Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You'll never see your brother again… this time I'll make sure of it.

The eerie, hollow voice of an owl echoed in the cool night air.

Tears ran grimy streaks down Sam’s cheeks. He huddled against the trunk of a tree, trying to hide as far back in the shadows as he could. His terrified silence was only broken by the occasional sob.

Every shadow that crossed his line of sight sent a jagged spike of icy fear up his back. Leaves wafted in an invisible breeze, an idyllic, innocent scene rendered foreboding by his current circumstances.

He didn’t know exactly how big he was, but he definitely wasn’t the size he’d been before the attack. That, or the world around him wasn't the one he remembered, with its towering shadows looking like they could swallow him up.

A leaf fluttered down from the canopy above. It landed next to Sam, rustling gently in the air. The leaf alone was broad enough to block him from sight.

Young shoots of grass poking up out of the dirt were taller than he was.

Where am I?!

With shaking, hesitant hands, Sam gripped the edge of the leaf tight and pulled it close. A cry hiccuped in his chest.

The green leaf formed a canopy of his own over his head. Sam scrunched back against the thick bark, using his leaf as a makeshift tent to hide from the sight of any nearby predators. A strident breeze tried to pull it from his grasp, but he persevered. White knuckles clenched tight.

Those animals lurking out in the forest were huge. He couldn’t even risk getting up to see where he was.

The owl hooted once more and Sam shut his eyes.

Dean, where are you?

Morning came and the sun found Sam still huddled under his leaf.

He’d long since drifted into an uneasy slumber, often disrupted by the painful yowling of his stomach. Long hours stretched out since he'd awoken in the distorted, dark forest. All that kept the leaf in place, shielding him from the bizarre sight of the world around him, was a small arm draped loosely around the stem. The morning air was still, and no errant breeze lurked around the corner to snatch his shelter away.

Sunlight replaced darkness, and it was almost enough to convince Sam that things were looking up as he slid in and out of an uneasy sleep.

A snuffling came from close by, unnoticed by the tiny ten year old who would be lucky to reach two and a half inches in height.

The patter of feet slowly approached the leafy tent, and a nose pushed against the leaf and snuffled curiously at the unknown scents that clung to the human boy. The morning dew that had collected on the leaf started to run together, forming a drop the size of Sam’s hand.

Another nudge against the leaf, and the drop fell on Sam’s head, splashing him back into the waking world.

He gasped, spluttering as he wiped off his eyes. The stem he was clutching to overnight fell away, making the animal beyond back away for a second, then sniff curiously at the strange scent that clung to it.

Sam found himself staring into the dark eyes of a squirrel that could knock over an elephant, and gave a yelp of fear, desperately scrambling for his knife.

There were no signs of trouble that morning, but Scar Wolfblind decided to fly out for a short patrol anyway. The restlessness that always pervaded him wouldn’t let him stay in the village, and he had long since learned to trust in his gut feelings. He didn’t get his position as the High Knight by counting pine needles.

With his rapier strapped at his side and a confidence in fighting unmatched by anyone in Wellwood, he set off from the cottonwood treepalace. The other knights could have their training without his guidance for one day.

Few sprites dared fly past the patrol borders. The speedy patrolsprites kept an excellent watch on the forest around the village, alerting the wood sprites of Wellwood when any danger appeared. Their vigilance ensured the knights could ready themselves if a wolf or fox wandered too close. Those who needed to could hide away in their homes while the knights dealt with the threat.

Scar glided right past the borders. The wind in his face and the sun on his wings tried to put a sense of serenity and ease in him, but Scar wasn’t fooled. Even as he enjoyed his forest home, he stayed watchful and keen.

It proved to be a good thing.

Not even a mile from the village, Scar heard a cry of fear. It didn’t come from any animal he knew. It sounded like a sprite, and the terror in that voice sent adrenaline surging through him like a flooding stream while he looked around desperately for them. Pictures of a patrolsprite chased and hurt by a bird filled his mind, and Scar wouldn’t let them come to any further harm if he could help it.

The angry chatters of a squirrel drew his attention. Scar narrowed his eyes at the beast. Its tail fluffed out and twitched endlessly, and the overlarge rodent crept towards a cleft between two tree roots. Squirrels weren’t overly aggressive by nature, but they were omnivorous and filthy opportunists. No matter what had injured its quarry, that squirrel would still tear into it like a fallen baby bird.

Scar couldn’t see the poor sprite cornered in there, but it didn’t matter. With a confident cry, he drew his rapier and dove.

The squirrel turned towards him in surprise when his boots hit the ground, but Scar didn’t give it time to get its bearings. The best way to deal with scavengers, Scar had found, was to make it abundantly clear that it wasn’t worth the trouble.

He lunged forward and, rather than drive the weapon towards the heart of the beast, slashed the blade along its front flank. Cuts antagonized the opponent, and left them with a more impressive reminder. Even with his stalwart attitude against anything that might harm a sprite, Scar didn’t want to kill what he didn’t have to.

His strategy paid off. The squirrel gave a hissing chatter and scrambled back, nursing its hurt leg. Scar’s leafy green wings flared up behind him in triumph and he held his sword at the ready. The rodent chattered in frustration and scampered away.

Scar gave a short bark of a laugh before wiping the blade of his sword on a nearby stalk of grass and returning it to his belt. “That’s a lesson you don’t want twice,” he called after the squirrel.

That done, he turned towards the tree to check on the poor soul cornered there, and froze. Scar blinked rapidly at the sight, wondering for a moment if his eyes were playing tricks on him. He’d never seen a person like the boy huddled in fear.

It was a child, with very pale skin and no wings to be seen.

Scar’s brow furrowed and he stepped forward and crouched a few inches in front of the boy. At the moment, it didn't matter how odd the boy looked. He was alone and wingless out here, and he needed help. "Child,” he said in a much softer voice, “are you hurt?”

Sam sniffled, trying to scramble back against the tree. He rubbed the tears clumsily from his eyes with his one hand, and the other was clutched desperately around his silver knife. It wasn’t much for protection against an animal as big as that squirrel had been, but it gave him a connection to his older brother that he didn’t want to lose.

Now more than ever.

The strange man standing in front of him had saved him. But he had wings, and didn’t look like any person Sam had ever heard of. Fear clutched at his chest.

He’d been saved from a squirrel.

“I’m n-not hurt,” Sam managed to stutter out, clutching his knife to his chest. “W-what… are you?” His big hazel eyes were wide. He was all alone in a huge, towering forest.

Dean was gone.

John was gone.

“I don’t know where I am!” Sam said, unable to hold it in anymore. The tears overcame him again as the rising emotion over losing his family started to take over again. It was a tidal wave and he was caught in the current. “I want my big brother!”

Scar frowned deeper. From the looks of things, the kid had been out here all night. A glance over his clothes revealed that he wore nothing like what the sprites did. There were many pockets, for one thing, and the shoes were made of materials that Scar couldn't even name. The blade in the child's hand shone far brighter than any metal Scar had ever seen.

The thought of another boy out here on his own sent a desperate pang through his heart. Scar scooted forward slowly, opening his wings gently to block the view of the big world behind him while the boy cried. "Hush, boy," he said gently. "We'll find him. You're in Wellwood, and we have many patrolsprites that can help look for him."

Scar didn't want to crowd the kid any more, especially while he held that knife, so he waited patiently. He didn't know what the kid was, and it was clear the kid didn't recognize what Scar was either, so he wasn't some kind of sprite.

It didn't matter. He needed safety and he simply wouldn't find it out here without any wings and only a little knife to defend himself.

Scar tilted his head to catch the boy's eye and try to offer him a faint smile. "My name is Scar. I am a wood sprite knight of Wellwood, and I want to help you. What's your name?"

Sam tried to scrub the tears from his eyes, but his chest wouldn’t stop heaving. He hiccuped as he tried to bring himself under control again. Chick flick moments, Sammy, Dean’s voice teased in the back of his head and he sucked in a gasp of breath, using that voice as an anchor. Your life is one big chick flick moment right now.

“M-my name’s Sam,” Sam introduced himself shyly as his breathing started to calm down. He lowered the knife down, but didn’t let up his tight grip. “I’m traveling with Dad and Dean, but I think… I think something w-went wrong.” Tears leaked out of his eyes against his will all over again, and he couldn’t stifle them. “Squirrels aren’t supposed to be so big, and the trees, and a leaf’s bigger than me!”

Scar hummed thoughtfully. He couldn't quite make sense of what Sam told him, try as he might. The only thing he could glean was that the boy's family was out there somewhere, most likely searching frantically for him. Scar would do what he could to make sure Sam was safe until they could figure everything out.

"Hey," he whispered, scooting forward a little more and closing the distance with Sam. "Come here." His rough voice was as gentle as he could make it, and he reached out to take Sam's small shoulders in his hands. Ever watchful of the knife, Scar drew Sam into a gentle embrace, shifting his wings around like a leafy green cocoon around the sobbing child. He might not be a wood sprite, but he was still just a nestling, lost and separated from his family. Scar hummed quietly for a few seconds.

"It'll be alright, Sam. We will find them," he said with a quiet conviction. Then, he released Sam from his hug so he could look him in those teary hazel eyes. "For now, do you want to get inside where it's safe? You can have something to eat and tell us the whole story so we know who to look for. Okay?"

Sam nodded mutely, glad for the warm embrace. The night had stolen away any warmth in his body, even with the jacket and jeans he wore covering him. The only part of him that might have any heat left was his feet, snug in the leather boots his father had provided him and Dean with.

With a shaking hand, Sam tried to put his knife back in the sheath he kept hidden in his jacket. It was part and parcel of the present Dean had crafted for him earlier on in the year, making the silver knife to guard his little brother against the dark creatures that lurked in the dark.

Sam had never imagined he’d need to use it to defend his life so soon, and not for what it was made to combat.

Silver was the weapon of choice against werewolves, shapeshifters, and revenants. He’d learned that when he’d snitched their dad’s journal out from under Dean’s pillow. That knowledge was what compelled Dean to make Sam a weapon of his own to defend himself with. The younger boy had feared what was out there in the night, and still hated to think that they might lose their father to one of those monsters.

Yet here he was, brandishing his knife against a squirrel.

Sam wrapped his arms around his chest, shivering a little in the early morning air. He blinked hazily up at Scar. “Where will we go? Is it far?”

Scar twisted around and pointed towards the village, though it wasn't visible from this distance. "Not a mile in that direction," he explained. "The animals won't bother you there. I and the other knights will make sure you're safe." He turned back to meet Sam's frightened gaze. He knew the next proposition might worry the boy, seeing as he had no wings.

"I think it'd be best to fly there. If you hang onto me, I will make sure you don't fall and we will be there in just minutes. The sooner we get there and explain, the sooner I can send other sprites out looking for your brother."

Sam looked at where he was pointing, and squinted at the distance. A light morning fog hazed the farther trees, obscuring anything from standing out in his view. A question nagged at him.

How far is a mile?

If a squirrel was so big… what if everything else had changed with it? A mile would be a lot further away if he was smaller than a squirrel.

To keep his mind off of the disturbing thoughts that threatened his recently recovered composure, Sam tried to focus on the second part of Scar’s statement. “Dean’s afraid of heights,” he supplied. “I don’t think he’ll like it very much if he has to fly. He always tries to hide it around Dad, but I can always tell.”

Scar smiled faintly. If Sam's brother Dean was similarly wingless, it didn't surprise him in the least that the kid was afraid of heights. He couldn't wrap his mind around living one's whole life flightless at their size, but then again there were sprites like that out there.

"Well, Sam, I hope you aren't so afraid of heights. Perhaps once we've found him you'll have to teach him how to fly with a sprite." He glanced up and around, his wings twitching as he felt the wind. At least it wasn't a windy day to impede his ability to carry some extra weight around.

He ducked down a little more in his crouch and gestured to Sam to approach him. "Arms around my neck would work best, if you're ready to try."

“Okay,” Sam said. Any hesitation in him was washed away by the memory of the squirrel that had attacked not so long ago. He didn’t know where he was or what was going on, but he knew it was important to get somewhere safe to regroup and figure out what was going on. And hopefully find out what had happened to Dean.

This time I’ll make sure of it.

Sam shook his head to dispel the frighteningly ecstatic voice that had shrieked right as he blacked out.

He would find Dean.

Chapter Text

Sam wrapped his arms around Scar’s neck, and buried his head into the sprite’s shoulder. The wet streaks running down his cheeks formed dark patches on the sprite’s clothing, and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m ready,” he mumbled, the sound muffled by Scar’s shoulder.

Scar nodded and sighed, unable to ignore the faint shuddering in Sam's small body. The poor boy was terrified and lost and cold. He clearly hadn't come from anywhere nearby. At least whatever had befallen him hadn't caused any injuries.

Scar put his arms around Sam, bracing them against the boy's back and shoulders. With Sam secured to his chest, Scar stood and backed out of the small hiding spot. Sam's weight didn't strain him too much, but he knew taking off would be tricky. This was the way to carry a flightless nestling, but in truth most sprites weren't built for heavy lifting, and their lean frames were meant for speed and agility. Sam was big enough that if he'd had wings, he might be able to flutter along on his own for a while.

After a few running steps and powerful flaps of his wings, Scar leapt up and took to the air. He kept flapping his wings to get higher and higher before gliding forward between the trees towards home. He could still feel the fear tensing up Sam's muscles as they rose into the air. The wind whipped past them and the sunlight glittered down between the leaves above, and Scar remained confused about the pale, wingless child he'd found. At least he'd get him to safety.

True to his word, Scar didn't fly a full mile. It took him under ten minutes for the cottonwood to come into view. Scar tilted his head. "Landing soon," he said gently, warning Sam for the jolt that was to come. The wide porch in front of the entrance, at least, left plenty of room.

Scar opened his wings to slow down, stumbling a little as his boots touched down on the smooth wood Prayed into shape generations ago. Before making his way towards the tall door fashioned out of a knot in the wood, he released Sam to the floor to check on him. "Still alright?" he asked, eyes scanning over the boy's scrawny frame for signs of injury. He only found lingering tension from the ordeal.

Sam nodded up at the sprite, unable to articulate anything further. He’d never felt anything like flying with Scar before, and his heart was racing.

It was the sight of where they were, more than anything, that kept him from speaking.

His eyes were wide as he glanced around the world around them. The trees were almost like skyscrapers, and they were standing on a high-up ledge that looked out on a peaceful clearing of what would be pine trees.

If they weren’t hundreds of feet tall.

The trees’ branches seemed funny shaped at first, until Sam realized that there were entire homes resting on them. It was like they grew right out of the bark of the trees, complete with doorways and windows, and even porches connected to staircases that spiraled around the trunks all the way to the ground far below.

Across from the cluster of pines stood a strangely circular clearing surrounded by oak trees and centered by the most massive tree Sam had ever seen. Even the Redwoods in California might have a hard time reaching the heights of that ancient oak tree. The sun washed over that clearing in a warm, welcoming light.

Sam spotted other sprites flitting around, and when he realized there was more than one set of eyes peering curiously at him, his hand latched onto a fold in Scar’s pants. He shuffled closer to the tall sprite, his cheeks flushing pink with nerves. Wherever he was, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Scar put a hand on Sam's head, a comforting pat to let him know he was okay. Even as he did so, he arched his eyebrows at more than one sprite flitting nearby, giving them a clear message that they should mind their own business for the moment. Sam didn't need more stress on him after such a traumatic night. Scar placed his hand gently on the bedraggled boy's back to lead him towards the tall opening into the depths of the cottonwood tree, safely within its walls of pale bark.

The sprite waiting by the door blinked at the pair of them. "Lord Scar, what--" he began, but hushed when Scar held up a hand.

"I have brought this boy here for safety. Please find Lord Cerul, if you wouldn't mind. You will find us in the knights’ hall.” His voice wasn’t demanding, and yet he captured the other sprite’s attention with every word until he was finished. The sprite nodded and darted into the tree, off to search.

With that done, Scar turned to the shy kid trailing after him and offered a hand. “Sam. The hallways can be a little confusing for a nestling, but it’s not far.”

Sam bobbed his head and bounced forward to take the sprite's hand. He was probably never going to get over how different everything was compared to what he was used to. There wasn't a sharp corner to be found inside the tree as they followed the hall. Smooth textures surrounded them, like it was all grown from the start to be shaped like hallways.

“This is amazing! ” Sam said in awe as he walked by Scar’s side. He let a hand trail over the wall as they proceeded through the twisty hallways, some of his curiosity resurfacing now that he wasn’t all alone in the dark forest. A little glimmer of hope hid in his chest that the tall sprite might know what to do, might be able to find Dean and make everything right again.

No matter what the mean lady said to him in the motel room. He had to find Dean.

They entered a large room at last, stretching out before the two of them as it filled out one of the sturdy branches of the tree. Windows lined both sides, some with tables and chairs near them, also looking like they’d been grown like that. Sam let go of Scar’s hand and wandered a little closer to a window that wasn’t blocked by a table. “How’d ya make them like that?” he asked curiously. “I’ve never seen so many smooth edges before! It’s like the tree wanted to look like this.”

Scar smiled faintly and followed Sam to the window. Looking through it, he could see some of his knights wheeling about in the air, chasing each other among branches and practicing their maneuvers. "You're not far from the truth," he said, glancing down at the amazed little boy. "Wood sprites like me Pray to the Earth Spirit, and She lends us magic. That magic can be used to coax the living wood into shape like this." He ran a hand over the smooth edges of the window. "It's how the stairs and the homes on all the trees are made."

Before he could explain further, others joined them in the room. The swords belted at their hips and the jackets they wore gave them away as other knights. Each of them had a leaf-wrapped roll in one hand and a smirk on his face. Behind them followed a sprite woman with much darker skin and glittering emerald eyes, and she stopped griping at the men for stealing pastries from the tray she carried when she saw who was in the room.

"Oh, Lord Scar, I didn't ... Who is this?" Distracted from Scar by the sight of Sam, her voice filled with concern and she edged into the room along with the curious knights. The three of them tried to catch a glimpse of Sam, their eyes bright with interest.

Scar remained where he was, conveniently placed between Sam and the newcomers so the shy kid didn't have to face them on his own. "This is Sam. He was lost in the woods so I brought him here." He turned to look behind him. "These are two of my knights and Lady Arabelle the Kind."

The knights remained standing straight in the presence of their commander, but Arabelle knelt slowly, her wings and flowing garments brushing the smooth wooden floor. "Hello, Sam," she greeted softly.

Sam peeked out from where he was standing behind Scar, his face faintly red at the sight of so many other people, and all with wings like Scar’s. It was hard not to stare. “H-hi Ara-- my Lady,” he managed to nervously stutter out, not completely sure how he was supposed to address her. His dad hadn’t spent much time on formalities, and Dean wasn’t the best example to follow when it came to authority figures like police and teachers. Sam wanted to make a good impression after his life had been saved.

His wide hazel eyes flicked to the other knights in the room with them. “Are you going to help find my brother?” he asked, innocent hope bubbling up that soon he would be back where he belonged with his family.

The knights' looks dropped into concern at Sam's words, and Arabelle's smile became worried as well. "Oh, child," she muttered, shifting the tray she held to her hip. She looked up at Scar. "Of course we'll help." The knights nodded too.

Scar kept his eyes on Sam, watching over him. He was so timid, peeking out the way he did. The poor boy hadn't known about wood sprites before, after all, and here he was meeting several all at once. The child was likely overwhelmed by it. Scar looked up at his knights and nodded towards a table by the window opposite where they all stood. "If you were resting, continue. You've got your spoils, after all." He gestured to the pastries in their hands.

Both knights grinned sheepishly and backed off, dutifully giving them some space. Arabelle remained, watching Sam with some curiosity but mostly concern and a protective gaze. She had her title for a reason, after all.

"You can just call me Arabelle, dear," she told him quietly, grabbing one of her remaining pastries and holding it out. "I made these fresh this morning, would you like one? You need to keep up your energy."

Sam nodded, his eyes bright as he looked at the pastry. His stomach let out a growl, reminding him he had no idea when he’d last eaten. All he could remember was waking up in the forest, already hungry and thirsty, and upon realizing where he was, the thought of food was the furthest thing from mind.

That was all over and done with now, and his body wanted to remind him, loudly that it needed food and water. Sam’s face flushed even redder at the sound his stomach made. He went to reach out for the pastry, but the sight of how dirty his hands were made him snatch them right back. “S-sorry,” Sam mumbled as he hid his hands behind his back. “I haven’t been able to wash my hands.”

Arabelle raised her eyebrows, and then chuckled quietly, before standing again. The tray remained propped on her hip and she glanced up at Scar. "I suppose we had better let you wash up, then, hmm?" she replied, making her way to another table against the wall in the long room, her previous task forgotten. "I'll be over here when you're ready for something to eat."

Scar had to smile. "There's a basin by the door with water to wash your hands," he said, pointing towards the door. What could have been mistaken for a shadow or a knot in the wood was revealed to be a shallow alcove with a basin at the bottom. It would be about waist level to a fully grown sprite.

He led Sam over to the alcove, noting that the boy's head was barely over the level of the water. Most of the time, nestlings weren't in the knights' hall. "Here we go," Scar muttered, getting his hands under Sam's arms to lift him up a little so he didn't need to stretch himself out just to wash off his hands.

Past a gasp of surprise at being hoisted into the air, Sam didn’t say anything. He was too determined to clean up so he could eat some of the delicious food. Most days he and Dean would get simple things to eat. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, mac and cheese if there was a microwave or a place to cook in the motel or house they were staying at. Sam loved when there was fluff on hand to spice up the meals, and on rare occasion they’d order a pizza or some burgers.

Sam scrubbed his hands quickly, getting the grime off them from the night he’d spent clutching the stem of a huge leaf and brushing tears from his face. Something about that bothered him again, poking at the back of his mind, but he was too hungry to waste much thought, at least until after he’d eaten.

Once his hands were all clean, Sam wriggled to get free of Scar’s arms and darted back over to the table. He held out his hands to show off that they were clean. “Done!” he proclaimed.

Arabelle gave him a bright smile and leaned forward slightly as if inspecting his hands. "Very good, Sam," she told him, before finally handing him a pastry wrapped in a mint leaf. The food was fragrant and soft, clearly fresh. "Be sure to eat enough, dear," she told him, as if it were the gravest issue. He didn’t have wings, so he needed to keep up his strength somehow.

Scar followed Sam to the table at a slower pace, beyond relieved to see the boy relaxing at least a little. Hopefully they'd be able to get to the bottom of things quickly and find out where his family was. No one deserved to be separated from family like that.

He sat down at one of the backless chairs arranged around the table and patted the one next to him. "You can sit here and rest. I'm sure some others will be along soon enough. Cerul will help organize the patrolsprites to get them looking for your brother."

Sam was already nibbling at the edge of the pastry when he sat down next to Scar. His boots scraped along the floor as he kicked them back and forth distractedly, thinking back on everything that had happened. Food in his stomach helped him to focus, and the pastry was delicious. Once he got a taste of the flaky crust and the warm berries inside, it wasn’t long before he was taking larger bites. He hoped he’d get a chance to share it with Dean. His brother would love the snacks.

That turned his thought right back to what he’d been avoiding from the beginning.

“I don’t know where they are, though,” Sam admitted quietly after he brushed some crumbs from his mouth. “We weren’t anywhere near a forest when I got attacked, and that lady… She was yelling at me that I’d never see my big brother again.” His eyes welled up and threatened to spill over and he tried taking another bite of his pastry to keep from breaking down again. Nothing helped stave off the emotions threatening him.

Sam swallowed thickly, hoping her words were just a lie. “And everything’s so big…”

There it was again, that insistence that everything was big. Scar frowned faintly and shared a glance with Arabelle to tell her that he didn't know any better what the boy was talking about. Everything was big, of course, and that was simply the way of things. Sprites were small. Whatever this boy was, he was clearly also small.

It had to be disorientation from getting so lost, Scar reasoned. He placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulders, rubbing his back to soothe the worries that had cropped up yet again. It was so bizarre that there were no wings impeding the gesture, but Scar wouldn't say so out loud.

Instead he sighed, his gaze fixed on the boy. "I don't know what happened, and I'm not sure I'll ever know why, but we will do what we can to help you. I promise. You're safe and welcome here in the meantime."

“Thank you,” Sam said, his eyes cast downwards. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.” His knife would only go so far. He didn’t have the muscle behind any strikes the way Dean or John would. His lessons with it had only begun recently, and Dean was encouraging his dexterity, but Sam knew he had a long way to go before he’d ever be ready to fight with it.

He was quiet as he ate through the last few bites of his pastry. The flavor distracted him from his worries. He found himself licking the last crumbs from his fingers, letting out a hum of satisfaction.

“Those were really good, Miss Arabelle,” Sam said politely as he brushed off his hands. “I don’t think we ever got to have food like that before.”

Arabelle smiled. "I'm very glad you liked it, Sam," she replied. Then, glancing at the window, she stood slowly and picked up her tray of remaining pastries. "If you ever want more, I'm sure Scar or one of these other featherheads will help you find me," she assured him, smiling and ignoring the exasperated looks from the knights that had nicked their own pastries from her earlier.

"Off again?" Scar asked, raising an eyebrow at the noble lady.

She bobbed her head and glanced at the tray. "I've still got some food to deliver, after all. If I can make it out of this branch without your knights taking them all."

"Bell, I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Scar answered mildly as she turned to leave the room. Arabelle glanced over her shoulders and flickered her wings pointedly before making her way out.

Scar looked back at Sam. The boy was too short for his strange boots to even reach the floor properly. It really was a wonder that such a small nestling had lasted the night on his own, but hopefully the hard part was behind him. Scar noticed the other knights were glancing over, too, watching curiously, but paid them no mind. "Why don't you tell me about your brother," Scar suggested. “The more I know, the more I can tell the knights to look for when I send them out."

“Okay,” Sam said mildly, brightening up inside at the thought that he’d be doing something to help now. Especially if Dean was out there, trapped in a giant wilderness. His older brother might even be more offended than afraid if he found out he was shorter than a squirrel.

Sam closed his eyes and thought back, trying to remember every detail. He’d lived with Dean by his side his entire life, and knew his older brother better than anyone else alive. “Well, he’s got light brown hair with a little spike in the front.” Sam tried to demonstrate with his own hair, but the effect was lost. He liked to keep his hair longer while Dean prided the way his hair spiked up in the front.

“He’s wearing an amulet I gave him a year ago, he never takes it off,” Sam continued on, “and his eyes are green, but not bright green. Kinda darker and murky, like a dark jade.” He hopped out of his seat for the finish, “And he’s about five and a half feet tall, like this!” Sam held his hand above his head, approximating how tall his older brother was.

Silence followed.

Scar stared at Sam, and the other knights did as well. Their looks were merely confused, while Scar's brow furrowed slightly in thought. That's ... over sixty inches tall, he calculated hastily. There's no way he means it.

After blinking a few times to sort out his thoughts and try to figure out what Sam actually meant by his innocent proclamation, Scar tilted his head. "You ... you mean he's almost three inches?" He smiled shakily, not at all confident in his own assessment and not used to the feeling. "I know sometimes people get to an age where they grow so fast it seems like they gain a lot at a time, but you've just described a giant, Sam."

Sam stared back at Scar, equally lost.

“No…” he said slowly. “He’s not three inches tall. Dean just measured us last week! He told me I’m almost four and a half feet tall, and I’m gonna hit my growth spurt soon! And he measured himself so it was fair, and that’s how tall he was. He’s gonna be as tall as Dad when he grows up all the way, and I’m gonna be taller!” He thrust his little chest out, full of pride for that, then his brow furrowed. “Why? Aren’t you taller than Dean? There’s no way he’s a giant! He made me my knife!” He pulled out the knife, showing off the intricate workmanship. There was no way for a giant to get the amount of detail onto such a well-crafted weapon.

Scar glanced over the knife. It was true, the weapon was well made. Far nicer than the simple daggers the sprites had in their small armory. Metal was rare, and so was a sprite that could work with it effectively. Scar pursed his lips.

"Sam, I'm a little over three and three quarter inches tall," he answered, as delicately as he could considering his usual blunt nature. The topic was confusing, and he knew without glancing at the other two knights in the room that they had no better idea how to answer Sam's incredulous insistence.

"If you ... if you're supposed to be over four feet tall, Sam, then you aren't right now," Scar went on, staying seated while the boy stood there. He was still confused, though his mind kept tossing out a possibility that he didn't want to consider. It shouldn't be possible, but then again neither should it be possible for a pale, wingless child to just appear in the woods out of nowhere.

“But… but…” Sam wanted to protest, but no one else contradicted Scar’s words. The angry screeches echoed in his head again, before a flash of light that washed away his consciousness.

And then he woke up in the forest, and grass was taller than he was.

Finally everything clicked, and Sam wanted nothing to do with any of it.

“I’m not small!” he wailed, taking a step away from Scar. “I’m not, I’m gonna be the tallest in my family!” Tears welled up again, and this time poured over. “I’m just dreaming, Dean’s gonna find me, and I’ll get back home!”

Burying his face in his hands, Sam darted away from the sprites, heedless of where he was going and ignoring the cry of alarm behind him.

Chapter Text

Scar's wings flared half open in surprise. He got to his feet and, before following, pointed at the knights. "Stay here," he commanded them. Then, he darted after Sam just as the boy reached the door. He couldn't risk the child getting lost and even more frightened out there. Worse, Sam could aimlessly find a window and fall out of the tree. It had happened to absentminded sprites before, but Sam didn’t have wings to catch his mistake.

He'd never survive it, and Scar would never forgive himself for letting it happen.

Scar made it out the doorway in time to see Sam dashing down the hall. Before he could call after the frantic boy, other sprites rounded a curve closer to him, and Scar glanced at them somewhat distractedly.

"Lord Cerul, if you'll wait around here a moment," he greeted, before dashing off after Sam.

With his longer legs, it didn't take Scar long to gain on Sam's head start. Before the boy could collide with something, Scar reached out a hand to grab his arm. "Sam." His voice was strong and clear. "You shouldn't go running in here without looking," he chided him.

Scar dropped back to a crouch, his hand still on Sam's arm. "I don't claim to understand what's going on, boy, but please listen when I tell you that we want to help," he told him earnestly. "No one here wants you to come to harm and we will do everything we can to make sure you're safe while we figure out how to find your family."

Sam tried to take deep, gasping breaths, but they turned into desperate, melancholy hiccups again. His lungs didn’t want to cooperate with him, and the adrenaline filling him almost made him try to wrench free of the sprite’s hands in favor of just running. “F-find them?” he repeated hesitantly.

The tears spilling over didn’t abate. His family was made up of hunters, and they killed anything supernatural, and Sam wasn’t looking too human if he didn't reach three inches in height. “W-what if they don’t recognize me? What if I’m too small now?” The pitch of his voice rose as he spoke, afraid of losing his family even if they could find them.

Scar's look softened yet again. He hesitantly relinquished his grip on Sam's arm, hoping the kid wouldn't go darting off once more. With a hand lightly resting on the boy's shoulder instead, he looked him in the eye. "I'm sure that you'd be able to convince them that you're you," he assured him. "You know your family well enough to know what to tell them."

