A/N:
Thanks to Colby's girl, devlady and Icy Icee for the reviews!
What Dean noticed first as the giant walked in wasn't the long white coat he was wearing. It wasn't the messy hair that looked like the man had stopped caring what he looked like, or the lines that etched his face, digging in hard years of living. It wasn't the sound the air made as the man sighed, pausing at the threshold.
It was his eyes.
Cold green eyes that glanced over Dean's cage, barely seeming to care about the hunter clinging to the bars. They locked onto Bowman's cage, and a terrifying smile crept onto that long face, thin lips curling up.
"My prime specimen, awake at last," the man greeted, thudding past Dean's cage to Bowman's, but not without a casual flick of his fingers sent Dean's way, setting the cage to shaking, and knocking Dean from his place to roll across the bottom. "I've been waiting to be able to properly welcome you to the family."
Bowman wanted to take his eyes off the tall human to check on Dean. The other cage swayed more than it should in his peripheral vision, and he knew there was no keeping balance in that. He wished he could see if his friend was okay, but those cold green eyes had him frozen.
His hands were empty, but he almost wished he hadn't tossed the knife hastily into his boxy water container. It couldn't possibly keep him safe from a human, but it'd make him feel better.
He'd been called a 'specimen' before, and the memories were not good.
The faintest sound of whimpering came from the third cage with the nestlings in it. The human in white blocked Bowman's view of them, but it burned him up inside to think of the children, of his Rischa, all cowering from this man. This man who called him a specimen.
He was a scientist. A Spirit-scorned scientist was taking sprites right out of their homes.
Taking deep breaths, Bowman stood up straight. His feet planted, right in the center of his square-shaped prison. He put on a brave face like he always did, but the quiver of his wings gave away his nerves. If this was the human responsible for stealing away the nestlings, there was no telling how dangerous he was.
Dangerous often got snark from Bowman. "I'm not a specimen, first of all, and second of all I'd appreciate it if you'd make him giant again." He waved an arm in Dean's direction.
Silver eyebrows arched up at Bowman in bemusement. "You must be a well-trained pet sprite, to want your human back to size," he sneered disdainfully. He straightened, looking down at Bowman with thinly-veiled contempt, then strode over to Dean's cage, where the swinging was beginning to die off.
Dean had a few more bruises than before, but he was on his feet the second he saw the man coming. "Let them go," he growled, advancing on the scientist. "They never hurt anyone, let them go! "
The scientist rolled his eyes. "So dramatic," he said with a sigh. "We'll have to train that out of you, I suppose, little hunter. Tell me, do all hunters keep pet sprites? Or are you just special enough that you and that kid keep a whole village to yourselves?"
Dean flipped the man off. "Screw you and whatever hole you crawled out of," he spat.
This only got a finger wagged at him, and Dean found himself unable to focus on anything but the fact that the finger was easily the length of his body, long and thick, enough to pin him down like a bug and crack ribs.
He knew how weak he was at this size. He'd felt his younger brother's struggles in his hand, unable to budge a single finger regardless of the panic on Sam's face, and now it was Dean's turn for the same.
"Temper, temper," the man tutted, like he was talking to an overexcited puppy. "Got to watch that mouth, little hunter, or you'll have to go to time out."
The man leaned forward, and any thought Dean had that this man was just a nutjob was gone. Those eyes were dangerous, and picked Dean apart where he stood. Whatever else the man may be, he knew what he was doing and was only playing with them. "Better watch what you say, maggot. You're in my home now, and we're playing by my rules."
Dean could see it coming. Almost in slow motion, the man's hand rose up, aiming at the bottom of his cage.
"What, afraid to take on someone your own size?" Dean stubbornly taunted just as the cage tilted under his feet without warning. He found himself tossed into the air, crashing against the side right next to the creep's face.
Cold green eyes glittered as a huge mouth opened up, bare inches from Dean. His eyes locked onto teeth bigger than his hand. He shivered. Is this what it's like for Sam? he wondered in the back of his mind. Distantly, he hoped he'd never made Sam feel this way. Small and insignificant... helpless.
Dean's heart hardened, refusing to let any weakness show.
"Someone like you, you mean? You shouldn't worry so much about them. You should worry about you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean hissed through his teeth, wishing he could just reach through the cage and knock the man senseless.
In the other cage, Bowman could barely contain the anger over what he was seeing. What he was hearing. He clung to the bars of the cage, his wings fanning ceaselessly, and he couldn't help but focus on how close the scientist human had put his face to Dean's cage. Dean was right next to the man's mouth.
He was too small. Dean wasn't supposed to be small.
It didn't matter so much that the stranger had called Bowman a pet. He'd been called worse. From men like this, it was all the same. Pet. Bug. Freak. It didn't bother him nearly as much as seeing it happen to someone else.
He shook the bars of his cage in frustration. As before, it didn't have any effect but to put the slightest sway in his hanging cage. Bowman looked up and glared at the chain dangling his prison from the ceiling.
