A/N:
**Please see Chapter 1 for all warnings!** Don't like it? Don't read it!
Thank you Christine, goldacharmed, ANerdWhoWrites and Kajensen07 for the great reviews!
Up on the dashboard, Bowman didn't want to sit up for very long. His nerves were spent, now that he was coming down from the high alert of being around so many strange giants and corners behind which anything could be lurking. He lay on his back, his wings dropping open as he did so. Lethargy colored every movement.
"I know it's just bad luck, but your archives seem dangerous," he quipped, closing his eyes and letting the sun shine on him.
Dean absently drummed his fingers on the wheel as he started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "It was definitely a lot less exciting when it was just me around," he conceded. "All I ever had to worry about was the dust from the books and nosy civilians asking me why I was reading such strange books."
He glanced down at his pocket worriedly, wishing he could do more to help Sam and Jacob after the excitement. "The bad luck definitely seems to be adding up fast on this case. We need to catch a break, and soon."
Bowman lifted his head from where he lay to peer at the human. Dean looked just as stressed as any of them. Bowman could hardly blame him. With everything that had happened, he was exhausted and he hadn't even gone through all of the things Jacob had.
"It is strange," he agreed. "It's one thing to go unnoticed because he's nestling-sized, but to disappear entirely?" He laid his head back down, staring up at the windshield forlornly. The tops of buildings and some small, over-manicured trees passed by in his peripheral vision.
What could possibly have it out for Jacob? Aside from being grabby with Bowman at first, the sprite didn't see anything to complain about. Jacob was careful and kind. He was especially patient with the younger sprites that came to see him when he visited the village.
Bowman knew it couldn't be any magic coming from the Spirits, either, because the Earth Spirit Herself had visited the human in a dream before, along with Sam and Dean. She wouldn't turn on him without a good reason or some kind of warning.
Even after facing the lich and its foul spellwork nearly a year ago, Bowman was astounded that magic could be used for such malicious purposes. It was supposed to be used to help in some way. Anything else, according to all of his beliefs and the beliefs of any sprite, was a misuse. It was wrong.
A thought occurred to him. "Don't forget to tell your friend with his own archive that Jacob vanished and reappeared somewhere else," he pointed out. "Maybe, uh, Bobby can figure something out from that."
Dean arched an eyebrow at him. Bowman really could focus when the situation called for it, as frenetic as he was. "I plan on calling him as soon as we get back, actually. This disaster actually might give us some more leads to go on." He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Instead of one mushroom that shrinks people, we've got an outside force that can teleport a person across a room. And one with a sick sense of humor, putting Jacob at risk that way."
He shook his head angrily. "Whoever this sonovabitch is, we'll make him pay for that."
Bowman's brow furrowed at the conviction in Dean's voice, but he didn't add anything to it. He was entirely out of his element. He'd volunteered to come along and help Jacob, but he couldn't contribute much beyond keeping an eye on the little guy. As today demonstrated, even that wasn't enough if their unseen enemy decided to send Jacob somewhere else.
Bowman couldn't even contribute to the research; his ability to decipher human writing was woefully slow, and he would probably miss important details regardless. He sighed pensively, out of ideas. They needed to get Jacob back to his normal giant self, and fast.
The ride was uneventful. Jacob remained in Sam's bag, finding it simpler than trying to climb out only to be rolled around in the pocket by every little movement. Despite feeling silly huddled in the satchel, he felt a lot more secure that way.
Even if it meant he was stuck on Sam's lap while he dozed, fluffy brown bangs covering his eyes. He knew he was safe there, and that was more security than he'd had during any of his latest misadventures.
A smirk suddenly came to his face as Jacob thought about the younger sprites that would crawl into his hoodie pockets. Invariably one of them would curl up and fall asleep in there. It was kind of funny that now he was the one all but pocketed by Sam, and Sam was the one falling asleep.
When the Impala finally quit moving and the rumbling growl of her engine cut off, Jacob looked up at the opening of the pocket. It seemed Dean had reached the motel once more. Hopefully, once they were back behind that door, things would quiet down for the group, at least long enough to make some kind of progress. Jacob didn't want to admit it, but he'd be even more useless than he'd already been. His middle ached and he really just wanted to rest.
By the time Dean's swaggering stride had returned them to the safety of the motel room, Sam had woken up, blearily blinking his hazel eyes at Jacob for a moment of confusion before the events of the last hour came back to him in a rush. With a groan, he buried his head in his hands, trying to scrub away the exhaustion that struck after the terror in the library.
This time, Sam didn't bother getting Jacob out of the satchel at all. When Dean's hand slipped in, he just hitched it back over his shoulder, hefting the smaller hunter as easily as a school backpack. He clambered up the callused fingers, punching at the lifeline he was crouched on to let Dean know they were ready.
All the while, Jacob clutched at the edges of the bag to keep himself steady as they moved, and huddled into it to avoid jostling around. It was like being on the most bizarre swing he'd ever encountered. He was practically curled into a ball just for stability.