With that said, he glanced pointedly back down the hall. "I know you've been through quite a lot already, Sam," he said, a glimmer of regret in his eyes. Privately, Scar wasn't sure what they'd do, or even what they could do, but he was determined to find out.

"I can't begin to understand what you're feeling, but there's someone who might have a better idea. I think you should meet him, and then maybe we can find you a place to relax and rest."

“A-alright,” Sam replied as he rubbed his eye with a tired fist. The day was only just beginning and he’d gone through an emotional tumult, including attack by a squirrel the size of a bear and discovering that his entire world might have been stripped away.

He was exhausted.

Sam let Scar lead the way back to the hall they’d come from, realizing he had no idea where he’d run in his panic. All he’d been able to think about was getting out, getting away, finding Dean and pretending everything that had happened was a bad dream. He needed to find his brother; Dean always knew what to do.

When they got close, Sam saw that there were more sprites in the room. He shifted closer to Scar, gripping the edge of the tall sprite’s sleeve with a clammy hand and peeking nervously past an arm to see who else had come to see him, a stranger who didn’t fit in at all.

Other than the two knights already there, three more knights had joined them, having heard the buzz that Scar had plans. The fourth newcomer wore a long tunic over simple pants, instead of the longer jackets that Scar and the knights favored. Like the sleeves and hem of Scar's jacket, however, the man's shirt was bordered with intricate vine patterns embroidered in.

Eyes the color of tarnished gold set in an amber colored face fixed on Sam immediately. A flicker of melancholy crossed Cerul's face before he fanned his wings slowly. The fear and pain and sadness clashed angrily around Sam, obvious to Cerul even without noting the tears glistening on the poor nestling's cheeks.

"I'm told your name is Sam," he greeted, in a voice far less naturally gruff than Scar's. He stooped, bracing his hands on his knees for stability, to bring himself closer to Sam's level and glance over what he could see of him with worry. "I'm Cerul. It looks like you've had a very trying day. Would you like to sit? Maybe some water to drink?"

Sam blinked rapidly to clear his eyes up, entranced by the golden eyes. “Water sounds good,” he replied quietly. His eyes flashed to the other sprites in the room, but he was quickly drawn back to Cerul and his calm demeanor. His body might want the water that was offered, but Sam’s mind and emotions yearned for peace of mind, and he gravitated towards the calm sprite.

It was a few steps before Sam realized he’d left his safe shelter by Scar’s side to join the other sprite. He climbed back onto a seat at the long table and stared down at the ground, his ears bright red after the way he’d run off on everyone the last time he was there. He kicked his legs back and forth, knowing if his dad was around he’d get in trouble for trying to run off when others were trying to help him.

While one of the knights scrambled around for a canteen, Cerul strode after Sam to sit next to him. He continued to exude a calm demeanor that came with practice, and with his own gifts. Cerul, gifted with a unique insight to the feelings of others, could feel the same things Sam felt, albeit with far more composure. He had learned through lots of practice not to let it overwhelm him. It was the only way he could help Sam with his woes.

"Some of the knights filled me in on what we know of you so far," he explained quietly. While Scar sat nearby, the other knights remained standing, some watching the door and some keeping their distance but eyeing the small boy curiously. The presence of two nobles at the table kept them at bay.

"It is certainly confusing and frightening. I don't blame you for running off, and I know Scar doesn't, either," Cerul continued, keeping his eyes steadily on Sam. One of his wings fanned slowly open, arching around the boy to provide him a makeshift shelter from view of the room. A cup of water, filled from one of the knights' canteens, was set in front of Sam, and they were let alone again. "Drink up," Cerul encouraged with a nod.

Sam took the cup of water, staring down at the clear liquid inside. It all looked so normal. He could barely believe everything inside the room was so small. He took a tentative sip, and then a larger one when his thirst became obvious.

"It's perfectly okay to be afraid in a situation as ... unique as this one. You needn't feel ashamed for feeling what you do." Cerul leaned his head slightly to catch Sam's eye. "It's alright to feel sad, but don't give up hope, either, child."

“ ‘M not in trouble?” Sam asked hesitantly after he finished his first drink. He met Cerul’s golden eyes with his watery hazels. “I just… I don’t even know where they are. Me an’ Dean were in the motel room waiting for Dad, and that mean lady broke down the door. Dean was yelling at her, calling her a witch,” that was one of the nicer words he’d thrown at the woman, truthfully, “and then she did something to him and he got pinned against the wall.”

A tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek to drop into the cup of water clenched in his hand. “Then it was like he didn’t exist. She just wanted me, and told me I’d never see my brother again, and the world just… turned white. And I woke up in the forest and… found a leaf to hide under…” His voice trailed off and he sipped at his water, slightly less burdened now that he’d been able to share it all.

If the story surprised Cerul as much as it did the others in the room, he didn't show it. It sounded like magic had come into play, but no one in Wellwood had heard of anything so powerful or so malicious. Cerul had to believe it, because of the raw, frightened sincerity dancing around Sam, but he didn't want to. No peaceful sprite would want to believe that such things were possible.

He shared a glance with Scar and a slight nod to confirm that Sam seemed to be telling the truth. Scar sighed quietly, glancing around at his knights with a hard look in his eyes. Cerul could tell he was already planning, despite the considerable odds stacked against them.

"You did well, Sam," Cerul finally replied, patting Sam's back while he sipped at his water. "Not a scratch on you because you were quick to keep yourself out of danger."

There was a pause as the sprites in the room let the heavy feelings settle over them. No one could have prepared for something like this, and yet every single one of them was determined to try, for the sake of the small lost child shielded by Cerul's wing.

One spoke up. "Sirs ... should the other knights be gathered?"

Scar glanced up and nodded. "And any patrolsprite that wanders in. We need as many people on the lookout as we can."

Cerul held up a halting hand before anyone could leave the room. "I will be consulting the archives and Praying for any advice, but before we crowd this room, I think it best for Sam to have a place to stay." He glanced back to the boy sitting at the table next to him. "Unless you want to be here while we plan?"

Sam stared down at the ground again, his face flushed. “I - I dunno,” he answered quietly. He scuffed his boots against the ground, afraid to admit how scared he was. If they were right, and the world certainly seemed to be on their side, he was small.

And if Dean hadn't been hit by the same thing, and Sam devoutly hoped he hadn't, he would be huge.

Big enough to pick Sam up between two fingers without a problem, or close his hand around any of the sprites so determined to help.

Sam rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “Be really careful, okay?” he told Cerul seriously. “Dean’ll be real upset if he can't find me. Dad said he's supposed to watch me if he's out, and it'll be all Dean's fault that I got attacked.”

Cerul smiled and nodded, matching Sam's seriousness with his own. The sincere concern in that tired little voice couldn't be ignored. "We will be very careful," he promised. "Scar will make sure the knights and patrol know what to look for and to be careful if the same magic hasn't struck your brother."

Scar nodded, and then glanced up. "Karlis, go and gather the rest of the knights. Leafwing, come here." As he barked his orders, Cerul moved his wing away from Sam so he could see one of the knights approach dutifully.

He was tall and lean, and his head was topped with absolutely wild pine green hair. Dull green eyes watched Scar, waiting for what he had to say, but they glanced towards Sam every so often. "Yes?" he said.

"Gunner here has a son who's a bit younger than you, Sam. He might be able to keep you company while you're here. Would you like to stay in his home for a little while?" Scar asked, leaving it up to Sam.

Sam looked up at the tall sprite sheepishly, tucking his legs against the chair so they didn’t swing anymore. “If it’s okay with them,” he said shyly. He couldn’t help his mild fascination at the sight of the wild green hair. The sprites had shades of hair and eyes he’d never seen before, and he wondered if there were other colors even more exotic.

“I just turned ten,” Sam offered to Gunner. “How old’s your son?”

Gunner smiled faintly. "Bowman is only five," he replied. "I'm sure he'd be happy to meet you, Sam."

"They live right here in the tree, so you don't even have very far to go," Cerul added in.

"He might still be working on his breakfast," Gunner mused. "The boy is slow to wake in the morning. He can play quietly if you're sleeping, but I think he'll have questions for you once you're awake, if you don't mind him." He left out of his explanation that just about any sprite would have questions for him; Bowman happened to lack any of the restraint the others were showing. He was a particularly inquisitive child, as Sam was sure to find out soon.

Sam nodded. He wouldn’t have to go flying again, like when Scar had brought him in from the forest. He was a little disappointed at the thought; it had reminded him of a rollercoaster.

Dean had snuck him into an amusement park one time when they were in a nearby motel. That had been one of his favorite days out with his big brother. He couldn’t even remember if their dad had ever found out, he just remembered Dean turning green when they rode the tall roller coaster. After that, Dean had dug his heels in and they’d tried other rides like the Tilt-A-Whirl.

“I’ll be fine if he’s playing,” Sam reassured Gunner. “Dean’s always watching TV when I’m asleep, and he says I never wake no matter how loud it gets! He even tried to convince me I slept through our dad coming in to visit, but there’s no way I’d sleep that hard.”

Gunner's smile remained, but his eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second. He glanced at Scar and Cerul, but they looked just as confused as he was, so clearly Sam hadn't explained 'TV' to anyone yet. Gunner had a feeling Bowman would be the one to learn all about the strange things Sam might say.

"Well, it's certain that he won't be playing ... tea-vee ... but all the same it's good to know. He isn't the most subtle nestling at times." Gunner chuckled quietly before offering a hand. "Why don't we go see him so you don't have to be here when the bickering about strategy starts?"

"Leafwing," Scar chided lightly, raising an eyebrow. Gunner shrugged lamely, unable to redact his comment.

Sam bounced down off his seat and took the sprite’s hand in a firm grip of his much smaller one. He looked around at the hall, still wide-eyed seeing so many people around with wings and hair colors that would blend into a forest but stand out in a motel or gas station. It was like a completely different world.

He glanced over at Cerul and Scar, the only two sprites he’d spent any real time with, and gave them a hesitant smile. “Good luck,” Sam wished, an ache in his chest when he thought too hard about his family’s absence. He and Dean might complain and tease each other a lot, but they’d never wanted to be separated like this, and Sam couldn’t wait for it to be over. His hand tightened imperceptibly on Gunner’s.

Cerul and Scar smiled and nodded, both of them endeared by the child's demeanor. The tear tracks that remained on his face were evidence of how important it was to help him. He didn't deserve to be separated from his family, lost in an environment that clearly didn't suit him. He didn't even have any sort of natural camouflage.

Cerul by mogadeer

Gunner bade them farewell before leading Sam out of the room. He hadn't expected to take in a wayward nestling with no wings, but he was the only knight that had a child of his own at the time. It would be better for the poor boy to have someone closer to his age to play with and keep him company in such a troubling time. He knew his own child would like having someone around.

The twisting halls through the tree led them in a pattern that Gunner knew by heart. Occasionally they would pass other sprites who looked at Sam curiously but didn't impede their way. When they passed windows, sunshine splashed all over the floor and walls and Gunner's wings twitched instinctively as they passed through it.

"Nearly there," Gunner eventually said, before they rounded a curve that angled upwards, spiraling into the higher levels of the tree.

When they came to a doorway that led into a branch shooting off the side of the tree, Gunner opened it up and rapped the knuckles of his free hand on the frame. "Bowman, there's company," he called, leading Sam inside.

Windows on either side filled the modest main room with green-and-gold tinted sunlight. A table and two chairs and a narrow counter occupied one side, while the other had cushioned benches.

As they entered, a shape rolled off one of the benches and onto the floor in surprise, hopping to his feet immediately. "Hi, Da-" The young boy's voice cut off and he nearly ducked back behind the bench again at the sight of the other kid. "Hi," he greeted more hesitantly, staring at Sam with wide, vibrant green eyes.

Sam grinned back at the younger boy, endeared by the little sprite. Bowman’s hair was messy and rumpled, a lot like Sam’s would be in the morning if he didn’t try and straighten it, sometimes having to go so far as to dunk his head in the sink to get the messy locks to behave. It looked like the boy had been lounging around in the room before they’d arrived.

“Hi!” Sam chirped back in response. He pulled his hand free of Gunner’s and dropped down to a squat so he was at the same level as the child, keeping his smile wide. The long streaks down his cheeks were forgotten now that there was someone new to meet, and the first younger sprite he’d seen. “My name’s Sam, Bowman! Good to meet you!”

Bowman inched towards Sam, looking him over keenly and taking in his strange appearance. Little wings, not quite developed, sprouted from his back and rustled lightly every so often as though he wasn't in full control of them yet. They were curled, and far smaller in comparison to his body.

"You're really light. Are you sick?" Bowman asked bluntly. He glanced up when his father tsked above them, and folded his hands behind his back sheepishly. "Sorry, Sam. I just never saw someone so light. And where did your wings go?" He padded lightly around Sam, peering at his shoulders where there were certainly no wings.

Bowman almost looked worried. He leaned a little closer to look Sam in the eyes intently. "Does it hurt?"

Sam stared right back, taking advantage of the opportunity to see those bright green eyes up close. Bowman and Gunner’s skin tones were much darker than his, and he had to giggle at Bowman’s questions. They didn’t throw him off at all, since he was thinking a lot of the same things to himself. “Nah, I’m supposed to be like this! Everyone in my family has the same color skin, though I’ve seen a lot of people that are darker. Or even lighter.” Sam’s eyes dared Bowman to contradict him with a mischievous twinkle. Bowman’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as he imagined it.

Those little leafy wings caught Sam's eye again, and he almost found himself reaching out to brush them. “You and your dad are some of the first people I ever met with wings! They’re really cool. If Scar wasn’t so fast, we’d still be out in the forest. He’s really fast.” Sam didn’t have much to compare their flight with, and his head had been buried in Scar’s chest most of the way, but for a trip of over a mile… while only three inches tall! they’d made it in under ten minutes.

Bowman perked up with a grin. "Yeah?" he said, his own wings fluttering excitedly. "My dad's really fast, too! I'm gonna be tall and have big wings someday and I'm gonna fly the fastest." After his declaration, he turned slightly to show off his little wings.

"They're not very big yet, but they only just uncurled," he explained seriously.

Before Bowman could continue chattering, Gunner spoke up gently. "Bowman, before I head back, remember that if Sam wants to rest, you need to let him sleep, okay?" He made sure he got a nod from Bowman before looking at Sam. "Did you need anything else?"

Sam stood back up, brushing a hand through Bowman’s messy hair and mussing it up more the same way Dean always did to him. “I should be fine, sir,” Sam said solemnly. Most of his life he’d spent watching his dad leave for work, and only recently he’d found out that his dad was actually out saving people, just like Gunner and the other knights would be doing soon.

Hopefully.

Trying to push down any worry for what might have happened to Dean since they were last together, Sam forced a smile on his face. The smile turned real at the sound of the little leafy wings on Bowman’s back shifting restlessly. “C’mon, Bowman, we should let your dad get going. He’s gotta get back to the others. They might have started without him ‘cause he had to walk me here.”

Bowman nodded, not even bothering to fix his hair after Sam messed it up. He barely noticed. "Okay. Bye, Dad," he said, stepping towards Gunner with his arms up expectantly. Gunner laughed quietly and knelt, wrapping the nestling up in a hug with his arms and his wings, before standing again and departing.

Chapter Text

With the two kids left alone in the small home, Bowman turned brightly back to Sam. He noticed his jacket and crept closer, staring at its many pockets. Bowman didn't own a single thing that had pockets, and it was a novel sight. "What're those for?" he asked, pointing. "What do you put in there?"

“Umm…” Sam stepped back and patted down his pockets. “I dunno. Whatever I find?” He’d never really thought much about the pockets on his jackets. Dean had even sewn extra pockets on the inside so he could conceal his knife whenever they were out. Sam wasn’t supposed to leave his knife behind, ever, and he was glad it had been on him when the witch attacked. He’d hate to be without it.

“Wanna find out?” Sam offered, digging through a few of the pockets. He carefully put the sheathed knife aside. Bowman was too young to be anywhere near a weapon like that.

Other pockets revealed less interesting items, and a good deal of pocket lint. Sam found a forgotten handkerchief tucked away on the inside of his jacket, a bright red color that stood out against the room they were in. Another pocket had the little silver lighter that Dean had pressed into his hands one day.

Sometimes Sam wondered how much Dean had tried to prepare him for discovering the supernatural before he’d even dreamed of running off with their dad’s journal. He’d always looked out for him, always, in whatever way he could. Even when Sam and John had no idea he was doing it.

The last pocket had a little motel notepad he’d grabbed, along with the pen and book of matches. Sam was sheepish when he found those. He had a habit of slipping off with whatever he could find in the room to write with after years of traveling from motel to motel. They could keep him occupied on those long car trips, and no one at the motels ever seemed to mind.

Bowman's eyes were wide and he truly couldn't decide what to focus on. The red scarf drew his eyes with its bold color, but the small shiny object glittered in the sunlight and competed for his attention. Sam had such strange things in those pockets of his, and Bowman wondered if he'd be able to find things like that when he could go out flying beyond the village, too.

He ended up running his fingertips over the letterhead embossed on the notepad, and then across the sharp right angles at its corners. "It's ... what's the word ... it's got corners!" he marveled, giving up on finding the right word for the shape in front of him.

Sam laughed at that. “It’s a rectangle,” he told the little sprite. “Most of the stuff we have has corners.” Bowman smiled delightedly and looked over the notepad curiously. Of course, seeing the room around them with its naturally grown curves, it was easy to see why Bowman thought the corners were so interesting. None of the places where Sam had seen in the village had any sort of edges, not even the windows.

“Here,” Sam said. He reached over and peeled off the top page of the notepad. “See? We kinda use rectangles like this to make our homes.” He demonstrated how two edges could be put together to form a right angle. “Four sides, then a roof, and you have a home!”

He held out the paper. “You can try if you want!”

Bowman's wings fluttered and he took the sheet of paper, turning it this way and that to look at it from every angle. The gleaming white paper stood out almost as much as the red swatch of cloth. Bowman ran his fingers over the corners a lot, fascinated by the feeling and by the appearance. It was weird.

He ended up bending one of the corners over and gasped, hastily trying to fix it.

"I broke the tangle," Bowman said quietly, clearly repentant and frustrated that he couldn't fix it. Then, after a pause, he made similar folds in the other corners and stood the paper up like a little tiny table. He picked up the handkerchief and draped it carefully over, then giggled. "It's like a bed with corners. Do your corner-houses have those too? "

Sam chuckled as he tore off another piece of paper and started to fold it. “Yep! That’s what my bed looks like. Only there are pillows here.” He poked the top of the bed and made it bow downwards. “We used to take the pillows off and build forts with them when it was storming out so we could have a place to hide!” Bowman grinned, enamored with the story, and his little wings fluttered again.

Sam stuck his tongue out as he finished folding the paper, and brandished it at Bowman. “It’s okay to fold the paper,” he said earnestly. “Like this! It’s a paper airplane, and it’ll fly, at least for a few feet… inches.” Sam caught the mistake fast, but not in time to take back the words. He wasn’t going to get used to the fact that everything around him was too small for him to fit in normally, that was for sure.

His paper airplane was probably too small to see.

Sam made a face at the paper airplane, then bent the nose slightly the way Dean used to. He had no idea if it did any good, or made it fly worse, but it didn’t look right otherwise. Something in Sam’s mind was clinging to everything he could remember of his big brother. After hearing how small he was, he was terrified that the voice repeating in his mind was right, and he’d never see Dean again. He was desperate for that not to be the truth.

Those thoughts wouldn’t leave. What if he was too small for his family to recognize? What if he was too different?

Closing one eye and taking advantage of a ready distraction, Sam gauged the distance, then glanced over at Bowman. “Wanna see?”

Bowman grinned and nodded emphatically. He spread his arms wide, and tried to spread his little wings to match. They were still slightly curled, and the pose didn't last long before they relaxed again, fluttering into place. He was told that getting full control over them took some time, but Bowman was impatient for it and determined.

"Yeah, show me! I wanna see how it flies. What's an airplane? Is it some kinda bird with corners?" The disjointed questions spilled out of the excited little nestling, but he didn't care. He was thrilled to be making a new friend, and probably the most interesting new friend he'd ever meet.

“Well… kinda!” Sam told him. “Like a big metal bird that flies in the sky. Since we don’t have wings, people get in them and fly to places that are really far away, even across the ocean. It’s like going on an adventure.” He pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe I can draw ya one later,” he said, thinking of the little pen that was sitting with his stuff.

In the meantime, he held the paper airplane up and took careful aim. “Let's see how far we can get this one to go.” Cocking back, he tossed it into the air.

The plane wavered in the air at first, but managed to make it a few inches before it started to sag down. Then, the nose dipped and it crashed down onto the bench across the room.

Bowman laughed, applauding the paper thing's flight. He dashed over to where it fell and picked it up carefully, laying it over his flat hands so he would be sure not to bend the corners this time. He brought it back to Sam almost reverently.

"Sometimes the older kids make boats by the stream, they make them out of leaves. I haven't learned how yet but I'm gonna sometime. I really can't wait to start learning to fly, though. Dad says I should think about learning my Prayers first since my wings are too small, but I'm just so excited!" To demonstrate, Bowman clambered up onto one of the benches. He stuck his tongue out carefully while he concentrated on not falling, and stood up on the cushion, his arms outstretched. "I'll fly higher than the trees."

“I bet you will!” Sam said, hurrying over to the bench as soon as he dropped the little paper airplane onto the table. “But don’t fall! I don’t think your wings are gonna help you in here.”

Sam sat down on the bench, with a louder thump than he’d meant to, and hovered a hand behind Bowman. He hadn’t realized just how tired he was after an entire night on the edge of terror and exhaustion. It was hard to believe he’d actually fallen asleep at any point, but the jarring wake up by the squirrel proved that he’d slept hard enough to lose touch on what was happening around him.

Now that he was sitting, he almost didn’t want to get up again. Sam let out a sigh, and looked up at Bowman. “Maybe we can try and make boats together sometime,” he offered. “That sounds like a lot of fun. And maybe your dad will find my brother and Dean can make some boats with us!”

Bowman smiled, thinking it sounded like a fun plan. Especially if Sam's brother was as interesting as he was. Even without wings, Sam was nice, and fun. Bowman was glad he could visit. "Yeah! We can get one of the older kids to teach us how and then race 'em down the stream."

He sat down carefully before sliding off the bench once more. He stepped around so he was in front of Sam, peering at him curiously. "Hey, Sam, your eyes look a little tired. Do you get tired because you can't drink the sunlight? Dad said you need to rest..." He trailed off, suddenly sheepish.

“Maybe…” Sam rubbed at his face, feeling how gritty it was after everything that had happened so far that day. It wasn’t even midday yet. “I, uh… don’t know how much I slept… It couldn’t have been much...”  With a groan, he dropped his head into his hands, propping his arms up on his legs.

Sam’s brow furrowed as the rest of Bowman’s words sank into his tired mind. They didn’t fit together with anything he knew. “ ‘Drink’ the sun?” he repeated slowly, looking up at Bowman again from between his fingers. He lowered his hands down. “I don’t… What do you mean?”

Bowman tilted his head. "Well you can't phot- ... photo- ... syn ... " The word wouldn't form on his tongue, though he knew what it was supposed to sound like. With a huff, he turned to show off his little wings again. The sun landed on them and illuminated the leafy patterns in them.

"Our wings can soak up the sun and it gives us energy like we ate," he said. "Like the leaves on the trees! But since you don't have wings, you can't soak up the sun like we can ... But that's okay. If you need energy you can just eat more food, right?"

Sam had to laugh at that, and reached out a hand to brush the leafy limb. He couldn’t help but be enamoured of them. “Yeah, I just eat more if I need energy. I always thought photosynthesis was jus’ for plants.” He shrugged. “I guess that would be pretty useful when we couldn’t get enough food.” Memories of Dean giving him the last of the Lucky Charms rose to mind, and times when Dean would insist he wasn’t hungry even though Sam could hear his stomach growl.

’M fine, Sammy, I couldn’t eat a thing. You have it.

Sam looked around the quaint little home, trying to push those thoughts away. He’d make sure Dean ate better the next time he saw him. He had a mission and he couldn’t let Dean down. “Where should I go lay down?” he asked sheepishly as he changed tack. “And leave my boots…”

Bowman jolted, remembering that he should try to be a nice host. "Oh, right," he said, scampering off to a doorway in the back of the room. He whirled back around and poked his head back into the main room, peering at Sam. "You can put your shoes wherever you wanna, and you can sleep on my bed since I'm not usin' it right now," he explained, beckoning Sam towards the doorway with a hand.

Then, changing his mind just as quickly, Bowman darted forward and latched both of his little hands onto one of Sam's, eager to lead him into the short hallway and show him his room. "I'll be nice and quiet, I know how to shush even if Dad says I don't sometimes! I promise," he chattered as he led Sam into a small bedroom.

Most of the space was taken up by a raised bowl shape on one side, with blankets and a cushy mattress stuffed with cotton from the very tree they were in. The window in the room was tiny, scarcely bigger than the kids' faces, and it let a sunbeam stretch across the floor. Bowman pointed to leaves hanging in front of it, glistening with their waxy coating. "You can pull those if you want, and make it a little darker for sleep."

Sam took a step into the room, smiling in tired awe at the sight. “This is… this is great, Bowman.” He sat down on the floor and carefully pulled off his boots one after the other, knowing it was rude to go into a bedroom like that with muddy shoes.

The little room had a homey atmosphere, more than any motel Sam had ever stayed at with his family. It reminded him of the times they stayed at Bobby’s, and got a room all to themselves instead of having to share with their dad. Sam shuffled over to the mattress in his socks, brushing at the waxy leaves that hung by the window and leaving it half covered. He sank down into the fluffy mattress, then flopped right onto his back. “Wow, this is comfortable!”

Sam managed to sit up for a second more, just long enough to get out a relieved “Thanks” and then collapsed on his back all over again, staring up at the ceiling.

Bowman smiled and his wings fluttered happily. He was glad that his bed would work well for Sam, considering the older boy was apparently used to square beds and corners everywhere. Bowman wouldn't wrap his head around it, but he thought he might have to save his questions for later. Somehow he'd find the restraint.

Before he left the room, he walked up to the bed and tugged a crumpled blanket out from under Sam's leg and tossed it haphazardly over him instead. It didn't cover most of the boy the way it landed, but Bowman had put his best effort in anyway. "There. I'm gonna go play now. You can take a nap and then come play more if you wanna." Bowman lingered, staring at the strange boy on his bed before scurrying out of the room to leave him in peace.

Sam stared up at the scattered light that leaked in past the leaves hanging in front of the window, trying to will himself to sleep.

At first, it seemed like he’d slip right into sleep like he normally did. His eyelids were heavy, and they drooped down if he even thought about sitting up. And yet, there was something keeping him up, and it wouldn’t let him rest despite the way his body almost gave up on him, all of his energy drained from the night before and the morning’s excitement.

Over and over, the scene in the motel room replayed. Why him? Why’d she come to their room?

“Sammy, get down!”

The second the intruder flashes into existence in front of the door, Dean heedlessly tosses himself between them to protect his little brother like he always has. He has his trusty Colt in hand, a gun that seems oversized in the teenager’s slim hands. Sam knows this doesn’t mean anything, he’s watched Dean shoot before and the teen is a crack shot. Their dad says he’s a natural and it’s the proudest Sam ever saw his father.

The gun means nothing. The blonde simply grins a disturbingly cheery grin, and flicks her wrist at Dean. With a cry, he’s tossed against the wall. The plaster almost cracks, and Sam knows it has to hurt. The gun flys from Dean’s hands, and slides across the floor right past Sam.

“Oh Dean, dear, you should know better than to use that on me,” the tall woman tuts at him. “Wait your turn.” Sam tries to dive at the gun while she’s talking and it is kicked out from under his lunge.

An elegant hand wraps around the collar of his shirt and drags him into the air. Hard eyes stare down at him. “You boys cause me so much trouble, I’m going to have to up the stakes this time,” she says to him in a breathy voice. Cold anger lurks under her words, and Sam’s eyes are drawn to her other hand.

The hand clenches in midair, and a white light rips out from inside the fist.

Sam can hear Dean desperately shouting his name, he hears his brother cursing her out, but the voice grows more distant. Like an echo down a long, dark tunnel.

“Sammy!”

“You’ll never see your brother again, this time I’ll make sure of it.”

And then nothing.

While he remained collapsed in bed with the memories flashing just behind his eyes, the tears came back. Sam drew himself into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Dean, where are you?

As kind as the sprites were, Sam was terrified of losing his family for good. Ever since discovering what his father did for a living, he’d been afraid of that one day they would be in the motel waiting, and he would never come home. It didn’t help that there were many days that John didn’t make it back from a case on time. Monsters didn’t keep schedules, after all, but it kept Sam up more than one night.

Dean would tease him to lighten the mood, but some days nothing helped. Like now, when he’d lost everything he knew. Sam buried his face in his hands, wishing for nothing more than Dean sitting on the end of his bed watching some stupid TV show or another and griping if Sam bitched at him to turn down the sound.

Please… I don’t want to lose my family.

The tears poured out of his eyes, refusing to let him sleep.

Chapter Text

Scar Wolfblind by mogadeer

The knights' hall wasn't usually the place for meetings of this size, and Scar understood why. Around twenty knights plus ten of the patrolsprites with more trickling in every few minutes added up, and filled quite a lot of space even in the long room. The tables by the windows were occupied, and the rumors passed around those standing in a low hum.

"What in the Spirit's dance are we gonna tell 'em," Scar muttered. Karlis, his lieutenant, shrugged and remained by his side as they watched the crowd. He had no better ideas, either.

"The truth," Cerul answered quietly, standing on Scar's other side. His dull gold eyes scanned the small crowd and his wings fanned as the sparks of disbelief and curiosity in the room affected him. "That's the easy part. Convincing someone is always the difficult part."

With a grumble, Scar wondered to himself why he hadn't volunteered Cerul to make the announcement instead. He heard a chuckle next to him and flickered his wings in annoyance. " 'Spose I better start before these rumors get out of hand."

Scar took a step forward so he'd have room to flare his wings open wide without knocking into Karlis and Cerul. They filled the space around him like green banners, catching the sun that filtered in and drawing all eyes in the room. His confidence and commanding presence held their attention even as he folded his wings to his back once more.

"I know most of you have heard the rumors. This morning I set out into the woods and I encountered a boy no older than ten, with no wings and very pale skin. Those of you who did not see him, I'm sure you will in time. I want to make it clear that you are not to pester the child overmuch. His ordeal is harsh enough without some featherhead bothering him."

"What ordeal, sir?" one patrolsprite asked, her eyes wide and attentive, and unapologetic for her interruption despite Scar's wing twitch.

"Some patience, perhaps," he advised, trying not to imagine the smirk that he just knew ghosted across Cerul's face. The patrolsprite cast her gaze downward in a dutiful show of deference that lasted only a moment before looking back up, sheepish and just as eager as before.

Scar went on. "We aren't sure exactly what the boy is, but he claims to have been separated from his brother and father. I saw no sign of either, and that is why this meeting has been called. The description given to us must be spread and it must become priority to find them. If they're out here sprite-sized without wings, they're in danger."

"What do you mean, 'if they're sprite-sized?' " the same patrolsprite blurted again, though this time she had the support of other murmurs of agreement. Scar was pleased that his knights knew not to join in the blasted murmurs.

