A/N:
CW for Dean's potty mouth and sciencing.
Jacob took a slow breath, unsure of what to do. When Sam didn't rush back out into the open to yell at him, somehow he felt worse for what he'd done.
He'd let himself get into a false familiarity with how things should be. Jacob always watched his step in the woods, because there might be sprites somewhere near, hiding from him. He was used to it there, but not in a place like a motel room or any place that was more human in nature.
The realization of that mistake coiled around him and his heart sank. He was supposed to be helping, and looking out for Sam. The little guy was trusting him to do that.
If Dean didn't kick his ass for hot-wiring the Impala, he would for this.
"Shit," Jacob muttered under his breath. Then, moving slowly and with stark awareness of his own bulk, he lowered himself to the floor. His hands braced on the worn down carpet while he adjusted his position, and by the time he wasn't moving anymore he was lying flat. All six foot five inches of him was as low as he could make himself, while he peered under the bed. He couldn't see where Sam hid, but he didn't pry, either.
"Sam? Dude, I swear I wouldn't have hurt you ... I just didn't know you were awake," he stammered. He sounded like he was making excuses. "I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry."
Sam closed his eyes, letting his head hit the bed support as he started to catch up to the words Jacob was saying, the memories of Dean in a similar position beginning to fade.
He was small, but they cared enough to try. Jacob deserved another chance, just like Dean all that time ago.
Even with that conviction, Sam was hesitant as he leaned around the side of the post, catching sight of Jacob, flat on his stomach. The kid was still bigger than where Sam was hiding, by a decent amount, but it was a good effort.
"Look," Sam said, taking a deep breath. "You just… can't go that fast around here." He could feel red creeping up his face. Two years ago, the thought of telling a person Jacob's size what to do would have never crossed his mind. "I can't keep up with you like Bowman can."
Jacob's eyes were wide and attentive, all memory of sleepiness and a sore neck gone. He barely dared move, despite the uncomfortable position on the floor. He was just glad to see Sam unhurt when he peeked out from his hiding spot. He seemed so little, but Jacob gave his words as much care and consideration as he would anyone else's. The voice was quiet, but still deserved to be heard.
He tried a sheepish smile, though the nerves still showed. He was learning how to deal with someone Bowman's size that acted very different from the little sprite. Very, very different. Bowman would have fluttered up to scold him about something or other as soon as he could.
"You bet," he promised. "Won't happen again, I swear." He paused, and then shifted so he could lift his right hand off the floor and hold it up in a scout's honor gesture.
He'd never been a scout, but it should work.
"I was just heading to the sink for water, did you want to nab it first?" he offered, thinking to smooth over his mistake however he could.
Sam raked his hand through his hair, stepping out from behind the bedpost at last. He was still coming to terms with telling a human that wasn't Dean what to do, something he never even tried with Bobby. It just felt wrong.
"If you don't mind," Sam said, working past his innate shy nature that came with interacting with someone he didn't know too well without Dean backing him up. "I was actually just on my way there… I forgot to ask for a cup of water last night when you set up my room. Dean usually leaves one so I don't have to go all the way to the bathroom at night if I just need a drink. It's a pretty long haul," he tried to joke, stepping out from under the bed.
Jacob's eyes strayed to the nightstand. The way he was flat on the floor, even that looked like quite a trek and it wasn't half of the distance Sam had to cross. For someone who couldn't simply flutter a pair of wings and take to the air, it would take a while. Jacob needed to stop thinking in terms of sprites.
"All yours, dude," he said, his smile less nervous this time. He almost offered Sam a lift there, and then hesitated. He wasn't sure if he should. Instead, he mulled over a different train of thought. "I can go see if this place has edible breakfast options ... feeling adventurous?"
"Only if you get some coffee going while you're out," Sam said agreeably. "I think we could both use a pick-me-up after yesterday."
Straightening his bag, Sam took a step towards the bathroom. "So… if we're done here..." he said, working to hide the tension he felt at the thought of Jacob walking around the room with him on the floor. He was antsy to get to his destination now.
Jacob's eyebrows went up and he nodded. "Seems like it," he replied with another smile. Even if the conversation was shy and cobbled together, he was glad they'd actually had it. He needed to stay mindful.
