A/N: Wish me luck posting. My internet connection has been schizo for days.

This story is wrapping me around its little finger. Maybe because I've spent so much time analyzing the Winchester personalities. Maybe because I've spent so much time imagining what life would have been like for them and the people around them in this time and place and situation. Maybe because a part of me hopes…believes…that magic is out there playing just past corner of our eye. For whatever reason, this story has grabbed my emotions and I am so thankful for everyone who is sharing it with me. Your kind notes and reviews, the people who have sent numerous reviews or even just one, the people who don't review but are enjoying the ride…I thank you all so much.

Jen, I hope Texas is treating you well, I've been thinking about you. Gem, your lovely note has left me speechless. LOL Rare, but it happens.

Warning: There's cursing. And fairies.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. The incredible fun of playing with them is the only profit I receive from the story

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From Chapter 17:

…Ever since Dean was little and John's closest confidante and partner in the hunting life they led, he'd wanted the details of every hunt when John got home. Every gory bit of information he could pull from his father. The more unusual and complicated the hunt, the more he wanted to hear about it. Hunting dark fae was guaranteed to fascinate him.

But this morning, nothing. All he wanted to know was that the hag was dead and both hunters okay. He'd actually turned his back, physically distanced himself, when John had discussed the hunt with Sam. It wasn't just his imagination that something was off, Sam kept shooting worried looks at his brother too. If it was anyone other than Dean, he'd think they were acting guilty, hiding something from him. But this was Dean. One of the few things that John counted on in his life was that Dean didn't keep secrets from him…

…He would give Sam this chance to get his feet under him, give him a chance to grow up a little. Get school and all of his teenage angst out of his system. And when those distractions were gone, it would be time for Sam to finally accept his responsibilities.

He would give Sam this year, but he expected to gain a committed hunter out of the deal.

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Chapter 18 Bonfires

Dean was vibrating with anger when he turned his back on John. He heard the truck door close, but didn't bother to look. The image of his dad looking at him, anger warring with hurt and confusion, was already indelibly imprinted on his mind. The two of them never fought. Ever. Until the last twenty-four hours.

Didn't take a genius to figure it out. For the first time in his life he was hiding something major from his dad. Something that went to the heart of hunting and could get one of them hurt. Something that went to the heart of Dad's beliefs. The guilt was eating him alive. He couldn't even look at the man without feeling sick or angry. He'd thought he could handle it, but it just swamped him once they brought Sam home from the hospital.

The things that had seemed so clear when he was faced with losing Sammy…just didn't seem as clear any more. Now he was getting smacked in the face with the reality of the promise he'd made. Sam was messing with stuff that could get him hurt, and Dean was just supposed to live with the knowledge, not do anything about it. It was one thing when he thought they'd only be in town for another month, two tops. But a year? Shit.

He'd promised Sam. He swore he'd have Sam's back. But Sam didn't get it. You couldn't trust the fae. They weren't human, they didn't play by the same rules.

If he spilled everything to Dad, Sam would consider it a betrayal. He wouldn't care that Dean was doing it to protect him, it would hurt Sam and destroy their relationship. He wasn't a fool, he knew what would happen if Dad found out about Sam's new 'friends'.

There was a bottom line he couldn't forget, though. They'd just been down this god damned road and Dean had made the wrong choice last time. He'd screwed up by not believing in Sam and he'd almost lost him. As much as he hated to do it, he had to try to see things from Sam's point of view and give the fae a chance. He had to do that for Sam.

But for himself, he would stick with Sam and find out what he could about this Titaniea, see her in action if he could. And he would do everything he could to protect his brother.

Now if he could only figure out a way to live with the guilt of keeping information from Dad. It would be a hell of a lot easier if the man could just go along with his suggestions sometimes. This last fight… Travis was not enough backup for Dad's little stake out operation at the Cove. Didn't matter if Caleb thought the spriggans were gone, Dean should be going with him too. Instead he'd been ordered to 'keep an eye' on the festival and the bonfire with Sam.