"Miss Alisti, if you don't shush--" Scar began, but Cerul stepped forward with a hand raised to calm his irritation.

"This is not the time for your questions. I know you will have many by the time Lord Scar is through. Please withhold them," Cerul said in a calm tone, one that didn't command as much attention as Scar's but that got through to them all the same.

Cerul motioned to Scar that he could continue, and Scar very nearly rolled his eyes at him.

Show off.

"What I mean by 'if,’ my friends, is that the boy is under the impression that his brother is five and a half feet tall."

The outburst of surprise from the patrolsprites and the knights that hadn't been in the room when Sam explained himself nearly percussed the three standing at the front of the crowd. Scar leaned back and waited for the first round of That's impossible! and Don't you mean inches? to die down before flaring his wings again.

Many eyes were staring at Scar, Karlis, and Cerul as if they'd all grown extra heads. Wings twitched and rustled, and feet shifted. The whispers were impossible to stop completely, but the sprites paid attention for the most part, waiting for the punchline.

It didn't come. Scar sighed and dragged his hand down his face. "Sam was under the impression that he was four and a half feet tall himself. We aren't sure what happened to him, but if that's true, then he's a giant turned sprite-sized. His family may be the same way."

Cerul had to interject before another swell of voices drowned them out. "As improbable as it seems, we need to be ready for either possibility. While you search Wellwood, keep your eyes keen as if looking for someone our size, but, given the circumstances of the boy's sudden appearance, you must accept the possibility that he's right about their size. Giant or not, I can assure you he is sincere, and frightened, and he needs to find his family."

More murmurs filled the room, and Scar sighed. "Cerul and the elders will be consulting the archives to see if we have any informations on the giants," he began. "The rest of us are a search party. We have to do what we can to find that boy's family. Is that understood?"

The chorus of Yessir! didn't abate Scar's restlessness, but it helped give him focus. He had a job to do, a mission. Strategy was his strong suit.

Time to hunt giants.

Out in the main room, Bowman carefully nudged at the things Sam had left on the table. He wanted to play with the paper bird some more, but it wasn't his so he refrained. He couldn't resist running his fingertips over the small shiny thing that Sam had yet to show him, and over the strange fabric of the red handkerchief. Even that was a perfect square shape.

One item had been set aside separate from the others. Bowman peeked over the edge of the table at it, his little wings twitching with curiosity and his fingers lightly drumming at the edge. When temptation grew too great, he reached over and dragged it a little closer.

His green eyes widened when, instead of the whole thing coming, the knife slipped partway out of its sheath. A bright, sharp blade winked at him and he hastily pushed it back. He wasn't supposed to touch weapons. Those were only for knights. He glanced towards the hallway, hoping he wouldn't see Sam there ready to scold him.

Bowman's ears twitched at the faintest sound of ... sobbing?

He could hear sobbing.

"Sam?" he said quietly, padding towards the room again. He found Sam curled up on his bed, hands over his eyes while he cried. Bowman's wings drooped. He didn't understand why his new friend was so sad, but he decided he should try to help. In lieu of saying anything, Bowman walked up to the bed and nudged at Sam's arm.

The sobbing hesitated in surprise. Sam was caught off guard by the nudge. His fears and cries had drowned out Bowman calling his name.

He lowered his hands, peering over his fingertips at the little sprite that wanted to check on his new friend. “B-bowman?” Sam asked in a watery, quivering voice. He tried to clear his throat, but it became another sob and he got more tears in return for the effort. “You shouldn't…” He stuttered and tried to start over. “I'm fine. I'll be fine.”

As though in denial of his white lie, Sam's eyes wouldn't stop overflowing as he tried to sniff. He rubbed angrily at his eyes, betrayed. Dean would never let him hear the end of it if he found out.

Bowman blinked. He could tell that Sam most certainly was not fine, though he didn't ask why. He was curious, but now wasn't the time to find out more. Bowman wasn't sure he'd understand completely, anyway. Sam was a bigger kid. Practically a grownup, and they always had reasons to be sad that were harder to understand.

He climbed carefully onto the bed himself, finding room next to the other boy and sitting on his knees with his legs tucked under him. At first he just hesitantly rubbed a hand on Sam's back. When he was upset, rubbing his wings helped, but Sam didn't have any.

Changing his approach, Bowman leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Sam the best he could, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. His little wings spread as far as they could to supplement the hug, though they rustled and didn't behave like he wanted them to.

Bowman's own eyes almost brimmed with tears. The look on Sam's face was heartbreaking even for a kid. He continued to rub Sam's back in small circles while he hugged him, hoping it might help a little.

Sam shuddered under the touch, but didn’t push the little sprite away. The light rub was a comfort, reminding him that he might be far from his family, and separated by more than just distance, but there were others looking out for him. If the Winchesters were close, the sprites would help him find them.

The tears didn’t stop, but he felt his body relax into the blankets more.

Curling into a ball, Sam’s tears were silent as he cried for his family and himself. He buried his head into the soft cotton mattress, and the only visible sign of his crying became the slight shudders that rocked his body from time to time. They died down after a long time, and Sam’s body relaxed as his mind finally let him slip into sleep with the knowledge that he might be far away from home, but he wasn’t alone.

The light outside of the little window in Bowman’s room shifted as the day passed them by. Sam curled up into an even tighter ball, bundling himself underneath the blanket that Bowman had swept over him. Even the little sprite himself curled up in the bed with Sam, one tiny hand clutched to a fluttering wing to keep it wrapped around his slim form.

The only sound to disturb the interior of the room was their restful breathing. Having Bowman close by kept Sam from freaking out about being stranded from his family. It was like the days he and Dean were stuck either sharing a bed, or fighting over who got to sleep in the bed and who had to sleep on the floor. Sam never minded either way, but Dean would bitch that he always tried to take over the entire bed by stretching out his arms and legs as far as they would go.

Sam stubbornly refused to acknowledge that he ever took over the bed.

Dried tears cracked on Sam’s face as he shifted sleepily. He rubbed an eye, trying to brush away the feeling that came from crying himself to sleep. With a yawn, he sat up in the bed and tried to detangle himself from the cover he’d wrapped up in. He didn’t get far, discovering that the tiny little sprite kid, Bowman, was curled up on top.

Sam had to smile at the way Bowman was trying to wrap his wing all the way around him. Stifling another yawn, he reached out and brushed at the little fluttering wing. “Hey, Bowman.”

Bowman groaned and his eyes squeezed shut more tightly before blinking open slowly. He sat up, releasing his wing and rubbing the sleep from one eye with his knuckles. For a moment, he hardly recognized where he was or what had woken him.

He covered a yawn with both hands and then blinked at Sam, focusing on him at last. "Oh," he realized, his wings twitching in surprise. "I fell asleep!" He wriggled his legs out from under himself and tumbled to the floor, a tangle of wings and limbs and dragging the blanket halfway with him.

Bowman sighed and remained where he'd fallen for a few seconds more. He needed to wake up before he tried to push himself off the floor. "Didja have a good nap?" he asked, barely finishing the question before another yawn slipped out.

Sam grinned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I did.” Memories came back to him of having his back rubbed while he was having trouble falling asleep, and his eyes softened. “Couldn’ta without your help though.”

Stretching his arms over his head in one last, good yawn, Sam finally clambered out of the bed. It was a lot easier to climb out now that he didn’t have a nestling snuggled on top of him snoozing the day away. He brushed his fingers through his messy hair and used his sleeve to wipe away the scattered remains of his tears. Stooping down, he scooped his hands under Bowman’s arms to help him up to his feet. “There we go.”

With them both standing freely, Sam peered curiously around the room, and out of the door to Bowman’s room. “Do you… have anything to eat?” he asked shyly. The pastry had been good, earlier, but it wasn’t enough to hold him over for an entire day.

Bowman's wings stretched out and he perked up, but shook his head. "Uh uh. But the storeroom is real close. We share with a buncha other houses 'cause it saves space." No sooner had he finished his explanation than he ran to the door, and then stopped, whirled around, and shuffled back to Sam.

With a sheepish grin on his face, Bowman beckoned Sam to follow him. "We can go pick somethin,’ " he explained, walking backwards towards the door again and making sure he wasn't leaving his friend behind as he went.

The little sprite’s endearing antics brought a smile to Sam’s face again, and he held out a hand. “Here, how about we hold hands so I don’t get lost?” He could remember the twisting pathways Scar and Gunner had lead him down. There was no way he’d be able to find his way back on his own, based on what he’d already seen. The paths didn’t follow any patterns he could pick out, which would leave him lost until he managed to memorize things, and hopefully he wouldn’t be around long enough to get the paths down that well.

He did hope he’d get to introduce Dean to his new friends. Sam was certain Bowman would make the older boy smile. Dean always cheered up when they saw younger kids out playing and enjoying themselves. Sam had a feeling it had something to do with the way his older brother almost never got to really goof off on his own, especially if they were on the road.

“I don’t think I’d ever find my way out of the tree if I didn’t have someone to show me!” Sam confided in Bowman.

Bowman nodded seriously, understanding exactly what Sam meant. He stepped forward and took his hand and promptly turned to lead the way at a quicker pace, taking Sam out of the small bedroom and through the main room. "I almost got lost once but one of Dad's friends brought me back home 'cause he was busy. He's a knight! They help protect us."

Bowman practically threw the door open when they reached it, taking Sam out into the twisting hall and leading the way with brash confidence while his wings fluttered occasionally. He kept up his chattering as he made their way. "My dad's one of the best flyers in the whole village. It's 'cause we're Leafwings. I'm a Leafwing too, so I'm gonna be the best at it when my wings are bigger."

They reached a doorway without a door in it that led into a room lined with shelves set right into the walls. Bowman let go of Sam's hand so he could dart up to one of the lower shelves, standing on the tips of his toes to see and peruse the options.

Chapter Text

Acorns, various leaves, berries, roots, and mushrooms were arranged on the many uneven shelves. Some large bags of flour rested in the far back of the room, next to a vat of water taller than Bowman. Containers fashioned out of clay or acorn shells held thick honey or sap from the trees, and there were honeycombs on the very highest shelves. Pastries like the one Sam had before were stacked in a meager pile.

Sam’s eyes were wide, and it was only partially for the spread of food that lay before them. Growing up on the road, they’d had to eat day to day. There was rarely a supply of food on hand that wasn’t cereal or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. On rare days, they could use one of their dad’s fake credit cards to order in, but that was pricy for two growing kids. They had to be wise with their emergency money.

The sheer size of things, more than the quantity, left him with wide eyes. It might never stop amazing him.

Sam stepped up next to Bowman, hesitantly reaching out a hand to brush against one of the acorn shells. He could remember pinching an acorn just like this between two fingers, and now it was bigger than his chest. A great way to store things…

...If you were three or four inches tall.

“I keep forgetting how big things are!” Sam breathed out as he peeked into the container. The tantalizing smell of sweet golden honey reached him and he couldn’t resist getting one of the golden drops on his finger. “Mmm.”

Before he could go any further and raid the sprite’s storeroom, Sam covered up the acorn and glanced at Bowman. “So do we just… take whatever we want? Or do ya have to pay for it or something… I don’t really have any money…”

Bowman, his hands still grasping the edge of a shelf and his body stretched as high as he could, stared up at Sam with an odd look on his face. He tried his best to come up with meanings to what Sam said, but he wasn't sure he'd ever heard such things before. Then again, Sam was kind of strange, so it fit.

"I don't have money either. What is it?" he asked, making an ambitious grab at a slice of mushroom, just barely managing to drag it towards himself. "We can have it, it's for everyone to share since everyone helps bring some in. I even helped Lady Arabelle carry in acorns one time!" He claimed his thin slice of mushroom and piece of dried berry.

“Umm…” Sam flushed a little red. “Money’s how we get food… You gotta trade money for stuff, otherwise you can’t have it.” He stared down at the floor under his feet. “Sometimes, if you don’t have money, you can’t have any food. Dean used to make sure there was enough for me, but he had to go hungry sometimes.”

Bowman frowned in disapproval, thinking that he didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Sam looked up again, staring at the different shelves of the storeroom and wishing he could share some of the food with Dean, even if it was made for people that only stood a few inches tall. They’d almost never had so much fresh food. Even when they stayed with Bobby they usually got hot dogs and frozen hamburgers, whatever he could throw together quickly to feed two energetic kids. If he could get them to sit still long enough.

“I like this better,” Sam decided. “Maybe later I can help bring some food in and help out, since everyone’s so nice.” He claimed his own mushroom slice, and another pastry. After a moment of thought, he stretched all the way up on his tip-toes, just barely able to snatch down a little piece of honeycomb, something he’d always wanted to try.

Bowman's wings fluttered and his eyes were fixed on the gold honeycomb that Sam claimed. Bowman had never been able to reach those on his own, and had to ask his dad to get them down for him. When he said yes, they were a good treat.

To distract himself from staring, Bowman nodded and made his way past Sam to lead them back to his home. "Bringing more is good, that way everyone can have some food if they wanna come get it." He looked over his shoulder with a grin. "Dean should come and try some sometime. Maybe next time you get to visit?" he suggested innocently, still unaware of the real reason Sam was there.

Sam smiled at that and shifted so he was holding the food in one arm, the honeycomb pinched in his fingers. “Maybe.” He held out a hand for Bowman to take, and let the little sprite lead the way back. The little wing flutters caught Sam’s eyes for a moment and he watched their movements, entranced by the sight. It still amazed him that he was around people who thought flying was normal.

“First we gotta find Dean, though,” Sam said, wondering if the knights had any luck in tracking down the teenager. Hopefully the older boy had escaped the same shrinking magic, though Sam was a little afraid at the thought of how big Dean, or especially John, would be. “Dean could bring back the most food! He’s a few years older than me, and he’s got green eyes like you. He always watches out for me, just like big brothers are supposed to. I bet he’d think you were really awesome.”

Bowman gasped, and then a grin spread across his face. He practically skipped. "I hope so! I can't wait to meet your big brother. I bet he's fun and nice, too," he decided, making his way through the halls back to their home. Usually there were knights wandering around at this time ... he wondered what might have happened that kept them away. His dad might be away for a while, too.

"Wherever he's hiding, I bet we can find him. If he's not a sprite like you then he prolly stands out in all the green. Even with green eyes like mine," he reasoned, nudging open the door to his home.

The excitement out of Bowman had Sam laughing along. “Yeah, we really do stick out around here. I had to find a leaf to hide under before Scar found me. That way nothing bad could see me while I was all alone.” He went into the little home, and took his food over to the table.

Spotting the silver knife Dean had made the year before, Sam made sure to grab it off the table. He’d forgotten all about it earlier, and was thankful Bowman hadn’t hurt himself against the sharp blade. It got tucked back into the inside pocket of his jacket, safe until he needed to use it.

He didn’t bother putting away the rest of his supplies, pushing them into a pile in the center of the table. The helping of food he’d gained from the storeroom replaced those items, and Sam took a seat. He’d spotted Bowman eyeing up the honeycomb, and split it in half. “I never had honeycomb before,” Sam told the little sprite in a mock-whisper as he pushed half over to Bowman.

Bowman grinned and put his own spoils from the storeroom up on the table before climbing up onto the other backless chair at the table. His wings shifted about until they hung loosely behind him, stretching out and falling still for once as he sat. "They're good! I like it when they have some in the storeroom. We can't always have 'em 'cause I guess the bees get mad, but I think there's someone around who's good at calming them down." He carefully nudged the waxy chunk coated with honey aside to save it for last, and picked up his mushroom instead.

Bowman actually fell silent for a few seconds, settling into his food politely but eagerly. He had gotten some sun that day, but his wings weren't as efficient with photosynthesis yet thanks to the constant shifting and their small shape.

Sam was just as quiet, but his mind had turned inward instead. He worried about the sprites out in the forest at that very second, trying to find the Winchesters. He didn’t want any of his rescuers to get hurt while they were helping him. If Dean or John was around, and they hadn’t been downsized like him, they could easily be dangerous.

He could remember how happy that witch looked when she’d cast her spell… her curse. Like everything had fallen into place and she was about to win the lottery. And now here he was, in a forest who knows how far away from that motel. For all he knew it was across the world, with no way back.

Sam nibbled distractedly at the mushroom, knowing he’d have to keep his strength up no matter what happened. At least all the food the sprites had was great. It was much healthier and tastier than what he got to eat on a regular basis. Especially the pastries, and after finishing off a large chunk of mushroom Sam pulled the pastry over. It might be one of his new favorite foods, and for a few seconds he let himself entertain the thought of getting Dean to try one and seeing if he finally found something he liked more than burgers.

When he slowed down, Sam put the little piece of tart that was left to the side and picked up his honeycomb. Little golden drops glistened on the edges and he looked it over from all sides, seeing the waxy comb and sugar crystals clinging to the edges. His mouth watered, and he raised it hesitantly to his mouth. Sam paused before taking a bite. “Do ya… eat the comb?” he asked Bowman, not completely sure how to tackle his new food.

Bowman glanced over from his last bit of dried fruit, and nodded. "Yeah! Some people chew it until the honey's gone and spit it out but I like to eat the whole thing. It's still good." With the reminder of the sweet treat, he abandoned his other food for the time being. He'd had enough to earn dessert. He plucked up the piece of honeycomb Sam had shared with him and his wings perked to life again in anticipation of the sweet flavor.

"Dad puts his in tea sometimes. I dunno why he doesn't just put a whole blob of honey in it instead. That's a better way," he explained, before popping the honeycomb into his mouth. It wasn't too much for him, but it was just enough that it once again prevented him from continuing to chat Sam's ears off.

Sam considered his snack, then with a mental shrug, bit into the comb. The explosion of flavor from the honey was familiar, but the texture of the wax comb was not. He ate his quietly, letting the little sprite next to him enjoy his own treat. It was a comfortable silence between the two kids.

In the end, Sam not only finished off his comb, but he also went back and finished off the remains of his mushroom and tart. It was a good meal, and helped him get his strength back after the trying ordeal. There was no way for anyone to know how long he’d spent unconscious before waking up and discovering he was in the forest, and his body would need to be taken care of.

Sam let out a sigh, pushing the crumbs from his snack into a small pile where he was eating. He’d figure out what to do with the little mess later. If worst came to worst, he’d just clean it up into his handkerchief. That’s what they were for, after all.

Sated and content, Sam went to lean back in his chair like he’d normally do after a good meal. Naturally he wasn’t used to the fact that sprite chairs didn’t have backs to them the way human chairs did.

He tumbled backwards out of his chair with a surprised cry.

Bowman let out a squeal and swallowed the last bit of honeycomb in his mouth in surprise. He coughed even as he hastily vacated his own seat, stumbling around to where Sam had fallen. His wings twitched and rustled and he stooped to stare at his friend with wide, concerned eyes.

"Sam, are you okay?" he asked, plopping down to sit on the floor. "What happened?" He glanced aside at the chair, lying on its side, and then looked back at Sam.

Sam blinked up at him, and put a hand on his head as he scooched back up to a sit. “I dunno…” It only took a brief glance over at the chairs they were sitting on to figure it out. He’d seen that the chairs didn’t have backs on them, but when he was sitting down, it had slipped his mind and there was nothing there to lean back against.

Switching to his knees, Sam grabbed his fallen chair and put it upright. “Your chairs don’t have backs on them!” he exclaimed to Bowman in realization. “I thought I could lean back and there wasn’t anything there!” He had a grin on his face with flushed cheeks, surprised and entertained by how he must have looked just falling down like that.

Bowman's eyebrows shot up, and then he grinned and laughed. "Well of course they don't have backs on them. I don't think I've seen any chair that did! That'd squish our wings..." He trailed off, becoming thoughtful for a moment. He tried to imagine all of the chairs having backs, and really couldn't summon up a good picture.

"I fall off things a lot, too. My aunt says I get ahead of myself and trip on my own feet." Bowman stretched his arms over his head while his wings stretched to the sides. "I can't help it, I'm always excited to get goin!’ "

Sam bounced back to his feet, and helped Bowman up. He was careful to avoid the leafy wings as they fluttered in excitement, making Sam think of a sprite tumbling down in midair the same way he’d tumbled backwards. It was a funny image, like a Looney Tunes cartoon but with brown skin and bright green wings. “Better be careful when you start flying! You don’t wanna fall when you’re up so high, not unless you have a soft place to land… like a pile of leaves or a stream!”

Bowman giggled and darted over to one of the benches again, clambering up on top of it. Like before, he did his best to display his little wings proudly while his hands were on his hips and his feet sank into the cushion. "When my wings are big, I won't fall! I'll practice a whole lot til I'm good at flying. I never thought about landing in the stream, though! If I do I'll make the biggest splash I can."

Bowman tensed as if he might hop from the bench as far as he could, but then hesitated. Thinking better of it, he crouched low and made a much more manageable hop back to the floor.

“I bet you could,” Sam said with a laugh. “When your wings are big, I betcha can make a bigger splash than anyone else if you try.”

Instead of following Bowman over to the bench, Sam paused at the table. He gathered up his pen and notepad, leaving out the paper airplane he’d made for Bowman earlier that day. He had enough paper left over to make more later on if he wanted to. The red handkerchief was folded carefully up again, and Sam placed it in his inside pocket opposite of where he was keeping his knife.

The lighter was last. Sam rubbed his thumb over the cool metal exterior when he came back over to Bowman. He didn’t want to risk losing the lighter. It was so small the wind might be able to blow it away.

The glint of light off the smooth silver object drew Bowman's gaze immediately. He leaned forward to stare at it, remembering how smooth and cool it had felt when he poked at it before. It was metal, something that wasn't very common in Wellwood. Bowman couldn't help but be fascinated by the shine.

"What's that thing?" he asked, pointing at it. He turned his curious, wide-eyed gaze upwards at Sam, and his wings lifted slightly.

Sam glanced at it, his eyebrows going up. He knelt down in front of Bowman to hold it out. “It’s a lighter, see?” With a thumb, he flicked it open. “Dean got it for me this year. I never use it, but he told me I should have one, just in case.”

Since he almost never put the lighter to any use, and left it in his pocket all day, it was shinier than Dean’s. Bowman watched it with unrestrained awe. There was plenty of lighter fluid left inside, so when Sam flicked against the spark wheel with a thumb, it lit right up. A little flame burst into being, smaller than any other flame in existence yet kept alive by the tiniest stream of lighter fluid.

Bowman gasped and flinched backwards, drawing his wings close to his back. For a second, worry overtook his expression, and then confusion as he looked back at Sam. The tiny flame drew his eyes again and he watched it, mesmerised.

"Sam, th-that's fire! " he said seriously. When he finally looked back up, the flickering little flame was reflected in bright green eyes that were both cautious and impressed. "How're you holding it in your hand like that? Isn't it hot? Does it burn?"

Concern reflected in Sam’s hazel eyes right alongside the flickering flame, and he snapped the Zippo shut. “It’s okay! It won’t hurt you if you’re really careful.” Sam pointed at the metal top. “It’s just a little flame, so it doesn’t hurt at all, and when it’s shut, it can’t do anything.” Pocketing it, he stood back up. “Jus’ gotta make sure to take good care of it.”

Sam glanced around the little room. So far, he’d seen the long hall where the knights had their meeting, Bowman’s bedroom, and a storeroom. “Do ya think I can see more of the tree?” he asked shyly. “I’ve never been anywhere like this!”

Bowman nodded, his wings fluttering once again. He thought he might have to ask more about the little fire that Sam kept in his pocket, but for now he had a tour to give. Bowman was the only one around that could show the place to Sam, since the grownups were all too busy and the other nestlings that lived in the tree were in different areas.

He grabbed Sam's hand in his own. "Yeah! I can show you all the places I know. We can even go outside and see the porch for a little while if you want!"

Cerul listened carefully as a withered little elder sprite recounted what she'd been able to find. They stood in the halls far lower in the cottonwood tree, where no windows allowed light in from the afternoon sun. Instead, round lanterns crafted out of flower petals cast a soft glow around them, lit magically with a Prayer to the Earth Spirit.

The gentle light was more than enough illumination to reveal the lettering that curved and flowed with the walls, ceiling, and even the floor. The Archives wound from the deepest recesses of the cottonwood tree, recounting the history of Wellwood as recorded by the sprites for generations.

After sending the knights and patrolsprites on their way to spread the word and look for little Sam's big family, Cerul had swept up several of the elders and asked them to help him scour the Archives. He needed to know if Wellwood had ever encountered giants before.

It turned out they had. Several generations prior, according to the spindly little elder. They were called 'humans' and they were dangerous to sprites. Cerul frowned faintly, thinking that none of the written warnings about the giants seemed to apply to the terrified, melancholy little boy that Gunner Leafwing was playing host to.

Things didn't add up, but all the same Cerul thanked the woman and took his leave. He needed to bring the information to Scar.

He found the High Knight in his quarters, brooding on one of the benches and most likely planning whether or not he would fly out for a later search. Despite wanting to head out along with his knights, he'd waited behind to hear what Cerul found as soon as he could. Any information about these ‘giants’ would help with the search.

"My friend, don't look at me like that," Cerul chided as he settled himself on another bench, while Scar resolutely flicked his wings at him. "I didn't ask you to stay behind, you know."

Scar shrugged. "I'm hot blooded, you know that," he conceded, and Cerul chuckled. "Did you find anything?"

Cerul nodded and cut right to it. Keeping Scar waiting any longer was a dangerous proposition. "Giants are indeed real, according to the Archives. They're called humans and they can reach well over seventy inches tall."

Scar's wings twitched and he took a slow breath, but otherwise he didn't react, and nodded for Cerul to continue.

"There are warnings that humans are dangerous to us. That they'd cage or eat a sprite, or pull at their wings." Scar narrowed his eyes at this, looking thoughtful. Cerul could feel strains of doubt among his pensive friend's restless emotions.

"Call me crazy but that nestling isn't anything like that," Scar insisted. "Even if he was ... four and a half blasted feet tall, I doubt he'd want to hurt a fly."

"I agree," Cerul answered gently. "Regardless, as we search for the others, we do need to be cautious. And, perhaps, ask the boy himself about these things."

Scar looked down at his crossed arms. Neither of them wanted to go to a scared, shrunken giant and ask him what warnings might be true or false. Sam didn't need that kind of scrutiny on him. Unfortunately, if they were to approach his brother and father, who might well tower over the strongest sprites, they needed to know.

"For now, we will continue with the plan from before," Scar decided after a long pause. "Anyone who spots them will return here immediately and spread the word. You and I will handle the diplomacy."

Cerul didn't say anything, but arched an eyebrow just so at his friend.

Scar huffed in frustration and narrowed his eyes. "Fine, you will do the talking and I will protect you. We've put labels on it, are you happy?"

Cerul chuckled. "Just sunny."

“Okay, now this is how you play.”

Sam and Bowman were sitting on a bench together after a trip out to explore the insides of the cottonwood tree that the sprites made their homes in. Without Bowman’s help, Sam would never have gotten back to their start point. The pathways winded around the insides and into the high branches. From the windows Sam could see an entire new world, one with scattered rays of sun touching the bright green leaves of the oak trees nearby. Sprites darted from place to place, living out their lives in a home untouched by humans.

Or, untouched by all but one human, and this one was a little smaller than the rest.

Comfortable on the cushioned bench, Sam faced off against the five year old sprite with an encouraging grin. He held out his hand in front of him. “Paper beats rock,” Sam started, wrapping one hand around a fist, “rock beats scissors,” and he used the fist to hit his other hand, “and scissors cuts paper. So if you pick rock, and I pick scissors, you’ll win. If you pick rock, and I pick paper, you’ll lose. When I count to three, we both show what we pick. Got it?”

Bowman watched Sam's hands carefully, glancing back at his own as he mimicked the three shapes he saw. He had no idea what 'scissors' actually meant, and its hand gesture was the hardest to make. But, when he got it, he nodded vigorously. The moment Sam had suggested learning a new game, Bowman was excited to try.

He mirrored Sam's movements as the other boy counted, bouncing a fist up and down. When the count came, his hand twitched, but clenched back into a fist as he realized he didn't need to do anything to pick rock.

Sam let out a laugh of enjoyment, his predicament completely out of his mind while he was playing with the little sprite. “We both picked rock!” His own, slightly larger fist had landed just the same as Bowman’s.

Leaning forward, he bumped his fist against Bowman’s. “That means we tie and gotta play again.” Giving the little kid a wink, he lowered his voice to share a secret. “If you ever play Dean, he always does scissors, so all you gotta do is pick rock.” He sat back up and held up his hands again. “Let's go again!”

Bowman's wings fluttered excitedly and he nodded. "Okay! This is kinda fun. I dunno what scissors are but I'll remember and pick rock," he announced, holding up his fist to play again. "It's a lot of fun. Way easier than pick-up-sticks. I always lose that one."

Before the count could finish, the door opened up and Gunner trudged in, sword at his side and wings sagging. Bowman whirled around, then glanced at the window and noticed that the light from the sun was rapidly setting. "Hi, Dad!" Bowman greeted, waving and fluttering his wings in greeting.

Gunner smiled faintly and took his thigh-length knights' jacket off, leaving it on the counter near the table. He came over to the bench to crouch in front of the two children, ruffling Bowman's hair to a burst of little giggles.

Then, he glanced to Sam, knowing the boy was bursting with eagerness to know if they'd found his family. "No one caught sight of them today, but we will search again tomorrow. We'll find them, okay, Sam?" The gentle earnestness in his voice showed in his eyes, a promise from Scar and all the other sprites to help Sam however they could.

Sam’s shoulders slumped down the barest fraction, showing his discouragement. “Thank you for looking for them, sir,” he replied, equally earnest. “And thank you for letting me stay here while you search. I won’t get in the way at all, I promise.”

He turned back to Bowman, giving the little sprite a hollow smile as he tried to push away the sudden fear that they’d never find Dean. If an animal had got to him first, the way the squirrel had almost got Sam, they’d never even know.

And if Dean was still back in that motel room, Sam couldn’t go find him. He was too small.

“Let’s play some more,” he offered to Bowman, seeking a distraction.

Chapter Text

The knights searched the next day, looking for two giants that had lost a child. No one knew how large they would be, considering the child that had been discovered was under three inches tall instead of his natural height of four and a half feet. Rumors spread around the village about what they’d be like, only to be quelled by Scar or Cerul. No matter what the Archives said, the sprites wanted to find the giant humans.

They flew in ever-widening circles, high and low, scouring any hiding spot they could find at any size. They even discovered a metal wall that Sam explained in a hollow voice was a ‘fence,’ meant to keep humans from crossing it. The sprites tentatively expanded their search even beyond it, ever watchful and wary.

They found nothing.

Sam stared out of the window a lot when he wasn’t playing with Bowman or exploring the cottonwood tree. His gaze was distant, turned inwards despite the way he stared out at the world. He could hear a laugh, echoing in his mind.

You'll never see your brother again… this time I'll make sure of it.

Why? Sam thought. What did I ever do to you?

Days of searching turned into weeks. Sam started to throw himself into the sprite community, seeking a distraction from the separation from his family he’d been forced into. Bowman learned little by little what had really happened, and though Sam could see in those bright green eyes that the nestling didn’t fully understand, he grew more determined to help Sam when he turned melancholy. They did a lot of exploring together and Sam began to learn his way around the village.

