Dean woke with a desperate gasp, almost tumbling out of his curled position.
One hand caught the edge of the food bowl, and the other landed on a bar, then jerked back like the cool metal had burned him. Dean's eyes, wide with the receding panic of the nightmare, flashed from side to side, looking for familiarity and finding none, more like a cornered animal than a person in those brief moments of waking.
Bowman flinched and his startled wings flared half open as the noise drew his focus to Dean's cage. He and the others watched Dean for a surprised second. Bowman shifted along the wall of his cage, gripping the bars as his movement swayed the whole prison just enough to feel it.
"Dean," he greeted. His voice sounded as tired as he looked. They couldn't even be sure they'd slept a full night, with nothing reaching past the covered window. "How do you feel?"
"Have a drink a' water!" Vel chirped helpfully, pointing at the water dish in Dean's cage. "That helps me with the bad dreams sometimes."
Vel's cheerful voice was enough to draw Dean back to himself, blinking fiercely in the light. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he recalled the nightmare as it mixed with the events of the night before.
No, Jacob wasn't a giant. Dean was the one who was small, and they couldn't do anything about it.
"Like crap warmed over," he said to Bowman. "Thanks Vel!" Dean tried to make his voice more cheerful, waving at the young sprite, who, he could now see, would likely reach to his waist.
It felt so damn odd to know that a sprite could be that tall next to him.
Dean reminded himself that Sam dealt with this constantly without complaining so much. Hell, Sam thought this was normal.
Dragging himself over to the water dish on the other side, Dean stared into the clear liquid. Before taking a drink, he scooped up a drop, watching the edges of the water quiver on his hand as the surface tension held it in place. So friggin' weird…
Dean splashed his face, rubbing his hands tiredly through his hair to wet it and instinctively spiking the front.
Bowman was soon too restless to stay seated. Now that he knew no one was ailing or too hurt, he got to his feet. He prowled to the door of his cage, glaring up at the lock. If that was just gone, he could fly free. He fanned his wings.
"Vel, how soon do you think the man will be back?" he asked, glancing over to the knife he'd hidden by his own water dish. "Do I have time to try to get out?"
Vel paused. "Um ..." His cheeks warmed. "Maybe? I dunno ... how to tell time in here."
Bowman wandered back to the nearest corner of the cage and tried to offer a smile. It was tense. "Don't worry about it, Vel," he assured him. Then, he addressed Dean. "He did mention the man bringing food soon. Maybe ... maybe I can slip past him then."
Dean glanced at his wrist. Of all things, he still had his watch. If only the duffel bag and cell phone had come along like it. "It's just past six in the morning," he informed them. "Bright and early."
Mind racing with plots already forming, Dean got up from the water dish after drinking his full of the stale, metallic liquid, glancing around the room. The lock on his cage matched the one on Bowman's, and he scowled knowing what child's play such an impediment would become if he could just get normal.
"If you can get out," Dean said, thinking out loud, "duck out of the room as fast as you can. I can shoot out the light to cover your escape. It might cause enough confusion for you to slip out into the main house. You need to get to Sam. He'll know what to do."
Bowman's wings twitched again, ready to follow through on Dean's advice. Before he could fly for freedom, he had to get that lock off the cage. He sent a fleeting glance to the other cage, where more of the nestlings stirred in their sleep. They'd been trapped long enough. He had to do what he could to get them out.
The boxy shelves on the walls and the stale air all around was as foreign as it could be for the Wellwood residents. Bowman saw no green in the room except for the sprites themselves.
Newly frustrated and determined, he all but dove for the knife by his water dish. He tucked it into the scarf around his waist so he could climb the side of the cage, scrambling a bit as it swayed and tried to steal his balance away. He couldn't waste time.
One arm looped through the bars to hold him steady and the other took the knife in hand. Slender fingers, not used to the feel of the handle, clutched it so tightly that Bowman's knuckles were pale. He reached around the lock, poking the shining blade of the knife into the opening there.
"Blasted ... human ... things," he muttered as he worked. He could feel different parts of the contraption shifting.
His wings flared out behind him, quivering with anticipation. And still the lock didn't budge.
A noise somewhere else in the human's vast dwelling drew a murmur out of the nestlings. Bowman could see them moving around in the corner of his eye, but he refused to look over. To break his concentration now, when he was so close.
His heart fluttered. He didn't have time. In his head, the hopeful image of the bright green canopy and the lush surroundings of his home faded, replaced by the harsh lamp and the huge hands coming for him. That would be his fate all too soon, if he didn't get out.
"I ... I can't get it!" he growled, frustrated. Footsteps approached somewhere beyond the door. "It won't unlock!"
"Forget it!" Dean hissed, his voice urgent. He waved at Bowman in frustration, wishing he could do more to help his normally-smaller friend. "There's no time, put the knife away!"