With Sam's nerves in mind, he was careful when he pushed himself back and finally up off the floor. Since it always felt weird to loom too much over anyone Sam's size, he made sure there was plenty of floor space between them before he got to his feet. "I'll be right back," he noted, slipping his boots on. The coffee machine in the kitchenette started with a beep when he pushed the button, letting it begin brewing before he left.
He only glanced back once before heading out, checking to see if Sam was still lingering by the bed. Then, the door closed, leaving the small hunter on his own.
"Time for another test," the scientist announced, wrapping his hand around Bowman securely. His wings were squashed in that grip and only his head and shoulders remained free of the fist.
Bowman thrashed even as the man drew him out into open air. The other hand retrieved the recording device from a pocket again, flicking it on with a thumb and setting it aside. "Metabolic notes for the prime specimen," he said for the device's benefit. Then he snagged something from the food container and held it up.
Bowman recognized it immediately. A distantly familiar, savory smell wafted over his face, a reminder of the one time Jacob had offered him something called jerky.
"I am not going to eat that!" he shouted, twisting and squirming in the firm grip around him.
Dean punched the bars of his cage, his frustration at how useless he was boiling over. "They're wood sprites, you idiot!" he shouted angrily, his chest heaving up and down. "Pacifists, vegetarians, whatever the hell you call it!" Dean might not be a vegetarian himself, but he respected that another species metabolized differently than humans. He would never push food on them that they didn't want. "They don't eat meat. I'd be surprised if any one of them even hurt a fly, and here you are trying to force our ways on them." He scoffed.
Bowman turned his head to the side and grimaced as the sliver of meat was moved closer to his face. The human barely spared Dean's cage a glance. "These creatures have the dental profile of omnivores, and yet won't be convinced to eat meat," he noted, pointedly ignoring Dean's protests.
Bowman wanted to gag as the smell overwhelmed his senses. The piece of meat was practically touching his lips, no matter that he balked away from it as much as he could.
He wished he could sling another protest, but he worried that would invite the human to shove the food into his open mouth. He wasn't wrong; wood sprites could eat meat, if they wanted to. Wellwood had a long standing tradition against it. Bowman only felt disgust for the 'food' held close to him.
The human sneered after a full five seconds of the tense pose. He pulled the meat away from Bowman's face, carelessly shoving it through the bars of Dean's cage. Then, he lifted Bowman higher to peer at him.
"The resistance appears to be out of preference. Considering limiting other food options to see if it forces a behavior change. That's an experiment for another day."
Dean grabbed the jerky and tossed it into the food dish in his cage before it could slide out with the constant, constant swinging. The sprites might not eat it but he needed to keep his strength up if there was any chance of them escaping this hellhole.
Naturally, there was no chance he'd miss an opening like the one the scientist had left him, another chance for defiance. The day Dean didn't rise to defend the sprites was the day he was dead.
"How 'bout I make you drink piss and eat shit when I'm out of this cage?" Dean barked angrily at the scientist. "Just because we can doesn't mean we should. If they haven't had meat before, you'll make them sick trying to adjust to it!"
The scientist scoffed in annoyance but kept his eyes on Bowman. Bowman squirmed in his grasp, even as the pressure built just enough to constrict his breathing. He was held barely inches away from the human's face, close enough to easily see teeth when the man spoke again.
"I will find out what makes you tick, and I will take that magic of yours," he warned.
The free hand pinched more food to deposit in Bowman's cage. Half of it was fruit, and the other half meat. Then, Bowman was shoved back into the cage and dropped roughly on the bottom. "So keep up your strength."
The cage was closed again and the man finally regarded Dean with more attention. "Step back from the door," he instructed. "If you tell me what you know, my little sprite expert, I might give you extra rations."
Dean stepped back, but more from self-preservation than any order from the scientist. One arm stayed raised protectively, the other clasped firmly to the gun tucked in his pants.
"If you think I'm cooperating with you, you've got a whole other thing coming," Dean said darkly, prepared to act. "Keep the food. I'd rather starve."
A/N:
CW for Dean's potty mouth and sciencing.
Cowritten by PL1, the creator of the Wellwood sprites and Jacob Andris!
Beta read by creatorofuniverses on tumblr.
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Next: August 23rd, 2020 at 9pm