Weeks turned into months, and the distraction started to change into something more. Sam was beginning to give up inside. The search had ended long ago. There wasn’t much chance of finding them after such a long time, though now the patrolsprites knew to keep a lookout for giants of any kind. If it was Sam’s family, it would be good. He knew he could talk to them, reason with them.

If it wasn’t Sam’s family, the earlier the advance notice, the better.

The months turned into years, and Sam had found himself a new home.

2005

Jacob let out a heavy breath as he trudged through the woods, an overladen backpack strapped to his shoulders. One hand absently gripped the strap while the other swung at his side. The summer sun, despite the canopy concealing its direct gaze, bore down on him in bars of warm, golden light.

He was well beyond the designated camping grounds. Most of the spots around there had been taken by families for the weekend, and Jacob thought it was too crowded to count as relaxing. He was skilled enough to rough it beyond the usual campgrounds.

If he got in trouble for going past the boundaries, he’d just have his buddy Bobby get him out of it. His family owned the land, after all. If it wasn’t for Bobby’s summer job, he’d probably be sneaking past the boundaries with Jacob.

Birds chattered and the trees rustled, and Jacob took another deep breath, filled with the scent of the trees and the earth. He was far enough from the campgrounds that he couldn’t even smell a trace of the smoke from their fire pits.

He was looking forward to an uneventful couple of days.

At length, Jacob came to a hesitant stop. Before him was a chain link fence, taller than even his considerable six foot height. That by itself wasn’t unusual. The bright yellow sign warning him that he wasn’t allowed past it wasn’t out of place. It was reserved land.

None of that was unexpected. What held Jacob’s attention and made him tilt his head was the vines.

The fence was woven with as much green as grey. Flowering vines twisted around the metal as if they had something to prove, and Jacob saw glistening thorns hidden among the benign little flowers. The concentration of the out-of-place greenery threw him for a loop.

He trailed along the fence for a while, investigating the vine-wrapped grid. Coming to a gate, he almost barked out a laugh at the sight of it. The vines were thickest around the gate, latching around it and nearly hiding it from view. Jacob had to use his pocket knife to slice through some parts and wrench it open. It was almost like the plants themselves were trying to keep the gate shut.

He let the gate fall closed behind him and continued on, looking forward to finding a good spot to set up camp.

As the morning dawned across the Wellwood, it brought with it the gentle chirp of birdsong.

Light from a dawning sun began to filter through the leaves that covered Sam’s small window in his bedroom. He’d collected each leaf himself, hanging them there to act as a shade. Unlike the sprites, he didn’t gain sustenance from the sun, so there was no need for it to spill across his bed and disturb his sleep.

The happy chirp of the morning birds as they woke to collect their seeds served as the best alarm clock Sam could have asked for. They were as predictable as the dawn, always up and always active at the same time.

He sat up and stretched his arms over his head in a lazy yawn. Bowman might complain that he woke too early, but Sam knew that when night fell, it would be time to retire back to the tree. He wanted to take advantage of every bit of sun, living his life to the fullest.

The bedroom around him was neat and organized. He tossed the cover off himself and put his bare feet on the ground.

Delicate ink scripted the walls, almost from floor to ceiling. The sprites didn’t make books the way that humans did, as he’d come to discover. His little pad of paper that had shrunk down with him was a rare item, and he’d used up most of it in games with Bowman and tossing paper airplanes about. He always smiled when he remembered the excitement in the little sprite and the way those wings would flutter as the ‘paper birds’ caught the air. The little notepad had not gone to waste.

His walls had formed a good substitute for the lack of a journal, and he’d covered them in a combination of human and sprite script. Just like in the cottonwood palace’s Archives, Sam had written out everything he could. Things he didn’t want to forget, important events, facts he discovered… In fact, directly under his small window was the most important message. It was scripted out in his strange, blocky ‘human letters,’ which Bowman always made fun of him for but who was always curious about them anyway.

Dean Winchester, January 24, 1979

Sam Winchester, May 2, 1983

It wasn’t much, but each morning he would look at it and remember.

His morning ablutions were simple. There was a basin of water built into the wall of his main room, and he wasted no time dunking his head down into the water. Shaking out the scattered drops, his hair was much neater when he finished brushing it down. Sam scrubbed at his face, clearing away any remnant of sleep.

The uniform he owned he put on with slightly more ceremony. Each piece had its place, and as he pulled on his long jacket, Sam smiled.

Somewhere deep inside, he knew that Dean would be proud of what he’d managed to become despite the odds.

The boots, stretching past even his knees, came in handy. If there was a rainstorm, they helped keep him dry if he needed to slog through the water. Not far from his bed, his old boots sat, from when he was first cursed and transported to the forest. They were factory made, unlike the sprite clothing, but far too worn and small for him to use anymore.

A belt was next, and the rapier attached to it fit his side perfectly. Last, but not least, Sam tucked away his silver knife into an inside pocket he’d helped design himself, just for that reason. He would never go anywhere without the well-made weapon. Even the sprites envied the craftsmanship that had gone into it. Dean has always put his soul into anything he made, a single-minded focus that Sam envied.

Straightening his uniform, Sam glanced at his reflection in the basin of water and knew he was ready to face the day.

Sam Winchester, knight of Wellwood, was ready.

The walk to Bowman’s place was around five to ten minutes, depending on how fast he went.

Sam took his time, watching the sprites slowly waking up around him. More than one stretched out on their porch, wings spread in the sun to gather up the early light. Nestlings were beginning to wake as well, and Sam saw more than one sprite mother down on the ground watching as her child gathered up the pine needles that lay scattered on the ground not far from the home trees.

It was a good place to live.

Each branch of the tree that formed Sam’s home had a family living in it. He had his own place to himself at the age of 23. Bowman’s family had offered him to live with them until he settled down with someone, but Sam couldn’t help but seek out privacy on occasion and this made it easier. He didn’t want them to feel guilty that some days, he just wanted to stare out at the world and watch the days pass him by. The same way the human world, far outside of the village, had done ever since his curse.

He didn’t regret his new life, but he did miss his old one. Even Dean’s voice was fading from his mind, and that was something he regretted more than anything. Soon he might not remember what his brother looked like. A spike of blond hair and a flash of green eyes was all Sam could hold onto.

Because the nestlings were flightless until their wings came in, each tree had stairs winding around and inside and forming pathways to each home. It made it easy for a certain small human, as wingless as the youngest children, to get around. Sam followed a familiar route, smiling at any sprites that flitted by him. He wasn’t bothered by his lack of flight.

He’d found other ways to adapt.

Bowman’s branch was higher up, and when Sam reached the family home, he strolled right in. He was always welcome back with his adopted family, and he found Candara bustling about as she always did. Sam gave her a warm smile and a hug, and kissed her on her forehead. “Bowman sleeping the day away?” he asked with a knowing glint in his eyes.

Candara chuckled knowingly. "Sleeping the sun right up, as always," she confirmed. "If it weren't for you and Rischa, he'd never have breakfast, the featherhead." With a rustle of leafy green wings, she returned to her task of shredding mint leaves for the flat, round breads she had made.

A light tap tap tap of little shoes preceded a young girl all but bursting out of the hall and into the main room of the bigger house, a smile lighting up her dark skinned face. Golden eyes peered up at Sam and she bounded towards him. Her dainty wings were folded behind her back, and her two braids and the colorful scarf tied at her waist swished with every jolly step.

"Good morning, Sam!" Rischa greeted. "Daddy already left, mama's making mintbread, and Bowman just grumbled at me when I checked on him."

Candara laughed, amusement twinkling in her bright green eyes. "Oh, he actually tried to say something?"

Rischa shook her head. "No! Just grumbled and turned over like he always does."

Sam grinned in amusement. “I’ll have to fix that, then.” He folded his arms around the young sprite, carefully keeping away from the dainty wings that sprouted from her back. He’d been among the sprites for so long that it was reflexive nowadays. Seeing someone without wings would be odder to him than seeing them with wings. “Can’t go without breakfast, that’s for sure. We’ve got a lot planned for today.”

Letting Rischa free, Sam headed for the hall. He gave her a wink over his shoulder as he found Bowman’s bedroom. The sprite was flopped on his bed, arms and legs sprawled carelessly over the edges. Bowman never willingly got up, and Sam was left wondering if he’d even wake up before the afternoon if they didn’t wake him. His late night races with other sprites his age left him sleeping soundly.

Sam padded over to the bed, his boots not making a noise against the floor. He gave a wicked grin as he grabbed the edge of the cover Bowman was laying on.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

With that, Sam hauled up on the cover to flip Bowman off the bed.

Chapter Text

A half-formed word yelped out of Bowman's mouth and he flinched, but it was far too late. He tumbled to the floor, wings twitching and limbs flailing. If the jolt of Sam's ridiculous strength hauling him upwards wasn't enough to wake him, hitting the floor finished the job. Despite this happening several times before, he never could manage to prepare himself for it and Sam took full advantage of that fact.

Bowman rolled over with a groan and sat up, stretching his wings behind him as much as he could before bumping them against the wall. "You and your blasted tricks," he groused, leveling a glare up at Sam's smug look. "I oughta bop you!"

Giggling from the doorway drew his gaze. Rischa leaned around it, her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter at the sight of them. Though she was Candara's daughter and thus Bowman's cousin by birth, both Sam and Bowman were more like very entertaining big brothers to her. Bowman grumbled again, but couldn't bring himself to tell her off, too. No one ever could, really.

"Sleepyhead!" Rischa teased, before scampering away from the door with a laugh.

Bowman sighed and ran both his hands through his mess of wild green hair, which had no effect on its haphazard spike whatsoever. "At least you didn't wake me up before sunrise this time," he mused.

Sam leaned over to help Bowman to his feet, but not before he teasingly jabbed one of the leafy green wings. It twitched in response. “You should be thanking me. If I left it up to you, we’d never get out on patrol!” With that, Sam latched a hand around Bowman’s arm to haul the sprite to his feet. The young human didn’t have an issue with Bowman’s slight weight.

“Besides,” Sam smirked, “you never have any luck ‘bopping’ me. Now are you gonna laze around all day, or am I going to fly circles around you?” It greatly entertained him to tease Bowman about his flying prowess, knowing how proud of his wings the sprite was.

Indeed, Bowman narrowed his eyes and flicked his recently poked wings pointedly. “You're crafty, but not enough to manage that outside your dreams,” he shot back.

The knight and the patrolsprite made a great team out in the forest. Sam’s strength, as strangely emphasized as it was compared to the sprites, came in handy when they were out exploring. That, coupled with his rapier and his knife, was a deterrent against any wild animals that might bother them throughout the day. Bowman was the fastest flyer around, and if something happened to them out there, he could be back at the village getting help in record time. Because of that, they took advantage and flew the farthest patrols into the forest, exploring places rarely seen by anyone else.

Somewhere deep inside, Sam knew he’d always want to push the barrier of the ‘known’ forest, searching for any sign of other humans.

“C’mon, let’s get some food so we can get out there!” Sam couldn’t absorb nutrients from the sun while they flew, so he’d also have to make sure he had a store of supplies on hand just in case they were out the entire day. Patrolling was tiring work and they wouldn’t return until night was falling, based on their normal patterns.

"Yes, yes," Bowman answered with mock irritation, waving a hand dismissively. Behind him, his wing mimicked the gesture. He stepped around Sam, purposefully bumping a wing into him to get a cheap shot at him. He knelt next to a small chest of clothes opposite his bed, and rummaged through it for a clean shirt and scarf.

It was a quick task to discard the shirt he'd slept in and don the new one, making sure the slits in the back lined up over his wings. Once the scarf was tied around his waist, Bowman tugged his boots on and deemed himself presentable.

Presentable enough, anyway. His hair would do as it pleased. At least it wasn't flat on one side from sleeping on it.

By the time they returned to the main room, Rischa was sitting politely on one of the benches, a flat, round piece of acorn bread in her hands with a dollop of jam and some mint sprinkled over it. She smiled at them and fanned her wings in greeting.

Candara was ready for them. Not three steps into the room, she had placed a similar breakfast in each of their hands. "Sam, love, I wrapped up some extras for you," she explained, pointing out a cloth sling sitting on the counter waiting for him. "Be sure you get enough to eat today," she added, like she always did.

Sam shook his head ruefully and smiled in thanks. “You know I always do,” he countered easily. Because he didn’t absorb sunlight the way the sprites did, Candara always seemed to assume he was just on the edge of starvation if he wasn’t constantly eating good meals. Far from it - he’d not only grown up to rival most wood sprites in height, he was broader and stronger than any other resident of the village. The thin, willowy race was built for dexterity and versatility in the air, a far cry from humans with their broader shoulders and thicker frames.

“In fact,” Sam continued on, pausing only to take a bite of his breakfast, “with the extras you made me, I’ll have enough supplies on hand that we won’t need to stop to gather food at all if we’re out for the day. I made sure to pack all the bags, and there’s enough water for both of us.” The jam and mint went well together, and Sam found his words drifting off as he decided to focus on the morning meal.

"Good!" Candara chuckled and left her boys to their breakfast, taking a seat next to Rischa for a short break. They hadn't come to live with her until Bowman was 9 and Sam 14, 4 years after Sam's sudden and mysterious arrival in Wellwood, clinging to the High Knight for safety and comfort. A bare year after they moved in, Rischa had been born, making Candara's household much fuller than she'd ever expected. She was proud of her family every day, and it always showed in her smile.

Rischa finished off her breakfast and swung her legs casually where she sat on the bench. "When are you gonna let me go with you? I wanna see the 'fence' with all the vines and flowers on it!" she asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Bowman answered her before Candara could. "Someday, Birdie, but your wings are still small and you'd get tired before we got that far."

Rischa hummed thoughtfully and her wings flickered. "That's what you said yesterday," she complained mildly.

Bowman chuckled and shared a grin with Sam. "We'll say the same tomorrow unless you wake up with bigger wings." That said, he stretched out one wing, reaching it across to tickle at her side with the very tip. Rischa squealed and squirmed towards her mother for rescue, and Candara swatted Bowman's wing away.

“Don’t worry, Birdie,” Sam said reassuringly. “Once your wings get big enough, there’s no going back. You’ll have Bowman trying to keep up with you in no time at all!”

Ever since the youngest member of the family had been born, Sam and Bowman had both taken to her like a little sister of their own. She was probably the most doted upon sprite in the village, and always had the most warmth and cheer to share.

Sam especially appreciated her help. More than once, she’d come to find him when he was sitting out on the porch, staring at the trees around him. There were days his mind would slip into the past and remember his old life, and wonder what had become of Dean. Rischa couldn’t answer the questions that roiled in his mind, but she could be there for him while he pondered them.

Had his older brother escaped the witch? Was that why Sam had been cast to the forest on his own? The worse possibility always rose to mind soon after... Had Dean been banished to the forest with Sam… only to fall prey to the animals that lurked about? For a child only three inches tall, everything was dangerous. The only reason Sam had escaped was Scar’s timely intervention, and even that had been close.

It was those few short moments watching Scar take on the squirrel heedlessly for a kid he’d never met that drove Sam to join the knights. If he couldn’t go find his family, hunt or go to college like he’d dreamed, he’d do what he could to make a difference. He’d save others, just as he had been saved.

Rischa would appear whenever Sam was lost in his thoughts out on the porch, and simply come sit with him. Her support meant the world for him, and made the day a little easier to face. He might never find out what had become of Dean, but he would do what he could to be a man his brother would be proud of.

Sam finished off his breakfast and brushed his hands together. “We should head out soon, since someone didn’t wake with the dawn.”

Bowman threw Sam a very put-upon look while Rischa giggled. "The forest will still be there," he assured him, faking a grumpy rustle of his wings. In truth, now that he was awake, Bowman was just as eager as Sam to get going. Patrol suited him well, giving him an excuse to fly as much as he wanted every single day. All he had to do was report what he saw at the end of the day.

He picked up the cloth sling of extra food and shoved it at Sam with a grin. "We better go get your wings, if you wanna pretend you can keep up with me," he suggested, making his way to the door.

“I’ll have you know I’m getting faster!” Sam shot back at Bowman gamely. He gave Candara and Rischa a half-wave as he ran forward to keep up with his adopted younger brother. “I worked on them last night after I saw you. One day you’ll be the one trying to keep up!”

The outdoor world was just as peaceful as when Sam had first arrived, and he took a deep breath of the fresh air. The smells of asphalt and car exhaust were merely a memory in the young human’s mind. Out here, all he knew was the fresh scent of pine, mint leaves ready to eat, the smell of a new rainstorm rolling in over the forest. Even the pungent aromas of burgers and fries and all greasy things that his family had subsisted on for so long were gone from his memory.

“So I was thinking,” Sam said as he set off down the path, “we could go out as far as we can reach today.” He gave a wry grin, knowing if anyone was going to hold them back, it would be him. It was a small price to pay to be able to patrol with his younger brother, though. “I’ve got the supplies, after all.” He tossed up the small sack of food. In the Wellwood, he’d never gone hungry with the way the sprites tried to feed him. Like I’ll starve if I stop eating.

Bowman grinned and stretched his arms over his head as he walked. His usual inclination was to take flight right out the door. However, since Sam had to use the stairs, Bowman opted to walk with him instead. It was a short descent to his home, and once Sam was ready, they could both fly to their hearts' content.

"I think that's a fantastic idea," he replied, though he had a feeling Sam already knew what he'd say. Once Bowman started flying, it was tough to get him to come back down. Diligent practice and determination to improve had made him into the village's most accomplished flyer, an impressive record to hold. Bowman would be too restless if he had to stop flying for too long.

"Maybe we can go past the fence, even," he mused. Bowman had long wondered what the giant humans were like. He'd heard so much over the years about Sam's brother, Dean. About the world he'd been yanked away from to be dropped in Wellwood with no way of defending himself at sprite size. More than once, Bowman had found himself wishing he could meet this older brother of Sam's, holding out the same private hope that Sam did of finding him one day.

They arrived at Sam's branch. His home was unique in several ways. Aside from extra large storage rooms (insisted upon for the man who wouldn't photosynthesize), a front awning of sorts had been grown with it, with work benches and open space in the middle. Sam called it a 'garage' and Bowman liked to point out what a silly gibberish word that was.

He was practically bouncing and his wings almost ached to get him airborne. "Alright, let's get flying!"

“Hold your horses!” Sam said, knowing how much Bowman hated it when he used his strange ‘human sayings.’ Sprites had no way of knowing where the saying had come from, or really, what horses were, after all. The closest example they had were deer. “It’ll just take a minute to get ready.”

The garage held Sam’s pride and joy. After years of watching sprites flit around the treetops and remembering his flight to the cottonwood palace with Scar, Sam had yearned to find his own way into the sky. Bowman had graciously given up his own time (and allowed his wings to be prodded at while Sam figured out aerodynamics), for the chance to fly in the air with his adopted older brother.

Determination saw Sam through, and now he could take the food Candara had given him and place it in one of the bags he had attached to his very own pair of ‘wings.’

A glider made of leaves and designed to soar.

Chapter Text

Belts hung down from the glider, and Sam went through a few quick checks to make sure his homemade wings were ready for flight. It wouldn’t do to have a belt snap when he was twelve feet up in the air. He had other safeties in place in case that ever happened, but it wouldn’t be a good way to end a patrol. He’d have to fix the glider out there in the forest, away from the safety of the village.

Each leaf placed in the sail of the glider was carefully waxed to keep them from withering and curling out of the shape he needed. During the spring, Sam would find the healthiest leaves with the best shape. A little maple seed formed a tail rudder that he could use to change trajectory. Sticks were woven together with sprite made rope to keep the glider in one piece, and with one last tug, Sam deemed it ready for travel.

He looped the belts around his body, and grasped the front. Just as much excitement bubbled up inside of him as he glanced at Bowman. No matter how many times he made this trip, it would never get old. Already the adrenaline was surging inside.

Sam’s grip tightened on the crossbar, and then, with a push, he ran heedlessly towards the edge of the branch. “See you on the other side!” he called out to Bowman with a reckless laugh.

Bowman had certainly infected Sam with his love of flying all those years growing up together.

The glider plummeted for the first two feet, and then, as always, it caught the air and arched back up towards the sky. Sam let out a joyful laugh as the ground dropped back down and he was flying.

Bowman grinned and waited for Sam's glider to climb another foot before leaning to the side and dropping off the branch himself. It had taken a lot of practice, but there was no sprite in the village that could top Bowman's ability to slip out of freefall in barely an instant. His wings filled with air and angled gracefully to carry him after Sam.

The excitement of being able to fly with his brother had never really tapered off. When Bowman first took to the air, Sam had to wait on the ground for him to come back down. The boy with no wings might have taken longer to figure it out, but he'd learned how to follow.

And his glider was pretty good, all teasing aside.

While it couldn't match a sprite for sheer agility and maneuverability in the air, it worked remarkably well as a pair of constructed wings for Sam. Designed after many sketches and sessions poking at Bowman's wings, it mimicked a sprite's glide extremely well. Sam could bank in any direction, and if he found a decent updraft, he could stay in the air indefinitely.

That was where Bowman came in. His wings, filled with the sensitive nerves that he'd honed to test the tiniest shifts in air pressure and the winds around him, enabled him to find those updrafts if Sam's glider began to dip lower to the ground. While Sam usually glided along at a steady, calm pace, Bowman flitted to and fro.

Naturally, today was no different. As the pair passed over the stream on their way out, waving at the few sprites doing their washing by the bank, Bowman did a midair roll above the glider from one side to the other, leveling out in a glide alongside Sam. "You picked a good day for distance flying," he commented, even as they passed through several bars of light filtering down from above.

Sam grinned back. “If I could, I’d be out here everyday!” he called back. The belts he’d designed as a harness held him suspended horizontally with the glider, and some of his supply bags hung from either side, the weight in them balanced. They served as ballast to prevent the wind from knocking the glider over, and let him stay out as long as a sprite.

Where Bowman could be sustained by the rays of the sun while they soared in the sky, the same as all sprites, Sam would actually have to break to eat a snack at some point. The bags held pastries and rations, along with water for both of them. If he didn’t need a full supply, he would replace the food with rocks to level out the glider.

It had taken practice to master the glider, but Sam was an expert at following Bowman’s lead. Unlike the sprite, he couldn’t find the air currents that would help and he also couldn’t spot the currents that would hinder. Bowman had saved his ass more than once.

If it was a stormy day out, the rain would keep Sam in. The glider wasn’t good at handling in the rain, so he’d stay near the home trees and help keep watch for any wild animals that might wander close. He might not be able to fly around to annoy the animals into leaving, but his rapier had more muscle behind it than a sprite’s. He had sent more than one possum packing. A scar on its snout served as a helpful reminder for the animal to give the Wellwood village a wide berth.

“If we’re lucky,” Sam continued, “we can get all the way to the fence today. I think she can do it.” He rubbed a hand against the sticks that made up the skeleton of the leaf glider. “See everything there is to see.”

"I think we can," Bowman agreed, meandering up higher and then dropping back down again. The tip of one wing brushed past a low-hanging tuft of leaves, rattling them even as he and Sam left them in their tailwind. "What's a couple miles to us? It'll be easy."

His confidence was punctuated by a breeze picking up around them. It nudged the glider to the side, and Bowman followed, watchful in case he needed to guide Sam to better winds. They flew as a team, and they did it well, needing few words to cue a new direction or point out a potential threat.

"You can finally tell me what the stupid yellow signs stuck to the fence say," Bowman mused, remembering his one visit to the metal wall of wires. Sam hadn't finished his glider yet, and thus hadn't been able to decipher the blocky human letters for him. Bowman did his best, and he'd learned to recognize most of them, but he wasn't as confident in the lettering.

“One of these days you’ll be the one reading it to me!” Sam replied. He grinned and angled the glider slightly down to catch some speed. So long as he didn’t let it fall too far, he could usually get back up to the same height without a problem. Just like flying a kite.

Thoughts like that made him wish he’d been able to spend more time with Dean just being a kid. Not stuck in some motel room watching Transformers and Sonic the Hedgehog.

The glider caught the air and Sam leveled back out. Being up in the sky felt so free. Ever since being downsized and living with the sprites, he’d felt so trapped on the ground. He’d never noticed it as a child because everything was made for his size, but once he was cursed it was glaringly obvious from day one, when Scar had rescued him from a squirrel.

Sam tried to remember the layout of the forest. He didn’t know it as well as Bowman, but he was getting there with practice. “Isn’t there a… field between us and the fence from here?”

Fields were a bit more dangerous to cross, but with any luck there would be no birds of prey up in the air so early in the morning. From the sky, a hawk could spot a mouse slipping through the grass from a hundred feet in the air. Sprites had to be alert at all times when they weren’t under the cover of the foliage. It was one of their cardinal rules to never fly over the canopy for any distance.

Bowman glanced around, noting the landmarks and the trees he knew of the area. After patrolling it so much almost every day, he knew the forest well, possibly better than any other patrolsprite. He nodded absently. "Yeah ... yeah, a mile or so out I think," he confirmed. "There's a clearing, but it's not too big."

At the very least, they'd be able to prepare if something dove at them. Both of them knew to watch for hawks, and both had a way to change direction quickly to try to avoid a dive. Bowman wasn't worried, and he zig-zagged in the air as they flew along.

There was a warning squawk from a blue jay in one of the trees they passed by and Bowman snickered. They were moving too quickly for the silly bird to really bother with them. "Someone's feathers are in a bunch," he commented, tucking his wings in to fly through another tuft of leaves, bursting out on the other side.

Despite the dangers of flying that lurked here and there, Bowman could think of no better way to spend his days. The simple elation of soaring with the wind in his face and wings, of the ground speeding by below them, lifted his spirits even when nothing else could. "When we get to the field we should see how fast you can cross it. Test your wings' top speed!" he suggested.

“Hell yeah!” Sam agreed, almost wanting to will the glider forward. He’d never adjusted to using the sprite swear of Ashland in place of hell, another point that always made him laugh at the looks he got in return. Sprite swears and his own ‘peculiar’ human swears had merged in his mind.

The mile passed under their wings swiftly, and ahead of him Sam could see the trees grow sparse. Beyond the edge of the foliage lay a clearing where they’d be exposed, but he didn’t have to spend as much work swerving around the obstacles. Sam spent the last few minutes before they got to the clearing trying to coax more height out of his glider, a few helpful pointers from Bowman helping him climb higher in the air.

They reached the edge of the forest at last. The sprite and the sprite-sized human burst into the open air, and Sam angled his glider slightly down for the sheer speed. It was like swooping down a rollercoaster, and right at the bottom of the arc he’d catch the air and go right back --

Sam’s train of thought was derailed as he saw the state of the grass below him. Stalks were broken right in half and clear signs of something big passing through could be seen.

Instinctively, he angled back upwards. Hawks were less of a concern than a pack of wolves lurking around. If they approached the village, there might be a fight between the sprites and the wolves, and Sam would want to be a part of it.

He was shaken from his train of thought all over again when he saw what was past the line of broken grass. In a small clearing, in plain view with its color standing out against the natural foliage around, was a backpack.

A human’s backpack.

Bowman flew side to side, and banked in a loop around the enormous thing, as quickly distracted as Sam had been. He checked it from all angles, frowning at the strange materials of it and glancing up at Sam to see if he knew what it was. Bowman dove closer to it, curious and wondering if ... maybe a giant was nearby!

There were other oddities in the clearing. Right in the middle, a spade bigger than Bowman or Sam's bed sat idly next to a pit dug in the ground, one almost as deep as Bowman and Sam were tall. Pieces of wood, broken and arranged neatly, were piled next to the one boulder in the clearing.

And, above all were the tracks. They were nothing like wolf or deer or even rabbit tracks. They were big and meandering and some of them were very clearly shaped like bigger versions of the footprints a sprite might leave.

Bowman circled the backpack one more time and scanned the trees around them, but found no signs of the actual giant itself. After a moment of internal debate, he landed on the enormous bag to run his hand over what looked like a line of metallic teeth. "What is this?" he wondered aloud.

Sam had to be more cautious as he landed. In order to take off from the ground, the glider was going to need space, so he shot for the open area that had been cleared next to the backpack. Otherwise, he might not be getting back up into the air. It would be a long trip home without his own wings.

The ground rose up below his feet, and Sam let his body angle so his boots touched down first. He ran for a few inches as the glider slowed, and came to a halt. The belts were easy to take off, while he kept a sharp eye and ear out for the possible owner of the backpack and other items strewn about.

Sam swallowed as he stepped away from the glider. Being down on the ground near a backpack he might once have worn to school so many years ago was bringing back memories and the feeling of being small that had assaulted him so many times as a child. It had taken time to adapt to being able to use an acorn for storage or a leaf for shelter. Years of work had him adjusted to living with the sprites, but now he had a sharp sense of how wrong his size was.

Cautiously, he approached the backpack. The fabric that made up the exterior was thick and cumbersome. He found it easy to thread his fingers between the weave to help his ascent. Bowman was still staring down at the zipper as he approached, and despite everything else, Sam had to smile at the confusion in the sprite’s eyes. He’d seen that exact look so many times when trying to explain foreign concepts to the little sprite that had taken him in and adopted him as a brother.

“It’s a zipper,” Sam supplied gently. There was no way for the sprites to even have a concept of what a zipper was. Their only experience with metal was what they used to make the metal rapiers, one of which was attached to Sam’s side for protection. The weight was a comfort, knowing they were out in the open so long as they were in the field. Sam could fend off many animals if he had to, and Bowman’s threat display with his wings would come in handy if they needed to intimidate any animals.

Not that any of that would work on a human, of course.

Sam took a step forward on the backpack, staring around at their surroundings. “Holy shit…” he trailed off into uncertainty. “I never… had any idea how blasted big it all was.”

Bowman nodded emphatically in agreement. "This thing is huge." He took a few cautious steps on the bag, his boots barely sinking into it. The container was overfull, with what felt like cloth.

He peered over the side. A bucket was lashed to the side of the bag, no doubt a way for the giant to collect water. It would flood a sprite's home if that much water went through. It was a good thing they were all off the ground.

He nearly slipped over the edge of the curved bag, and flapped his wings a few times to regain his sure footing. He returned to the middle, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the clearing, and then peered up into the sky. No hawks flew overhead, so they had some time to figure out what they'd do.

Bowman realized something and looked over his shoulder at Sam. "Did you say those teeth things are called zippers? " he blurted, once again amazed by a new human word. He shook his head ruefully. "One day I'm gonna find out for sure if you're just making up words on the spot to mess with me, and if you are, I'll bop you."

Despite the circumstances of finding evidence of a giant within the safe lands of the fence, Sam couldn’t hold in a laugh. “Yes, it’s a zipper and you know I wouldn’t make that up. It’s used to zip something closed… like a jacket or a backpack. That way anything you have inside won’t fall out.”

The zipper was certainly holding stuff inside. Sam wandered along the edge of the teeth, searching for where the zipper started. “Hmm…” he hummed thoughtfully to himself as he went along. “Here!”

Sam slid down the last few inches to the slider, amazed that it was the length of his arm. His curiosity was aroused, and he couldn’t resist grasping it. This was the first evidence he’d ever seen of other humans. He wanted to know everything he could before they had to leave. And they would have to leave. It was dangerous to let other humans know there were sprites around. Though Sam did wonder if Dean would ever reappear, he doubted he’d ever see his older brother. The elder Winchester brother wasn’t much of a camper like this mysterious human.