As the hand ascended, Sam tightened his grip on his bag, trying to keep it from swaying at his side. He didn't succeed completely, but it helped some of the motion for Jacob. They were lowered back down to the tabletop, which now had a massive stack of library books on it to keep the old Dell laptop company.
His legs still wobbled slightly after the swinging pocket ride and the previous scare, so Sam knelt down to put his satchel down on the table, offering Jacob a hand in getting out of it. Jacob took it with a mutter of thanks and extracted himself from the bag.
Once back on the table, Jacob couldn't help but stare at the stack of books. It was huge. Bowman had decided to land on top of them for the time being, surveying the picture on the front cover of the top book. From the looks of things, they had a lot of material to get through. Jacob might as well be looking at a high rise or a warehouse.
He stretched his arms over his head cautiously, working some tension out of them while also wary of overextending his ribs. They flared up briefly and he winced, but Jacob imagined that was just his normal for now. That kid had pinched him pretty hard, doing no favors for the healing bruises. At least he hadn't broken anything. Jacob slid his hands into his hoodie pockets then, looking up at the stack of books and thinking it looked like an accurate representation of the walls they kept hitting.
"Wish I could help," Jacob mused with a faint smile. "But I gotta feeling most of the pages weigh more than me." Not to mention, with his injuries, turning them would be a painful ordeal. It wouldn't be worth the effort.
Sam waved him off. "No one's expecting you to try and read books bigger than your house," he said reassuringly.
Bowman hopped down with a flutter of his wings, stumbling. He sat down near Jacob, letting his wings splay out on the table behind him. "You need to rest anyway. Your little ride in the satchel wasn't enough time to recuperate," he teased. Jacob rolled his eyes.
"We've got this covered. You just try and keep Bowman distracted," Sam gave Bowman a broad grin, knowing Dean was just as much a culprit as the sprite, "from getting in anyone's hair."
"Hear that, Bowman, I'm supposed to keep you distracted," Jacob quipped as he sat down on the table next to the sprite. Bowman shifted his scathing look from Sam down to Jacob, but the human just shrugged. "Them's the breaks," he teased, amused at how Bowman was caught off guard by the phrase. He probably didn't understand it but once again didn't want to ask for clarification.
"I don't need to be distracted, I know not to bother anyone," Bowman insisted, only getting a chuckle from Jacob for his defensiveness. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. His wings twitched in annoyance, drawing Jacob's gaze for a moment. They were so big, even compared to Bowman. They might as well be huge tents to Jacob.
Soon, Sam was buried back in the same book on ancient fae pranksters, a possibility that was becoming more and more likely the more he thought about it. After setting Sam up, Dean excused himself from the table. He stood next to the door, calling Bobby from where he could talk in a normal volume without having to worry about deafening anyone. Their muttered conversation was a background noise as Sam worked on turning pages that were probably bigger than his bedroom.
Occasionally Dean would peer out the window, pulling the shade just enough to see out so he could survey the parking lot while he talked. It was disheartening to glance over at the table and see Jacob, his form so small that Dean couldn't even make out his arms and legs from so far away, so he focused his attention outwards.
After the call, he strolled back over to the table and took a seat. At Sam's probing gaze, he gave a small shrug. "He's on it," he informed them. There wasn't much else to tell.
Before Dean could get too involved in his own book, Jacob finally noticed one pain in his middle that stood out from the others. "Hey, uh Dean? Don't mean to derail you here but is there any food left? Being a badass action figure left me a bit starving."
Dean glanced up, his eyes locking onto Jacob for a moment before the request sank all the way in. "Uh, yeah. There's plenty leftover." He wrinkled his nose. "We've got salad, some fruit and Fritos." He winked. "Your favorite."
Leaning out of the chair, he snagged the bag of Fritos from the plastic bag he'd gotten from the Gas 'N Sip, then grabbed the remains of the salad from the fridge. He popped open the bag of chips, putting it down not far from Bowman and Jacob, and left the salad with them as well. "Go nuts," he told them dryly even as he left a bottlecap of water on the tabletop.
Even if he was inclined to snack on salad and chips, Dean's stomach turned over at the thought of eating again after what had happened the night before. Any haze that had been over his mind from the drink had been dashed away by the frightening discovery of the struggling form of one of his best friends in his mouth. He shoved away any thought of food, determined to read up on everything he could and get Jacob back to normal.
Jacob's eyes brightened at the sight of a bag of Fritos the size of a cabin. "Ah, hell yeah," he said, going to stand. A hand on his shoulder stopped him, before Bowman stood himself. He knelt to retrieve one of the shamelessly awesome chips from the bag, looking at it critically in his hands and looking back at Jacob. It was easily half Jacob's length, and Bowman was holding a broken one.
Bowman, with only a little difficulty, broke off a more manageable piece of the strange food, kneeling to hand it to Jacob. It was plenty for him to start with. What would be a few bites to Bowman or Sam would hold Jacob over for a while. "Don't inhale it," he warned with a smirk.
"Oh, I'll do my best, but Bowman, you only gave me a crumb," Jacob quipped back, looking regretful. Then, he grinned and started nibbling on the food, finding that it brought nearly instant relief to his hunger.