"They'll be fine, Dean," Sam said softly as Dean threw himself down onto the porch steps. He refused to watch as Dad's truck turned from their long dirt drive onto the road. John was already on his way to meet Travis at the Cove.

"It's Midsummer Eve, dude. And they don't know half the stuff out there." Dean's voice was a lot colder than he intended and Sam stilled next to him. Great. He was going through this because he didn't want to hurt his brother, it kind of defeated the purpose if he took his frustration out on Sam. "Sorry, dude," he sighed. "I'm just…" he waved his hand through the air, not sure what he wanted to say. How to describe it. Sam didn't seem to need the words. He leaned sideways, his shoulder pushing into Dean's, and Dean felt some of the tension seep out of him.

He'd better figure out a way to start dealing with things, and soon. Because right now it was tearing him apart.

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He'd thought it would be easier if he wasn't in this alone. But instead of easing the burden, sharing the secret with Dean had increased the weight on him until it was crushing him.

He understood now how Dean felt when he said he wanted Sam to become serious about hunting because it was what Sam wanted, not just to please his family. Sam wanted Dean to accept the presence of the fae because Dean knew it was right, not because he'd consented to their help in a moment of panic and now felt trapped in a debt to them. Not because he was afraid of losing his brother if he didn't tolerate the fae. Because that kind of burden would turn to bitter resentment before too long, and then the brothers would lose each other anyway.

Sam knew that, and still he couldn't release Dean from his promise to keep the secret. What kind of monster was he that he couldn't put his family first in this?

But what kind of monster would he be if he handed all of the fae in the area over to be hunted?

He prayed that seeing the true beauty of the creatures around Whitethorn would ease Dean's mind. Because if that didn't work Sam would have to steel himself to take steps to resolve things. He wouldn't allow this to destroy his brother.

Sam looked out at the yard. The edges of the long shadows were fading, taken over by the light gloom as twilight really took hold. A whisper of wind ruffled the leaves of the surrounding trees, bringing with it the scent of damp earth from an earlier shower. Sam took a deep breath, letting the evening's fragrance calm him.

He wasn't sure how long the still figure had been sitting, watching them, before he noticed it. It only took a moment for Dean to see what had caught his attention, and then his brother's hand was edging towards the iron knife hanging from his waist. The damn thing had been within his reach for the entire twenty-four hours since Sam got out of the hospital.

"Dean, no." Sam placed his hand on Dean's, stilling it. The red fox was sitting by the wood pile, its eyes fixed on them as though it was waiting for something.

"A fox is pretty close to a feral dog, Sam," Dean whispered out of the side of his mouth. "How do you know it's not a spriggan?"

"Because I know who it is," Sam said softly.

Dean's head snapped towards him, his eyes narrowing. Sam faced him calmly. "Remember the fox I cut loose?"

Comprehension filtered across Dean's face and his features relaxed. Sam noticed he was no longer reaching for the knife, but his hand was still hovering close to it as he turned to look back at the fox.

"Oh Christ," Dean breathed out in a whisper.

The fox was gone, replaced by the small wizened man in the rusty orange clothing. His arms were crossed over his chest and one bare foot tapped the ground.

"Impatient little bugger, isn't he?" Dean's voice was strained, but at least he was trying.

"You could say that," Sam muttered.

Sprite's shoulders slumped and he sighed before throwing his hands into the air. "Ye are a bit of a rude child now, aren't ye? Ye would make me shout the greetings I've been tasked te bring ye?"

Dean snorted. "Rude child," he snickered.

Sam ignored him, rising to his feet on the porch and gesturing for Sprite to come closer. Was he supposed to issue a formal invitation? He wasn't exactly an expert in fairy etiquette. Dean stood also, a quiet presence at Sam's shoulder. "You can come closer," Sam said hesitantly.

The fairy just looked at him for a second before turning to bang his forehead against the pile of logs next to him. His muttering was just loud enough to be heard on the porch. "'You can come closer' he says ta me." He stepped away from the wood pile, his hands on his hips. "Have ya a nice hot poker nearby, lad? I shall come closer if ye take the poker and stick it—"

"Hey! Watch it!" Dean snarled.