Giving the slider a good yank, Sam parted the zipper slowly but surely. He almost slipped a time or two, but took it slow and steady, placing his feet with care on the uneven surface.

Bowman's green eyes widened and he watched as, somehow, Sam pulling along that tab wrenched the metal teeth apart with ease. Indeed, he could hear the faint zip sound that must have given the ridiculous contraption its name. Bowman sidled along as Sam worked, putting his greater strength to use. His wings fanned as his curiosity grew.

"Spirit's dance, it's like a magic trick," he commented, inching forward. Bowman settled on his knees with his hands cautiously on the edge of the opening Sam had made. He wasn't sure why, but he avoided touching the metal teeth directly.

The top layer of whatever the bag contained looked to be more thick cloth of some kind, rolled tightly in a bundle. Bowman leaned into the opening to push at it with a hand, and ran his fingertips over the strange material. It reminded him heavily of the pen that Sam had in his pockets when he first arrived.

"It's made outta that ... plas-tic stuff," he announced, stumbling over the word he didn't often use. He sat back up, popping out of the bag once more. Curiosity lit up his eyes and he glanced around, wings twitching. "I wonder where the actual giant is."

Sam let go of the zipper and stepped back, glancing around the clearing. “I dunno…” he said worriedly. “I can’t imagine someone would just leave their things like this.” He tried to think of reasons for someone to be gone so long. “They might have run to the bathroom… or gone for a hike.”

A spike of worry hit him at that thought. “Are the tracks heading towards the village?” The thought of a giant strolling into their home unannounced was grim. Children on the ground wouldn’t be able to fly. It would be up to the knights to stave the giant off long enough to get people to safety. With any luck, Cerul could reason with the human, if it came down to it. Sam was proof that humans weren’t necessarily dangerous to the sprites.

But they could be, especially if they wanted to.

Bowman glanced up again, and stared around at the trees. Sam's worry hadn't occurred to him right away, though it should have. If they were going by the usual rules, they'd already have turned around to head towards home and let the others know of what they found. After all, patrolsprites weren't supposed to take things on at all, and knights weren't supposed to go it alone if they didn't have to.

"I'll check," he announced, before fluttering into the air. He made wider and wider circles around the bag until he found the direction the tracks seemed to follow. He found where the giant had trudged into the clearing, on heavy shoes from the looks of things. It was hard to follow the trail in most places, but eventually he found signs of the direction the giant must have gone.

Still hovering, he looked back over at Sam, and pointed. "I think they lead that way. The stream should lead past somewhere over there, maybe that's where they are," he suggested.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “They must be still be setting up camp,” he surmised. The small patch of cleared ground wasn’t completely downtrodden, the firewood was stacked up next to what would become a firepit - a very big firepit, and there was no sign of blackened coals in the center. “If they’d been here yesterday someone would have reported them.”

The patrolsprites did a good job of surveying the lands inside of the fence. Sam wanted to get out to see what the fence actually said on it one day so he could know for sure, but considering how the sprites had lived for so many years isolated from civilization, he could only assume it kept most trespassers out.

Sam scuffed a boot against the thick fabric of the backpack, looking around at his surroundings with longing in his eyes. More than anything, he wanted to know more. Even a chance to talk to another human, see what had happened out in the world and how things had changed. “We should go,” he said hollowly. “If anything is going to happen with the human, we’ll want backup.”

Bowman opened his mouth to agree, even drifted back towards Sam to join him on the bag. Then, a noise stopped him and he hovered in place, his eyes widening. His gaze whipped to the side, back in the direction he'd pointed out only moments ago.

Where a giant was supposed to be.

There was a distant crash, and then another. In a rhythmic pattern that Bowman could only imagine was footsteps, the noise grew closer and closer. It couldn't be anything else. Wolves and foxes and deer didn't crash through the forest. They stalked or tiptoed, but they didn't make noise unless desperate.

Bowman looked around wildly, taking in the details he knew. A giant was approaching them. They were out in the open. He shot a warning glance at Sam, though he was certain his brother knew what that sound meant, and knew he needed to get to cover.

They could head back to the village as soon as the human was unaware enough. For now, they had to hide. Bowman shot upwards and to the side, swiftly concealing himself among the leaves of one of the trees edging the clearing.

“Dammit,” Sam hissed. He grabbed the zipper, hauling it closed to try and disguise the fact that they’d been there. His footing slipped, and he tumbled head over heels on the cushioned surface. He landed with a “Oof!” of surprise, and glanced up.

The footsteps were closer.

“Son of a bitch!” The curse that slipped out that time wasn’t one of Sam’s normal curses, human or sprite. It came to mind out of nowhere with a brief memory of his brother snapping it out in frustration.

No time. Sam scrambled to his feet and dove for the edge of the backpack. He swung carelessly down, hitting the ground solidly. His eyes widened as he glanced a few feet across the clearing and saw his glider.

There was no way for him to reach it in time.

Chapter Text

Jacob trudged back towards his camp.

After exploring the area around the clearing he'd chosen, and locating a stream for fresh water, he determined he should return and think about setting up his tent. If the weather suddenly took a turn for the worse, he wanted to have shelter ready.

He shuffled into the clearing, squinting as the bright sunlight assaulted his eyes once more. The forest was tranquil, lit by a cheerful sun and tousled by a gentle breeze. Jacob paused at the edge of the clearing to stretch his arms over his head until he heard a satisfying pop in his back.

It felt amazing to be out away from the world for a while. Jacob was generally content, but he relished a chance to be on his own with no obligations except to make sure he stayed safe. He hardly even had a phone signal out here to bother him.

He took a few more heavy steps into the clearing, suddenly wondering if the heat and the contentment were lulling him into a potential afternoon nap. He could lean his bag against that boulder and set up his tent afterwards, if he really wanted to.

Before he could contemplate that line of thought, something caught his eye. At first, Jacob thought it was a fallen cluster of leaves. Then, on closer inspection, he noticed that the leaves seemed to have fallen in a far more uniform arrangement than they should. He ambled over to a small grassless patch near his backpack and squatted down to peer at it. His eyes widened as he realized what it had to be.

Jacob reached out a hand and, as carefully as he could, scooped it under the strange little object. He cupped his other hand under it in a hurry so he didn't drop it to the ground as he lifted it up to look closer.

From there, it was easier to see the arrangement of sticks and tiny strings attached to the thing. Leaves and sticks all crafted together to form the tiniest hang glider Jacob had ever seen. The model work was impressive, and he found himself wondering who had crafted it and how it had ended up in his camp.

It definitely hadn't been there earlier.

Sam almost held his breath as the human came into view. Footsteps that looked like normal steps sent vibrations through the ground, shaking him all the way from where he was hiding in the shadow of the backpack. The sight of the immense guy stretching sent chills up his back.

The kid was tall.

He was clearly younger than Sam, his features softer. That wouldn’t matter very much, unfortunately. Sam couldn’t be longer than a finger, if that.

I can’t believe I used to be a giant like that.

Being tall enough to scoop up a pile of leaves in his hands felt wrong now. Years ago he’d been banished to a forest all alone and barely over two and a half inches, protesting that he was supposed to be four and a half feet tall. Sam had accepted his new life, and found himself enjoying his adopted family, his home in the tree and his place as a knight. The only part he really missed was his family. If he could just find Dean, everything would feel right.

The pop of the giant’s bones cracking made Sam shiver and he ducked closer to the side of the backpack, almost huddling against it.

The next part caught Sam off guard.

The giant’s eyes swept the clearing, landing on Sam’s leaf glider. That didn’t alarm him as much as the prickle of danger that raced up his neck. It was a tangible sensation.

Sam let out a gasp of surprise.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. The sight of a massive hand sweeping down towards his glider came next, and Sam had to clench his hands into fists. He’d poured his heart and soul into that little glider, and now he saw it outlined in a massive hand. All it would take was the guy clenching his fist, and all that hard work would be put to an end in a pile of broken twigs and torn leaves. Not only that, but Sam would be stranded far from the village with no way back.

“C’mon, Bowman,” Sam muttered under his breath. He scanned the skies, hoping that the sprite had gone for backup. There was no way the two of them would be able to take this guy on alone, and Bowman was the fastest in the village. His pride in his wings was well-deserved. If anyone could get help in time, it would be him.

Bowman watched from above with wide eyes. A moment of hesitation was all it took for him to see those massive hands fall on Sam's glider, scooping it up like it weighed nothing to him. Bowman shuddered in his hiding place among the leaves at the sight. He couldn't help but envision his own wings compared to those hands.

Over the years, Bowman had imagined what it might be like if they found Sam's brother, or if they met any human that hadn't been shrunk down like Sam was. He had thought it'd be a fascinating experience, and there was a seed of truth; he was fascinated now.

However, he was also scared.

The human was a lot bigger than he ever imagined they could be. From high up in the tree, Bowman could still see so many of the details on that huge face as brown eyes the size of his head skated over the glider with a fascinated gleam.

Bowman's heart pounded. He could see Sam's hiding spot from his high vantage point. His brother was so woefully exposed, even huddled next to the bag like that. He was barely feet away from the human, and he had no glider or avenue for escape. If the human broke the glider ...

Bowman had to get help. He tensed, ready to dart home as fast as he could. Sam had his rapier and could defend himself until help arrived. He might even be able to talk to his fellow human without Cerul's help.

Wings spread wide and ready to carry him back to the village, Bowman paused and glanced back at the human once more. He saw those hands absently lower closer to the ground again, saw that gaze trail along the line of grass around him. It wandered closer and closer to Sam's hidden position, and suddenly Bowman's plans came to a screeching halt and changed directions.

He couldn't leave Sam to the unknown motivations of some giant kid, but he could try to give his brother a chance to get some better cover.

Bowman dove from the tree like a hawk himself, his wings tucked in close. When he neared the ground, they snapped open and caught his dive, allowing him an elegant landing in front of where the human squatted.

A few things happened at once. The human blurted out a swear that Bowman recognized from Sam. The glider slipped to the ground from his lowered hands, thankfully looking a little askew but not broken. And then the human fell backwards, landing in a seated position and shaking the ground beneath Bowman's feet.

It was safe to say Bowman had his attention.

Bowman glanced aside once at Sam, trying to convey his desperate plan in just one look. Then, he turned and darted up again, dashing into the woods in a random direction, but not too fast. He needed to distract the giant long enough for Sam to get to his glider and take off.

Bowman looked over his shoulder only once, seeing the human get to his feet hastily. A thunderous noise, the human’s voice, echoed out of that huge chest. "Wait!" it called after him, before giving chase exactly like he expected.

Sam had always said that humans would be fascinated by sprites, much like the sprites were fascinated with Sam when he arrived. They were just so different that curiosity was unavoidable.

Once Bowman thought Sam had had a chance to get to safety, he'd give the giant the slip. He'd head back and get reinforcements, and they'd all sort it out. His plan was hastily formed, but it was better than leaving Sam in such a vulnerable position.

Bowman was distracted by the crashing sounds of footsteps pursuing him. He wanted to dart upwards and hide among the leaves. Every instinct he had warned him that the thing chasing him was big and a lot stronger and could easily make a meal of him. He knew the prey instincts shouldn't be heeded as much, thanks to Sam explaining long ago that a human would never think of eating a sprite.

Instincts were instincts, however, and Bowman's were all on high alert. He swerved around trees and tried to keep the human in sight.

One more look over his shoulder to check the giant's progress did him in. Bowman turned around to see a mess of hanging vines in front of him. He let out a cry and tried to bank upwards, knowing he wasn't going fast enough to dart through the tangle. Of course, he was too late, and he crashed into the thick plants, which almost seemed to grab at him in their own surprise at his intrusion.

"No!" he blurted, fluttering his wings and thrashing wildly even as the human closed the distance between them.

"Woah," the human breathed, watching Bowman struggle for a while. Bowman saw a hand bigger than his bed approaching in his peripheral vision, and tried to flinch away from it, flaring his wings the best he could. He ended up freeing his arms from the vines, only to fall and hang upside down by a leg.

"Hey, you're okay," the human rumbled, and Bowman flinched, his eyes wide. That hand continued its approach and, before Bowman could squirm away, pinched his waist in a finger and thumb the size of his body.

After a few careful nudges at the vines, the human pulled Bowman free. That didn't stop his writhing and struggling. Now, he was held upright, pinched between two giant fingers. He put his hands on their tips, trying in vain to pry them apart. Even Sam's great strength wouldn't be enough to budge this hand!

"Lemme go!" Bowman snapped, leveling a glare up at the human while his heart still pounded. He could feel the footsteps the human took as each vibration shook all the way up through the massive body.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya," the human said in reply, frustrating Bowman to no end.

"That's not what I asked, idiot, I want you to let me go!" he shot back. The human only chuckled, and the clearing soon came back into view. Bowman wondered if Sam had managed to get to a better hiding place. As he kicked and squirmed, he sincerely hoped so.

Sam’s plans weren’t going as smoothly as Bowman might have hoped.

Watching from the shadow of the backpack, Sam nervously chewed his lip when Bowman made his daring move. It was the last thing Sam would have wanted him to do, but it was too late for them to go back.

All he could do was hope it paid off.

The second the human gave chase to the sprite, Sam ran out into the open. He needed to get to his glider and get back into the air so Bowman’s daring plan wasn’t carried out in vain.

The first thing that went wrong was the glider itself.

Sam growled as he saw that one of his ropes had come loose. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, especially considering the size of the hands that had been curled around the leafy flyer, but it wasn’t good. Sam wouldn’t be able to take off or fly until it was fixed.

He grabbed the rope, twisting it around in the fastest knot he could remember on the spot. It was haphazard, but it would have to do. He could hear the crashing footsteps moving away, but the second Bowman evaded the human, Sam would have to worry about the giant coming right back to the clearing. The area had been claimed by the guy, after all.

Sam twisted the belt around him and braced his foot against the ground. “C’mon, baby,” he muttered in a plea. “First time’s the charm today, okay?”

He ran, holding the glider up. The wind caught for a second, but he didn’t have the advantage of being high off the ground like when he was up in his home tree. Usually when he was taking off from the ground it could take a few attempts.

Which he didn't have time for.

The earthshaking ground combined with an alien tingle on the back of his neck to scream out danger, and Sam went for his hiding place. He gave a yank on his emergency rope, and the belt released him onto the ground. He desperately dragged the glider into hiding with him, knowing it was his only hope of escape. If he lost it or it got broken by the kid, Sam would be stranded. He’d need to try and escape into the tall grass the second the human wasn’t looking in his direction. That was it. Find a different bare patch of ground and take off from there.

Sam’s own plans came to a crashing halt when he saw what the human had pinched in a hand.

Bowman!

For a second, instead of seeing the proud wings of his brother, Sam saw a little sprite with wings that fluttered. Waking up to find that Bowman had nodded off trying to comfort him directly after the loss of his brother. The little sprite that looked up to him even though he didn’t have wings of his own and who’d cheered when Sam could reach the honeycomb on the top shelf.

He couldn’t leave Bowman anymore than Bowman could leave him.

Sam hunched down, his glider laying forgotten to the side. He waited with a hand on the hilt of his rapier, preparing himself for the worst. He would get Bowman out of this.

Somehow.

Chapter Text

While Sam waited in his hiding spot, almost holding his breath, Jacob was oblivious to everything else in the clearing. His eyes were fixed on the tiny winged man he'd managed to get his hand on, despite those speedy little wings that continued to flap and strike his hand. He sat down with his back against the boulder in the clearing, hardly even noticing that the glider he'd found was no longer where he’d dropped it.

The creature in his hand was far more interesting. And the little guy could talk! "What are you?" he asked in awe.

The little guy huffed, his potent little green-eyed glare losing none of its intensity. If Jacob wasn't eighteen times the size, he might be intimidated by the anger thrown his way. As it was, he was amazed that such a thing could even exist, at such a small size, out here in the woods. There were wolves around, or so he’d heard.

When Jacob didn't relent in his expectant look, the tiny man paused in his fruitless efforts to pry the fingers pinched around him apart. "What am I?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I'm blasted annoyed for one thing. Why don't you climb a dead tree, you ... you shit! " He almost sounded unsure of the final insult, though Jacob couldn't be sure why. He laughed anyway.

"Okay, annoyed ... and pretty funny. I'm not gonna hurt you, little guy," Jacob finally spoke, managing to stow his laughter enough to form the words. He reached out with his free hand and brushed at the wild hair atop the little fairy-like person's head before nudging at his little kicking leg to check out his boots.

"Stop that! Leave me alone! Let me go!" the tiny guy demanded. "You stupid human!"

Jacob smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way. "You're fine," he assured the little guy. "What's your name? I'm Jacob," he offered, hoping that he might yet find some normal train of conversation that might calm the little guy down.

"Oh, hi, Jacob, sun shine on you, it's real interesting how you won't listen and keep pinching me! " the little guy snapped back. To punctuate his words, he shoved at Jacob's fingertips again and flared up those amazing, leafy wings of his.

Jacob frowned thoughtfully, contemplating his hand and the tiny figure trapped within. After a pause, he shifted his grip on the little guy, catching him off-guard and causing those wings to flutter and the tiny legs to kick. Soon, however, his bottom half was wrapped up in a fist. Jacob was careful not to squeeze, and he wasn't pinching the little guy anymore, either. He was curious, but he didn’t want to hurt anyone. "There, how's that?"

All Jacob got in return for his trouble was an exasperated look before the little guy pounded his tiny little fists on Jacob's hand. Jacob lifted his fist up higher to take a closer look. That itty bitty, brown-skinned face had vibrant green eyes staring out of it, filled with as much ire as the little guy could manage while he was so determinedly punching at the grip around him.

"C'mon, won't you chill? I said I wouldn't hurt you. Won't you talk to me? At least tell me your name and what you are!"

"I don't want to!"

"Why?"

"I don't owe you a reason!" The little guy flared up his wings defiantly, and Jacob had to smile at his spunk. He was so bold for such a tiny person. Jacob found his free hand reaching up and gently pinching the edge of one of those flared wings, holding it open while he looked it over with interest. The little guy fell still, and his eyes were wide as he watched Jacob's hand warily.

Bowman wasn’t the only one holding his breath while Jacob was examining the wings. Sam was trying not to panic at the sight of how small and fragile the sprite’s proud wings were compared to a hand that could just about eclipse them entirely. At least if the human damaged the glider, Sam could just fix it. If Bowman’s wings were damaged, it could maim him for life.

Those wings were everything to Sam’s little brother.

Sam’s grip tightened on his rapier. He was insane for considering what he was about to do, but he had to get Bowman out of those hands. Jacob might not even mean to hurt the sprite. He was just that big compared to them.

I wonder if Dean’s that big.

Sam had to shake off those thoughts. It didn’t matter how big Dean was. After so many years, they didn’t know if he was even alive or had been cursed just like Sam. And if he hadn’t been cursed, there was a chance he would be killed anyway. He wanted to be a hunter growing up.

Hunters didn’t have the longest life expectancy.

Taking a deep breath, Sam steeled himself. Adrenaline was surging through his body. The alien sensation of huge eyes looking for him had him on edge, and now it was time to face that head on. Before Bowman got into worse trouble than he was already in.

Leaping out from behind the backpack, Sam yanked out his rapier and held it towards the human in a practiced stance. There was no doubt in his mind that he would actually use the sword if he needed to.

Sprites were pacifists. Sam was not.

“Let my brother go, you mountain of snakeskin!” Sam called out in a commanding voice. It wavered slightly at the sight of how much bigger the human was compared to them both, even just sitting down. He pressed stubbornly on. “He never did anything to you!”

Both Bowman and Jacob turned their attention towards Sam's voice in surprise. Bowman leaned awkwardly forward to see around the wing Jacob was holding out. Jacob didn't let go of the wing right away, as startled as he was by the sudden appearance of another tiny person.

He glanced back at the one he held in his hand, and then focused on the newcomer with interest. The second little guy had no wings, and a scan of the ground revealed that little glider was now gone. Jacob almost smiled as he put two and two together, but kept himself in check for the most part.

"Your brother?" he echoed, looking between the two of them. They looked nothing alike, though he supposed he shouldn't take that as any indication. They were both four inches tall, and already defied a lot of conventional rules about how things were supposed to be.

"What the hell are you guys? Some kind of fairies?" Jacob asked, trying to get to the bottom of things.

Bowman irritably shook his pinched wing, actually managing to free it from the absent grip on it. He used it to slap at the hand around him. "No! We're not fairies!" he replied in frustration. He remembered Sam mentioning something about it in the past, about how humans had a very sprite-like image in their head for what fairies looked like. Though he was warned, that didn’t mean he wasn’t irritated about it.

"Let me go!" Bowman demanded again, pushing his hands against the fingers coiled around him. He could see Sam standing there with his sword out, ready to take on a giant by himself, and knew that wouldn't work. Bowman hadn't bought him enough time, and now they were both as good as caught.

Jacob still glanced between the two of them, confused and wishing he'd just get a straight answer for once. He leaned towards Sam to get a better look at him, the hand around Bowman close to his chest as he moved. "Where'd you get that little sword? What is up with these woods?" He was beginning to think he'd fallen and hit his head or something.

Sam’s hand shook slightly as the human leaned in, and the deep sound of his voice reverberated around the cursed human. “I earned this sword,” he found himself insisting, the thin veil of warning wrapped around his voice. It took everything in him not to back away at the reminder of how much space the human could cover just by leaning in. Sam was already within arm’s reach. His body tensed.

The sword glinted in the sun. It was a better weapon to use against a giant than the silver knife tucked against his chest. Sam took a step forward, all of Scar’s lessons echoing in his head. He’d learned how to use it from the High Knight himself, throwing his all into the lessons every day for years. In all that time and all that training, he’d never thought he would find himself wielding it against a human. Any thoughts of humans had always been colored by the hopeful expectation of reunion with his older brother.

But now Bowman was trapped in a huge hand and it didn’t look like this Jacob was going to let him go.

“Now let him go or I’ll make you regret it!” Sam shouted up, false bravado covering up the fear in his voice. His hazel eyes were hard and determined. His knees remained slightly bent, ready to leap out of the way if the human snatched at him.

Jacob's eyebrows shot up. "Woah, woah," he said, trying to head off the fear and nerves directed at him. He didn't want to terrorize the little guys. His curiosity kept his hand wrapped securely around the winged one, despite the tiny kicks twitching against his palm and the bitty hands pushing on his knuckles. "I'm not gonna hurt anyone," Jacob insisted.

He kept his eyes on the little swordsman even as the winged guy barked out a laugh at him. The little jacket the swordsman was wearing had some kind of designs in the hem and the sleeves, and there was a similar design along the side seam of the pants tucked into those boots. He definitely looked the part of a swordsman right out of a novel, and Jacob wondered what the cape-like attachment fixed to the side of the jacket was for.

"Seriously, I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here," Jacob tried again. "Why don't you have wings, too?" He reached down towards the little guy, trying to keep his hand lower to avoid that sword if he could. It might be tiny, but it looked sharp.

Bowman twisted around to keep an eye on his adopted brother and his frantic heart sped up even more. "Sam!"

Sam’s eyes went wide at the size of the hand as it swept towards him and he almost went to stumble backwards instead of stay in the forms Scar had taught him. The sprite’s lessons focused on methods to take on animals bigger than the sprites. All of their enemies were bigger, and so they had to be ready for them.

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.

Sam’s nerves solidified and he lunged forward with his sword to meet the human’s grab on his own terms.

The slash with the rapier met flesh, slicing across the human’s hand at the same time as Sam leapt out of the way of the grab. He was bulkier than any sprite, but light and spry on his feet after training for a good portion of his life. The lightweight boots and uniform helped him move like a leaf, designed for the sprites so they could swoop and dodge and not be hindered by the fabric.

Jacob’s hand moved too fast for Sam to completely avoid. To his shock and eternal consternation, he found himself landing on the back of the human’s massive hand. The flesh gave slightly under his boots and his heart pounded.

Sam vs Jacob, by lamthetwickster

Jacob winced and sucked in a breath of pain. He lifted his hand up and away from the ground again, surprised by how fast the little guy was. He'd thought for sure he'd be able to draw his hand back if that little sword swung at him. Already there was a stinging cut on the back of his hand near his thumb, an inch or two long. Yet Jacob wasn't looking at the cut.

He was staring in shock at the little fighter standing on the back of his hand.

He hadn't even noticed the tiny boots landing there in his haste to get his hand away from the threat. Now, he wasn't safe from the threat, but he did have the little guy more or less in hand. He kept himself as steady as he could to avoid tipping the little guy right off the side, and stared openly. "Woah," he breathed, in awe at the dexterity just displayed to him. "Holy shit."

Bowman blinked a few times too, staring up now that Sam had been lifted to a higher level than he. Sam really had earned his sword. Bowman knew his skills were formidable, but seeing them in action against a giant were amazing all on their own. Hopefully Sam's luck could last.

"Yeah, yeah, it's amazing, now put him down and let me go," Bowman snapped, using his wings to slap at the enormous chest in front of him the best he could. It was probably barely more than a tickle through the thick fabric of the human's hooded shirt.

Sam stared back at the huge brown eyes, caught off guard by how fast he’d been lifted up into the air. He could strike out at any time, considering that he was standing on a hand, but his mind yelled how bad of a plan that would be. If Jacob moved the wrong way, he could get hurt or land into an even worse situation.

He needed to be in control of the battlefield, and so long as he was standing on a hand that was under a giant’s control, that wasn't going to happen.

Whirling in place, Sam sprinted for the edge of the hand and leapt off. As he was falling, the wind caught under the ‘cape’ that was attached to his jacket, and the excess fabric billowed up.

Instead of crashing to the ground from a height of three feet in the air, Sam’s wingsuit let him glide safely down. It was another failsafe for being wingless while flying with his glider, and had saved his life more than once. Today, his boot touched down against the ground and the sword was already held in preparation for another attack.

Before Sam had pivoted around completely to face his foe once more, a hand was approaching him again. The ground rumbled from Jacob shifting, but instead of a grab, Bowman was deposited hastily on the ground next to where Sam landed. The hand retreated as swiftly as it had approached, leaving neither of them any time to bat or slice at it.

"What are you blasted--" Bowman began, stumbling and opening up his wings with an outraged look. He was cut off when he looked up, and he drew his wings close to himself yet again as the sky was blocked off.

Before they could even realize what was happening, the bucket from Jacob's backpack slammed into the ground around them, blocking the world from sight.

Leaving them trapped, and at Jacob's mercy.

Chapter Text

Sitting in silence, Jacob tried to gather himself. His hands were planted firmly over the bottom of the bucket he’d brought for water, and his heart pounded with residual adrenaline. Watching the little swordsman jump from the back of his hand had sent a shock of fear through him for the guy’s safety, but at least he’d had a badass little wingsuit to get him safely to the ground without breaking something.

The quick actions leading up to that had resulted in Jacob acting before there was time to think. Lurching forward, he’d grabbed the bucket from his bag. The little guy in his hand squirmed as much as he could, but Jacob had reached forward to release him right next to his brother before placing the bucket over them both.

Now he had a chance to catch up to those actions. He wasn't sure what he planned with the pair beyond this. At the edge of hearing there were little hands slapping the side of the bucket. Jacob lifted his own hands away, cautiously watching the container. It didn't budge, of course. It wasn’t even that big, but it was still much too bulky for them to move on their own.

"O-okay, I think we all need to just calm down for a second," Jacob suggested, still hesitant and unsure.

In the darkness underneath the bucket, Bowman scoffed. "Oh, wither, you mountain of rotted mushrooms! Let us out of here!" he demanded. Frustrated, he slammed his hands against the metal again and again. The trapped feeling nearly choked him.

Before Bowman could hurt himself against the side of the bucket, he was dragged away from the edge by two strong hands. “Stop!” Sam hissed at him, lowering his voice so the human outside wouldn’t be able to hear them talking. “If we’re in here, he can’t see us. Right? So if he lets his guard down, he can’t see us escape, either.”

Releasing Bowman, Sam’s hands snapped away from the sprite. His sword was back on his belt, and Sam still looked the knight despite their new predicament trapped under a massive bucket. He was strong, but he wasn’t that strong.

Good thing there was more than one way out.

“Jacob, you can’t just keep us under the bucket,” Sam called out confidently, his voice raised loud enough to escape the metal container. “You’re going to have to let us out eventually.”

Jacob sat back and ran a hand through his hair absently. He stared down at the bucket and contemplated Sam's words. "Yeah, I ... holy shit," he answered distractedly, unsure of what he could even say to them. He'd just trapped them without even thinking about it.

Curiosity wouldn't let him think straight, and nor would the stinging cut on his hand. Jacob sighed and dragged his backpack closer to himself so he could dig his first aid kit out.

"I just ... need a minute to figure stuff out," he excused lamely. He winced as he wiped away beads of blood from his cut with an alcohol wipe before covering the cut with a wide bandage. That little guy really knew how to use that sword. No hesitation at all when he’d slashed at Jacob’s hand.

"What's that blasted mean?" Bowman muttered exasperatedly. His wings were drawn tightly to his back and his eyes were wide, barely able to see in the very dim light that managed to leak under the edge of the bucket. The dim lighting was hard to adjust to for a sprite who spent his days dodging sunbeams.

There was another rumble in the ground, and then a massive sigh as lungs the size of their houses filled with air and let it out heavily. Then, Jacob didn't say anything more or do anything.

"What do you think he's doing? I blasted sure hope you have a plan, Sam," Bowman hissed, staring in the vague direction of where his brother stood. The silence from outside was unnerving.

“Well, what he's doing really depends on him,” Sam whispered back. “Humans come in a lot of different varieties, just like sprites. If it was me, I’d probably take care of that cut first.”

He took a second to glance around at their surroundings. They could hear slight shiftings from where Jacob was sitting and mentally Sam marked that side of the bucket as out-of-bounds. An escape would do no good if they got caught right away.

“C’mon,” he hissed to Bowman, taking the sprite’s wrist. Sam couldn’t see very well in the dark, but wood sprites were creatures of the sun. Bowman’s eyes would be worse off than his. Sam lead the sprite over to the edge of the bucket that was farthest from the human outside and knelt down.

The ground under them was soft silt. Jacob had displaced a lot of dirt when he was digging out his firepit, and Sam was going to take advantage of that now. “We can dig a hole and escape when he’s not looking,” Sam told Bowman. “Somehow I can tell if he’s looking at us. Some weird… tingling on my neck. We can do this.”

He didn’t wait for a response, instead starting to dig at the ground. His hands were instantly dusty and dirty, but Sam ignored the inconvenience. They needed out, and waiting until the human made up his mind for what to do with them wasn’t an appealing plan.

Bowman stared down at Sam, mulling over the revelation he'd just given him. He could feel Jacob looking at him, or so he said. Bowman had spent a few minutes in the giant's hand, and had never felt anything that might be attributed to being stared at. The Spirit knew he'd been stared at plenty.

Then, he caught up to what was happening, and lowered himself to the ground, too. He helped drag dirt away from where Sam worked with his own slender hands. He had a harder time breaking the dried earth, so he had to focus closer to the same spot Sam worked on.