Dean jerked to attention as the footsteps grew closer, his heart leaping into his throat. A deep, primal fear struck, embedded into him after having his size fucked with over the course of an entire week, and he dryly swallowed.
Nothing in him was prepared to face down a giant again. He almost wanted to try turning over the metal food dish and crawl into a dark corner to hide from the world.
No, a voice of steel spoke up inside him, one that sounded strangely like a deeper version of Sam. You can do this, I know you can.
"We'll try again later!" Dean insisted at Bowman, his urgency rising. If the sprite got caught, Dean couldn't protect him.
Bowman scowled at the lock, willing it to open. It didn't, and the footsteps came closer. His heart crawled somewhere up into his throat, and he had to hop down from the door of the cage. He stumbled and fell, dropping the knife next to the water dish once more.
He'd failed. This time, he told himself.
The footsteps paused outside the door, and one of the nestlings squealed quietly as she tried to crawl as far from the door as she could. She knew what was coming. Bowman sat up and glared as the tall, rectangular door swung inward, admitting their captor.
"Up early, you sun-hated sneak?" Bowman greeted, climbing the wall of the cage again to rattle the bars as much as he could. "And here we were hoping you'd slipped into a trance."
The human ignored him. As he entered the room, Bowman noticed a plastic container in his hands, a lid hiding the contents from the room. The man strode past the cages, pointedly bumping Dean's cage with a shoulder as he went.
"Feeding time," the scientist announced dispassionately. "Even you, little hunter, if you behave."
Dean clung to the bars of his cage, his face green. Any trace of an appetite that might have come to him upon waking had fled as the cage, five feet in the air if it was a mile, swung from side to side. A deceptively calm sway compared to when it was smacked the night before, tossing him into the side, but enough to give him a clear view of the drop that lurked past the edge.
Scrunching his eyes shut, Dean pretended he was on a boat. The sway was just the ocean. Nothing to worry about, nowhere to fall but in the water. He could climb back out again.
When the queasy spell passed, Dean took the opportunity to sneer at the man. "We both know that's not going to happen."
The scientist allowed himself a smirk as he opened up the container, giving his back to Dean. The pristine white of the labcoat taunted both Dean and Bowman with how easy it'd be to attack the man, if only they weren't trapped. If only they weren't the size of a finger.
"Back," the human instructed, fixing his cold green gaze on the nestlings. They all scrambled to the far end of the cage, many clinging to Rischa to hide their faces in her side. She had no one to cling to herself, and could only watch as a hand opened up the door of their cage.
Cuts of fruit and some vegetables were dropped into the nestlings' food container. The scientist made sure they received a variety before locking them up again, and giving them permission with a glance to eat.
Then he turned on Bowman. "See how well trained they are, prime specimen? I wonder how long it will take you to be the same."
"Try back when the sun has stopped shining," Bowman snipped. "You think bullying a bunch of children until they're scared of you counts as training?"
"I have found that fear is more than adequate as a teaching method." Without breaking eye contact, the human lifted a hand towards Dean's cage.
Dean flinched, then a glare replaced the fear on his face. "Unshrink me and we'll see how well that fear works for ya!" he shouted, untangling his arms from the bars to back towards the center of the cage. This way, his limbs were safely inside and there was no danger of a flick coming and breaking an arm or leg.
"You have me and Bowman," Dean said. "Fine. Now let these kids go back home to their parents. They never did anything to you."
"And lose sources of good data?" The human smirked and, with a dismissive flick of his hand, set Dean's cage swaying again. Not enough to send him flying, but enough to keep it in constant motion. Enough to show Dean how easily he could be tossed around.
The container of food made a loud clatter as the man set it down on his workbench. Leaning in, he squinted at Bowman. "Don't think I didn't notice," he said with ice in his tone. Bowman inched away but refused to blink and break contact with those huge eyes. "You put that magic of yours to use overnight, helping your precious hunter."
Bowman's heart suddenly fluttered and he had to take a short breath. The human still thought Bowman had more healing power than the others.
He had to keep him thinking that. "Yeah, well, you're a long way from earning the privilege yourself, so I'd avoid getting a grass cut if-"
He didn't get to finish his taunt before the hands lifted again, easily undoing the lock that Bowman had struggled with moments ago. Already bored of his snark, the scientist didn't acknowledge Bowman's words any further. A hand slipped in the opening, a hand that Bowman knew could only bring more torment. Despite himself, a yelp of fear squeaked out of his chest and he flinched backwards, not registering the distant, angry shout from Dean.
A/N:
They need to catch a break!
Cowritten by PL1, the creator of the Wellwood sprites and Jacob Andris!
Beta read by creatorofuniverses on tumblr.
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Next: August 19th, 2020 at 9pm