"I merely wish the lad to share me pleasure in the discourse if I needs come closer." He pointed at the base of the house.

"Can't I just go step on him or something?" Dean whispered.

It struck Sam then and his eyes went wide. "Oh! Oh god, I'm sorry!" He jumped off of the porch and explained over his shoulder as he approached the fairy. "There's iron around the base of the cabin. He can't come closer."

"Praises be! A light dawns!"

Sam settled on one knee in front of the small creature, ignoring his brother's muttered comments behind him. He didn't actually think Sprite would enjoy being drop kicked.

Sprite straightened his stance like a soldier coming to attention before bending over in a formal bow. When he stood straight his face had lost its disdainful caste and he gave Sam a small nod. "M'lady sends her greatest gratitude for yer help."

"I didn't do it alone," Sam said quietly. "My father destroyed the hag in the woods."

"And a fine job was he doing when I got there," Sprite said, rolling his eyes. "She might actually have stumbled onto his lures…eventually."

"Why couldn't your 'lady' take out her own trash instead of pulling my brother into it?" Sam cringed at his brother's cold tone and was surprised when Sprite just eyed Dean calmly.

"It tis not me place to explain to ye the things ye do not understand, child. Yer ignorance and the arrogance of yer great youth are a most dangerous mix. Do not let them turn ye into a fool who believes they know the truth of the dark things that threaten their pretty world." The complete lack of snark in the fairy's tone sent a chill down Sam's spine. If there were worse things in the dark than what the Winchesters already fought, Sam didn't think he wanted to know about them.

A slow smirk spread over Sprite's face. "And if yer lack of common sense is on a level with yer ignorance and rudeness maybe ye can pose yer query to the Lady herself. She be there to accept her due on Oiche Fheile Eoin."

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Flames licked at the dark sky, roaring from the top of the three large bonfires. Small fires had been lit at dusk, but the true bonfires had not been set ablaze until a couple of hours later. Sam and Dean picked their way through the blankets and beach chairs arranged around the Midsummer pyres. Talk and laughter surrounded them and Sam had to restrain himself from twirling the rowan branch that was now being used as a walking stick. It was actually more like a walking staff but in this crowd of new age Gandalf wannabes awaiting the Midsummer dawn no one gave it a second look.

Musicians played on the small stage set on one side of the field, but they weren't the only source of the lilting melodies that drifted on the night air. Sam felt the telltale relaxation sinking into his muscles and knew that not every note they heard was manmade.

The magic in the music seemed to have no effect on his brother. Tension was etched into every line of Dean's body, the soft glow of the fires making his face look gaunt and worried. Given a choice, Sam would have kept Dean well away from the festival and the bonfires. But orders were still orders, and John wanted them keeping an eye on both events. Being there with Dean made Sam feel like he was rubbing his brother's nose in his betrayal of their dad.

Midsummer Eve was traditionally the time when the fae quietly insinuated themselves into mortal festivities. They lost themselves to revelry, to music, to dance, and the night was full of magic. Flashes of color and glowing light flitted through the festival crowds, trailing echoes of tinkling laughter. Fireflies sparkled in the trees of the pocket parks. A trio of blonde children held hands and skipped past the entrance of the ice cream shop where Kristi worked as the boys emerged with huge ice cream cones. The sound of small bells on their shoes brought a smile to Sam's face.

Things were even more surreal after much of the crowd had drifted to the large field on the western edge of the town as the festival closed down for the night. Bonfires had been lit in Ane's Field on almost every Midsummer Eve for the past hundred years. Mortals were oblivious to the Fae who danced around the fires, who leapt and capered and held hands as they circled merrily. Small sprites played peek-a-boo with the youngest of mortals, the tiny children who alone had the ability to see them. The games left both sides shrieking their enjoyment, innocence making the children's laughter as beautiful as the liquid chimes of the fairies' mirth. Bemused parents watched their children's seemingly unprovoked joy with confused smiles.