Digging in the ground would never have occurred to him. Bowman was so used to living in the air, and most wood sprites were. Digging holes in the ground was something squirrels did with only the occasional sprite burying seeds. Soon enough, Bowman and Sam both had dirt under their fingernails and coating their hands as they worked.

"You never told me you could feel when people are looking at you," he muttered, even as a sizeable chunk of dirt was knocked away and allowed more light into their enclosure.

“Because I’ve never felt it before,” Sam muttered back. “Not with you, not with Scar or any of the knights, and not with Dean or dad when I was a kid.” He paused for a moment to move the pile of dirt they were creating further from their make-shift hole. Just as he’d thought, they were well on their way to making a hole big enough to crawl through to freedom.

Sam threw himself back into digging, assured of their escape. A hole that he could slip through with his broad shoulders would give Bowman plenty of space. The sprite was much slimmer, and he could fold his wings down until he was able to worm his way out.

“Maybe it’s a part of my curse,” Sam mused to himself. “There aren’t any humans that can do that, not that I ever heard of. People always talked about psychics, but that was all mind readers and moving things with their minds. This feels different.” His gaze wandered over to the other side of the bucket, where Jacob lurked. “It couldn’t have happened at a better time, though.”

Bowman nodded emphatically. Wherever Sam's surprise ability came from, it might be the only way they could guarantee themselves a safe window of escape. Sam might not be able to get to his glider right away, but if they could at least run to a bush at the nearby edge of the clearing, he could have a better hiding place while Bowman went for help.

"I shoulda just flown for help when I had a shot," he muttered, knowing his hesitation could be what had cost them everything. Sam was hidden before, even if his glider was in a pair of massive hands. Now, they were both trapped while a giant decided their fate.

Jacob had no idea what to do.

Sam's scolding echoed in his head as he sat there, occasionally glancing at the bucket but mostly trying to pretend it wasn't there. He had two people trapped underneath it. Living, breathing, and in Bowman’s case, snarky people.

His gaze wandered for a moment, and settled on the discarded glider. He realized that Sam must have dragged it aside while he was chasing the other little guy, whose name he hadn't caught yet. He leaned forward to scoop up the tiny contraption once more, trying to be careful and avoid breaking it. The sticks that made up its skeleton were so thin.

Looking closer, he could see all the little belts and harnesses, as well as what looked like ballast bags hanging from the glider. This was clearly made with lots of intelligence, and Jacob weighed the thing in his hand thoughtfully.

He was pretty sure he knew what he should do next.

Sam dug the last few handfuls of dirt from their escape hole, then leaned down to see if his shoulders would fit through it. They couldn’t afford to waste any time. The longer they were under the bucket, the higher the probability that Jacob would check on them and discover their escape plan. There was no doubt in Sam’s mind that the human would be able to counter it when he put his mind to it, and the tunnel leading under the bucket’s edge would be glaringly obvious.

“One way or the other, we’re both getting out of this. Here.” He shifted the last of the dirt out of their way. “It’s ready. The second you’re out, be ready to fly. I’ll get under cover while you go get help.”

With his mysterious ability in play, Sam was the first to squirm through. The hardest part was getting back out on the other side; there was far less of a slope to the hole they’d dug for themselves simply because they couldn’t reach that far.

Then Sam was out, and he sprang to his feet. Backing against the bucket, his eyes constantly scanned their surroundings while keeping one hand on the hilt of his rapier. “Okay, Bowman. All clear.”

Bowman lay himself flat on his stomach and crawled forward. Sam had fit simply enough through the opening, so he didn't foresee any trouble getting through himself. Sam was a lot bulkier than Bowman, with a naturally bigger frame as well as muscles built up over the years from his training with the knights.

Bowman blinked in the sunlight as his head emerged, and then his shoulders. He reached his arms forward to drag himself further, even pushing in the dirt with his legs.

And then he stopped moving.

Bowman tried to tug himself forward again, awkwardly moving his wings around and trying to get them to fold properly. They wouldn't cooperate. He could just barely hook the wrist part of his wings under the edge of the bucket, but in order to do so they were spread too wide to fit through the hole they'd dug along with him.

Bowman felt his cheeks heating up. He pushed himself back a little and tried to rearrange his wings to fit through. Like Sam, the steeper slope outside the bucket thwarted him. "I ... I don't fit," he whispered in the lowest voice he could manage.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Sam hissed back, his voice rising slightly at the end. Bowman, the only one who could get in the air and get help, was the one that got stuck. “You’re smaller than me, how are you the one getting stuck?”

Sam dropped down to his knees and started to dig desperately at the ground to try and clear more space for Bowman to wriggle free with. “This is the last time you tease me for being the heavier one,” Sam grumbled at the sprite as he worked frantically, shoving away the dirt as fast as was humanly possible. They had to get Bowman out before Jacob realized something was happening.

"I won't make any promises I can't keep," Bowman groused back, still whispering. He wriggled around and tried to find an angle that would work. His wings, normally his pride and joy, were stopping him at every attempt to climb through. He tried to help Sam push more dirt out of the way, his heart pounding frantically. He just wanted out.

He finally managed to wedge one tightly folded wing under the edge of the bucket, but it left no room for the other wing, which still bumped up against the metal wall. "Don't blame me," he hissed at Sam's exasperated look. "It's not my fault my wings aren't detachable like yours!"

He continued to struggle against the absolutely blasted ridiculous situation, until there was a trembling in the ground. Bowman froze and looked up at Sam with wide eyes from where he was stuck, unsure of whether he should duck back under the bucket or try even harder to squeeze himself out.

He was too late to make the decision for himself. Jacob's face loomed into view as the human leaned around the bucket, most likely drawn there by Bowman's big mouth.

Blast it.

"Woah," Jacob blurted, pulling himself the rest of the way around the bucket and crouching above them. One hand was cupped around Sam's small glider again, but his attention was on the two would-be escapees. Bowman froze as he craned his neck to stare up at the human.

Sam was on his feet in a flash, his sword drawn and held at the ready as he followed the human’s movements. He tried to ignore the distracting tingle on his back. Obviously the human was looking at them. He was going to have to figure out how the ability worked if it was going to do him any good.

The bucket loomed over the two brothers, easily the size of a building. Jacob towered over even that, his shadow falling over them and blocking the sunlight. Sam was going to need nerves of steel just dealing with someone of the same race as him considering how the curse had changed him.

His leaf glider was held in a massive hand again, but so far it didn’t look damaged. Sam prayed it stayed intact. If things went south, he wanted a way out, and not one that would have him trudging out of the field on foot. That would work for Jacob; it wouldn’t work for Sam.

“You know I’m not afraid to use this if I have to,” Sam told the human grimly, his body a coiled spring ready to snap. “Don’t grab us.”

Chapter Text

"I, uh," Jacob replied, nonplussed by the scene. It was almost a farce, and he decided he really couldn't be making this sort of thing up in his head. His cut hand twinged in agreement with his thoughts, and he sighed. "Right. Okay."

The little winged guy looked pretty stuck. Only one wing was partially under the edge of the bucket. Jacob hadn't even considered that they might dig their way out. He pursed his lips, thinking over what he could do and what he shouldn't do, and keeping them trapped was definitely on the latter list.

"This is probably yours?" he surmised, lowering the glider to the ground yet again. Though he placed the glider on the ground close to Sam, he kept his hand well out of range of that sword. Jacob knew he didn't want to deal with the sting of that weapon twice if he didn't have to. "Seeing as he wouldn't really need it."

He moved his hand up slowly. The small, stuck guy squirmed and tried to watch his hand, and even opened his mouth to say something as Jacob's hand rested on the bottom of the overturned bucket. Judging by the look on his face, he wouldn't hold back.

"What are you--?" the little winged guy began.

He fell silent as Jacob tilted up the edge, freeing him from his awkward position in the hole they'd dug. The winged man wasted no time in scrambling to his feet and out of the way of the bucket so Jacob could set it back down. Those wings rustled loudly as the little guy shook them out, staring warily up from his place closely behind Sam, who remained at the ready with his sword.

"Well what made you change your mind, giant?" a wary little voice called up.

Jacob sighed again. "Y'know, I..." he trailed off and shrugged lamely. "The bucket was ... I just kinda reacted?" Things had taken a turn for the weird from the moment he found that glider in his camp, and he rubbed at his eyes. "Everything is really strange right now, gotta say."

The sword in Sam’s hands lowered slightly with Bowman out from under the bucket and Jacob speaking rationally. Hazel eyes quickly scanned the sprite’s four inches, making sure there were no injuries on his brother after their trials. Assured of Bowman’s health, Sam renewed his grip on the sword and turned his attention on the giant. And his glider.

Sam took a few steps towards the glider, eyeing it up and examining the ropes that curled around the sticks to hold the skeleton together. If he had the chance, he would need to examine all of them before attempting to take off. It was too dangerous to fly without checking unless it was a true emergency, and now…

Something had changed with Jacob.

Sam lowered his sword at last and looked up at the human. The first person he’d seen since being cursed that was from the same world as he was. If Jacob wasn’t going to grab them, Sam was curious. A million questions churned in his mind, questions the sprites would never be able to answer.

“You’re awfully far out in the forest for a camping trip,” Sam stated. He wasn’t sure exactly where they were, but the Wellwood hadn’t been in contact with humans for generations. It couldn’t be anywhere close to civilization, even with wings to carry them far and wide. “How did you get past the fence?” He couldn’t be sure what the fence said on its sign but from what he’d been told he could surmise it was a warning to keep out.

Jacob grinned and chuckled quietly. Bowman squinted up at the human, and could almost see his ears reddening as though he was sheepish. Like they'd caught him in the act.

He was a very strange giant, but at least he wasn't grabbing at them or trying to trap them again.

"I just kinda ... walked through the gate," Jacob admitted. "Didn't think I'd run into anyone out here. Definitely not ... people like you guys."

"But there's vines and thorns growing on the fence, and the sign!" Bowman protested, irked that the efforts to bolster the defenses had apparently been easy to brush off for the human. It wasn't surprising, but it was disappointing all the same.

"Yeah," Jacob confirmed. "I just moved the vines away and ignored the sign."

“Good to know,” Sam muttered. He straightened and stuck his rapier back on his belt. He gave Bowman a glance from the corner of his eye. “Patrols should check the fence at least once a day so no one gets caught off guard like this again.” Bowman nodded in agreement.

For being from the same species, it was hard to believe how different in size Sam and Jacob were. Looking up at Jacob from the ground, Sam could almost believe that he was closer to a sprite himself.

“Well, Jacob,” Sam said as he switched to a louder voice meant to be heard by the immense human above. “My name’s Sam, and this is my brother Bowman. If you’re not going to try and trap us again, we’d love to know more about you. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another human.”

Jacob offered them a tentative smile. "Nice to meet you," he mumbled out, still more than a little awed by what he was seeing right before his eyes. He privately wondered at Sam calling himself "another human,” but didn't really have an argument about what Sam might really be. He couldn't be whatever Bowman was, if he needed the glider to fly. Sam might be the same size as Bowman, but he didn’t have a skin color close to Bowman's darker bronze.

Thinking he could keep his questions to himself for at least a little while to hopefully help them relax around him, Jacob shifted so he was sitting cross-legged in front of them instead of crouching like he'd been. His movement seemed to surprise Bowman, because those leafy green wings flared open.

"So, uh," Jacob began, placing his hands on his knees idly. "I guess I do owe you answers, seeing as I started this off kinda heavy handed."

Bowman snickered. "Something like that, blasted giant. Sam always said you humans were big, but you're kinda ridiculous, Jacob, if I'm completely honest."

Jacob had to grin at the blunt statement. "You're not the only one who thinks so. I'm kinda tall for my age, if that helps."

Sam let out a barking laugh. “And here I thought I got tall for my age,” he mused to himself. He’d been proud to end up as tall as he had. Most sprites stood shorter than him, aside from Bowman and a spare few others.

It made him wonder at times how tall he would be if he’d never been cursed. Probably tall enough to get a few new swears from Bowman. The sprite always seemed to have an endless supply, even adopting some of his favorites from Sam’s repertoire. Bowman's good-natured griping had been a staple of their banter as they grew up, especially when Bowman discovered he wasn't any taller than Sam. They'd turned out the same.

It was hard to settle on the first question to ask Jacob. Sam was swimming in things he wanted to know, so many that he didn’t know where to start.

When Sam finally managed to break his block, his words almost tumbled over each other. “So what’s it like out in the world? How far are we from people? What year is it?”

Jacob blinked in surprise. Judging by the curious looks directed up at him, even Bowman wanted to know. He organized his thoughts to answer them properly, giving the easiest replies first. "It's 2005, and right now I think we're, I dunno, several miles at least from the nearest camping areas. I'm really roughing it coming out this far."

He lifted his hand to run it through his hair, and saw Bowman's wings tense up and those little eyes narrowed in an accusing glare. Jacob gave him a bemused look and returned his hand to his knee where he'd placed it before. He felt like he was on probation with the tiny pair.

“Hey, at least the year is right,” Sam shot over his shoulder in an aside to Bowman. He hadn’t traveled through time when he was transported away. A plus considering everything else that had happened to him.

Jacob gave them an odd look, but no explanation came, so he tried to move past it. They wouldn’t be the first people he’d met that kept secrets, but they had a good reason for it at least. "As for what it's like out in the world ... uh ..." With no frame of reference for what Sam might be comparing to, Jacob had to shoot in the dark. "Uh, the internet is huge and getting more and more on it, George W. Bush is president, iPods are the biggest deal right now and my buddy will not shut up about his. It's just a music player for God's sake." Realizing the eclectic nature of what he'd said, Jacob shrugged. "I mean, it's the world. Keeps on going."

Sam’s eyes were wide as he absorbed every last word. Without noticing, he edged closer to Jacob while the rumbling voice continued on, talking about the world he’d once been a part of. Presidents came and went, and Sam’s family had never paid the most attention, but he preserved the name George W. Bush in his mind in a place reserved for his life before the curse.

The rest was more and less familiar. Sam had at least heard of the internet as a child, though it was one of those vague notions of ‘this is happening’ in the distance. Not something that was accessible to the public in the year of 1993, nor something his father had bothered with finding out more. Their lives were tied up in monster hunting and research, and schools that changed with the wind.

The world kept on going without me.

“IPod?” Sam repeated in confusion, latching onto the alien word. “Is it like a cassette player? Or some kind of stereo? Can you carry it with you?” He paused for a second, confusion shining in his eyes.

"Ah," Jacob said simply, trying to catch up with Sam's frame of reference. Hearing him ask about a cassette player while standing there at all of four inches tall next to a miniature leaf glider was a little jarring, but it gave Jacob a slightly better idea of where he was coming from. "Yeah, it's a portable music player," he explained. "I have something kinda like it."

He twisted where he sat and leaned to reach for his backpack where he left it. Bowman's wings fanned open in his peripheral vision, and Jacob glanced back at the two of them.

Bowman jolted slightly when he saw Jacob looking and crossed his arms, folding his wings as if they'd never flared open. Almost like he was trying to hide that he'd gotten startled. "What? Are you gonna show us the music pod thingie or not?"

Jacob did his best to rein in his smirk, and hid what he could by turning his face towards his backpack. "Comin' right up," he quipped, dragging the bag towards himself. Since he'd already dug through everything to get his first aid kit, the things inside were jostled as he reached in.

Bowman, recovering from his startled reaction, inched forward to stand beside Sam while Jacob pawed through his enormous bag. The kid was absolutely huge, but even though he continued to loom over them, he wasn't as scary as he'd been at first.

He was just very strange, and very large.

"Aha," Jacob said triumphantly, pulling an object free of his bag in one hand.

Bowman's eyes were wide as he set it down a few inches in front of them. It was a bulky, rectangular object almost as long as Bowman was tall, with a flat front and what had to be buttons on the side. A tangle of some kind of rope was attached to it, with two ends that were bulkier and covered in what looked like foam. Bowman couldn’t make sense of what those were for.

Bowman hesitated to inch towards it, standing on his tip toes for a better angle of the strange front of the lifeless thing. "That doesn't look like any pod I ever saw," he commented.

Jacob chuckled. "It's not ... Nevermind. Mine's not a real iPod, 'cause those are too expensive, but it's basically the same thing. It stores music on it and I can listen to it wherever."

Sam was cautious as he inched up to the music player, sending glances towards Jacob each step of the way. He didn't want to get caught off guard by any unexpected movements from the human. Unlike Bowman, Sam was better at fending off an attack because of his sword, but he was also worse at avoiding that same attack because of his lack of wings.

Jacob didn't move or lunge towards him, and all Sam could feel was the tingle of curious eyes watching him from above. Jacob was giving them space to investigate.

Sam knelt down when he reached the music player, putting a curious hand against the plastic casing. It was cool to the touch after being trapped away in Jacob’s massive bag, the metallic paint giving an attempt at imitating actual metal. The imitation might actually work for humans, but Sam could see faint chips against the sides where the paint had flaked off from use.

It wasn’t that heavy for Sam when he went to tilt it upright. The headphone cord shifted slightly in place. He stared at his reflection in the screen, and poked at the button on the side that read ON. The screen lit up, and Sam almost dropped it in surprise. It had been years since he’d seen a screen like that, all the way back to watching the television with Dean after they got out of school.

Sam glanced nervously at Jacob, hoping the human didn’t mind them messing with it. With Jacob calm and waiting, Sam was quickly drawn back to the player, though, unable to resist the call of the music. He pushed the buttons on the front, searching through the music selection. “Do you have any soft rock?” he asked Jacob, defaulting to what he remembered from childhood.

Bowman was fascinated with how quickly Sam figured out the music pod. He glanced between his brother and the giant human looking down at them, and if he had any doubts about where Sam came from, they were gone now. It was like Jacob had brought a familiar sample of the world Sam knew right to him.

He inched up next to the thing and crouched to pick up the rope-like material attached to the music player, holding one of the bulky ends in his hands. "Rocks aren't soft, Sam," he corrected, a snicker in his voice.

Jacob pursed his lips to poorly hide his smile, and shook his head. "No, Bowman, he means a kind of music," he explained. Then, "I've got some of the Eagles, and some Journey," he offered. His hand almost twitched forward to press the buttons on the player himself, but with Sam commandeering it, he didn't want to get in his way. "If you ... see the menu button? You can browse by artist instead."

Sam followed the instructions, fascinated by how the buttons responded under his hands. The device certainly wasn’t made to be used by hands that were outsized by the buttons, but it worked. Journey soon came up on the screen, and Sam grinned wryly as he spotted Wheel in the Sky.

“We used to listen to this all the time in the Impala,” Sam informed Bowman as he scrolled to the song to select it. For so long he’d wanted to be able to share more of his past with the sprite, but talking could only go so far with things like television and music. Sam was no singer. “When Dean wasn’t arguing over who got to pick what was on. Dad always overruled us when we argued too much, and then Dean would be moping for a week.”

His unfamiliarity with the device showed when it didn’t occur to Sam to check what the volume was set at as he punched PLAY.

Bowman wasn't sure what was supposed to happen, but he didn't expect noise to suddenly blurt out of the strange thing in his hands. A sound like no instrument he'd ever heard all but slapped him, and he dropped the source like it burned him and fell backwards to sit in the dirt. He stared at the thing as it and the matching one emitted some of the strangest sounds he'd ever heard.

Jacob snickered. He'd seen it coming as soon as Sam picked out a song while Bowman held the earpiece. The volume, cranked all the way up for Jacob's drive out to the area, was just loud enough that he heard the barest murmur out of his little earbuds. To Sam and Bowman, it was probably like a little radio.

Bowman ignored Jacob's laughter to send a glare over his shoulder at Sam. "Oh, very nice, thank you for the warning," he snipped, flicking his wings in annoyance.

“Hey!” Sam protested. “It’s not like I’ve actually used one of these before! Gimme a break already. You’re the one who wanted to touch things when you don’t know what they do!”

He didn’t bother mentioning that he didn’t recognize the earbud for what it was. Headphones Sam was used to, he’d used them from time to time. This little speaker bore no resemblance to headphones aside from the speaker that was blaring forth familiar music and the cord that connected it to the player. Sam examined the cord, finding that it lead to an identical speaker. He examined the device more, still bothered by how it worked.

It was so different from anything in his childhood.

“Where do the batteries go?” Sam asked, perplexed by how thin it was and how the back gave no indication that it could be popped open.

Jacob was so fascinated with watching the two of them examine the MP3 player that he nearly missed Sam’s question. It was so strange to see such miniscule hands prodding at the device that fit easily in his pocket, picking up the earbuds or turning the whole thing over curiously. He almost felt like they were from two different planets, with the way both Sam and Bowman examined the thing so intently.

"I dunno if you can actually take the battery out of these things," he admitted. "With this one you have to charge it up."

Bowman looked up to him in confusion. He was standing near the device and helping hold it up while Sam examined the back. "Was that supposed to make sense?" he groused, his wings twitching irritably in a way that Jacob was quickly becoming familiar with.

“It’s, y’know, human things,” Sam said, partially to cover up that he wasn’t completely sure what it meant along with the way he knew Bowman got annoyed with him for things just not making sense. Not from a sprite point of view, at least. “But I can’t believe how different it all is now. It’s so much smaller than a cassette player. At least, smaller than a cassette player should be.” His ears turned red at the tips. At one second he felt like the music player was some immense store fixture, created to draw in customers. Then the world snapped back and he would realize that it was supposed to be that size, and he was the one out of place.

Sam prodded the STOP button to halt the music that continued to leak out of the speaker and with Bowman’s help, let the player down onto the ground. Jacob hadn’t broken his glider, it wouldn’t do to break the music player on the human. That wasn’t even counting how bad it might be if the immense human got annoyed at them. So far they’d received curiosity and consternation at his own actions.

Sam wasn’t keen to push him towards the other end of the spectrum.

Chapter Text

Jacob tilted his head as he watched them. Even after putting the music player down gently, the two lingered near it. Bowman was looking over the cord to the earbuds again, running his little hands over the rubber like he'd never felt a texture like that before. Considering his forest look, he probably hadn't.

"So, uh, Sam," Jacob started, unsure of how to ask. His own curiosity ran as high as ever, and try as he might to keep it in check, Jacob knew he was staring at them. Every second that went by revealed more questions he could ask. "You seem to know a lot about stuff outside the forest. Do you guys go past the fence sometimes? Were you not born here?"

Bowman looked up. "I was born here," he replied, his wings fanning slowly. "Sam wasn't, but my family took him in, that's how he's my brother." Bowman didn't see any distinction between his blood relations and the family bond that he'd formed with Sam. The two of them had grown up together.

Sam met Jacob’s gaze in turn. The tingle against his neck was constant when the human was looking at him, but not terrible. Just a warning that something very big had them in its sights. A useful ability he’d never known about until now.

“I’m human like you,” Sam informed the teenager. “I haven’t been to the fence yet… We usually patrol closer to home than all the way out there. But I’m from beyond the fence, I think. I got attacked when I was a kid, and afterwards, I woke up like this.”

He shared a smile with Bowman. “Bowman’s dad gave me a home, and I just…” Sam shrugged helplessly. “We never found my dad or my brother after I got attacked, so we figure they didn’t get cursed and are out there somewhere, living their own lives. I’ve lived here ever since.” Any resentment for his size was long gone. Sam didn’t mind living with his adopted family and he liked his home with the sprites. It was a better life than he’d expected to have.

He’d always miss Dean and John, though.

Jacob's eyes wandered to Sam's glider while he spoke. He gave them his own smile. "It looks like you're doing pretty well," he admitted. He shifted his hand to show off the large bandage on it, drawing Bowman’s attention to it immediately. "Kickin' ass with your sword and everything."

He really wanted to ask how well Sam flew around with that glider, but held out the patient hope that he might get to see it for himself eventually.

Bowman discarded the cord from the music player and stood up, stretching his wings proudly. "Sam's a knight," he explained, before taking a few cautious steps towards the hand that Jacob displayed for them. He looked over at Sam and pointed at the flesh-colored material stuck to Jacob's hand. "What is that thing he's got? I've never seen bandaging like that."

“It’s a band-aid,” Sam explained patiently. He was used to Bowman’s curious questions. The sprite wanted to know everything he could, and the humans were a tempting store of knowledge. “It seals to his skin, see? That way, the cut won’t get infected. Remember we talked about human medicine? Humans don’t have healers like the sprites do. We gotta make do with what we can.”

Sam grinned. “Once Jacob’s hand is better from my slash, he’ll take it off. It’ll probably take a few days, at least.” He looked up at Jacob, his brow furrowed. “I only struck at you because you tried to grab,” he explained, keeping his voice just as patient as for Bowman. Jacob didn’t look like he could be out of his teens, leaving Sam the oldest there. Sam and Bowman were nothing the human would ever expect to find, so it wasn’t completely shocking his first reaction was to grab them. “It’s nothing personal.”

Jacob grinned back sheepishly, thinking of how quickly he'd resorted to grabbing at Sam, while he still had Bowman trapped in a hand. He probably looked pretty monstrous to them both, even sitting down. "I get it," he said with a nod. "I was kinda just doing the first thing that came to mind. It wasn't the best idea."

Bowman snickered. Then, after a split second of hesitation, he opened up his wings and flapped them once to get into the air. Jacob froze as the little guy glided right over to his hand, hovering near it for a closer look at the band-aid. He even reached out one hand to brush across the strange, almost alien material.

"At least you didn't tear my wings, even while you were too grabby," he mused, drifting backwards and down towards the ground next to the music player.

Jacob winced. "Shit, yeah," he agreed, glancing between the two of them now. "And you guys didn't get hurt when I, ah, slammed the bucket down, didja?"

“We’re fine,” Sam reassured his worries. “Bowman is still a dainty flowerkin like always. He didn’t even get a bruise on his wings.” He shot a smirk at his younger brother, using the teasing nickname because of the difference in their stature.

Bowman had barely folded his wings down before they flared open again, and he stood up straight and proud and annoyed. "Climb a dead tree, Sam," he snapped, stomping past the music player right up to his brother. He swiped a hand at him, aiming to bop Sam on the back of the head, but of course Sam was ready for him and easily ducked under the move.

Jacob had to snicker at the miniature banter unfolding in front of him. And then, he couldn't help but join in the teasing. "So ... what's a flowerkin?" He looked at Bowman expectantly, which made him puff up his wings again.

"I'm not a flowerkin! Flowerkin are thin, dainty wood sprites," Bowman protested. He saw Jacob glance over at Sam, and then fleetingly at himself. Both humans had far bulkier frames than Bowman did, even proportionally. It just wasn't fair, and it certainly wasn't helping Bowman's argument.

He pointed up at Jacob's smirking face. "Don't think I won't bop you," he warned.

Sam had to work to hide his own smirk. “Don’t worry,” he cooed to the sprite, “we won’t judge your girlish figure.” Some of his old sayings from when he was a kid crept back into his speech. Some days he lost track of what was from each world, to the point where he was mixing curses as much as Bowman.

Giving Bowman a break from the easy shots, Sam glanced up at Jacob. “Really, though. I think the worst part of you trapping us under the bucket, aside from the fact you trapped us, was the way you practically set off an earthquake.”

The glider caught Sam’s eye, and he remembered that Jacob hadn’t been so careful with it at first. “I should make sure my glider is okay. It doesn’t normally get… handled like that.” He flushed a little. “Though you were gentler with it than I thought someone so big would be,” he hurried to reassure the gigantic teenager.

Jacob cringed, and he stared down at the tiny glider in concern. He'd never had to consider how big his actions could really look. He was tall for his age, but that didn't bother people that much. Sometimes he ended up bumping into someone or something like that, because of his greater bulk. Actually breaking what to Sam was a significant piece of equipment, or causing an earthquake had never entered the realm of things Jacob needed to worry about.

"Yeah ... sorry," he answered, idly drumming his fingers on his knee. "Mostly I was just wondering where the hell it came from. Then Bowman showed up and things got pretty crazy."

Bowman, determined to get past the teasing from before, interjected. "You wouldn't have caught me so fast if it wasn't for those stupid vines. Normally I can try to fly right through 'em. You got lucky."

Jacob smiled faintly. "You are pretty speedy," he conceded.

“Fastest sprite in the village,” Sam said distractedly as he went over to his glider. Ever since Bowman’s wings had come in, he’d practiced constantly to live up to his boasts from childhood. It had paid off for him. Not only was he the fastest, he was also the best at catching himself in a fall.

Sam had watched Bowman fly for years before coming up with his leaf glider. It was inspired by his adopted brother’s wings and the ‘paper birds’ that the young sprite had been so fascinated with growing up. Years more of observing Bowman’s wings, prodding at them and failed test flights had resulted both in Sam making a wing suit with help from the sprites and finally creating a glider that flew.

Diagrams covered the walls of Sam’s home in the tree, and he rebuilt the glider once a year. During the fall, he would also replace the vibrant green leaves they’d waxed with the oranges and yellows that fell from the canopy. It was imperative that the glider imitated the foliage around them to keep from inciting attack from the varied animals in the forest. That was one advantage Sam had that the sprites didn’t - their wings remained a vivid green year round.

The glider looked fine, but Sam started checking each and every knot of rope that held it together. He couldn’t afford to take risks with his glider, and his patience shone through with the care he displayed while examining it.

Jacob watched as Bowman followed shortly after Sam to help. The sprite crouched down to check under the glider, and soon they were both diligently making sure that Jacob hadn't bumbled and broken something on it. While they did that, Jacob scooped his MP3 player off the ground and shoved it absently into his hoodie pocket.

"That thing's pretty cool," Jacob pointed out, leaning down cautiously so he could peer closer at it. The leaves looked like they were coated in something, maybe wax, to keep the shape they'd need to keep Sam in the air. The frame of it was shaped so smoothly, almost like the twigs used for it had been grown into the right shape somehow.

"I didn't break it, did I?"

Bowman's face popped up around one of the wide wings of the glider, and he had a weird look on his face. "It's actually pretty warm now, it's been in the sun all day," he corrected. Then, before Jacob could explain what he meant, Bowman glanced back down. "I haven't noticed anything snapped from looking." Sam was the expert when it came to the more intricate workings of the glider, anyway.

“Y’know, we went over human sayings before,” Sam called over to Bowman from where he was retying one of the loosened knots by the other wing. “ ‘Cool’ is another one. He means he’s impressed by the glider.” When he was satisfied with that wing, he peered out from under the glider. “Nothing’s broken, Jacob, you’re fine. We just gotta tighten a few knots and she’ll be air worthy in no time.”

With that, he went over to the other wing. Only one other knot needed to be redone, and Sam examined the belts to make sure he wouldn’t be in danger when he tested out flight. Normally he didn’t need to spend so much time after each flight checking the framework but Jacob had jostled the glider more than a normal flight would. It extended his postflight examination to take twice as long.

Finally, Sam gave the belts a good yank and appraised his ballast bags. “She’s ready to fly whenever we want to head out,” he judged, glancing over at Bowman. “You might have to give her a hand getting off the ground, but that’s about it.”

Bowman grinned with both confidence and relief. "You got it," he assured. It wouldn't be the first time they had utilized Bowman's greater maneuverability in the air to give the glider a boost. There was a rail on the top made for exactly that purpose; Bowman could swoop in and latch onto it when Sam needed him to.