"Let him be before you fill the room with all your stupid hot air," he groused. Determinedly, and despite his shaky climbing ability, Bowman grasped the bars and hoisted himself up.
"Everyone like you thinks they're so tough because they're bigger, but you had to go and make Dean sprite-sized before you could deal with him, huh? I've taken down a human bigger than you, you sun-hated sneak!"
The man let out a long-suffering sigh, his icy eyes switching to Bowman's cage as he released Dean's. Dean's fingers twitched towards his gun with the eyes off him, one hand sealed around a cage bar to keep balance as it swung back and forth.
Close to the man…
Far from the man…
"Keep talking like that," the man taunted. "You'll need your strength." His eyes glittered. "Such a strong specimen compared to the children. I'm so glad I had the foresight to translocate you when I took the hunter." His long fingers traced an arcane figure in the air, Dean focused on every movement as his cage swung, memorizing the motions sketched into the air.
Back. And forth.
Now that he had the sway down, and more important things on his mind than his stupid fear of heights, he could focus on stopping this freak.
"Once we get started, you'll wish you were back at the start," the man went on, ignoring Dean to stroll over to Bowman's cage and caress the side with a finger. "Such… delicious plans. You sprites and your magic… so wholesome. It feels so pure. Refreshing. Though it is very odd to see a hunter working with creatures like you."
For all his bravado, Bowman wanted nothing to do with those hands. He hastily let go of the side of the cage, only to stumble back to the center. His graceless landing toppled him to the metal floor of the cage, but he kept his glare on the human.
He hated this view: a giant face, peering in at him through bars he could never escape on his own. He'd seen it before and had told himself he'd never let it happen again.
So much for that.
Resisting the urge to scoot further away, Bowman sat up straight to look as unconcerned as he could. "Obviously you don't know much at all about us sprites, then," he retorted. "What makes you think you'd be able to get any magic from us? You haven't exactly asked nicely."
The man chuckled, a dark, rasping sound like nails on a chalkboard. "I don't think I need to ask," he chortled. "I don't think I need to ask at all."
The implications of those words hung in the air between them, a voice breaking the silence from behind.
Dean.
Unable to just watch Bowman face the creep on his own, Dean held fast to the bars closest to the other two. "I know your kind," he said disdainfully. "You're a witch, ain't you? A he-witch, taking advantage of the weak."
The scientist's back stiffened, the only outward sign he was affected by Dean's words. "You watch your tongue, little hunter," he said mildly, the anger in his voice betrayed by the way he stressed the words. He flicked two fingers towards Dean's cage.
An invisible force slammed into Dean's chest, knocking him backwards from the bars. Dean hit the other side of the cage with a groan, sliding down and crumpling into a ball in one of the food dishes with a clatter. His hands stung and his back ached, a bruise already forming where the impact against his chest hit.
"Sonovabitch," Dean slurred, weakly trying to push himself up.
"It's warlock," the scientist corrected testily. "Witches have no subtlety." He turned his attention back to Bowman, ignoring Dean like he meant nothing. Just a pest to be dealt with. "And with you little lovelies, I won't need to rely on demons for my strength much longer. I'll just take what I need from you, much like I do with the demons." He leaned in close, grinning. "What resistance do you hope for when I'm used to grappling with demons? The source of your magic seems much easier to manage than those nasties, let's see if I can't find it."
Bowman shrank back before he could stop himself. The man ... the warlock, he'd dubbed himself, had tossed Dean backwards without even touching him. Bowman had never seen anything quite like it. Even the lich, powerful with its pack of life-sick wolves, had filled the air with its foul energies. This human's magic gave no warning at all.
Unable to resist, Bowman's eyes flickered briefly to the other cage. Dean was at least stirring after the strike.
Bowman looked back to the warlock then, his glare as potent as he'd ever made it. He'd had a lot of practice with it before, though he rarely needed it for real. He didn't want to show this man his fear. No matter how much his heart fluttered in his chest like a baby bird.
He scooted himself backwards pointedly so he could push himself up to his feet. His wings twitched with a longing to dart away, find someplace high up. Somewhere he could hide from that cold, green scrutiny.
Since he couldn't, he curled his hands into fists and stood his ground. He didn't want to admit to the guy that he had no idea what a demon was, or what it was like. "It's like I said, y-you don't know anything. Wasting everyone's time."
This time, it was Bowman who got a finger wagged at him. "Just because I don't know doesn't mean I'm wasting time. I'm going to dig around and find that magic of yours and take it for my own. You're a good, strong specimen, Prime. I daresay stronger than my little hunter, right about now. And certainly stronger than the children I've caught up until now. Yes, I am very glad my little hunter fetched you for me when I brought him here."
"Leave him alone," came Dean's voice, but much of the energy was gone. He was shakily supporting himself against the food dish, one arm wrapped around his middle where he'd been flicked.