Someone had bound bits of straw to small sticks and placed a large stack of the faux torches near the center blaze. There was a small line of people each waiting their turn to take one of the symbolic creations and throw it into the bonfire. What the people could not see was that as their offerings were consumed by the flames each flared bright and beautiful. They also did not see the two larger elves who stood near the flames and nodded solemnly to each person participating.

This is how it had been in Whitethorn for a hundred years. The troupe of fairies who filled the woods around the town had no wish to harm the mortals who unknowingly shared their land. Keeping them a secret from John was the right thing to do. Sam was sure of it, and a sense of peace settled into his core.

The peace had to share space with a devastating sadness that grew deeper as the night went on. He'd prayed that Dean would sense the magic and good wishes of the creatures around them the same way that Sam did. That Dean would be able to accept keeping this from Dad and make peace with the idea. That…maybe…this was something amazing that he and Dean could share. Like they used to share everything. But instead, Dean had grown more brittle as one hour bled into another. He couldn't see the otherworldly creatures around them, but Dean knew they were there. And the knowledge was an acid inside of him.

Dean had spent too many years as John's right hand to change the way he thought now. Maybe in the future when he was more mature and no longer believed that John's opinion on these matters was gospel. But not now.

The tragedy was that Dean was the one who had raised Sam with the love and acceptance that allowed him to believe in magic. A magic that Dean himself couldn't accept.

Sam reached a hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks as they made a slow circuit of the festivities in the field.

"You see her?" Dean's tone was trying for casual, but Sam could feel the tension hardening the muscles under his fingers.

Sam tilted his head, listening more closely. He didn't see her, but he recognized the low laughter coming from the edge of the woods on their left. "This way." He gave Dean's arm a small tug, aiming him towards the trees.

"You sure about this?" Dean asked, his voice deceptively steady.

"The smartest way to be sure the dark fae are gone is to just ask her."

It was Dean's turn to grab Sam's arm. His expression was deadly serious. "Sammy, I know I said I'd go along with you about this stuff, but maybe the smartest thing is to just keep our distance."

Sorrow bloomed through Sam's chest as he examined his brother's earnest expression. Avoiding the fairy queen was not an option. He'd done research in the books Eric had brought him the night before and now he had to speak to Titaniea. There might be a way to free his brother from his secret before it destroyed him. Even if the solution broke Sam's heart.

He forced a small smile. "She's a resource we need right now, Dean. It's safer for us and Dad if we know for sure."

Dean dropped his hand and gave an exaggerated shudder. "She's not gonna, like, turn us into toads or anything, right?"

"Nah," Sam smirked, ignoring the tight band around his chest as he went along with the joke. "A rabbit maybe, but not toads."

The air hummed around them as they neared the woods. A soft glow surrounded the figures standing under the leafy overhang at the edge of the field. It grew stronger as they approached, but Dean didn't even twitch in response to the sight. He probably couldn't see the glow, could only see a group of people in the shadows. Sam took advantage of the stress free moments before he had to mediate his brother's reactions, studying the figures quietly.

Titaniea was breathtaking. Her long green dress was covered now by a golden outergown, open at the front but cinched at her narrow waist. Her hair was still down but ribbons had been woven through it. The crown of golden filigree on her head left no doubt as to her status. The long and elegant sword hanging at her side reminded Sam that these noble elves were warriors

Sam drank in every detail, fleshing out his fantasies of fae nobility with glimpses of the reality. Titaniea was flanked by other elves, none as grand as her, but each one beautiful. The men wore doublets of gold and green over long dark breeches, long hair resting on their shoulders. Each was armed with a sword, bows hanging from many shoulders. The women wore shorter dresses, dark green held tight to their torsos by golden bodices. Daggers dangled from their belts and many of them also sported bows on their shoulders.