Jacob was still watching them curiously. He resisted the urge to reach out and brush his fingertips along the edge of the glider's delicate, leaf-made wings, or its small rudder in the back. It was crafted well, and Jacob was impressed. For someone without any resources on aerodynamics other than the sprites around him (Jacob doubted that Bowman had a physics textbook lying around), Sam had put together what looked like a really solid glider.

"That's good news," he commented. Then, after a pause, he asked, "So ... are you planning on heading out soon, then? I mean, I wouldn't be the one to send you guys off. I'm just out here to chill. I need to set up my tent and that's all I have on my agenda."

Sam shared a look with Bowman as he thought it over. “Well…” he started slowly, his brow furrowing. “We don’t have to leave if we’re not intruding. I mean…” He trailed off for a second, wondering how to approach the subject.

“I haven’t seen another human since I was ten,” Sam admitted quietly. “I’ve always wondered what happened out there after I got hit by my curse.”

He shook his head to get those thought out of his mind, the longer brown hair he prized fluffing up at the motion. “We’ve got our own food, at least. So we won’t impose on you if you only brought enough for yourself. Maybe you can prove to Bowman that I’m not the only one that thinks a room with corners is normal.”

That statement got Bowman to turn his attention up towards Jacob, a swift motion that almost surprised the human. Jacob stared down at him for a second, appraising that expectant look, as if this was an answer that Bowman had waited forever to finally hear.

"What, you mean you don't have rooms with corners?" Jacob asked blankly. He realized it was a silly question even before he was finished asking. He wasn't even fully sure what kind of homes those two would live in in the first place.

"No, nowhere has any corners," Bowman answered with a shake of his head. "They're weird and sharp and they don't fit with the flow of everything around them," he insisted. Jacob got the impression that Bowman and Sam had had the discussion over the pros and cons of corners before.

Jacob chuckled. "Well ... just about everything for humans is based on squares, actually," he confirmed, realizing how true it was as he said it. It wasn't something he'd ever noticed before, but squares and angles really were everywhere.

Bowman's wings twitched and his face was caught between agitation at being proven wrong, and renewed fascination. Sam had described this to him before, and having it confirmed by a different human only proved it further. "That's so weird," he insisted.

He glanced aside at Jacob's bag, and pointed at it with both a hand and the tip of a wing. "So you have more stuff with sharp corners in there?"

Jacob had to smile at the simple curiosity. "Well, my tent has a square floor when it's all set up."

Sam nudged Bowman with an elbow. “Told you they build their homes like that,” he shot at his little brother. There had been more than one argument, especially once Sam had told the sprites that humans cut down entire trees to make their houses.

“Sprites grow their homes,” Sam told the human, still just as fascinated as the first time he’d found out about how the great cottonwood palace had been created, along with the home trees and well… everything in between. Including some of the parts that made up his glider.

“They can actually guide how trees grow, so homes are grown right into the branches and trunks.” Sam brushed his hand over the sticks that made up the wing of his glider, proud of its construction. “They gave me some help when I couldn’t find the right shapes to finish off my wings.”

Jacob's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at Bowman with a new curiosity. Those leafy wings made even more sense. Finding him out here in the forest, unbothered by human influence, only proved everything further. It was like they were some kind of little nature guardians.

"So can you do that, Bowman? Make a tree grow into whatever shape you wanted?" Jacob asked, glancing once at the trees ringing in the clearing.

Bowman chuckled sheepishly. "No, I can't," he admitted. "Trees are blasted stubborn even for the best at Praying."

“And someone slacked off when he should have been practicing,” Sam joked, remembering how Bowman had spent most of his days before his wings came in dreaming of flying.

Of course, after his wings sprouted to their proud size, they could never get him down again. Prayer was a lost cause.

Sam had spent more than one day trying to get the younger sprite to pay attention to his studies. Of all things to be reminded of, that had brought back the most memories. Trying to get Dean to study. Nagging his older brother that they needed to go to school or they’d be behind in their studies. They already had enough odds stacked against them.

Bowman was like Dean in a lot of ways.

“So Jacob,” Sam said, deciding to change track for a minute. They still didn’t know if the human would move closer to the village at all and it was his job as a knight to make sure there were no threats to the sprites living there. Sam doubted Jacob would be an actual danger, but he needed to do his job. “How long will you be around? Are you planning on staying in the field here or will you be hiking?”

Jacob shrugged, though inwardly he was well aware of the attention shifting back to him. Even Bowman was waiting expectantly for his answer. "I was just gonna camp in this clearing," he replied. "Mostly this area, and I did plan on taking some walks."

"If you're gonna be stomping around you better be careful," Bowman warned, sharing a quick glance with Sam. This far within the fence, other patrolsprites would notice Jacob around, without a doubt. When they reported his sudden appearance, they'd need to spread the word that the giant didn't want to harm anyone.

Jacob held up his hands placatingly, though the motion made Bowman's wings twitch in surprise. "I'm not here to make a buncha trouble for you guys," he assured them. "I really just came out here 'cause it's relaxing."

“I guess we could just keep an eye on him if he starts to get too close to the village,” Sam pointed out to Bowman in an aside, keeping his voice lower. “It shouldn’t be too much of a problem if he really means no harm.”

He turned back to Jacob, sizing up the kid. Jacob was definitely big, but even the sense of danger from having his eyes on them was starting to wear off. They wouldn’t be able to drop their guard around him completely, but Sam was willing to give him a chance. It would be nice to actually see a full-sized human actually able to interact with the sprites as peaceably as Sam had done for half his life.

“You have to understand,” Sam said, keeping his voice gentle, “we just don’t want anyone getting hurt from any misunderstandings. You included. The sprites are peaceful, but they will fight if they have to.” He indicated his sword. “I got this from them, and they taught me how to use it.”

Bowman grinned and nudged at Sam with the edge of his wing. "You already left him a mark he won't forget anytime soon," he reminded him. Bowman might jest, but he was proud of Sam for achieving knighthood. It wasn't granted to just anybody, but Sam's strength and determination well overrode his lack of wings. He was good at the job. "Wait'll Scar hears you took on a giant."

Jacob smiled faintly, still fascinated by the interactions between the two of them. "I'll be careful," he promised. "Hell, if you guys don't want me wandering around on this side of the fence without an escort, I'll only go as far as the stream for water. Sound fair?"

Bowman pondered it. He glanced out of the clearing in the direction of the stream, trying to calculate the distance. In a low voice to Sam, he told him "It's the same one that loops by the village, way downstream. He probably won't follow it at least."

“If he’s only going to the stream, he’ll be easy to track,” Sam replied in just as low of a voice. “But I don’t think we’ll have anything to worry about. Humans might be big, but most of them don’t want to go after sprites the way the Archives warn they will.”

He’d spent more than one day in the Archives himself, once he’d learned the sprite alphabet. Bowman had helped him master it, while he’d taught the sprite the alphanumeric letters that humans used. While the human alphabet was very blocky and simple, the sprites had elegant letters with flourishes that could disguise what letter he was looking at. Patient study helped him master it, and so he’d gone to the Archives deep within the cottonwood to learn all he could.

Even Sam’s home in the tree pointed to his dual upbringing. The walls were covered by a combination of sprite and human letters, everything he wanted to remember, no matter how silly or simple.

“I think we have a deal,” Sam called up to Jacob. “We’ll go with you if you want to wander deeper into the forest.” He held out a hand, offering a handshake to seal the deal.

Chapter Text

Outwardly, Jacob was grinning, but inwardly he was wondering how best to accept the handshake. Budding relief filled him to receive even a tentative trust from them for him to be there. Though they couldn’t force him to leave, if they asked he would probably go. He'd always thought that using his size against someone was best saved for when it was necessary, and bullying a couple people the size of his fingers certainly did not qualify.

Bowman watched with interest as Jacob slowly reached down towards Sam's offered hand. It was a human gesture he'd heard about, and had even tried himself. Jacob somehow knew what it was right away, though thankfully he didn't move very fast. He could knock Sam over by accident if he wasn't careful.

A huge finger and thumb pinched around Sam's hand for a brief second, hiding it as well as part of Sam's forearm from sight. Jacob's hand was close enough to them to see every ridge of his fingerprints. Bowman’s eyes were wide with unveiled awe.

He was enormous, but to Bowman's great surprise, he didn't squeeze Sam's arm or make to snatch at them. He simply let go of the hand.

Before Jacob's hand could retreat, Bowman reached out a wing to brush the outermost edge against Jacob's knuckle. "There, now we're all in on it. And we're all in trouble for not reporting it immediately," he quipped.

Sam took back his hand, brushing his fingers up his arm in amazement. Shaking hands with a giant was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He could feel the ridges of Jacob’s fingerprints against his hand. He couldn’t help but be fascinated with the differences between them, despite the fact that they were both humans.

“I think they’ll make an exception,” Sam pointed out to Bowman. “This patrol isn’t even close to normal, not after finding Jacob out here. Once we report back, I bet more patrols will be swinging by this field to check things out. We’ve searched for years for other humans.”

Jacob's eyebrows lifted. He was amazed that he was somehow the first human to stumble across anyone out here, but then again not many people had a reason to trespass beyond the fence. Anyone ambitious enough to leave the campgrounds behind would likely be deterred by the signs, and Jacob only wasn't because he knew the private landowner. Coincidence had worked well to keep the little guys off the radar, and hopefully things would stay that way. They were small and trusting, and he wouldn’t want that exploited.

"So I might get more visitors?" he asked. "Neat."

Bowman scoffed, but he was smirking. "Gawkers is probably more accurate. Since you're giant and all."

Jacob was tempted to poke Bowman in the side for his comment, but decided not to. They still seemed a little wary around him, so actions like that could wait until later. "In any case, I should set up my tent, if you don't mind. I don't want it to get to nightfall and still have nowhere to sleep." He shifted to get his feet under him, but paused in a kneel when he saw Bowman's wings fanning open again as the sprite stared down at the ground.

"Earthquakes again?" Jacob asked sheepishly.

“It’s probably unavoidable,” Sam pointed out. He gestured at Jacob’s size with the teen just on his knees and not even standing all the way up. “Just think what it would be like if you saw a guy the size of a building walking around. There’s no way he’d get around without shaking the ground.” Jacob grinned at the surprisingly apt analogy.

Sam glanced around, sizing up the area they were in. “Either way, we should probably give you plenty of space,” he offered, leery of being down on the ground with a giant walking around. So far the only time Jacob’s boots had come close was when he was hiding down by the backpack, back when Bowman had first been caught. Sam was in no hurry to repeat that point of view, at least not from so close. If he had wings like Bowman’s, he might try and find higher ground to watch from.

That’s right, there’s a boulder.

Wondering if there was a better vantage point on the boulder in the clearing, Sam grabbed his glider, pushing it so it was out of Jacob’s way.

Jacob watched Sam move along for a few seconds. He was tempted to offer to help move the glider out of the way, and very nearly did. The hilt of Sam's sword glinted in the light before he could extend the offer, reminding Jacob of how capable the little guy was on his own. Jacob offering to help could just come across the wrong way, though he had never had to consider that before. Politeness could become condescending when meeting stubborn pride combined with such a shocking size difference.

Once Sam and Bowman were out of range, Jacob grabbed his backpack and stood to his full height. The pair of them dwindled away below him, and he stared for a second. Bowman kept looking over his shoulder to peer up at him, flicking his wings almost in annoyance.

How dare I be tall, Jacob mused to himself with a smirk, before backing off and heading over to the spot he'd already picked out earlier for his tent.

Bowman couldn't help but glance down at the ground as Jacob's enormous steps receded, and he stole more glances as the human pulled out a tightly rolled bundle from his bag. "I can't believe we finally found a giant human," Bowman said, walking along on the opposite side of the glider to Sam. "I wonder what else he has in that bag."

“It’s hard to believe,” Sam agreed, looking back briefly. Even from the other side of the little clearing in the grass, Jacob could loom if he tried. “I’m gonna bet he’s got some food, and camping supplies.” His eyes were equally as curious as Bowman’s as he watched Jacob’s movements.

The glider came easily as Sam pushed it along. It was far from the first time he’d had to haul it across the ground. His extra strength came in handy, making the glider unwieldy, but lightweight. He always made sure to carry it carefully, putting as much love into his main mode of transportation as he could.

When they reached the boulder, Sam leaned his glider up against it. He hoped that having it flush against the wall of the rock would keep it from being in the danger zone when Jacob was walking around. Sam didn’t want to think of it as stomping like Bowman did, remembering that he’d been a giant once upon a time. Not once did it feel like he was stomping around a motel room, but the vibrations in the ground resisted that line of thought.

With the glider safely parked, Sam took in the sight of the boulder, and walked around the fringe of grass that was trying to creep out of its shadow. There was one side that was a gentler slope, and Sam elected to climb up it. As soon as his feet left the ground, Bowman fluttered into the air to flit back and forth while Sam climbed, waiting patiently for his brother to make it up.

After a steady climb, Sam settled near the top, finally at a vantage where he could actually survey most of the field and watch Jacob set up his campsite. A thrill hit Sam at the thought of being near a human for the first time in years. He would never run out of questions to ask this newfound connection to the world he’d lost.

Bowman made one more circle around the boulder before sweeping in for a quiet landing next to Sam. He shook out his restless wings and settled down to watch Jacob just as intently. The two of them had a slightly better view as the giant unfurled his tent, shaking it out with loud rustles of the plastic cloth. Long, straight-edged sticks bundled within were fitted together and strung through loops in the tent to give it a shape. Bowman was riveted on the process.

He had so many questions of his own, questions he was sure Sam would be able to answer. Before he could get one out, another one came along. His wings were twitching and he was tempted to take flight again and watch more closely, but he didn't want to leave Sam all on his own up on the boulder.

Jacob couldn't feel eyes on him the way Sam could, but he knew he was being watched. There was that sense in the air, and every so often he glanced over to the boulder where the tiny pair had decided to perch. He'd never thought the steps to putting up a tent were that interesting before.

Once the frame was built and strung up, Jacob went to each corner with the stakes to make sure it wouldn't blow away. He realized with some awe that each piece of metal was bigger than Sam or Bowman. It was still easy for him to drive them into the soft dirt with a step, and he suddenly wished he hadn't made that comparison, while wondering if they were over there thinking the same thing.

Truthfully, it was hard for them to think anything else. Though Sam and Bowman didn’t consider themselves small most days, especially ever since Sam had gotten over the shock of his curse, it was jarring to watch an actual giant using his weight like that. Their thoughts would unavoidably wander to the fact that both of them would fit under those boots just as easily if Jacob wanted them to.

Sam found himself glad that Jacob was turning out to be a pretty good guy once he got over his initial grabbing reaction.

“When do you think we should head back and tell everyone?” Sam said to Bowman in a murmur, tipping his head towards Jacob.

Bowman shrugged, continuing to watch intently as Jacob finished up the last touches on his tent. "I dunno. I mean, it's not exactly urgent anymore, right? He said he'd stay here unless he needs to go for water." So long as the human kept his word, and it didn't seem like he was lying, he'd be easy to keep track of.

Bowman couldn't deny, either, that he was still fascinated by their discovery. What had started as a routine patrol had become far more interesting, and they hadn’t even made it to the fence.

He perked up in surprise when he noticed something. "Hey, his tent is covered in those zip things!" He looked over at Sam. "Do humans use those metal teeth for everything?"

Sam smirked. He had a feeling he’d be explaining a lot now that there was an actual human, full-sized, around. The sprites had always been just barely on the side of disbelief over some of the topics he brought up. He’d never even thought of mentioning zippers. It was just something that humans used, barely worth a thought.

“They’re useful to keep out the bugs or the cold,” Sam said, shrugging. “You’ll find them on bags, tents, some jackets… They seal better than buttons or anything else we’ve got.”

Bowman nodded absently. From what he'd seen, the zippers (stupid name aside) were incredibly useful things. It was like sewing something up but not quite. "This is making me think of all the stuff you told me about when we were growing up. Like ... cars, and locks, and el... that magic human energy stuff."

He made himself a little more comfortable, letting his wings fall open and splay over the surface of the boulder behind him. Glancing around at the few things Jacob brought with him, with their odd shapes, colors, and materials, got his imagination going like Sam's stories always did.

"Human stuff is a lot more complicated," he finally determined. He couldn't help but wonder about what might happen if it hadn't been a stranger stumbling upon them, but Sam's older brother, Dean. Sam would probably want to leave and go back to all that.

Sam bobbed his head in reply. “It is.” He thought about his home back in the village. The little leaves that covered up his window, rustling in the breeze. The way he’d wake to birdsong in the morning instead of a blaring alarm and the scent of coffee.

“It can be a lot more… sterile. You don’t see much of the trees or grass when you’re in a motel like we used to stay at,” Sam said thoughtfully. They really were two completely different worlds. “It’s nice to have lights that I can turn on without Prayer, but…” He stared down at the rock they had perched on. “It’s not like I can reach those lights anymore, so it wouldn’t do me much good anyway.”

Bowman hummed thoughtfully, and shifted his wings so they were catching the light better. "Well, if we ever go see it sometime, I'll just reach 'em for you," he promised. Bowman had no idea what kind of lights Sam referred to, or how he'd manage a human light by himself, but that was beside the point. Where Sam needed help, Bowman lent it freely, and Sam did the same for Bowman.

The time for reassurances ended as Jacob stepped back from his handiwork, a big cloth house standing where there was none moments ago. After a second of staring at it, the human looked over to the boulder again, and Bowman was back to carefully eyeing his every move. Jacob's approach wasn't as intimidating as it might be if they were on the ground, at least.

Jacob knelt in front of the boulder and offered a cautious smile. "All set. I'm practically a forest dweller," he announced. Bowman snickered at him.

“Maybe we can get you some better camouflage,” Sam joked dryly as he brought himself to a stand. It felt odd sitting when someone so huge was close by. He couldn’t help but want to prepared to move at a second’s notice. “Or at least an outfit that blends into the forest better.” He cocked his head, trying to imagine the human wearing an outfit closer to what the sprites made. The jeans and hoodie the kid was wearing looked comfortable, but they wouldn’t be the best for blending in.

Sam’s own outfit was created to help him blend into their verdant surroundings. With pale skin and no wings to match the foliage, Sam stood out when he was scouting. His long jacket and pants combo, along with the boots, helped him fade into the surroundings. Even the glider could be used for cover if he was on the forest floor.

Jacob grinned while Bowman stood as well, stretching out those vibrant green wings of his. He probably had no trouble at all blending into his surroundings out here. He'd stand out like a sore thumb back in town, but in the trees, Bowman could probably become part of the canopy. With that leafy glider, Sam could probably do the same.

"I don't think any amount of camouflage would help me," Jacob confessed. "I'm not the stealthy type." Indeed, Jacob might make a decent wall, but sneaking around was a losing battle with his kind of bulk. "I'll leave that to you guys." He braced a hand against the boulder, well away from them, but still saw Bowman's bright green glance at it.

"Do you guys, uh, want something to eat?" Jacob offered tentatively. "It's getting to be about lunchtime for me, and I've got a few things packed so you wouldn't have to go off and get something yourself."

Sam arched his eyebrows, surprised to get the offer for food. The last time he’d had human food… Memories came back of a night spent eating fast food from a Gas ‘N Sip with Dean. He’d complained heartily about the greasy burgers they had, and Dean had shoved apple sticks in his hands to get him to calm down in the store.

Despite his interest in the food, Sam was tentative to accept it. “Only if you have enough… I’ve got supplies in my glider. If you want, you can share some of those in return. Mint cakes are pretty good. A little small, maybe…” He trailed off, appraising Jacob. The food might be closer to candies for him, Sam mused to himself in realization. “I’ve got plenty to share,” he finished up. “The sprites think I’m going to starve if I’m not eating all the time since I can’t get energy from the sun like them. They even made extra large storerooms for my house so I always have plenty on hand.”

"Well, you gotta have stuff on hand," Bowman defended, speaking up on behalf of the many sprites that agreed with the sentiment. "We don't think you're gonna starve." Though, as he spoke, Bowman thought that Candara might actually be under that impression, with the way she always made extra food for Sam to take with him when he visited.

Jacob smirked. "A trade sounds fair. Gotta say, Bowman, I didn't have you pegged for the mother hen type."

Bowman rustled his wings indignantly and crossed his arms. "Nice try, but I don't even know what a hen is," he grumbled.

“Too bad, fits you perfectly!” Sam joked, stuck with the image of Bowman clucking over him like a lost chick. It was worth a grin, and he held it in his mind as he started his climb back down to where his glider was parked. “Seriously, you guys turn every meal into thanksgiving. Humans really don't starve if they miss a meal here or there.”

“It's … Well at least you're always ready, just like we are in the sun!” Bowman shot back before fluttering off the boulder once more. Sam had to smirk at the sprite's continued insistence.

Sam didn't say much for the next minute while he concentrated on his handholds against the rock face. The slope wasn't treacherous, and Sam had climbed around the village before, especially before he'd finished the design of his wings, but he didn't want to risk a misstep. Breaking a leg was not the way he wanted the day to end.

The cloth bags on the glider were full of supplies for the trip, and since they were only planning on being out for one day, half had rocks for ballast. Sam selected one bag for himself and Bowman to share, judging it a good sized lunch for them, and after a moment's thought selected another bag for Jacob. It wasn't much compared to the human's bulk, but the food was good.

Stepping away from his glider, Sam offered up the second bag. “It's not much. I'd have more to offer if we were near my place.” Regardless, his eyes were hopeful that Jacob would like it.

Jacob's eyebrows lifted and he leaned down slightly to get a better view of the bag Sam offered him. It was a tiny cloth thing, barely as big around as a quarter. He could just see some kind of small bread peeking out of the closed flap on top. "It's no big deal, I came prepared," he replied.

He reached down slowly and carefully. He could hear Bowman's wings rustling as he flew in low circles around them, probably getting some restless energy out before landing. The closer his hand got to Sam, the bigger Jacob felt. He ended up turning his hand over so it was palm up and Sam could place the little bag on his fingertips. It was damn near weightless.

Jacob slowly closed his hand over the tiny bag so he wouldn't lose it, careful not to crush it. He sat up and twisted around to check where he'd left his bag. "This'll be great, lemme just grab what I have," he announced, before pushing himself up to his feet again.

In the short time it took him to retrieve his backpack and return to the boulder, Bowman had landed near the glider. Jacob set his backpack down, one hand close to his chest as he held the small offering Sam gave him. His overstuffed bag still contained some changes of clothes and a small cooler packed with sandwiches, and he fished one of those out to observe the plastic baggie. "Looks like ... turkey and swiss. That a good trade?" he glanced down at the two waiting on the ground.

Bowman tore his gaze away from the backpack to look incredulously at Sam. "What and what? " he asked, unapologetically confused by the words.

Sam glanced between the sandwich and Bowman and couldn’t stop a grin. “It’s a sandwich,” he said laughingly. “Food! Two slices of bread and you put the rest of the food between them. In this case… cheese, turkey…” Sam winced and the laughter faded. “Remember how we talked about how humans don’t eat sprites at all, but they do eat animals? Turkeys are birds that they raise.” He turned his attention to Jacob at that.

“Sprites don’t eat any meat,” he explained, far more seriously. “Fruit, vegetables… stuff like that. The bread I’ve got is made from acorn flour. Bowman might be able to enjoy some cheese, but I don’t think he’ll ever have the turkey. I’d love to try a bit… if I can. It’s been a while.”

Bowman almost gave Sam a look, but restrained himself. He still stared skeptically at the food Jacob held wrapped in clear material, unsure of it. He wanted to try human food, but he definitely didn't want to go back on the wood sprite way of avoiding meat. "I think you mentioned cheese before," he admitted hesitantly. Curiosity started to return as Jacob set his bundle of mintbread on one knee so he could open up the strange seal at one end of the bag.

Jacob smiled faintly. "You can have a little piece of it and try," he offered, breaking off a crumb of swiss. It rested on his fingertip and he lowered it down towards Bowman, whose wings twitched as he approached. Soon, those tiny little hands clutched the portion and backed off again.

Jacob glanced back at his sandwich, and hesitated. He couldn't see himself getting very good portions of the ingredients involved without smushing them or giving Sam way more than he needed. After a pause, Jacob simply lowered the whole baggie. "Here, you can grab something if you want it," he suggested. "If you haven't had much meat in a long time, maybe take it easy on the turkey. Don't wanna surprise your stomach too much, right?"

Sam stared at the size of the sandwich offered, amazed at the sight of so much food held so casually. He almost went to reach for it, then snatched his hand back at the last second as he thought over Jacob’s words. It had never occurred to him that his body might not take to meat well after so many years living off of the food of the sprites.

“I, ah…” Sam absently rubbed his hands. “That’s a good point. It’s probably good you don’t have greasy burgers like Dean always used to eat. Turkey shouldn’t be as bad.”

Keeping that in mind, he approached the sandwich again and hesitantly reached out. The texture of the cheese was different than what he was used to, much more porous and textured. The bread practically had to be crushed together to get anything close to what he was used to before.

Sam only took very thin pieces of turkey, electing to follow through with what Jacob had mentioned. He would try a very small portion of the meat and make sure that he didn’t get sick first.

“Thanks!” Sam called up, choosing to sit crosslegged right under the shade of his glider. He waved one of the mintcakes at Bowman to see if the sprite wanted any, and then nibbled cautiously at the tiny sandwich he’d recreated. He had to pause and close his eyes. It had been so long since he’d had cheese.

Jacob couldn't help but watch as Bowman sidled over to crouch next to Sam before settling himself on the ground too, unfurling his wings and letting them drape over the dirt. The sprite was still cradling his lump of cheese in both hands, poking at the texture with his miniscule thumbs.

"Maybe try a bit of it on those pieces of bread you have," Jacob suggested. Bowman blinked up at him, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and retrieved his own piece of bread from Sam's bag.

Reminded of his own little offered bag, Jacob glanced at his knee. He managed to nudge the flap of the bag open with one fingertip, and then with much more difficulty he managed to pinch two or three of the tiny pastries between his thumb and finger. They were like tic-tacs to him, and he was careful not to drop them as he put them on his tongue. Minty, sweet, and nutty flavors hit him in a subtle burst from the tiny pastries.

Before he could point out how good they were, Bowman spoke up again. "This stuff is pretty good," he announced. "I wasn't sure 'cause of the smell but it's tasty. Human food is so different!"

“I do miss it,” Sam murmured as he ate through his sandwich. He took care to avoid the turkey for the most part, only eating a few bites from the pieces he’d taken. Memories of chocolate flashed through his mind, Lucky Charms and Mac and Cheese. All kinds of food that his brother would get for him when they were stuck on their own. “Not that the food your aunt makes isn’t great.”

He placed the remains of his sandwich to the side, deciding to wait to finish the turkey when he was sure he wasn’t going to get sick from it. The mintcakes were a great way to finish the meal, and Sam finished every last bite of his.

Chapter Text

Bowman didn't finish the entire piece of strange cheese-food that Jacob had given him. It was good, but with his wings in the sun, he simply wasn't hungry enough to eat all of it. The single piece of bread he'd claimed, however, was gone by the time the meal was over.

He paid intent attention to his food while, so nearby, Jacob worked on his own food. The human was huge, so naturally, his meal was huge and his bites were huge, too. Bowman had to remind himself of a conversation between Sam and some of the older sprites way back when he first arrived. That had been a tense and then awkward set of questions, asking if his kind would want to hunt and eat the sprites if they found his family.

Even knowing the truth, Bowman didn't look up until Jacob finished his meal and politely set the little emptied food bag next to Sam. "Those were great, dude, thanks for letting me try 'em," he rumbled.

Bowman edged away from the glider as he stood, so he could stretch his wings out. "Blasted giant, I'm surprised you could even taste anything," he groused. Jacob really was absurdly big.

The human just laughed. "Hey, they weren't that little. They were like ... mini-M&M size." Bowman stared at him for a second, before looking expectantly to Sam for an explanation.

“It’s chocolate,” Sam explained promptly. “I told you about that. Really good candy. Like how sprites have crystallized honey? And honeycomb? Humans have a lot of different kinds.” He held out his fingers, approximating the size of M&M’s. “He just means the bread was about this big.”

Sam gathered up the belongings he had strewn about. The supply bag that he and Bowman had shared for lunch was still half-full, but Jacob had finished off all of his bread. Not that Sam had expected any different, comparing how large Jacob’s finger alone was to the little sack.

Brushing the crumbs away as he stood, Sam went over to his glider and hung up the two supply bags in their place, and dug out a small clay pot. The top was covered with a wax seal that he broke, revealing the rationed water he always kept on hand. There was plenty of space on the glider to store it, and he wasn’t as adept at finding water out in the forest as the sprites were when he went on patrols. After taking a sip he held it out to Bowman, who accepted it gratefully. “I have to say, M&M’s were some of my favorite candies growing up. I don’t think sprites have anything close to chocolate.”

Bowman lowered the water container and raised an eyebrow. His wings twitched as though he'd been challenged. He remembered Sam mentioning chocolate many times, with a fond glint in his eye as he remembered. The sweets that sprites had available were good, but they never inspired the same nostalgic longing for Sam. "Yeah, I remember," he replied, almost rolling his eyes. "Too bad you can't stand pine sap."

Jacob made a face. "Pine sap sounds disgusting," he said before he could stop himself. Bowman's little wings flaring up made it worth it.

"Don't count it out 'til you try it," he challenged with a smirk.

Jacob held up a hand in surrender. "Fine, fine, but I'll just take your word for it. That stuff smells way too bitter for me." His eyes trailed to his bag, which still lay on its side nearby. "But if you wanted to try something new, I'm pretty sure I had a bag of M&M's in my bag somewhere."

Sam brightened up at the answer, tucking away the emptied clay pot back in the supply bags. “You have some with you?” His eyes drifted longingly towards the backpack that sat next to Jacob. One of his favorite snacks as a kid, so close he could almost taste it. “Bowman you have to try it.” He winced at the memory of Bowman convincing him to give the sap a try. “Considering how bitter that sap is, dark chocolate might be more your type, but the regular M&M’s are worth a shot.”

Bowman was intrigued. "Yeah? After all these years of you pointing out how good this chocolate stuff is, I'm not about to miss out on it," he shot back with a grin. Then, before Jacob could move to offer them the candy or do much more than lift up the top half of his bag, Bowman fluttered over to it.

He clung to the edge of the wide zipper, his feet planted against the tough fabric of the bag, and Jacob froze, holding it open. Squinting into the bag, Bowman could see some bundles of what had to be clothing and a few other supplies. Bowman's wings opened slowly and he braced the edges against the opening, too, before looking over his shoulder at Sam.

"Well, you coming or what? Let's go get it!"

Jacob smirked, but didn't protest. He didn't mind them going for the M&M's themselves if they wanted to. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious to see a couple of tiny people go exploring his backpack. At their size it might be like cave diving. He wondered what sorts of things they'd have to say about it, especially Bowman.

Sam buried his face in his hands at Bowman’s exuberance, already resigned to following the younger sprite on his crazy idea. Jumping into a massive bag that belonged to someone else wasn’t high on Sam’s list of Things to Do, but there were times Bowman just wouldn’t be stopped.

Jacob didn’t seem interested in trapping them, though, and they’d been within reach during their entire lunch. In fact, the human’s expression only displayed curiosity and fascination at the sight of Bowman leaning into his bag.