The man arched his eyebrows in bemused disbelief. "Still haven't learned your place, pet? I'm sure I can come up with a few good lessons for you while I work with my Prime."
"You won't get away with this," Dean growled, a hand on the cage bar. He kicked the side viciously. "Just because you have me trapped doesn't mean this is over!"
"Those other two you were with?" the man snorted in disdain. "Please. Some local teen who knew a hunter and a mite that doesn't show a bit of magic in him. They weren't worth the magic it took to shrink you down and bring you here. They won't be helping anyone."
He doesn't think Sam's a threat, Dean realized, a glimmer of hope shining in the darkness. He didn't touch them because they don't look like threats!
He kept these thoughts tightly sealed within, a poker face in place. It was almost disrupted in the next few seconds though, as the warlock in the white lab coat continued contemplatively "What sets you apart from the other hunters I've seen, my little pet? The number of people I've seen willing to work with such pests was null until you came along. Is it that little morsel you travel with? Maybe once I've secured my magic from these lovelies I'll go back for him. Run some tests and see what makes him tick. He's one of a-"
"You sonovabitch, stay away from my brother!" Dean shouted, yanking out his colt. His finger on the trigger, it was child's play to sight the giant's eyes and fire.
Jacob didn't notice right away that Sam had nodded off, gone to chase dreams in the pages of the book. After being scolded once for glancing over too much, he made a point to leave Sam be. He only thought to look over when he found a site that might be of interest, but that required a paid subscription to access. He was ready to ask Sam's opinion on it when he stopped.
For a moment, he thought Sam wasn't there. Then, tentatively, wary of more scolding, Jacob reached over to lift up the page that had fallen over a small shape.
A bemused smile ghosted across his face at what he found. Curled up in the middle of a book several times his weight was Sam. His tiny face rested against the curve of the pages like it was a huge cushion. He looked exhausted, and it was no wonder why. His brother, his only family, was missing. If not for Jacob, Sam would be stranded all alone.
"Alright," Jacob muttered, shifting his focus entirely to the small sleeping person. He didn't want to leave Sam lying in the book. He moved a hand tentatively towards Sam, ready to snatch it back if he startled the little guy awake.
It didn't happen. Jacob had had practice picking up sleeping sprites before, and it showed. Despite his hand being so much bigger, he was able to nudge it under Sam while hardly disturbing his curled-up position. Jacob's fingers curled protectively over the tiny weight. When he stood, his hand remained steady thanks to the multitude of times he'd carried young nestlings home at their insistence on a ride on his hand.
It didn't take long to reach the nightstand. Jacob crouched and moved some books aside to reveal the tiny room behind them, lowering Sam to the bed. "Last stop," he murmured, giving his hand a gentle tilt.
Unfortunately for Jacob, that was where his luck ended. Though Sam didn't wake up as the land shifted around him, he curled into a ball, taking advantage of the divot of skin in the center of Jacob's palm.
"Five more minutes," Sam mumbled tiredly into the skin he was using as a pillow, wrapping his arms tighter around his satchel. In his sleep-deprived and exhausted mind, the warm surface he was sleeping on belonged to Dean, and the jerk was trying to brush him off. It was cold under the nightstand, didn't Dean know?
Jacob's lips twitched in a smile, but he didn't give up or answer. He had his doubts that Sam would want to wake up on his hand, no matter how sleepily-insistent he was now. No, Jacob understood exactly where Sam thought he was, who he thought he was talking to. He believed Dean had been the one to move him.
He paused to let Sam drift off again. He couldn't keep up his own attempts at research if he let Sam keep his hand as a bed.
"Here we go," he muttered, his voice quiet as he could make it. Once he started making some progress, Jacob pinched the small scraps of fabric that were Sam's blankets, moving them out of the way. The tiny bed awaited its owner, looking welcoming no matter that Sam tried to claim Jacob's palm instead.
He set the blankets partially over Sam's small, exhausted body as soon as he'd slipped down onto the bed. He had to hope it'd stave off the chill before Sam roused again.
Sam curled into the sheets as they fell over him, wrapping them around himself blindly as he settled into the comfort of his temporary home. "Jerk," he sighed, slipping the rest of the way into sleep. His satchel sagged out of his arms, falling partially out of the bed with the leather strap still attached to Sam.
Jacob's eyebrows rose, but when no more insults filtered out of Sam, he leaned away from the nightstand. The books were replaced, a safe wall to keep privacy and safety intact in that miniature room-within-a-room.
That done, he stood and returned to the table. The book that had almost been Sam's bed for the night was still open to the page he was on. Jacob left it lying open, pages facing the ceiling and waiting to be read. Sam could get back to it when he woke up.
With a glance at the clock on the computer screen, Jacob settled in to continue his own research.
Just one more page, and I'll call it a night.
A/N:
Dean isn't quite the right size for this threat...
Cowritten by PL1, the creator of the Wellwood sprites and Jacob Andris!
Beta read by creatorofuniverses on tumblr.
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Next: August 5th, 2020 at 9pm