A group of smaller fae sat at Titaniea's feet. Slim and childlike, clothed in gauzy dresses with ribbons and flowers in their hair, their laughter was the clear ring of chimes. The queen's deeper laughter wove through theirs as Titaniea swirled the golden goblet in her hand before lifting it to sip. Somewhere in the woods beyond them a horse snorted softly and pawed at the ground, the movement marked by the tinkling of small bells.

Dean stopped dead and Sam knew he was finally making out some details of the shadowed group. His body went rock hard next to Sam, his hand moving to the hilt of the knife hidden under his T shirt.

"Dean, what are you—"

"What's she doing with those kids?" Dean's voice was a cold hiss, outrage filling every syllable. The elves flanking Titaniea stilled into silent guardians, their hands on the hilts of their weapons, unblinking eyes fixed on the brothers.

Dean sucked in a harsh breath as the promise of violence vibrated in the air around them. His right hand closed on the hilt of the knife while his other hand reached for the gun nestled in the small of his back.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Sam tightened his grip on the rowan staff, lifting his other hand in a placating gesture. "Everybody calm down! Dude! They're not kids!"

Titaniea lifted her hand and the guard dogs around her immediately relaxed their stances. They smiled at the boys with such welcome that it was hard to believe they'd been ready to create Winchester shish kebob just moments before.

"What do you mean they're not kids?"

"You're not seeing them clearly," Sam explained, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's a glamour to make them fit in with the people here."

"And you can see what they really look like?"

Sam's stomach clenched. He was sure Dean didn't mean it to, but his question had come out like an accusation. "Yeah, I can."

He didn't meet Dean's eyes, sure he wouldn't like what he saw there. Instead he turned and approached Titaniea's group slowly, confident his brother was at his shoulder. Dean would never let him walk forward alone.

"My beautiful Sasquatch," Titaniea said with a radiant smile. She gave a slight nod and two of the 'children' on the grass in front of her lifted themselves gracefully from the ground and approached the boys.

One of them stopped in front of Dean, looking up at him with a bright smile as she extended a delicate hand. Dean hesitated, glancing at Sam for guidance. Sam was surprised at the strange mix of emotions that swept through him. Pride that his brother would trust his judgment was there, but so was a profound uneasiness that Dean was so uncomfortable that he needed to look to his little brother for reassurance.

Sam nodded and reached out to grasp the other fairy's hand. He held his breath as Dean slowly reached forward, finally wrapping his large hand around the tiny one being offered to him.

Dean rocked back slightly, his eyes widening as he gave a soft gasp.

"Dean! What—" Sam took a step towards his brother but stopped when Dean looked at him, his eyes still wide but a shaky smile spreading.

"Whoa, dude. Head rush," Dean said softly. He looked towards the group of noble fae and his mouth dropped open with a whispered "Holy shit."

Sam looked at them for the first time since he'd clasped the small fairy's hand and almost echoed Dean's sentiments. He was wrong when he told Dean he could see what they looked like. Even he hadn't really been seeing them until now. As beautiful as they had looked a moment ago, it couldn't compare to the spectacle revealed to him now.

They were magnificent.

Fireflies—pixies his mind corrected—were perched in the branches above them and scattered through the woods beyond them, washing the entire scene with a golden light. Titaniea's skin was flawless, her eyes a brilliant green. Highlights of gold and copper and bronze glinted in the rich chestnut waves of her hair and small jewels sparkled on the ribbons woven throughout. Her golden overdress shimmered with each movement, reflecting rich hues back at him. The golden filigree of her crown was so delicate it might have been spun by a spider, and yet it supported jewels of different colors, each glowing with a life of its own. Every member of her party shared a bit of that beauty, with flashing green eyes and a grace to their movements that no mortal would ever achieve.

But perhaps most striking of all was the aura that surrounded each of them. A radiance that filled the observer with a sense of their gentleness balanced by a distinct feeling of contained power. And over it all a contagious mirth.

