A/N

Thanks to Les Kinagies for the review!

While Scar fell into a reflective silence, Bowman sat heavily next to Sam. For years, the two of them had mused about finally seeing Dean again. He wished the meeting didn't have to be marred so much, but he couldn't help but think on the bright side of things. He had his brothers back, both of them.

"When we get back, Rischa's going to want to help heal all of you," he pointed out. He patted Dean's hand beneath him. "You too, Dean."

Dean glanced down at the group sitting on his hand at Bowman's actions, an eyebrow going up at how casual they all looked down there. Sam was relaxed and using Dean's chest to lean against. A tiny ball of warmth bloomed in his chest, glad to see them so comfortable with him even after the time spent under Bobby's tender mercies.

"You mentioned that before," Dean remembered. "Can she really do much? The arm's a lot bigger than what she's probably used to." He wiggled the fingers of his injured arm, the most movement he could manage without straining it.

Sam followed Dean's gaze to stare at the fingers his size as they moved around, then tilted his head so he was staring straight up. "Rischa and Cerul both have the healing touch," he informed Dean and Jacob. "It won't fix your arm right away, but it'll help you heal faster. So you won't be in a sling for months. Maybe like a week or two, depending on how bad it is and how much energy it takes them."

Jacob glanced over as he drove, smiling faintly. "Somehow, I doubt Rischa will let anything stop her from helping," he mused. Rischa was a small girl, but she came with plenty of determination of her own. Considering Bowman and Sam were her big brothers, it didn't take a genius to figure out where she learned it.

Bowman chuckled nervously. "Yeah ... I think she's probably going to tell me off for heading out so fast," he realized.

That, in turn, reminded Scar of the chiding he was most likely to get from Cerul and his other knights for flying alone the night before, and he sighed. "I'm sure she'll just be happy to see all of her family back in one place," he interjected. "From what I hear, she barely got to meet Dean before everything happened."

Jacob nodded absently. "Probably. But by the time we get back, the sun will be getting pretty low, and I don't think a walk in the dark is good for anyone at this point. We'll get some rest and head back on the trail in the morning."

True to Jacob's prediction, by the time they pulled into the town close to the forest that hid the village of sprites, the sky was tinting orange on one horizon. He pulled into the same motel from the night before, and even managed to get a multi-night discount despite it technically being a different check-in.

He pulled the Impala back to the same door and let out a sigh. "Home base," he quipped.

Sam pushed himself up from where he'd slumped down in Dean's hand, almost falling asleep during the long ride. It was so different than when Bobby had taken them, shoving him and Scar into a tight, dark glovebox where every shift of the car had threatened to send them sprawling against a wall. Some of his bruises, he was certain, were from that.

Instead, they got to stay in Dean's hand where every shift and sway was cushioned and the hand swayed with them. The hunter had never voiced a word of complaint, his own eyes distant above as he stared thoughtfully out the window and watched the trees and towns pass them by. With Jacob driving, it gave him time to think about how strange life had become in the space of twenty four hours. Sam had felt those green eyes occasionally turn towards the tiny passengers, but didn't react, letting Dean look them over to reassure himself they were really there. They all needed the reassurance.

The outside world was peaceful. The motel was not at a peak season with the summer fading towards fall. The three tiny passengers were held close to Dean's chest as Jacob came around the car to help with the door.

Stupid broken arm, Dean thought to himself, miffed at how much help he needed. He'd never dream of placing the little guys in a pocket with the injuries they were harboring, which meant both of his arms were useless.

The edge of Dean's leather jacket turned out to be convenient for blocking them from view. It also blocked a cool breeze as the evening chill started to pick up. "We can take a look at those injuries when we get settled," Dean told them as he waited behind Jacob, who had the duffel in tow once more. "I might have something better for that wing if you want."

Scar took a second to realize that Dean was talking to him. His eyes still darted every which way, taking in the sight of the brick building, the tall painted wood door, and the metal gutters. "Hmm?" he muttered, distracted all over again once Jacob led the way into the room itself.

"That metal thing doesn't look comfortable," Bowman chimed in, looking over Scar's injured wing with a furrowed brow. "Do you want something else on it?"

Scar scoffed, an amused sound. "Well, boy, I suppose something else might work better, but you're right. Nothing's comfortable at the moment."

Sprite wings were loaded with nerve endings. Their sensitivity usually helped them keep the delicate limbs safe and avoid sprains from harsh winds when flying. However, they also meant that an injured wing was incredibly painful. A wing was the most painful limb to injure, and Bowman's sympathy wince offered plenty proof.

"We can ice it, too," Jacob suggested gently, already checking the room's wheezing little mini-fridge.

Dean brought the others over to the table of the room, setting his hand down to let them off. "And we'll get you back to the forest for some healing first thing in the morning." He tried his best to not react to the sensation of tiny boots walking across his palm as they all filed off. Finally with a usable hand, he itched distractedly at his other elbow, unable to keep from staring in amazement at what they looked like on the table surrounded by regular, everyday items. Even the key to the Impala would be a sizable burden to any of the three.

The next step was to find some supplies their size to properly bind up the wing. Sam's haphazard job on it was enough to keep it stable, but the bent metal paperclip was definitely not made to brace a broken limb.

As always, Dean's duffel provided the answer. That bag was what he lived out of. It contained all of his weapons, extra clothing, a first aid kit and any other supplies he used on a day to day basis.

Including toothpicks.

Fishing out the first aid kit and several toothpicks, Dean came back over to the table and sat in the seat closest to his brother and adopted sprite family. "Got something we can use in here," he mumbled as he managed to pop open the first aid kit. The toothpicks were placed next to Sam and Bowman. "I won't be much use binding it with an arm down," he admitted as he pulled out some gauze.