Bowman brushed off his hands to get rid of the salt on them before going to the salad container. He stood on the tips of his toes to reach in and grab a shred of lettuce leaf. Since he'd gotten sun that morning, he was not as desperate for something to eat as Jacob. He returned to sit near Jacob to work on his lettuce while the human enjoyed his "crumb". Jacob tried to hide it, but he had been hungrier than he let on. All of the excitement plus waking up hungover had made it easy to forget that he needed to eat.
Once the research was in full swing and their food was eaten (Jacob didn't have any more chips, begrudgingly letting Bowman bring him a shred of spinach instead), the two of them had little more to do than wait. At one point, Bowman's wings were twitching so much that Jacob suggested he go ahead and fly around the room to let off some energy. The sprite easily took that advice, wheeling around restlessly. His aerial acrobatics were quite entertaining most of the time, though Jacob was immensely glad that Bowman hadn't tried any of those maneuvers while he was tied to him.
Later on, Bowman had to dodge a surprise projectile, a small ball of paper crumpled up and flicked at him by Dean, seeking a momentary reprieve from the constant tedium of research. Bowman, naturally, was easily riled up by this action and retaliated by retrieving the paper and lobbing it right back at the human, much to Jacob's entertainment.
Sam rolled his eyes as Dean, a mischievous glint in his eyes, snatched the paper right out of the air, snapping it back at Bowman before the sprite had time to recover from his own throw. Bowman lucked out this time, the shot going wide and missing by a good few inches.
With a frown, Sam glanced over at Dean. That's not like him, he fretted to himself. Bowman hadn't even been moving, an easy shot, and Dean had missed.
"Are you alright?" Sam asked his brother worriedly. "You look a little pale."
Dean tried to wave it off. "I'm fine, Bowman must have knocked it off with the wind from his wings."
That attempt worked on Sam the way it normally did. That is, not at all. He crossed his arms, stubbornly staring up at Dean. "When's the last time you ate?"
"What are you, my mother?" Dean griped. "I told you, I'm fine!"
Jacob turned his head to see the defiant look on Dean's face. He noticed right away that Dean did seem kind of pale. He almost would have believed the comment about Bowman knocking the paper off course with his wings, but Sam's concern got Jacob thinking. Dean, like the rest of them, hadn't eaten anything since the night before. And he ... hadn't exactly held onto that very long. He had to be starving by now.
"Woah, dude," Jacob joined in, "You should have some of this bag. Not like I'll make it through all of them in this century," he suggested with a wave towards the bag of Fritos. Jacob had had a crumb, and Bowman had tried an even smaller piece, disapproving of the salt immediately. There was plenty leftover.
Bowman flitted closer, concerned himself. After all, humans couldn't get energy from the sun like he could. It was doubly important that they eat enough or they could run themselves right out of energy. That kind of exhaustion was no good for anyone.
Dean tried to glare at all of them, but it didn't work while being ganged up on from three different directions. Sam on his own was bad enough. "I'm fine," he repeated stubbornly, digging in his heels from sheer cussedness. "I'm just... not hungry, alright?"
His stomach disagreed with him, grumbling in aggravation. Dean glared downwards, annoyed with the internal betrayal of his stubborn stance.
Traitor.
The glare thankfully passed by quickly. If it had lingered, Jacob might just have backed down. That glare was potent enough to make Jacob think twice about pursuing a subject with Dean even when he had a few inches on the guy. This time, the topic wasn't something anyone could easily brush off.
Jacob thought he could guess why Dean might be refusing to eat. Jacob himself had been squeamish about the thought, way in the back of his mind, until the food was actually in his hand. Dean needed to eat, whether he wanted to dig his heels in or not. If he didn't, he risked getting dizzy at the worst time.
"Dean, c'mon, dude," Jacob began gently, pushing himself to his feet. He walked a few steps towards the irate hunter and stood his ground, glare or no glare. Jacob rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and glanced over his shoulder at Bowman and Sam before looking back up at Dean. "You guys are all I got right now ... And I'd feel pretty shitty if you ran yourself ragged working too hard on my account. You should eat something, man."
Dean paused at that, surprised at Jacob's insistence, considering where Jacob had almost... He pushed that train of thought away, knowing it would lead him away from any progress he'd made. It hadn't happened and it wouldn't happen, and that was that.
Sam drove the final nail in the coffin of his stubborn resistance. "Dean," he said gently, sitting on the edge of his book with his legs dangling off. "None of us can drive the Impala. If you run yourself into the ground, we'll be helpless. Please, just eat something." His eyes, even as small as he was, were wide and round, staring up at Dean beseechingly.
The annoyance around Dean dissipated as he gave in. "Whatever," he muttered. "I don't remember signing up for three babysitters on this job." He snagged the bag of Fritos, lifting it clear over Bowman and Jacob before digging in. "Happy?"
Sam gave him a ghost of a smile. "I'm not unhappy."
A/N:
Between Dean and a crew of smols, who would win?
The smols, of course.
Next: December 31st, 2017 at 9pm.
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