A line of horses stood in the woods behind them. White, bay, black, they were delicately boned and yet powerful looking, their nostrils flared and their eyes filled with a spirited intelligence. Saddles of soft leather lay over tasseled blankets and their golden bridles were adorned with a glowing jewel on each of their foreheads. Small bells tied into their manes with thin ribbon sang softly with each toss of their heads.

Sam's mouth went dry and tears filled his eyes. His chest felt too tight, like too much emotion was crammed into it and struggling to escape. This…this was too much. This was everything he'd ever dreamed was hidden away, concealed somewhere just out of sight. It was a magical beauty that he wanted to show the whole world—because to see it would surely change them forever—but never could. He would never even be able to share it with the small group of people that he loved, and that broke his heart. It seemed incredibly selfish of him to have experienced this sight when they couldn't.

But at least right here, right now, he could share it with Dean. For at least a little while.

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"But, I don't understand. Why can't he see it like I can?" Sam's gaze followed Dean as one of the fae led his brother over to examine the silver tipped spears leaning against a tree. He was flirting with his guide, a tall beauty that reminded Sam of the storyteller that had caught Dean's attention days before. Something tore inside of Sam as he watched.

Dean had relaxed considerably. Suspicion and mistrust were still there, but at least for now they were just a shadow of their former strength. Sam's pain grew out of the mantle of guilt that Dean was still wearing because of his perceived betrayal of their father. It hadn't lightened. If anything it had grown into an even heavier weight on his brother's shoulders.

Dean could see the fae, could see the incredible physical beauty the same as Sam could. But he couldn't see the aura, couldn't sense the innate benevolence that would ease his fears and make him comfortable with the secret.

"Can't you do something?" He turned back to the regal fae queen next to him and felt his heart break a little more at her sad smile.

"We have done what we could," she said softly. She reached slender fingers up and brushed them over the skin of his temple leaving a warm tingle in their wake. "The ability to see us is not just here...it is also here." She lowered her hand and laid her palm against the center of his chest, warmth spreading from the point of contact. "And your brother lost the full depth of that ability long ago, as do most of your kind." She dropped her hand and looked at him with her head tilted slightly to the side. "You should be thankful that his heart is open enough to see us as well as he can. Even his level of ability is rare. There is a fierce love inside of him, and it enhances his sight."

Sam's throat tightened and he nodded his head. "I know. I know there is," he said in a gravelly voice.

Her smile was gentle as she reached up to cup his cheek, catching his eyes in her brilliant green gaze. "You must not lose hope. He may someday regain his ability."

"But for now…this is hurting him." Each choked out word stabbed at him. He needed her to understand.

She nodded her head solemnly. "You love your brother and you seek to protect him. I believe you have made a wise decision, my beautiful boy." Her hand lowered to a tiny satchel hanging from her waist and a small sparkle of conspiracy lit her eyes. "I had thought you might make this request."

Graceful fingers extracted two small items from the velvet bag and she dropped them into the palm of his hand. He glanced over to be sure Dean was occupied before pushing them into his pocket.

He couldn't stop the sadness that washed over his face as he watched Dean hefting one of the spears and looking like a child who has made a new discovery. Titaniea's hand was warm on his arm. "The decision need not be made yet. Let us see what the night brings."

Sam nodded and gave her a grateful smile.

Her own smile grew, a sudden untamed fierceness to it that sent a shiver down his spine. "And now, are you ready for the hunt?" Her voice was low and a savage glint in her eye reminded him that she was not human, she was a powerful creature of the wild. Oddly enough, he knew that this side of her, the countenance that would scare most mortals, was the one that Dean would understand the best. This dangerous facet of the fae queen was the one that Dean would trust and respond to the most.

He prayed that it would be enough to turn his brother around, to ease Dean towards an acceptance of the situation that he could live with.

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He hated admitting when his little brother was right, but there was no getting around it this time. Turned out the most accurate way to find out if the spriggans were still a threat was to ask the local fairies.

Okay, so he still had a hard time even thinking that sentence without wanting to either laugh or shoot something.