Scar glanced between the others. Bowman was crouched to nudge at the sticks Dean had produced from his huge bag, and Jacob had found a huge chunk of ice in the machine he checked. He was already wrapping the almost-sprite-sized ice in one of the rags in the room. The roll of pristine white bandages in Dean's hand almost gleamed. Scar eyed the patchwork job he and Sam had managed to come up with in captivity, and couldn't deny that improving on it would bring him plenty of relief.

The fussing over him had already begun. He sighed in a put upon way. "I'm not the only one who was injured, you know," he groused, even as Bowman approached with two of the toothpicks in his hands.

"You've broken a wing-wrist, Scar," Bowman pointed out. "We gotta do this right or you'll have to re-break it." As much as he hated thinking about it, Bowman held his ground even when the knight turned a glare at him for daring to mention the possibility.

Scar sighed and sat down, allowing Bowman to set aside the toothpicks and brace his injured wing carefully. "Fine. Sam, shall we try round two?"

Sam smiled at that, ignoring the grousing. "Just think of it this way. If we set it using Dean's supplies, you'll get your sword belt back."

"Even I had to get my arm looked at," Dean complained when Sam took the gauze from him. The offended tone of voice was still lurking in his words. "Jacob took me to a hospital and then they drugged me enough that I couldn't stay awake."

"Sounds like you needed it," Sam said, sending a concerned look towards the sling. "You still have to tell us what happened after the demon left Bobby." He didn't like to consider the amount of force behind an attack to break such a powerful looking arm. Dean's arms were thicker than Sam and the sprites were tall.

With Bowman's help, the two brothers bound Scar's wing wrist with the toothpicks. It was a much more stable set than the deformed paperclip, which was discarded to the side. Dean pinched it between two fingers, wondering how strong they were to be able to bend such a relatively thick metal. He had a lot to learn about Sam and the sprites.

Scar didn't make a peep through the whole process, though his jaw clenched more than once. The pain in his wing flared up while they were shifting things around. It was unavoidable with it in that state and with the nerves all around it. In the end, he looked dully over his shoulder at the white-wrapped wing. It was a lot more stable than before and he nodded silently in approval while he put his sword belt back on around his waist.

All he needed now was the sword and several healing sessions and he'd be better in no time at all. Sam followed suit with his own belt and returned his sword to its rightful place. Now things felt right.

Jacob had a sheepish look on his face when he stepped forward to set his improvised ice pack near the three on the table. Bowman helped Scar scoot over to it to rest his injured wing on the blessedly cool cloth. "After it left Bobby, it hopped into me instead," he admitted, his voice full of remorse.

Bowman glanced up at him and saw Jacob shoot a guilty look at Dean's arm before shoving his huge hands into the pocket of his jacket. "I couldn't stop it so ... I ended up being the one to break Dean's arm."

"How did you get the demon out if it snapped your arm?" Sam asked, sending Dean a worried look. It was hard to believe they'd all escaped the demon in the end after the shit they'd gone through. Jacob possessed, Bobby kidnapping the people trying to help them and Dean down for the count.

"Bobby Singer," Dean said with a dismissive gesture. He dropped his hand the second he saw Sam nervously glance his way. The last thing he wanted to do was make anyone skittish after what they'd gone through just that day. "I called him up and put him on speakerphone. The demon couldn't get to the phone in time with Bowman distracting it. We got Jacob back in one piece." Dean leaned forward, his eyes concerned and focused. "Now it's your turn, pint-size," he said softly. "I know Scar wasn't the only one to get hurt."

Sam's lips thinned to a line. "It's just bruises," he said flatly. "I'm fine."

Bowman inched towards Sam, staring at him critically. He knew very well how much damage human hands could do. His bottom half was mottled with deep bruises that he knew were there but refused to look at. It only took one hand for Jacob to manage that, and he was holding back. The other human teen didn't seem like the type to hold back at all, if he'd snapped Scar's wing so easily.

"Sam, that human back there ... He hurt you both. Even with a cage he decided to break Scar's blasted wing. And you've been carrying yourself carefully since I found you hiding." He raised an eyebrow, as if daring Sam to deny what he'd seen.

"But it's not like I broke an arm," Sam countered stubbornly. "He just… poked me a few times." Dangled me by my leg.

Sam refused to voice that part, staring stubbornly back at Dean.

"Sammy, at least let us put some ice on it," Dean begged, leaning down so his chin was just about touching the table. "For me?"

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at the sight of Dean's attempt at puppy eyes, rolling his own. It was so damn hard to resist that expression, magnified so many times over in Dean's huge eyes, the surface glassy enough that Sam could spot his reflection in them if he tried. "Fine," he said grouchily. "If it'll make you happy."

Dean sent Jacob a look for more ice, then found his attention ensnared again as Sam sat down on the table. The tiny knight took off his belt again, setting it and the sword next to him on the table. The jacket followed, then with a wince Sam pulled the soft brown shirt he was wearing over his head. Dean had to hold in a gasp at the sight.

Sam's tiny chest was mottled with bruises, and his shoulder was the same. All were in the shape of fingers, displaying just how little Bobby cared for what he did to them.

" 'Just a few pokes?' " Dean repeated back. He reached a cautious hand forward, and brushed lightly against Sam's small chest. "We're lucky if he didn't bruise your ribs."

Both sprites winced at the sight of Sam's bruises, so stark against his lighter skin. While Jacob set about getting more ice, Bowman sat down heavily near the other two. His legs were stretched out in front of himself, and he tried to sit so that they were comfortable. Now that the search was over, his own injuries decided to twinge with pain. Everyone had something to recover from.

A/N:

These boys need some serious recovery time!

Next: April 29th, 2020 at 9pm EST.

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