Since he didn’t have wings, Sam had to take the long way there. He trekked across the ground, stepping quickly when he was directly in front of Jacob’s bent knees. The human didn't move, but Sam couldn’t help the skittish reaction the way the other guy loomed overhead. He could feel that curious gaze sweeping over him.

Climbing up the bag took almost no time at all. Sam’s fingers were small enough to thread right into the thick fabric it was made from, and he scaled his way up to Bowman. “You couldn’t wait for me this time?” he complained loudly, sending a nervous glance up to Jacob now that they were both on the bag.

Bowman snickered, ignoring the shadow of Jacob's arm reaching overhead. "Have you met me?" So far, the human hadn't dropped the bag closed, and Bowman chose to believe he wouldn't anytime soon. At least curiosity was there to shove aside his nerves. Sam wasn’t the only one hiding trepidation.

"You're the one who brought up his favorite candy," Bowman pointed out. He had to use his wings for help to hoist himself up a little further, peering into the dim bag. Before he could bring himself to go any further, he sent a wary glare up at Jacob. "Don't you go closing us in here! Leave these zipper-teeth open."

Jacob nodded at the warning, glad he managed not to break out into an amused grin this time. "You got it. Help yourself," he quipped.

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed past Bowman’s wings. “You might as well go all the way at this point,” he jabbed gamely. “ ‘S not like he couldn’t have stuck us in the bag earlier.”

And then, not waiting for anything else, Sam dropped the rest of the way in.

He landed on what must be a shirt, bunched up at the bottom of the bag. The moment he fell through the threshold, darkness cloaked him. The sunlight hit a few inches over his head, illuminating more fabric in the interior.

Sam stared up in surprise at how deep down he felt, then spotted Bowman peering back down at him. “You coming, or what?”

"Pray to a rock," Bowman shot back mildly. He hoisted himself up over the side, with slightly less grace than Sam. His landing ended in a stumble with no room to balance himself with his wings. He shot Sam a glare, despite it not being his fault in any way, and flicked his wings haughtily.

Soon enough, his attention was on their surroundings. The light from outside shifted and Bowman watched as Jacob lowered his head a little so he could peek in at them. That was a strange sight all on its own, but Bowman turned away to peer into the bag.

He crouched to brush a hand over the fabric they stood on. He pinched a thread at one of the seams in his fingers, marveling at how thick the string was. He supposed it would have to be, to hold such a massive shirt together.

Sam shook his head with a smirk, and set off in his own direction. He’d already felt how thick the strange fabric was compared to what they wore, and he wanted to go searching for the food Jacob had said was inside. He was aware the entire time of the eyes that touched him with their gaze, and it bothered him less and less the more he was exposed to Jacob’s mild manner. His fascination wasn’t threatening anymore.

The sides of the bag rose up around them both like tall fabric cliffs, and the interior was warmer than the outside. No breeze reached them. The ground was soft under his boots, and Sam hopped down off the shirt, landing on all fours where he could feel the solid surface of the earth beneath him. Ahead, there was the edge of a brown crinkled bag peeking out from between other items, and Sam set out for it.

The material that made up the M&M bag was familiar, but much thicker. Sam grasped it with both hands and planted a boot against a shirt. With a grunt of effort, he threw all his strength into getting the bag out.

After looking around at everything with keen eyes that adjusted slowly to the dark, Bowman rose to a stand again. His steps were more cautious than Sam's, falling lightly on the fabric even as he left the bunched up shirt behind.

"That's the chocolate?" he asked, stepping up alongside Sam. He gripped the strange material curiously. Before he tugged on it, he ran his thumbs over the strange texture. His strength was pale in comparison to Sam's, but Bowman tried to help anyway.

"Spirit's dance, you have to really want this stuff to get it," he grumbled.

Sam laughed at that. “The chocolate is inside the bag, and it’s not usually this hard to get,” he said. He gave it another tug and leaned backwards. It might be easier to do if either of them actually outweighed the stupid bag, but it slowly started to creep out from where it was squished in the clothes.

The further it came out, the easier it got, until with a loud crinkle, it popped out. Sam and Bowman went sprawling against one of the shirts Jacob had folded inside his bag. It made their landing soft, and they got tangled into Bowman’s wings as they flailed.

Sam managed to roll free, brushing himself off and almost tumbling again on the uneven surface. “See? We got it,” he proclaimed. He slipped his knife out of his jacket and sliced into the brown wrapping, revealing a rainbow of chocolate candies inside.

Bowman winced and rustled his wings vigorously, while outside of the backpack he heard Jacob failing to hold in laughter. He shot a glare at the wide opening, but the human didn't notice. "Featherhead," Bowman called out at him, wishing the human hadn't seen their sprawl.

"Getting it figured out in there, guys?" Jacob snickered. Bowman scowled at him.

His irritation quickly wore off and he crouched to peer into the bag at the M&M's Sam revealed with his knife. To Bowman's surprise, the material of the bag tore farther when he tried to open it up to see them better. "They look like bright berries," he commented, brushing a hand along one.

"Are they all different because of the colors?" he asked, looking back at Sam with both fascination and wariness on his face. He didn't want to end up with a bad one.

Sam shook his head, sending his long hair into more of a mess with the motion. “They’re all chocolate, and the candy shell tastes the same on all of them. There’s other candies that have different flavors, like Skittles, but here we’re good.”

He brushed his own small hand over one of the candies, and scooped it into his arms. Blue. There hadn’t been blue M&M’s around the last time he’d had the candies… He could remember seeing red and orange, bright greens and dark browns along with tan candies, but never any blues. He held it close to his chest, thinking that the candy coating around the outside was thick enough that they might need to use a knife on it to get to the chocolate.

Before stepping away from the bag, Sam grabbed one other M&M, unable to resist the candy. If he’d remembered to bring one of his supply bags, he might be tempted to take more, if Jacob didn’t mind. He sent a glance over his head to see what the human was up to.

Jacob's laughter had settled down, and he lifted the top of the bag higher. He grinned as Bowman claimed a green M&M, and saw that Sam had a couple of his own. "You found 'em without any trouble," he observed, a smile in his voice.

Thinking the bag would surely spill M&M’s all over his clothes, only to melt there, Jacob decided to take the rest out. " 'Scuse me," he warned them before reaching a hand into the backpack with them. He made sure not to knock into Sam or Bowman, and they helped by stepping quickly out of his way so he could pinch the end of the M&M bag and drag it out.

Bowman flicked his wings. He didn't regret exploring the bag themselves, but he did wish he'd thought to just make the human free the candies from the bottom. "Watch it, giant," he griped. "Don't knock us down!"

"I didn't even come close to knocking you down," Jacob protested mildly, arching his eyebrows. "You guys comin' out or is there more to see in there?"

Sam sighed at that, craning his head back so he could at least sort of see Jacob. Being in the bag wasn’t helping the perspective there. “Jacob, you gotta remember you move really fast,” he tried to explain. “Bowman complains a lot, but he’s got a point.”

He flushed a little. “I know we’re in your bag, but it’s a little nervewracking when you just grab things bigger than we are like that. So, could you… just wait until we’re completely out of the way? That way there aren’t any misunderstandings.” He could well imagine that he’d have slashed out with his sword if his arms weren't full of candies.

For Jacob, with the scolding coming from a calmer source, it became more effective. With Bowman's snarky attitude, it was easy to lull into a sense of joking around like he would with any of his friends. Jacob smiled sheepishly, catching up to Sam's logic and trying to understand his mistake from their point of view.

"Yeah ... okay," he replied. "Sorry. I'll try to remember." There was a quiet earnestness in his voice, and a look in his eyes that hoped for forgiveness. He was still decidedly new at all of this. His relaxing camping trip has revealed a world he never would have dreamt of.

Bowman flicked his wings yet again, but since no one had actually been knocked down, he chose to forgive the human. He shared a glance with Sam and shrugged. "Yeah, you better," he called out.

Sam nudged Bowman with an elbow. It figured that the sprite didn't mind snarking at the human seconds after Jacob had apologized. Just like Dean, Sam remembered. Some things transcended species and size, as the strange pair of adopted brothers proved. “As long as you're willing to try,” Sam called up to Jacob. “If others come around, you'll have to be careful. The sprites are peaceful, and pacifists. They'll be very curious about you, and I don't want any of them taken advantage of.” Regardless of being the same species, Sam would stand with the sprites.

He shifted the candies to one arm, or at least tried to. “C'mon, we should get out,” he murmured to Bowman. Stepping towards the cloth sides, Sam tried to figure out how to get back up. If he had both his arms free it would be a piece of cake, but now…

Sam chewed his lip distractedly while he sized up his obstacle.

Jacob was about to offer them some help out of the bag when he saw Sam’s conundrum, but Bowman's wings opened up and he stopped. Bowman tucked his own M&M close with one arm like a football, and after shifting his tiny feet around, leapt up towards the edge of the bag. Jacob was fascinated as the sprite somehow managed to swing his legs over the edge, one after the other, while one hand gripped the zipper like his life depended on it. His wings braced against the edge until he was over.

Bowman grinned triumphantly before peeking back over the edge. "Need a little help?" he called, before reaching a wing as far into the bag as he could. With his own cumbersome grip, he was practically leaning back into the bag, and Jacob was tempted to grab one of his little boots so he didn't fall.

"Lemme hold those," Bowman suggested, managing to curl the tip of his wing just enough that he'd be able to cradle the M&Ms in it to free up Sam's hands. It was just above the level of Sam's head, waiting for the cargo. It wouldn't be the first time he'd helped Sam carry things this way, but he didn't do it often, and Bowman had to concentrate so he wouldn't fall.

Sam passed up the candies, resting them in Bowman’s wings. They worked together out of habit and long years being by each other’s side. It wasn’t the first time Bowman had lent a helping wing.

With the candies out of his hands, it was short work to scale up out of the bag. Sam had no issue leaping up, hand over hand, until he finally grabbed ahold of the metal ‘teeth’ that made up the zipper. It was like trying to climb an old oak tree. The thick bark offered as many handholds for a four inch person as the backpack did, and Sam was shortly standing next to Bowman on the outside.

He accepted back the two chocolates, brightening at the thought of being able to take an extra one home to share with their family, and gave Jacob a wave. “Thanks for this.”

Jacob's awe lingered and for a second he didn't reply. It was fascinating to watch how easily the two of them worked together. They clearly had different strengths between them, and they put them to use helping each other out without even planning it. Seeing that in miniature only added to the novelty.

"Uh, yeah," he answered, coming out of his daze in time for Bowman to hop down last with a small flutter. Jacob smiled faintly at the bright colored candies the two of them had claimed. Each M&M was probably bigger than their stomachs. "Can't let you go any longer without chocolate, right?"

Bowman rapped his knuckles on the shell of his green M&M. "Oh, believe me, if Sam had his way, there'd be a festival right now for this," he quipped.

Sam rolled his eyes and stalked towards the edge of the backpack. “Climb a dead tree! Just imagine if you didn’t get any pine sap for the rest of your life!” Reaching a side that wasn’t too high off the ground, he squatted and hopped down. With the bags that were recently emptied on the glider, he planned on saving most of the chocolate. There was no way he’d be able to eat more than a tiny bit of it.

Before loading up the glider, Sam used the knife that was hidden away in his elegantly embroidered knight jacket to chip a part of the shell off. Enough chocolate clung to the side to offer a decent sized snack. Both M&M’s fit perfectly in the glider.

Bowman snickered at Sam's comeback, but had to withhold any further teasing so he didn’t take the risk of Sam refusing to cut away some chocolate for him, too. The green M&M provided a similar chunk of the fabled candy, and Bowman stowed the rest on the glider to help balance it out with Sam's remaining supplies.

Then, he finally tried it.

"Blast it, you were right about this stuff," he admitted, nibbling on the piece of chocolate with his eyebrows raised appreciatively. It was sweet, but a kind of sweet Bowman had never really encountered before. Honeycombs didn't even match it.

"That good, huh?" Jacob asked, unable to hold back a smile. "Maybe not all human stuff is so weird, huh?"

Bowman chuckled. "No, it's still strange," he assured him. He finished off his chocolate, wondering idly what Rischa would think of it. His gaze wandered to the edge of the clearing in the direction of the village. A lot of sprites would probably love a chance to try it if they could.

"We should probably go and let everyone know, soon," he said in a quieter voice for Sam. "Cerul and Scar will wanna see for themselves."

Sam nodded in agreement. They’d put off their report long enough. Scar would expect full details from Sam, especially with a human close to the village. The older warrior would likely understand the reason for their delay, with Jacob being the first person from his own race that Sam had seen in over a decade, but there was a limit to how long they could put it off.

And of course, there was Bowman, who was a patrolsprite and thus expected to report all details immediately.

Sam put a hand on his glider and looked up at Jacob. Not only was he the knight, he was also the oldest, so the responsibility for the decision to stay would fall to him. “It’s time for us to go let the others know you’re here,” Sam told the human seriously. “They might want to meet you, so we could be back later.”

"Sure, okay," Jacob answered with a nod. He wasn't sure what he'd end up doing, but he had a strong suspicion that he wouldn't have to wait that long. If the rest of the little sprites were as fascinated and curious as Bowman, they'd be back in no time at all. He'd just have to be watchful and make sure he didn't accidentally knock into someone smaller than his hand.

So much for a worry-free camping trip.

"I'll just be around here," he said, pushing the thought aside. He had discovered an entire tiny civilization out in the middle of nowhere, and he was amazed. "Just, uh. If someone's gonna be in the clearing, I'd like to know about it?"

Sam bobbed his head as he went over to the belts on his glider. “We’ll do what we can,” he said wryly. “There’s a few featherheads that might try and sneak out to see you for a dare or two, but I don’t think the rest will be any problem.” Sam knew that if Bowman wasn’t the patrolsprite that had discovered Jacob, he might be one of the sprites sneaking out to glimpse the giant. Sam ended up being the voice of reason between them more often than not.

When he was sure the glider was ready to fly, he pulled it away from the rock and pointed it past Jacob. It was the work of a minute to lash himself to the glider and ready it for flight. Sam shot a look at Bowman. “Ready?”

Bowman nodded and took a few steps back to give Sam room. Jacob was watching them intently from above, sitting perfectly still. It was a good thing, because Sam needed a clear space unhindered by some giant's errant move to take off. Bowman didn't need as much space, but all the same he felt better knowing exactly where Jacob's hands were at any given time.

Both brothers tensed in preparation, and then were off like shots.

Sam couldn't leap into the air like Bowman could. His glider required more speed, more thrust behind it to really lift him into the air. His legs were strong after years of practice with it, and after a foot or two along his runway, the air began to lift under the carefully crafted wings.

Bowman made a wide loop in the air to get his own speed, and he glimpsed Jacob staring wide eyed between the two of them. He didn't even know who to watch. Bowman had to smirk even as he swept downwards in a careful dive towards the back of Sam's glider.

Jacob gasped as Bowman hurtled past right in front of him. And then, in another feat of wordless, seamless teamwork, Bowman latched onto a small rail on top of Sam's little glider just as the tiny swordsman's feet left the ground. Jacob would have to pick his jaw up off the forest floor. Bowman's speedy, powerful wings and careful maneuvering to line up with the glider paid off as he pulled it upwards, helping Sam into the air faster than the little guy could have done on his own.

"Holy shit," Jacob couldn't help blurting when they were both airborne and Bowman let go of the glider to give Sam free rein of his own aerial domain once more. He saw a grin on Bowman's face as the sprite flitted this way and that around Sam's much calmer path.

Sam gave a laugh in return, a brilliant, happy sound as the familiar feeling of being free of the ground filled him. Jacob might be a full-sized human, unlike him, but the human would never know what it was like to fly with the sprites. Would never know how it felt to make his own path in the sky, after years of being trapped on the ground, too small to walk out of the forest.

Banking, Sam swooped past Jacob as he angled back out of the clearing. He waved a farewell at the teenager, thrilled to be up in the air where he belonged and not down on the ground where Jacob could loom over him. “We’ll be back in no time!” Sam shouted before he was out of earshot.

Bowman snickered at Jacob's dumbstruck return wave before facing front again. He zigzagged in the air and flew in wide arcs around the glider as Sam worked to gain more height. If he needed to, he could swoop in and give another boost, or point out a good updraft. Taking off from the ground wasn't the most ideal starting point for Sam, but it wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"That ... None of that went how I expected," Bowman admitted, once they were well on their way home. Indeed, strange foods he’d never had before were settling in his stomach, human foods that he'd only ever heard Sam talk about as they grew up.

Not to mention Jacob's quick turnaround. The human had been terrifying at first, only to backtrack as soon as he realized what he was doing. Knowing the kind of person Sam was, Bowman wasn't too surprised. Not all humans were bad like the Archives said.

Sam was still grinning like a madman. “And now everyone can see what humans are supposed to be like when they aren’t cursed,” he babbled happily on, thrilled at the chance they finally had. “Instead of all those stories from years ago. That way they don’t have any doubts that I’m only like this because I got cursed.” He’d always wanted to prove what other humans were like to his new family. Most sprites couldn’t see into hearts the way Cerul could.

Their flight leveled out, heading back towards the village to spread the news of a giant’s arrival.

Chapter Text

Cerul sat in his quarters, his wings spread wide to accept the sunlight filtering in through his windows. Flickers of emotions brushed against him as others moved about within the enormous cottonwood tree, but Cerul tuned them all out in favor of his relaxation. Such moments could be rare, as he'd often warned his young pupil. Rischa was out playing now, surrounded by the feelings of everyone around her.

He took a slow breath, a measured movement with the slightest sway of the tree he called home. After so many years of housing the treepalace and the sprites' Archives, that cottonwood was alive with its own energy, its own laconic, stalwart personality.

It was a gracious host, and, like with all home trees, the sprites cared for it the best they could in return.

A stirring of attention in the living wood around him warned Cerul long before he felt the frantic urgency of the sprite running towards his rooms. He was already facing the door when they burst in. Their breathless surprise ached in Cerul's own chest, so he was patient as he waited for their explanation.

"Sir," they greeted before taking a few more heavy breaths. "Leafwing and Winchester just came back from a patrol. They found a giant."

Scar was already on his way to the wide front porch of the treepalace when Cerul intercepted him in the halls. Scar lifted his eyebrows, and merely got a slightly exasperated look in return.

"It's a bit beyond coincidence, isn't it?" Cerul said, and Scar snorted as they continued walking.

"If I'm honest, which you know I am, I figured it'd be those two that found one."

Cerul hummed thoughtfully. "It definitely suits them."

Scar smirked, thinking the exact same thing. Sam was, without a doubt, the most interesting knight in the ranks. Scar was proud of how far he'd come since he arrived, shivering and sniffling, clinging to the High Knight and shyly peeking around him at everyone. The boy had learned to fly, and had grown up into a confident young man with an uncanny ability to work as a seamless team with the other knights.

Bowman, like his father, had grown up into an accomplished flyer and the fastest patrolsprite in Wellwood without contest. His own father might be the only one to come close to his ability. He and Sam were exceptional in what they'd made of themselves, and it only made sense that they'd make the first contact with a giant that Wellwood had in several generations.

When they finally exited the tall doorway onto the porch, they found Sam and Bowman waiting dutifully for them with a few other patrolsprites listening to Bowman's description of the giant they'd found.

"Well?" Scar greeted, his eyebrows up. "We heard you two have quite the interesting tale to tell." His eyes fixed expectantly on Sam for the explanation.

Sam’s own eyes were bright as he stared back. He stood at attention before the High Knight, eager to tell the sprites about the first human seen since Sam himself. It might not be Dean, but meeting another person like himself was a rare chance.

“His name is Jacob,” Sam began, hoping to remind the other sprites that Jacob wasn’t just ‘the giant.’ Scar and Cerul knew best of all that humans were people like anyone else, but the other sprites could get caught up in the concept of how big humans could be.

“We went on patrol first thing this morning, and passed through a field on the way to the fence to survey the area. When we got there, we found a campsite set up with belongings, including a bag bigger than a house, so we decided to investigate. While we were on the ground, the human came back.” Sam did regret how off guard Jacob had caught them when he’d returned. “Bowman distracted him and I attempted to get my glider off the ground. I didn’t have enough time, but we were able to talk to Jacob and made him realize that we’re people just like him.”

Sam gave an abashed smile. “It was touch and go at first, but he was just curious. He won’t try to grab anyone again.”

Bowman nodded to confirm Sam's story, though everyone saw his sheepish look. Cerul and Scar were both bemused, and it didn't take Cerul's gifts to understand just how much Sam was glossing over the most important details of their first encounter with the human.

"Again," Scar echoed, doing well to hide his chuckle.

"It's good you weren't hurt," Cerul cut in, before one of the other sprites around them could blurt out the question tempting her tongue. "And you talked to this human for some time?"

Bowman nodded, knowing that Cerul was thinking about the usual policy of reporting such an important finding immediately. But, considering the safety of the village wasn't in any jeopardy, Bowman wasn't apologetic. Cerul looked like he guessed that.

"Like Sam said, it was touch and go. We got it figured out and Jacob's going to stay where he is unless he's got an escort."

"Ha," Scar answered with a grin, imagining a giant needing a blasted escort just to walk around in the woods. "I suppose you lot of patrolsprites lazing about should spread the word that there's a giant in the woods, hmm?" he asked pointedly.

Cerul rolled his eyes while the patrolsprites scattered, ready to tell the whole village and other sprites flying on patrol about Wellwood's latest visitor. "Not you, Bowman," he chided, amused.

Bowman stopped. Cerul could feel the excitement and wonder that still danced around the two of them, and it piqued his curiosity like few things ever did. "I think I'd like to meet him," he decided.

Scar, who had been the head of the search for Sam's family for months, nodded in agreement. He'd never wanted to give up, but he'd never imagined the wait would be this long. "I suppose we should see if we owe him any apologies for Leafwing's big mouth," he quipped, smirking now.

Bowman rustled his wings, but knew better than to flare them at the village's best fighter. "I didn't even say anything that bad to him," he complained.

“You’re just lucky he has no idea what sprite swears are,” Sam chided the sprite in return. It had taken time for him to pick up the different lingo that the sprites used, and his own background shone through on occasion. Jacob hadn’t had that chance, yet.

Sam had a feeling the human would be hearing more sprite swears from Bowman if they visited him again.

“Jacob did ask that if anyone is around, that he knows about them,” Sam informed the two noble sprites. They all understood the danger of being around an unaware giant. “He has to be one of the tallest humans I’ve seen, probably close to what my dad might have been if we’d ever found him. Otherwise, we warned him to expect company if he remains nearby. It’ll be safer for everyone if we don’t catch him off guard.”

Both the nobles nodded, and flexed their wings in clear preparation. Bowman glanced behind as the other patrolsprites flitted from home tree to home tree, spreading the news. Jacob was probably going to be aware of some visitors very soon. News always spread like wildfire in the village.

"I suppose we should surprise him with another visit sooner than later," Cerul mused, and Scar nodded. The High Knight was already as prepared as Sam was, with his sword belted at his side and a willingness to use it if he needed to.

Thankfully, with as mild as Jacob really was in spite of his size, he probably wouldn't need to worry about any more wounds from a knight's rapier.

"We can lead the way," Bowman said with a respectful nod. "He's made his temporary house in a clearing a couple miles south."

Sam nodded in agreement and strode back over to his glider, parked gracefully on the front porch. The cottonwood tree offered an excellent platform for take-offs, an important part of Sam’s original training when he’d created the glider.

He couldn’t help a thrill of excitement to be preparing to fly with Scar, his mentor.

It was the work of a few quick moments to strap into the glider. It was already prepared for him, and pointed at where he planned to take off. Sam exchanged a glance with Bowman, then leapt into motion. The floor vanished from under his feet to be replaced with open air, and he plummeted two feet down before the wind caught under the wings and it swept up to level out.

Bowman leapt into the air with a strong flap of his wings, and Scar did the same. Cerul took a running start to push himself off the edge of the porch much like Sam did, taking to the air on less powerful wings than the other sprites. They drew some gazes from other sprites around, with not one but two nobles heading out into the forest.

With the wind in their wings, they were on their way to the giant's camp.

Bowman didn't wheel and loop through the air as much as he normally would with Scar and Cerul around. It was strictly business as the four of them sped between the trees, sunlight glancing over their verdant wings. It didn't take them long to return to Jacob's clearing.

Bowman pursed his lips at the sight of the human stretched out on the ground relaxing, his full size easy to see. His bag lay under his head and the ends of his music pod cord were in his ears. It was easy to lose track of how big that human was while they were back on familiar ground in the village, but once again Bowman had a reminder. All four of them could probably huddle under his folded hands and be concealed from sight.

Scar, flying apace with Sam's glider, muttered out a curse. "Spirit's dance, he's big." Seeing that Jacob hadn't appeared to notice their arrival even as they circled the clearing, he glanced at Sam. "Where should we land to announce we're here?"


Sam observed Jacob’s relaxed position against the ground. The sight of the earbuds in the giant human’s ears made it easy to figure out how he might have missed the entrance of the sprites fluttering overhead. Sam pointed to the side, towards the empty patch of ground not far from the bare firepit. “Not too close to him.”

With a motion, Sam gestured at his own ears. One hand stayed firmly on the twig in front of him for support while he flew. “Those things in his ears block out sound and play music. He showed me and Bowman earlier. We’ll have to figure out a way to get his attention.”

Scar and Cerul both looked intrigued as they angled down towards the grassless patch of earth. Bowman remained hovering in the air once the others had come to their landings, and glanced over at Jacob. He still hadn't noticed them. "His music pod is pretty loud. No wonder he can't hear us."

Scar and Cerul both shared a glance before gazing past the young patrolsprite. Jacob was a massive person, easily over seventy inches tall if he were to stand. Even lying down, he was taller than a sprite, and his huge chest rose and fell with the sound of strong winds as he breathed peacefully.

"Why don't you go and get his attention, then, boy?" Scar suggested, the faintest smirk on his face. Cerul schooled his expression a little better, but Bowman felt his cheeks heat up anyway.

"I dunno what's so funny," he groused. "But yeah. I'll do that." Bowman turned with a rustle of his wings and surveyed Jacob's enormous form, wondering how best to let him know they'd returned.

He ended up gliding over and landing on the human's chest, between the two branches of his earpiece cord. The steady breathing immediately hitched and Jacob shifted. Bowman saw his eyes opening in surprise, but whirled around when a shadow crept up behind him.

Bowman's wings were half open and Jacob's hand was frozen, looming close. There was a pause, and then Jacob lowered his hand to tug the cord of the earpieces so he could hear.

Bowman turned a glare on his face. "Were you about to swat me?"

Jacob blinked at him, bemused. His voice rumbled in the chest beneath Bowman's feet. "What the hell were you expect-" His voice cut off abruptly when his eyes wandered to the side and spotted Sam and two more sprites nearby.

Jacob sat up abruptly, which knocked Bowman off his feet. He fluttered his leafy wings, but Jacob managed to stop his fall on a quick hand underneath him before staring back at the newcomers. Both of them stepped back in surprise and their little wings were fanning restlessly. One even had his own sword like Sam, and kept one hand on the hilt.

"Uh. Hey, Sam," Jacob greeted lamely, while Bowman sat up in his hand and shook his head to clear it.

Sam was having a hard enough time hiding a smile of his own at Bowman’s annoyance and how flustered Jacob looked at being caught off guard while he relaxed. The human hadn’t even closed his hand around the sprite when he caught him, so clearly they were making progress.

Taking a step forward from his glider, Sam inclined his head towards the nobles. “Hello, Jacob,” he greeted in return, keeping a straight face at the sight of Bowman in a hand. So long as he was with the nobles, he aimed for more ceremony. “The Lords Cerul Elanwyn and Scar Wolfblind wished to make your acquaintance and ascertain if there was any threat to the sprites.”

His eyes were solemn as they met Jacob’s large browns above. Best behavior, he thought to himself, hoping that the large human would meet with approval. Cerul’s ability to see into the hearts of others was invaluable in a situation like this.

Jacob's mouth hung open for a second more, and he felt his face heating up. He called them Lords, he noticed, and the fact continued to nudge its way to the fore of his mind. He was making a complete ass of himself in front of the leaders of the sprites.

"Jacob," one of them greeted, the one without a sword. His wings relaxed and he held up his hand towards his peer in a calming gesture to convince him to let go of his sword. "I am Cerul. Apologies for startling you." He almost looked amused.

Bowman finally regained his bearings and his wings fluttered to life on Jacob's hands before he could reply. Mumbles of the strange curses could be heard before Bowman hopped down and glided to the ground next to Sam's glider. The other lord, Scar, smirked openly at his miffed expression.

"Leafwing has his ways," Scar remarked. Bowman pouted, but had the presence of mind not to curse at him.

"Y-yeah," Jacob answered, finally finding his train of thought. "Ah, it's good to meet you, I'm glad you came to see me? Sorry for any trouble."

Cerul stared at him intently, and a pause drew out that no one else seemed to think was awkward. Jacob remained frozen while the tiny winged man looked up at him with intent, keen eyes. It gave Jacob the feeling he was being read like a book.

Cerul nodded to himself after the silence had lasted for several seconds. "It was a misunderstanding, so we've been told," he replied. "I think everyone surprised everyone."

Sam relaxed a bit after Cerul’s assessment, understanding that the sprite’s natural empathy, what they called the Voice, had come into play. He didn’t completely understand how it worked, but it did. He’d seen evidence of the magic they ‘borrowed’ from the Earth Spirit consistently ever since coming to the village, including the flower petals that the sprites could turn into lights for work deep inside the trees or lanterns at night.

More than once, he’d hauled Bowman to his home to get the sprite to Pray the lights on.

“I think Jacob might have been the most surprised,” Sam remarked. “It’s not like anyone would expect to find sprites living in the forest.” He shared a look with Scar. They’d talked about the myths humans had about fairies on more than one occasion, and the fact that anything resembling the sprites was just a myth. Even Dean and John had never mentioned anything about fairies or sprites. “He did pretty good. No one got hurt and everything got sorted out quickly.”

Bowman rustled his wings, but didn't disagree with Sam. Even though he'd been the one pinched in two fingers earlier that same day, he was alive and well now thanks to Jacob's consideration. Even when the human had no idea what was going on, he hadn't made any moves to hurt anyone.

Jacob chuckled quietly for his part. After a pause, he carefully shifted so he faced the four on the ground better without twisting his neck to the side just to look down at them. Multiple sets of wings flexed and quivered, showing how much he still shook the ground despite trying not to.

"I am really sorry about that," he said solemnly. "I was a little grabby at first."

"Just a little," Bowman interjected with a roll of his eyes.

Jacob sighed and shrugged, but it was Cerul who spoke next. "We know you didn't mean any harm by it," he said.

Scar propped his hands on his hips, appraising the human with his own intuition. He was mild in demeanor despite his size, and clearly repentant of whatever shenanigans he'd gotten into when he first found Sam and Bowman. It didn't take the Voice to see that.

"Well, I think so long as we all learned our lesson, it's easily forgiven, boy," he said, waving a hand. Behind him, his wing mimicked the gesture. "I doubt that's the last time you'll see Leafwing fluttering about in a huff, though. Welcome to Wellwood."

Jacob grinned, unable to hold it back while Bowman shot Scar an indignant glare and Sam smirked out of his line of sight. "Thanks. Glad to be here."

FIN