Hunters didn't know a lot about spriggans, but Titaniea did. And she was willing to share. Calling the spriggans a threat was like calling the Impala a 'nice little car'. They were freaking dangerous. Apparently the spriggans freed from a dark fae's control—sometimes because of the actions of a hunter—began to roam, joining up with the independent bands who'd never been under anyone's control. And then you had a real problem. They were destructive, thieving little suckers, and the spriggans tainted by a dark elf's influence brought violence into the mix. The bigger the group, the more dangerous they were. There was no way of knowing how many bands of them were roaming the country. If he were to believe Titaniea, her kind got rid of them when they could.

Which explained why the elves were at a celebration with enough weapons to hunt grizzly. No word of explanation given to the mere mortals about why it was happening, but migrating bands had been arriving in their area. They'd joined up with the local hag's merry band of creepy little men. Whatever had stopped the elves from going after the hags themselves didn't apply to the spriggans. They were fair game and tonight a little hunting party would be setting out to play.

And when the hunt was over he was going to sit that cagey queen down and have her explain exactly what had turned this area into a mecca for wandering fae pests…

…And why she'd dragged his brother right into the friggin' middle of it. Because as the night wore on he became more and more convinced that there was something going on here that the brothers didn't know about. He'd meant what he said when he told Sam that he would have his back in all of this, but that didn't necessarily mean that Dean's actions would make his brother happy. As far as Dean was concerned, the most important part of having his brother's back was making sure he was safe. When he heard what Titaniea had to say, if keeping his brother safe meant telling Dad everything, then he'd do what he had to do.

It wasn't because keeping the secret from Dad was killing him. He'd live with that if he had to. It was because the more he saw just how connected Sam was to these creatures, the more it scared him.

He had a hell of a lot of doubts about going along on this little hunt. Enough to make him sick to his stomach. But he needed some answers and this might be his only chance to get them.

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Bonfires dot the rolling hillsides
Figures dance around and around
To drums that pulse out echoes of darkness
Moving to the pagan sound.

Somewhere in a hidden memory
Images float before my eyes
Of fragrant nights of straw and of bonfires
Dancing 'til the next sunrise.

"All Souls Night" by Loreena McKennitt

A/N: Some notes on the lore and history.

Oiche Fheile Eoin-- "Bonfire Night" Fire is an important part of the celebration of Midsummer Eve/St. John's Eve in many regions of the world. Traditions range from the carrying of lit torches through the fields, to rolling flaming wheels down hills, to the most common—the lighting of bonfires. Fire is so closely associated with the night in Ireland that it is known as "Bonfire Night".

And yes, on Midsummer Eve the fae like to be present at the celebrations, although it's rare for someone to be blessed enough to actually see them. In his 1911 Myths and Legends of the Celtic Race, Thomas Rolleston repeats a famous tale of traditions honoring the fairy goddess Ainé, the "sweetheart of the Sidhe", and asking for her good will, which she was known to freely give.

"…She was, and perhaps still is, worshipped on Midsummer Eve by the peasantry, who carried torches of hay and straw, tied on poles and lighted, round her hill at night. Afterwards they dispersed themselves among their cultivated fields and pastures, waving the torches over the crops and the cattle to bring luck and increase for the following year. On one night, as told by Mr. D. Fitzgerald, ["Popular Tales of Ireland." by D. Fitzgerald, in Revue Celtique," vol iv.] who has collected the local traditions about her, the ceremony was omitted owing to the death of one of the neighbours. Yet the peasantry at night saw the torches in greater number than ever circling the hill, and Ainé herself in front, directing and ordering the procession."

Elements of my description of the fae and their steeds comes from Lady Wilde's Ancient Legends of Ireland written over a hundred years ago. There is an amazing number of scholarly works delving into the world of fae available if you start searching.

A/N2: sigh, yeah one more. Just a personal note. Sam's reaction when he is stunned by the true beauty of the fae and mourns the people he loves who will never get to see that magical splendour—that was taken directly from my own reaction when I saw the Grand Canyon for the first time, during a magnificent sunset.