, he allowed himself to relax fully.

Bowman’s contact with the Spirit the night before washed away all of the aches and pains he should be nursing right now. Her influence blessed him more assuredly than even the healing touch Prayer could accomplish. After being grabbed, tossed, bitten, and squeezed, Bowman couldn’t help but feel immense gratitude for Her healing.

Keeping humans out of trouble was hard work.

He felt like he only closed his eyes for a few seconds. But when he heard approaching wings and opened them sluggishly, a young sprite woman hovered inches in front of the platform, one pastel green eyebrow lifted pointedly and her hands on her hips. Deep brown eyes met his and Jiria Petalkin leveled Bowman with a stern look. He smiled lazily at her in greeting.

“So nice of you to come and tell me you’d returned safely after being kidnapped yesterday, Bowman, and I appreciate you coming by to tell me what was going on today after you led the humans away,” she griped, using enough sarcasm to match Bowman’s own. She’d learned his language quickly when they began courting.

Jiria Petalkin by the-searching-one

Of course, Bowman was immune to the barbs of such snark. He shrugged halfway apologetically. The day before hadn’t allowed him much time to go see her, and today he had been bustling about since Candara shoved him gracefully out the door and banned him from the house.

“What can I say? My wings got tired, sunbeam. I just had to stop and rest,” he answered, offering a sheepish smile and a faintly apologetic look amongst the amusement on his face. He moved one of his wings to form an empty space next to himself, inviting the girl to join him on his platform.

Jiria pursed her lips, but couldn’t stop the smile that worked it’s way onto her face as she rolled her eyes and drifted forward to land. She sat next to Bowman with her legs hanging over the edge of the platform, and he let his wing settle lightly around her in a faint embrace. She took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You’re such a scatterbrain,” she admonished him.

“Sometimes,” Bowman chuckled. “I dunno what it is, but something about saving everyone’s lives just gets me flying sideways.”

Jiria snickered and elbowed him in the side. “Fine, fine, you’re our hero, are you happy?” she said with a grin.

“Much better,” Bowman decided, lightly brushing the edge of his wing against Jiria’s. He leaned over to touch his forehead to hers.

Before even a second had passed, a voice called Bowman’s name and he straightened to look for the source. His eyebrows lifted when he saw Nanya’s mother, followed by a few other sprites, gliding up towards him. Jiria’s sweet smile morphed into an amused smirk, try though she did to bite her lip and hide it.

Apparently she’d already heard some of the gossip driving those stern-looking parents towards Bowman’s relaxed perch.

“Bowman Leafwing,” Nanya’s mother repeated when she and the sprite parents flanking her arrived, forming a rough half-circle in the air around him. “I was hoping you might have some explanations for us,” she said pointedly. There was little doubt as to what she’d like explained.

Just the day before, Bowman had allowed three nestlings to play with the enormous human visiting the woods. No one had gotten hurt, and the kids had a fantastic time. They even got to see a human make a leaf boat, and try a human sweet for the first time. No one could truly claim to be angry over these things, as even Bowman’s aunt and uncle were there to supervise.

“Explanation for what?” Bowman asked, raising an eyebrow and playing dumb. No one would fall for that, but he tried it anyway.

Nanya’s mother narrowed her eyes. “You know what,” she answered. “Just what made you think you should let children play near a giant without even trying to tell their parents, hmm?”

Of course. The nestlings snuck out and came to see Dean on their own, but that was Bowman’s fault. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Y’know, they were fine. Dean is an ally to Wellwood,” Bowman said calmly, trying to wave off the concern. He understood it, but it still felt a little silly to be arguing over it when nothing bad had come of it.

Another voice, more curious than stern, spoke up among the small gathering of parents. “Bowman, what is ‘high five?’ Why are the nestlings striking each other’s hands now?”

Oh, Spirit, Bowman thought, holding up his hands placatingly. “It’s just a thing humans do, it’s not-”

Before he could finish, another mother chimed in. “And what is chocolate? Tenner couldn’t stop raving about it and keeps saying he wished we could make it here.”

More questions came at him, ranging from simply curious to concerned to plain miffed over the simple visit the nestlings had with Dean. Bowman doubted the kids even realized how confusing it all was to their parents as they chattered away, throwing him into the mix as the culprit. Jiria could hardly contain her laughter at Bowman’s surprised recoil from the line of questions flying at him.

“Oh, wow,” he said loudly, cutting off the confused and curious discussion. “I just realized I have a lot of ah, patrolling to do. Look at the sun, I’ll run out of time if I don’t go do that.”

He gave Jiria’s hand one last squeeze. And then, Bowman pushed himself off the edge of the platform, dropping like a stone out of the midst of the parents interrogating him. His wings snapped open to pull out of his freefall and he glided swiftly towards the edge of the clearing.

“Thanks for your very good questions, friends. I’ll be sure to give them some careful thought,” he called back with a cheeky grin as the parents tried to follow, but soon gave up. Bowman was too fast for anyone to hope to catch when he had such a head start.

His wings tucked close so he could do a sideways roll while he slipped through a tuft of leaves, and they rattled together to mask the sound of his snickering. He’d pay for that hasty exit later, for sure. But for now, Bowman relished the simple freedom of flying in the forest, knowing it was safe once more.

Flight by QuackGhost